Highly Complimentary

A colleague remarked to me today that she couldn't think of anyone less like Boris Johnson, the likely future Prime Minister of my homeland, than myself. Explaining the nature of the conversation that led to this comment would be tiresome and convoluted, so I won't bother. But I will say that I regard this as praise indeed. A compliment of the highest order possible, no?

Just Sitting

I stopped taking the medication - essentially muscle relaxant - for my back today. I'm still aware of a kind of sciatic achiness in my leg and a mild, gentle, vague tingling in my foot, but am feeling nothing like the degree of dreary aching that afflicted me last week. The thing is though, I know things could deteriorate without warning because that's the nature of the condition. In fact, first thing this morning I thought I was experiencing a bit more pain than in previous days, but by the time I found myself on duty in an examination hall at 7.30 that had largely faded.

The truth is that our bodies are a fascinating, sometimes worrisome, mystery to us. And the part of them known as the back is the most mysterious of all. At least in my case it is. 

I'll declare myself well again when I am confident enough to go to the gym, but that could still be a long time off. In the meantime I'm relishing feeling something close to normal, sitting on a sofa and watching the telly with the Missus.

Something Splendid

Walked out just now to lock up some rooms and was confronted by a healthily thick crescent moon. Like nothing so much as a chubbily radiant toenail. Puzzled as to why the sight made me feel so cheerful, but gratified that it did.

Something Forgotten

I was glancing at one of those ranking lists, so ubiquitous on-line, of top albums by a musician yesterday when I realised I had managed to allow a magnificent double album to drift entirely from my mind. The muso in question is the incomparable Stevie Wonder and I was expecting to see either Talking Book or Innervisions at the top of the list. Instead there stood Songs in the Key of Life at the pinnacle, and I immediately understood why (though mildly disagreeing. For me it would have been Innervisions. Though, having said that I could have accepted any of the four albums following Music of my Mind without demure - Fulfillingness' First Finale also being outstanding in its way. In fact, I'd even accept Music of my Mind, come to think of it.)

The mystery was how I'd come to sort of forget Songs in the Key of Life. I suppose the fact I never owned it on vinyl played a part. Being a double album it was expensive and back in 1976 I decided I couldn't afford it. But since it was played by everyone at university, pretty much all the time when it first came out, and was easy to borrow, it somehow didn't seem necessary to own it. In contrast, yesterday ownership became a priority as I desperately needed to hear it again, and I downloaded it from iTunes in next to no time.

Of course, the big hits from the album - Isn't She Lovely?, Sir Duke, I Wish - were entirely familiar to me before listening. It was the other tracks that I'd sort of forgotten, but recognised immediately in that odd I know what's coming next way that fascinated me. Astonishingly there's absolutely no filler involved. Which leads me to a simple conclusion: the five albums noted above must be the greatest five-in-a-sequence that have ever been released in terms of unrelenting quality: great writing, great playing (most of it coming from the wonder man himself, great singing, great production.)

In A Better Way

This time last week I was in a mess. Lying on the floor of our bedroom in Mak's house in Sungai Petai, I was seriously wondering if it was going to be possible to get up to walk to the toilet, or if I was going to be able to get any sleep at all when night finally arrived. Whatever other thinking I did, apart from  monitoring the pain I was in, related to trying to figure out whom I needed to message regarding work-related matters since I was entirely sure I wouldn't be attending my place of employment when Monday arrived. In the event I seemed to nod off around four in the morning for a couple of hours, and when I woke up the pain in my left leg was not quite as bad. As Sunday morning went on I actually found myself able to get to the shower and have a shave, and began to consider the possibility I might just get better.

Today, after five fairly tough days spent at work, trying to allow for various incapacities, I'm glimpsing the astonishing possibility of getting back to something like pain-free normality. It's difficult to express how grateful I am for even just a glimpse of that state of health, but this is my weak attempt.

Mad, Going

Felt somewhat saddened to read today about the demise of Mad magazine - but was also a little surprised to find out it was continuing to be published at all. In my mind it's forever associated with the time I read it as a kid - the late 60s and early 70s. (Its readership peaked in 1973.) When we used to go to Auntie Kathleen and Uncle Vic's for Christmas Day one of the highlights of the visit was me being allowed to read Cousin Paul's stash of the mags in his bedroom. It struck me then as representing the height of cool, though I don't suppose the word cool was a working part of my vocabulary in those long ago supremely uncool days. I suppose its seemingly sophisticated irreverence was a useful aspect of my education: I turned out more than a little mad myself, I'm happy to admit.

Something Of Value

Excellent article today in the Guardian on-line relating to the idiotic British MEPs who turned their backs on the EU anthem the other day. It almost compensated for the anger and shame I felt at the behaviour of my countrymen. Actually the focus of the piece is on Beethoven's Ninth in itself and its richly symbolic political associations rather than the shabby idiocies of the present. It's good to think the symphony will outlast us all, eh?

A Bit Of A Pain

It's a bit iffy to say this, but there's something horribly fascinating about pain when one is in it - assuming, that is, that the pain is this side of bearable. That's the case with mine, at present, and I'm selfishly consumed with monitoring it. The thing about sciatica, or the version of it I've got at the moment, is that the pain involved shifts around and you can experience startling changes in the mobility of various chunks of the body in the space of a few hours. Case in point: on Monday I had no problem sitting in a lowish chair for as long as I needed, though higher seats were out, causing a viciously aching upper left leg in less than a minute. Now sitting down for any length of time beyond three minutes is generally impossible. Another example: for two weeks before my Saturday crisis I could barely bend forward at the waist at all. (Bending in the standing position for Prayers, for example.) Now I can bend forward with almost complete freedom, despite being in a general mess in other ways.

I feel sorry for colleagues who compassionately ask me how I'm feeling. If they're really unlucky I tell them in detail, at length, fascinated as I am by my own body betraying me. A real pain for those poor souls, I'm afraid.

A Touch Of Class

I'm quite irritated with myself for not finding a way to access the on-going Women's World Cup live. Following it in the papers, at a bit of a distance, and some of the highlights that get to youtube, it's been a classy competition. I'd love to watch the semi between England and the USA, but will have to settle for waking up to find out the result. It'll be quite something if the women outdo the men's team in terms of progress in the big tournament - and the signs are they could pull it off, despite the strength of the USA. If they manage to do so it'll make up just a little bit - but not enough - for the on-going national humiliation known as Brexit.

Postscript: So now we know it wasn't to be. Again. But we can be proud of the team in defeat. (Though I would have preferred to be proud of them in victory.)

Just Getting Through

My aim today was simple: Get through a day at work. I would have thought this impossible when I was lying on the floor on Saturday, but it seemed a possibility at 8.00 pm yesterday. In the event I succeeded, but am now feeling the effects. And tomorrow is another day.