12 September 2004
Brrr. Iím not sure if the weatherís actually got suddenly colder, but it is utterly certain that I have. I am full of cold and shivering, with sneezings and a bad throat to boot. Would that I could boot them; I have - of course! - a gig in two nightsí time. If youíre within striking distance of Manchester, come to the Chinese Arts Centre on Thomas St, 7.30 on Tuesday, and hear me wheeze and cough. Itíll be a treat.
Meanwhile Iím living on hot buttered rum and toddies, and the heating has gone on. Which, as it always does, has confused Misha mightily, so she has to go on her seasonal perambulation to locate just where is the warmest spot in the house. Sheís always quick to notice that itís shifted, but it takes her a day or two of trying here, trying there, before sheís certain just where itís gone. Sometimes thereís even a need for compromise - a hideous thought, to a cat! - between maximum warmth and maximum comfort. I do scurry around behind her with her bed-in-a-box, but I honestly canít balance it actually on top of a radiator, however often she suggests that I might try. Besides, the top hot spot will shift again in a week or two, when I turn the thermostat up. Must be something to do with physics, temperature gradients, the circulation of the air; or else itís just the doggone orneriness of the universe, which I think amounts to pretty much the same thing.
© Chaz Brenchley 2004
Reproduced here by permission of Chaz Brenchley, who asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this work.