Oh dear, sorry about the mess that was my last posting.
Well I suppose it had immediacy and liveness but in every other respect was a scraped D+ at GCSE. I am going to leave it there despite the damage it is doing to my literary and academic reputation because I could not give a toss and anyone who could, is a tosseur.
Last night I thought I was a Victorian bed part made of cast iron and thus unable to be bent and fitted in place, and I saw all flat surfaces of a pale colour as furry. Toilets, baths and magnolia walls were particularly hursuit. This was actually occurring while I was writing and continued at home in bed when I had to ask Maria not only where I was but what I was – so it just goes to show that you can still manage certain complex technical tasks such as uploading to a blog on an IPad using an iPhone as a network hotspot, while being completely, and I mean completely out of your head. I was sweating so much that the sweat ran in streams off my ear lobes onto the floor producing splashes that with close attention you could hear, however my temperature was normal. The nurse described me as ‘cold and clammy.’ I asked “why?” she said ‘you must be ill.”Not the most startling intuition given where we were.
Me and my ‘rough’ friends continued to share our gallows humour until 10.30 pm when I was sent home with a secure bag of class A drugs, I could tell one of the gang was envious. My best friend was told he needed a liver biopsy and my extremely rough friend, yes he had been ‘inside’ and whose son had recently beaten to a bloody pulp a bunch of lads who were out to steal pensioners prescriptions as they came out of the surgery – this fearless incident was apparently greeted by applause from the doctors who had been unable to rid the environs of these nerdowells , he produced a gallon of phlegm such that the nurse privately commented she could do all excreta bar phlegm with indifference but phlegm ****– poor lovely thing..
How we laughed at all the bits that had fallen off our bodies not as much as we had laughed at Johns testicles, (hopefully in the singular by now) but a stroke, 3 heart attacks (shared between two friends) an ulcer, a gangrenous leg (now gone as in missing), a lost thumb, lung something or other, heart something or other, my cancer, amyloidosis etc were great material to riff on the meaning of health, death, Jeremy Corbyn, Manchester United (whoever they are), our pets, twoking, expectorants, how all immigrants except the nice polish couple next door should be sent home and bourbons or digestives. We ended up as firm friends and I agree with Arthur I found the whole experience really life enhancing. People have so much more niceness amidst so much stupidity.
I am home now. Still pretty Ill but so much better. I can sit, stand, almost lie, sleep (sadly only within furry walls and in a Victorian furniture factory) piss, pooh, eat and drink. I have my glorious and complete immediate family with me today. I cannot ask for anything more.
Btw. I was so, so so touched by the phone calls, texts, e-mails, blog comments and everything my dear friends do to keep my pecker up. Many made me laugh a lot. Don’t forget presents though. I like them best and don’t feel you have to be modest. I could start a John Lewis ‘Chris’s post constipation list.’ I wonder if you can get Enemas on EBay – save a lot of trouble for next time. Perhaps Maria could pop it in.