Thursday, May 16, 2013

Forest


We are all sharing a bed while we’re in the forest, because one of us is not well. His body is stripped of all but a nappy, his fever is furious and hard to keep on top of. The drugs aren’t working like they usually do. He looks so much smaller, as if the illness has diminished his physical presence. In a foetal ball, perched atop a pillow, he occasionally jerks and shudders before resettling.

I wonder what goes through his head to make his body do that. Fearful, feverish dreams? He seems scared, and it hurts me to know that I can do nothing about it.

His sleep is snatched, sporadic, restless, and so is ours. It’s quiet here, the birds and animals are asleep, there are no roads nearby. A baby’s cry is far more piercing when it’s the only sound.

A poorly boy taking a nap. Aww.

We get up early and look outside at the trees, the water, the rocks and the morning light. I wonder aloud why people have chosen to live anywhere but here. I feel more at ease and at home here than I ever do in the tarmac coated sprawl of a city or town. I suppose there just aren’t many jobs in the forest.

I'm not feeling well, can you tell?

The arrival of morning signals the departure of the fever. The rash remains, to remind us we’re not done with the whining just yet, and woe betide should you run out of Calpol. Suitably dosed, we head out on the bikes, weaving between the other assorte


d short term forest dwellers, most of whom look like they haven’t seen a bike before, let alone ridden one. Crashes are narrowly avoided and the swimming pool is reached.

Cool water laps at our skin and rinses away memories of the unpleasant night time, replaced by chlorine’s gift: desiccated skin. But he loves it. He thinks he can swim, we do not. He wants no aid to buoyancy apart from one of us, so we scoot around the pool, pushing him ahead of us. He remains utterly calm while we change him back into dry land clothing and, though a part of me feels foolish, we believe that the worst of the illness, a reaction to the MMR vaccination, is over.

Bedtime proves my foolish part correct. The fever is back. At 3:30am I meander through the haze of sleep to give him Calpol. He sleeps next to us again.

In the morning I discover I’ve left the lid off the Calpol. An ant crawls near to the bottle. An urgent trip to the shop to buy more occurs. We swim again. He loves it again. I continue to love the forest, continue to love the time I am having with my family, continue to hope it will somehow not come to an end on Friday, when they let the cars back in and we have to leave.

Forest at dusk. Pretty.

Our first holiday as three hasn’t been the easiest four days, but I will always remember it and cherish it.

10 comments:

  1. The Boy always seems to be poorly on holiday too :-( Hope he picks up soon.

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    1. It's terrible but predictable timing! He's back to his jolly self now, thankfully :-)

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  2. Awww sorry the little one is poorly. There's a lot of it about at the moment (isn't there always with kids?). Where are you by the way, looks very purrty.

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    1. Center Parcs in Longleat forest. It was rather nice, a bit like an Ewok village, but less furry.

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  3. Your poor boy, it's not fun when those MMR jab fevers kick in, but at least you were somewhere peaceful and beautiful and he got to kick about in the pool :) hope you had some good times in the forest, anyway. As for forest jobs, erm, tree surgeon? Bark manager? Bush consultant?

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    1. We had some ace times, it was all good really. Oh no, wait, the fever, that wasn't. But, otherwise, ace.

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  4. This story reminded me of my first holiday as a new family (we have two-year-old twins). Total disaster sleep wise. During the five days/nights no one slept in a cot and each 'big' bed was used by various members of the family at different times. But like you I will always 'remember it and cherish it'. Best wishes...

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    1. Good to know you're not alone in these experiences! We were grateful of the spare room/bed in our villa/hut.

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  5. aww shame he has been a bit under the weather, but glad you are enjoying yourselves anyway, it really is beautiful there!

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    1. It's far lovelier than I expected, I think they do a really good job of keeping it looking quite natural, when in fact it is hugely commercialised.

      This is step one, next time: camping ;-)

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