9 December 2002
[This entry written on Thursday, but not uploaded till Sunday on account of technical difficulties...]
Good news, bad news. The good is that I'm having a Nice Time at the moment; at least, I think this is good news. Tuesday evening in London with my friend Angela (originally Kate's friend Angela, but I'm inveigling my way into her favours; I like stitching myself into other people's circles. Contrariwise, I get very anxious when I find my friends making friendships with each other and without reference to Me. I don't really suppose they spend all their time talking about Me - except that I do really, of course I do, what else? And being talked about is only fun when you know what's being said. We all have different faces, that we show to different friends; once let them start comparing notes, and where's your control gone?), Wednesday lunch with new agents (at the Blue Elephant on Fulham Road: prawns and banana-flowers, duck salad with a three-elephant chilli rating and a variety of desserts - and see how discreet I'm being, talking about the food? But actually the meeting was good too. Tho' I still miss Kerith), Thursday evening in North Shields to see Comedy Bites... Back (surreal comedy sketches by Pete Mortimer and pals, currently on a tour of north-east pubs; see it if you can, it's rather wonderful), tonight to Durham for dinner with Cornwell Internet (Roger and Jean, who run this website, among others; check out www.cornwellinternet.co.uk), tomorrow night I'm out drinking and on Sunday I'm out to dinner. It gets in the way of working, but what the hell...
To some, my hapless readers, I guess that would be the bad news, that all this socialising stops me writing; but actually, no. The really bad news is that my body is disintegrating. Most of this year I've been having physiotherapy and acupuncture for serious neural damage, largely we think the consequence of fifteen years of untreated RSI; the prime symptom has been chronic pins & needles in my left hand. Finally, this last month or so, that's almost gone. This morning my right hand started tingling, and is tingling still.
© Chaz Brenchley 2002
Reproduced here by permission of Chaz Brenchley, who asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this work.