I have a hangover; I intended to have one, that’s right, it’s deliberate. Last night, just before I was due to go to bed I was stumbling about my premises talking to myself quietly as Myfwt was sparko out in the sack where upon I acknowledged that I was pissed on a ‘school night’. I pondered this ‘on a school night’ phrase that has slipped without introduction into day-to-day parlance, up until that point in time it had never occurred to me to use it, and there is was bathing in my lexical choice as if of my own invention.
I can just about remember school nights, satchel slung over the bed awaiting attention whilst its owner lolled in front of the just-new colour TV, mum cooking in the kitchen, dad in the bath, siblings reading between bouts of kicks and yells… they were days uncluttered by worry, of discovery via sharpened sticks, humiliation, teachers, breathless laughter, girly awakenings… They were happy days on the whole.
These days life doesn’t stretch ahead as it did then, once it was so far into the distance it was impossible to see the next 5 minutes let alone the next day. All that coiled up experience along the way, that was used up years and years ago, dreams, aspirations, been and gone, luck run dry, corner turned, lid locked down…no, it wasn’t a school night by any means, it was yet another fucking working week night approaching 40 and stumbling about my miserable gaff all pissed up with my back twisted up like Somme barbed wire. Which reminds me…
Yesterday I helped a female colleague at work change a car tyre, hypocrisy I know following yesterdays rant, but there you go. Regular readers will know that I slipped my disc a few years back, something I’m keen not to go through again because in addition to the hundreds of pounds it cost to have the cunt fixed, it smarts somewhat. I assumed a certain position when loosening the rather tight wheel nuts to keep the contentious area of my back free from too much stress. Unbeknownst to me at the time, but fucking knownst about 3 hours later when all of a sudden I couldn’t sit without yelping, stand without honking or walk without moaning I’d inadvertently knacked the ball of muscle to the right of my coccyx, torn, no doubt when heaving up the bracket to unlock the wheel fastenings.
The result of all this is bloody pain. I can barely ride my black bitch and sitting down takes a good 2 minutes to get into the right position to allow the area of stress to sufficiently relax and allow some sort of flexibility. It hurts to shit, cough, laugh and even fart. So last night I aided myself with a few G&T’s, 4 glasses of Beaujolais and a few mucky cigarettes and remained stood up for most of the evening chatting to Myfwt in the kitchen before she tottered off to the land of nod.
It’s no better today either, I may be forced to dig out my stick and commence unabridged hobbling again. The lesson in all this is to never help anyone, ever.
Yesterday I was chatting online to a client. He and I share a passion for a much ignored and talented musician by the name of Robert Calvert; he spent some time in Hawkwind but also produced a lot of solo work. Blighted by drink, drugs and depression (if not mental health issues) Calvert ejected in his early 40’s a few weeks after I met him when I was in my 20’s. A lot of his stuff is being re-realised which must be some sort of indication that he’s being rediscovered? I’m going to see if I can’t get him some of the recognition he deserves right here right now. Snag is there isn’t much on youtube so you’ll have to make do with this.