Yesterday when I started feeling weird I changed my sheets, tidied my bedroom and my kitchen and made a massive pot of bolognese. Because my tastebuds have gone a bit haywire I threw in as much spice as I could find to remind me that I was alive. I just had some of it on a jacket potato and fucking hell I think it was trying to kill me. I guess It’s good to taste something, even if that something is just pain. There are some chili sauces I’ve had on the shelves for years that I shook in until my elbows hurt.
It’s a good mince. It’s a something. I like it. I’m glad nobody else is going to have to eat it though as I don’t want to have to clean up after any guests that spontaneously combust.
I’m having a mug of gin and tonic so I must be feeling better. I can look at screens again without feeling weird. That was a very strange thing, but yesterday it really wasn’t possible. Writing this blog was an exercise in self discipline. It often is, but yesterday was the toughest I’ve had as my face was melting and all my instincts were telling me to stop looking. I hope that doesn’t happen again.
This unwellness thing is now just a little bit of a dry cough and a touch of achiness. My eyes still feel weird but nothing like as leaky, and I’m a wee bit shaky. No temperature as yet but I’m going outside in case I meet someone who doesn’t get hayfever. I’m still reasonably well resourced at home. I’ve got enough avocado for a few more days, loads of eggs and lentils and pasta, rice and so on and enough nuclear bolognese to wipe out a small country. If there’s any left when this is all finished I’ll sell it to the army.
I’ve drunk all the wine but for the 2012 Barolo. The beer’s long gone. There’s tons of whisky and gin though before I have to start hitting the sherry that S was necking out of the bottle, or the weirder stuff. My stash of old style Lucozade has been decimated to be used as emergency mixers by the usual parade of slow moving overprivileged wankers who roll back at midnight with Kitcat when I’m on tour and ooze into the liquor cabinet.
There are now 7 cans of old style Lucozade left in my world from the 24 I bought on eBay and locked in the cabinet. That’s 7 more years of New Year’s Day hangover and then it’ll be gone forever. I’ve locked it into the cabinet again despite slight misgivings as last time I did that someone broke the hinge with a hammer thinking they were going to find hidden treasure. That was Brian though or one of his friends, who would have been both capable and resourceful. I have no concerns that anyone the new flatmate brings will be either of those things.
The Tempest is getting interesting but I still haven’t got a clue how it will all pan out. It’s fun to geek out though. I just wish I was feeling 100%.