Ddim yn Kant a Kant

I’ve had a blasted cold this week which has hindered me rather and reminded me of the fact that I don’t deal very well- scrap that- other people don’t deal very well with me dealing with pain. A prime example of this was a warm summer’s evening in church when I was deep in conversation with a South African brother and I suddenly felt the most intense needle like stab-stab-ouch-stop-that pain in my belly. I ended the conversation without a fuss or a ffwdan but then promptly lifted my shirt to reveal a pesky wasp who had dug his ass into my stomach. I was in a lot of pain, but something about the way I reacted meant people found it quite funny. My abiding memory from that agonising night are the smiling faces of my friends and family- that sentence usually comes at the end of a touching speech about how someone recovered from the injuries found in a car accident with the help of the ones they love, just smiling and being nice, but in this instance, the smirks of my Father, brothers etc. are a very negative thing. So this week, I am dying of a cold and all I hear is “I hate it when you’re ill, you’re so annoying” and “stop groaning, you sound like a broken blender” these are only slight paraphrases. Maybe I’ve been cooked for, cleaned for and chored for, but that’s to be expected when I’m ill. I’m almost better today, but still not cant a cant (nothing to do with the German philosopher, it’s just a Welsh idiom to do with percentages).

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