In A Bad Way

10.28
Now dealing with a Big Problem. I'm suffering a particularly savage bout of sciatica, down my left leg. This developed yesterday morning just before we drove down to Melaka. I spent the journey flat out, on the back seat. Went to a doctor's on the way, desperate for pain-killers and he prescribed something called Tramadol, amongst others. Looked it up on-line. It's opiate based and possibly addictive. Not good, then. But necessary, I'm afraid. We're going to try and get to Singapore this afternoon, where I think I'll be seeking a hospital. Wish me luck, Gentle Reader. I need lots of it!

20.30
Got back in one piece with the Missus taking command. Some improvement in my condition. No longer in pain all the time, which is a great place to be.

A Sense Of Curiosity

We played host this afternoon to Linda and Sharif and their one-year-old-and-a-bit identical twins, Zahra & Jannah. In their two hours with us the little girls managed to be interested in everything in our living room. Fortunately they are not yet walking, otherwise the bounds of their interest would likely have proved limitless. Their parents informed us they, the parents, had both lost weight since the birth of the twins. Given the need to deal pretty much constantly with the kids' insatiable curiosity it was easy to see why. I felt exhausted just sitting there and watching them.

More Plastic

Couldn't help but notice just now, when we were in the very well organised and excellently stocked supermarket at Melawati Mall, that almost every item on the racks for vegetables was wrapped or covered or housed in some sort of plastic. I don't think this would be the natural state of the foodstuffs, so someone, somewhere had gone to a lot of trouble to get this done. But I'm not at all sure why. Presumably it makes it easier to buy, or sell. But at what cost?

Going Places

Aiyoh, so much happening around here! Noi noted pithily as I very narrowly avoided running down a pedestrian who for some obscure reason best known to himself was strolling across the slip road from a highway joining another highway, even though there was no where at all for pedestrians to walk along in the vicinity for a good half a mile. It didn't help that the slip road was barely illuminated - despite the fact that major roadworks were taking place all along it. That's a typical feature of KL roads, by the way: you think you are driving on a major highway when it suddenly turns strangely minor, as if you've lost your way, when you're simply been following the only way to go.

But I must say, despite all the complaining above, this evening saw something of a minor triumph for us regarding journeying across the sprawling Malaysian capital. For the first time ever we were able to follow the directions of our GPS without once going wrong, taking us from our abode on Bukit Antarabangsa to the big IKEA outlet in Damansara. The feeling of actually knowing what we were doing and where we were going was pleasantly unfamiliar. Must try this more often.

Bad News

A brilliant cartoon/comic in today's Guardian concerning The United States of Plastic did little to restore cheerfulness to my person, which can only be a good thing given the scope of the environmental crisis we have created. I can't say I have any great, or even weak, ideas on how to tackle the problem, but if somebody else has I'm more than prepared to listen. Sometimes putting things into perspective can be troubling.

Still Moving

Now in Maison KL, having driven up here this afternoon. I surprised myself by managing most of the driving. To be honest, I wasn't at all sure I would be able to cope, given the levels of protest of which my back is capable at the moment, but the aches and pains involved remained this side of bearable, for which I am deeply thankful. In fact, the most uncomfortable part of the experience proved to be the hour or so on arrival getting the house shipshape. I'd forgotten just how much lugging round of various items is involved. Still, accomplishing the necessary is a way of fighting back, I suppose.

Entertainment

Just finished reading Jo Nesbo's The Snowman. I'd felt the need for something with narrative pace and a bit of mystery about it and heard enough good things about this particular bit of Nordic Noir to take the plunge. In the event I found the plot mildly preposterous but not so silly as to make me stop reading. But the level of unpleasant violence, particularly against women, with links to sexual obsession did make me wonder exactly why I'd chosen to entertain myself in this manner.

The problem with the whole serial killer genre is how essentially uninteresting the obsessive monsters on which it feeds, or thrives, turn out to be. Indeed, I suppose that's true of actual serial killers. The central premise that the world is an ugly sort of place leads inexorably to insistently shallow cynicism.

Entertaining

Quite a few visitors today scoffing, and rightly so, for it is eminently scoffable, Noi's grub. Even after all these years I'm not sure how she does the magic, but I'm very happy indeed to be spellbound.

Doing Something

No let-up from the pain in my back, or, to be more precise, the pain running down the left side of my body, centred upon the hip and the region just above this. Thinking about going to the doctor's again for another jab, but hoping the problem will mysteriously ease of its own accord, as has happened in the past.
 
Quite pleased with myself for doing all the cleaning in Hall planned for June in the last four days. It was necessary to grit my teeth (and then some) to accomplish this, but once started the process was not quite as painful as I thought it might be.

I remained baffled as to why keeping things in some sort of order is so satisfying - indeed, necessary - for me. It's extremely useful to know this, though, providing an odd sort of anchor in somewhat troubled times.

A Bit Partial

I'd strongly recommend Rob Young's Electric Eden to anyone interested in British music of the twentieth century, especially what we think of as folk music. It's a fascinating if somewhat partial account of a wide range of musical endeavour. Indeed, part of the fascination lies in just how personal an account it is. It was enjoyable to read enthusiastically detailed accounts of particular albums - like the early Incredible String Band stuff - but puzzling, though not in any bothersome way, as to why other seemingly worthy albums are given just brief nods, or ignored completely.

The essential thesis of the book - that a nostalgic drive to find once more, or somehow embody, a version of a lost paradise related in some sense to the landscape is central to the music of the British Isles - seems to me accurate and useful as a very loosely organising principle. And the loose organisation of Electric Eden I found delightfully relaxing. Above all, this music should be in some sense loose and fun. Actually there were more than a few examples of downright silliness involved on the parts of the various participants: always a good thing.