2009 — 18 October: Sunday
This example of Christa's smile is from 1982:
Now, back to sleep. G'night. Again. At 01:58 or so. Sniffle. Splutter.
It's nearly three years...
... since I remarked on the inability of modern medical science to do much of a meaningful nature with a nasty cold. I'm fairly sure I've had another cold since then but (since the average is two a year) I suppose "mustn't grumble" is the current order of the day. I woke just after 07:00, tottered downstairs to make myself a nice hot cuppa, found nothing of interest on the radio, and am now a little over halfway through the delightful "Virginia Monologues". I neglected to mention the three books I picked up in Soton yesterday in that excellent "discount" bookshop next to my Spanish bank:
But there are four books here, David? Aah. Yes. Well I see I also overlooked Brian Sibley's delightful account, too. Having so much enjoyed the latest radio adaptation eight days ago (as did very many fellow listeners if Roger Bolton's "Feedback" programme is representative) I treated myself to the updated paperback, and am about a third of the way through the story.
Unrelatedly, I'm also halfway through a box of tissues. What a design masterpiece the respiratory system is (not). If you were thinking of visiting, I'd postpone for a bit if I were you. It's 09:38 so I think my third cuppa and a spot of breakfast wouldn't do me any harm. (Mind you, Junior tells me he's now avoiding caffeine as much as possible, though he didn't really give a solid reason.)
I thought I remembered the name. The guest on BBC Radio 3 is Patrick Gale. I've still got his slender biography of Armistead Maupin somewhere within a metre or so of where I'm sitting.
Am I alone...
... in finding tales of continued banking bonuses obscene? Let alone tales of whingeing MPs complaining even as they get away with what I regard as simple criminal fraud? Must be time to increment my blood sugar — it's sunny and 12:55 and pretty cool out there.
Interesting. While I run the microwave oven I can kiss goodbye to any speedy use of the wireless network hereabouts down to the iMac.
Equally interesting: even just slight exertion is currently exhausting. I was wise to turn down the offer of a walk today, it seems. (Un)happy days, but this too shall pass. I've finished Virginia's monologues and the "New Moon" book. It's 17:01 and I can't tell if I've got the heating on too high, or too many layers of clothing on, or a mild fever. Such good fun — o me miserum (to recall an ancient phrase). Perhaps I'll curl up with "I, Claudius" tonight.
The answer is...
... a mild fever, for which the obvious treatment is a nice, relaxing, amusing video of some sort or other. And a single max-strength "Aspro" that's only 16 months beyond its "use by" date. That should do the trick. Right — on with the show. Stuart Maconie's "Freak Zone" is playing a bizarre record in praise of the "great President Richard Nixon" — perhaps my fever isn't as mild as I thought!!! He's been visiting this site.
Jonathan Lynn's excellent film "The whole nine yards" is always a reliable cheerer-upper. And I firmly believe that laughter is just about the best medicine invented. It's now 20:30 — what's next, Mrs Landingham? Fancy a cuppa?
And, to the music of Frank Zappa that Tall Thomas has lent me, some much overdue filing and tidying. It's now Guy Garvey time (BBC 6Music) and I'm getting rather tired. Hah! He's just playing Brian Eno's "An ending" — one of my choices for Christa's funeral service. It's 23:50 and I'm about to call it a day (or a night, at least).