The Mighty Fall

I've been off sick from work for a few days. India gave me a cold a few weeks back and predictably I was unable to shift it off my chest. The vicious asthma cycle kicked in and last week saw me collecting a course of steriods from the Doc, followed by a course of antibiotics, for a nasty little chest infection: I ended up in bed Thursday afternoon with flu like symptoms. The cycle of cold, infection, antibiotics is becoming depressing: it's starting to get to me.

Sunday -- 5 mins before the start of the big match* -- I managed to fall down the stairs. Warning: Do not wear smoooth-bottomed flip-flops when descending Victorian terrace property staircases. It could have been a bad one: I came down at least seven steps, landing on my arse with a crunch. My bottom is bruised, my left upper arm and shoulder jarred, and my right shoulder sore. My left knee ligaments are also tight today.

Fortunately I managed to grab the bannister, saving myself from serious injury. Nine of the twelve screws attaching it to the wall popped out. I was lucky it didn't follow me down the stairs: it weighs a ton.


Exam Invigilator

My dad's doing GCSE exam invigilating for Lord Williams' at the moment. It's a boring job. The highlights for him so far have both been in the Maths exam:

1) Kid A turns up, writes "I can't f***ing do this" on his paper and then leaves the hall -- never to return -- when his mobile phone rings. The ringtone was probably Alice Cooper.

2) Kid B falls asleep at his desk. He is woken up four times by different invigilators and teachers. Each time he works for ten minutes and thens nods off again. Lesson to be learned = do not stay up late revising the night before an exam.


Terminal Velocity

Gran is still in hospital. Yesterday we learnt that the 4cm growth detected in her bowel region apears to be a fast-growing secondary tumour. I'm unsurprised, but still shell-shocked. My brother phoned me up last night to talk about it, but just as I don't know what to write here, I didn't know what to say to him. I doubt that they will operate. Gran has another scan this week, from which they will [I guess] be able to tell us how long she's got left.


Changing Gears

I used to use that technique a lot more when I was posting this blog every day: Post a good thing, post a bad thing. It puts the reader off guard and makes the good thing seem better and the bad thing worse than if they existing alongside other good or bad things respectively. In poker it's called changing gears. Over the weekend -- whilst recovering from my chest infection and stuntman tumble -- I read Matt Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. It's excellent and reads like a blog. Each chapter is all of one to six pages long and Haddon changes gear every chapter, zipping the story along at a pace and keeping the reader hooked.



* the post-Big Match joke:
Q: Why do French women love Englishmen ?
A: They can be on top for 90 mins.... then still come second.