December 2004 Archives

No, the song never materialised, did it? And since it'd be bad luck to do it now, it'll have to wait for next year. Before electing to have me punished, please understand that I was in a bit of a bad way this holiday, laid low and in bed with the flu from the 24th to the 27th. While all the celebrations went on without me, making it the first Christmas I've 'missed', it was still kind of nice to hear my family and closest relatives making merry downstairs, and having the occasional mad person come to partake of my tainted atmosphere. I was really well looked after on each and every day, so it's hard to feel gloomy, even if it wasn't an ideal situation; now just hacking up a lot of mucus, which isn't beautiful (the condition, not the mucus, though...), but otherwise starting to totter around comfortably enough; it feels good not to feel so sick.

Dear Masochists,

It is time to nominate this year's Christmas carol.

Thank you,

Hapless Victim.

EDIT: Following an email enquiry: You are nominating a carol for ME TO SING, as last year!

Yes Quin, I wish they'd bug off too; too many memories of answering the door in my underpants, only to be simultaneously blasted by icy-cold air and a group of trillers too busy singing their piece to give me a chance to run and put something on. "No, you can't have any change, but if you like you can see just how hard nipples can get when snap frozen to 0°C."

In an effort to combat the exceptional greyness of the day, I took a stroll around the nearby botanic gardens armed with a digital camera in the hope of capturing a little cheer. ISO set to 400 to avoid using the horrible, horrible flash... not too shaky!

      

      

      

      

    

Germans throw a wicked Christmas party; pictured is the Feuerzangenbowle, a totally innocent looking tureen of mulled wine over which a block of packed sugar is ignited and constantly fed with rum until it has all caramelised into the fragrant goodness below. This is the attempt carried out by my pet Italian and I; it's highly toxic (half a bottle of rum to two litres of wine; relatively little alcohol actually burns off) and very, very good for the soul on a cold winter's evening.

I appreciate the kind words; I'm doing just fine now that my shoulder is back in one piece, though the soreness is keeping me on pills and my arm in a sling. An assessment in the next week or two will govern whether or not surgery will be carried out to stabilise the joint in the long term, a distinct possibility since this dislocation is a more severe repeat of one I had in 1998 whilst climbing in Borneo.

EDIT: caught The Incredibles today and enjoyed it immensely, so if you've enjoyed any of the Pixar productions, I suggest you take a look. I don't think I'm off the mark in thinking that it was largely inspired by the classic graphic novel, Watchmen, as anyone who has read it will be reminded of various similarities there (the anti-superhero political movement, the cape thing, the criminal who gets off on being beaten up, the villain who sets up his own stunts to achieve fame), not to mention the influence of Lee and Kirby's Fantastic Four. And if I ever have kids, I want my baby to pull the same trick that theirs does. At least on Hallowe'en.

Today I decided to remove the humerus of my right arm entirely from its socket. Although the situation got a little old for my liking in all of one point eight (1.8) milliseconds (ms), it was novel to see my shoulder take on a whole new shape, and to have the length of my arm extended by an inch and a half. Ultimately, it wasn't worth the effort, since re-seating joints is a needlessly painful process, but on the bright side, it did involve nitrous oxide, which true to its common name can make a person a little bit smiley, a healthy shot of morphine -- from which I'm just coming down; the room is only rotating a little bit now -- and a comforting BK double cheeseburger with fries, which means that I've eaten fast food twice in the last two and a half years (there's a Catholic church nearby complete with confessional). Arm in sling and pills aplenty, the patient is both comfortable and cheerful.
MJ, for getting me to the Accident & Emergencies unit under highly testing conditions and at great pains to yourself, you have my heartfelt thanks.