Now - bearing in mind that I'm prone to gross exaggeration and writing entirely for provocative effect - to me, that simple cottage with nothing to do sounds amazing. Fresh air and vigorous activity are totally over-rated, especially if you hail from the North of Scotland where the weather is (at worst) horrific or (at best) a bit parky even at the height of Summer.
My favourite kind of day involves me and my girl, jogging bottoms, blinds drawn against the rain, a burbling radio, a purring cat, and nothing in particular to do beyond stories, crayons and maybe a bit of knitting. If I can arrange for that day to last a week, so much the better. And the apogee is reached with free-flow tea and toast. Very, very rarely have we darkened the doors of a "musik!" group or a preschool gymnastics class, because frankly, we just prefer being at home. (If you're thinking I'm an idle, unstimulating mother, you'd be right. But she sometimes drinks the tea with me, and caffeine is a stimulant. Please let me know before nominating me for the worst mum in the world award, it's only fair.)
So, if being shut in my wee house for a while = cabin fever, bring it on I say. I do remember the phrase "cabin fever" being bandied about between my friends when our babies were small, some of the more proactive among us clearly feeling a little housebound. Occasionally I did almost get where they were coming from, but mostly I just smiled and sympathised.
However, while pondering tomorrow's p52 theme, I realised that there is one place that does give me cabin fever every. single. time.
In anticipation, a visit to this place always seems like a good idea. And it usually starts off well. But, no matter how good your intentions, it's never possible to avoid a marathon expedition. About half way through said marathon I start to get restless, irritated, frustrated... I feel an overwhelming urge to just GET OUT (I did once abandon my trolley, diving for the nearest cab with a whimper). I always vow that, in future, I will happily spend 500% more in John Lewis just so that I can avoid the Scandi hangar of genius storage and writhing nightmares for EVER, never to return...
But return I inevitably do, because lets face it, it's the consumerist yoke of our generation.
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