I was packing just before the plane to visit the mother outlaw, when the phone call came to say Albert's old dear died in the night. The cellmate said "you need to talk about how you feel". I said I'm packing, I don't need to talk. Then, cutting my toenails, I filed the big toe right down to the ingrown bit. Something I've carefully avoided doing for years. Limping for Lent now, my own fault of course.
I've seen the mother outlaw five days in a row, she's being pretty brave but she's losing her rag a bit, as you would after 9 weeks in hospital without a single meal. I tell her about the outside world, but at the same time I feel guilty talking about what her daughter cooked for dinner last night.
I left the hospital with the umbrella up against the rain. Skidding on the grid at the kerb, I performed a perfect bana-skin pratfall. Feet up in the air, I shoulder charged the pavement. Unselfishly, the umbrella broke my fall, becoming mangled in the process. People came to my aid, but I was laughing, and wishing someone had filmed it.
I'm staying at the sister's place in NZ. The cellmate is still in NSC with the dog.
I dreamt last night I was camping with a lot of people, and Mary Hopkin's gorgeous sister was there for some reason, in the sleeping bag next to me.
She excused herself to go and shoot up heroin. When she came back she was feeling the rush, and took my hand. Telling myself I was only being friendly, I held her. The cellmate noticed, and trusted me, but my brother tried to stop me.
The sister disappeared again. Telling myself I was just checking she was alright, I followed her. Would you believe it, the heroin made her uncontrollable randy.
Just to keep her happy, I went along with things. I reasoned that I wasn't betraying the cellmate, so long as technically intercourse didn't actually occur.
Well I discovered that you can do quite a lot while still pleading the Clinton amendment. Graphic as it was, I was aware that she was getting much more out of it than I was. I even realised that all I was doing was following up too late on a missed opportunity from decades ago.
Later, she threatened to tell everyone unless I gave her the taxi fare home. To save money i offered to drive her home. I don't know what happened after that.
In the middle of a walk through the woods with the dog, for old times' sake. We're both older and more puffed than we used to be. I've been stopping every half hour or so to let her rest/drink/bathe.
It's the first day of the hols, and nice to just walk without thinking.
The cellmate has been out of it for days, with flu. Don't know if I can avoid catching it, but I'm being nice to her from afar. I'm about to go to NZ and you can't visit the mother outlaw in hospital if you've got anything infectious.
I was looking forward to this trip, my first time there without the cellmate. But ever since the holidays began I'm inexplicably sad. I suppose you can't expect the bliss pills to work absolutely all the time.
This year I didn't have time to prepare a proper April fool, but I managed a kind of prank anyway. The toilets where I work have an automatic light switch to save electricity: an infra-red sensor switches on the lights when anyone walks into the gents. And then switches off about 15 minutes later unless it detects any further motion (pun unintended).
All I had to do was adjust the time setting with a screwdriver. So now you go into a stall, sit down and begin a dump, when suddenly the place goes pitch dark. I won't describe the resulting inconvenience in case you're just having your breakfast.
I adjusted the sensor on every floor in the same way. Later on, I was caught in my own trap, but I found that all you have to do is waddle outside the stall to trigger the lights back on. And hope that nobody else comes in at that moment to catch you with your trousers down.
I'd like to report a breach of the Geneva convention. Last week Albert bought some fish eggs at the fish market, to make his own taramasalata.
After eating the putrescent paste for several days, he then forced a group of clients to share a room with him for several hours. I feel especially sorry for the hotties sitting at the front. Mind you, that's the nearest Albert will ever get to defiling any of them. So that's something.
What a great day it's going to be. One of those days where you leap out of bed with a hop skip and jump, before you remember you're an old man and likely to injure something. Yesterday I took one of the dog's heart pills by mistake, so that may have helped.
I've got the whole day off. And two weeks off coming up! Then Easter brings an excuse to listen to umpteen versions of the St Matthew Passion. This time last year I was frozen in Frankfurt, but here it's only freezing by our standards.
It's still only breakfast time and already I delivered the killer blow in an online scrabble game. 105 points.
While reviewing the academic abstracts available as RSS feeds from Discover Magazine, I read an unusual piece of research.
"Rectal impaction following enema with concrete mix" is an article describing an unusual rectal foreign body resulting from homosexual anal erotic activities. The patient had used an enema containing a concrete mix which became impacted and required surgical removal. The use, abuse, and complications of enemas are reviewed.
Last Thursday was perhaps the most productive day ever. A full speed dog walk, then a gym session in the back room, achieving new weights without injury, thanks partly to the use of Denny-based visualisations during the bench press.
Invigorated, I went into the garden and chopped another whole tree, swinging through branches with the girly chainsaw.
I mowed lawns and weeded. I finally injured my shoulder while washing the windows. Later I discovered that the cellmate had cleaned the windows already, so it was a waste of energy too.
I got through a few other jobs I've long wanted to do. But doing all this physical work without the ipod, I noticed that I tend to get one stupid song in my head ad nauseam, an OCD symptom. Note to self: next time plug in the headphones first, or bump up the pill rations.