As I write this egg timer length post, it’s 5:29 and the elderly lady in the bed across the room is snoring like a trooper; I’m trying to block out her alarmng growls through the medium of Kate Bush.
In my previous post I believe I dropped the words ‘naïveté’ and ‘hubris’: O my friends, how appropriate these revealed themselves to be yesterday eve’. The (in)famous Lemtrada rash did reveal itself in all its itchy and unattractive glory. Didn’t love it, gotta say. But, true to what I’ve been told, an IV shot of antihistamine sent it on its way with relative swiftness. Still though. Another club I’ve reluctantly joined. Felt pretty shitty throughout the night to boot. Slightly headachy. Slightly nauseous. Slightly stomach achey. Slightly night-twitchy. Thank god I wasn’t at sea; who can say how much worse that’d have been?
A final grain of salt tumbles through to the bottom chamber, time’s up my friends.
Mid-afternoon. The house seems eerily quiet. Only the tinny sound of music from iPhone speakers, the ever-comforting murmur of a light comedy repeat on Radio 4 leaking from the kitchen, a psyche-rock record playing in the dining room and a long-unwatched BBC4 documentary still unwatched, but playing, in the living room, break the oppressive silence. Outside a wind registering somewhere between light-breeze and force-10 gale unremittingly rages. Wandering from room to room, catching snippets of voices – some unfamiliar, some like old friends – from the various devices littered throughout the building that is, has been, and will always be home. Until the final days – be they apocalyptic or a soft drift into sleepy and then unknowing blackness.
How the mind wanders when one is awaiting a phone-call alerting them to the possibility of paid, yes PAID, supply-teaching work.
Like an educationalist superhero, I shall don a professional yet comfortable, authoritative looking – but stylish, always stylish – smock dress, perhaps a cardigan for it is chilly and also I have bought a new one, in, let’s say, mustard, pack my emergency-biros and a neccessary flask of tea (alas, will I ever find one that does not leak), and then I shall be off! Not flying but in my cardboard box car, ready to do my utmost to ensure that the educational chances of the poor mites of Shrewsbury (and surrounding areas) are not too adversely affected by the absence of their regular teacher. Heroic. Yet humble.
Hey man, it’s just who I am!