I've been asked by many to continue my blog when I can so....

Well, it's been a few days and Fuck, what a few days it's been.  Whilst my body is starting to recover, the grief has pretty much taken over.  I don't seem to be able to stop crying and I just don't know where all the tears are coming from.  Over my lifetime, I've have a fair share of things to cry about but this is beyond any pain or any emotion or any feeling I have ever experienced.

My mind keeps going back to the night at the hospital, when I kicked the floor over and over and over again and I howled like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.  I had nobody with me, no nurse to comfort me, not a soul.   I thought may be a doctor would at least come and say the time of death but I remember looking at my watch so that I knew, only I knew.  8'O clock Saturday.  8' O clock.

When I was younger, Mum used to work with her Dad as a hairdresser in a London salon in Piccadilly called Rusbies. Every Saturday, without fail, Poppa would come to the house to collect Mum to go to the Saloon, he would always stand at the bottom of the stairs and shout up at Mum.... "It's 8'O clock Laul, it's 8 O'clock Laul"  I can hear him now and remember how although early on a Saturday morning, I loved to hear him.

It felt, that at 8 o'clock on Saturday 14th March in the hospital when I looked at my watch, my Poppa was calling her.  It's 8'O clock Laul, It's 8 o'clock Laul.

Mum cut the hair of some really famous people, actresses like Vivienne Westward, Vivienne Van Dame, The famous singer Eddie Fisher and the infamous Elizabeth Taylor, there were many more, she has all their autographs in a little book. At 10 years old,  I remember going with Mum every Saturday to work with her.  I used to sweep up the cutting and hand rollers to the real hairdressers, then the pins, one after another after another.  I got the most tips, at the till there was this little metal box with slots along the top with the hairdressers names on them, I had my name on one, it meant I was a real hairdresser and mine was always the fullest.

As I got older, I was allowed to wash the clients hair, I used to love this as I got more tips than ever.  I stood on a box so I was tall enough to reach and I remember all the smells, sprays, perfumes and chatter that echoed around the room.  In time, I was taught how to cut, set and do a demi waves.  Mum always cut my hair of course, she knew I was pregnant with Savannah before I even knew!!! I remember her telling me that she could tell when her clients were pregnant too, from the change in their hair.. she was good!

I made tea's and coffees, chatted and heard about all the shows that were on in the West End, once or twice Mum took me to a show with complimentary tickets she was given.

It was a happy time, only Mum didn't really enjoy being a hairdresser, her aspiration was to be a nurse.  She would have made a good one, she knew more about medicine than our GP from personal experience more than study.`

Today, Sunday 29th March and although there has been a flurry of snow, I went for a walk with Savannah.  The wind cleared my head a little and it was the first time that I have ventured out of the house in 9 days.  It was beautiful.  The grass green, the sky blue the air bitterly and beautifully cold against my skin, for the first time in days I felt I could breathe.

We didn't walk for long, both of us exhausted but on the way back I stopped off at Noshers to find something that I thought Dad would eat.  Smoked Salmon, fish balls, bagels and a potato Ludka and just a couple of New Greens back to his Jewish roots.  If he doesn't eat this then I give up!

He had a banana yesterday and a bowl of soup, progress indeed and, I got a thank you which is a massive improvement from being shouted at and told to go away.

I still have absolutely no sense of smell or taste, everything tastes the same, I don't like it!  However, as I am typing this in the office, the cat has used the litter tray.  Can't smell a thing... every cloud and all that.

I still feel like I've been kicked in the back by a horse, the pain is really still quite bad, it feels a little lower than my lungs now like it's making it's way down, maybe when it gets to my feet I can stamp on the bastard.

Poor Savannah is asleep and my friend Judith sounds like she is coming down with it now, she was with us a couple of weeks ago.  I'll be fit enough soon to help others.  Stay safe guys, stay home and be creative.  I love you all. xxx