Tuesday, 2 December 2014

Comforting blankets of fog


If there is one thing I have learnt from this blogging lark, it is that if you are desirous of large quantities of comments, then the best thing you can do is admit to some sort of personal weakness, failing or illness.

I have even had emails from people (who know who I really am and how to get hold of me) wishing me well, together with tons of advice about how I achieve this state.

Of course, not all of the advice is given with good intentions. Heron's prescription of the strict adherence to Ayurvedic Yoga turns out to be a way he can remotely stop me from doing everything that makes my life bearable, such as drinking and staying up late. I knew it was too good to be true.

Rachel's violin came out of the cupboard for the briefest of brief moments, like a flash of light coming from the chink in the curtain of a hostile neighbour.

Britta insisted that I was displaying all the symptoms of something called 'Bekhterev' and hoped that this was not the case, because 'Bekhterev' is - apparently - an uncomfortable and incurable condition, but then she understood that Bekheterev and A.S. are one and the same. Hey ho, as John would say.

John himself advised me to avoid rear collisions when driving my car, as shunts like these can turn sufferers into paraplegics, as if they don't have enough on their plates already. Well I don't set out on a journey with this sort of collision uppermost in my mind, and actively taking steps to decrease the chances of it happening would probably cause accidents in any case. I suppose this is the equivalent of saying, 'good luck', then waving goodbye.

Anyway, changing the subject, I received a Christmas card from BBC's Radio 4 yesterday, so I don't feel so bad about showing you my own so early as I did.

It is a really nice and evocative one, and is a photo dating from around the 1950's depicting a mother and child standing on the steps of St Martin in the Fields, looking at a Christmas tree with a back-drop of heavy London Fog - or smog. I've just posted it on, so you didn't really need the description. Hey ho...

I don't know how they got my address, because I don't remember giving it to Cathy Clugston when I spoke to her on the phone last year, even though she knew exactly which bank account I had from the card number, which happened to be the same as hers - the account, not the number.

H.I. said - in a rather puritanical way, I thought - that they shouldn't be spending money on fancy cards, but I disagree. It's called 'goodwill', and if there ever a time to dish out goodwill - even if it is not for entirely altruistic motives - then Christmas is it.

I wonder who I will talk to this year? I'm hoping for Neil Nunes if I can't get Cathy again...

33 comments:

  1. Ah shucks. I knew that I ought to have recommended a high alkaline diet instead.

    ReplyDelete
  2. The "Ah,and Bekhterev is.." was my polite way to tell you that I thought you didn't know, Tom. (It is called in Germany that way, and I know it from a distant relative who suffered from it).

    ReplyDelete
  3. I am so glad I didn't comment yesterday as I was going to say methinks you whingeth too much.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Did you see Tony and Cheery's card? DIRE.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. No, I'm off their Christmas card list, for some reason.

      Delete
    2. I did! It made the news here for some reason. We're still laughing !

      Delete
    3. I looked at it last night, and it almost put me off Christmas.

      Delete
  5. How come you get a posh card from the BBC? And what is more what are they doing sending them out so early - cards should just not be allowed in the Royal Mail until at least the middle of the month.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I wish the BBC would write to me. It would inspire goodwill among the former colonies.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You will have to rename O'Connell Street. You know that, don't you?

      Delete
    2. Thank you, but no. I want a quiet life.

      Delete
  7. It looks like a brother and his sister to me.

    ReplyDelete
  8. I wanted to say something yesterday........I have trouble getting the words right.
    I'm so sorry for your pain, Tom. I don't know if you're the praying type...but I've included you in mine. Whether you like it or not. :P
    Sending you gentle hugs.

    P.S. I like the card.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm only the praying type when things are going right. The rest of the time, I try not to bother God too much.

      Delete
  9. Joanne's comments to your previous post are (as always) spot on...keep doing whatever you want to do until instructed otherwise. Persistent pain is a bastard thing to live with but having a name helps a lot. The card is lovely. (Take a look at Tony Blair's card - it will give you nightmares! - or at least the internet reaction to it will make you laugh.)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Nice - I have never had the desire to knock a man's teeth out before, but this card inspires me with the festive spirit to do so.

      Delete
  10. If Eddie Mair sends me a Christmas card I'll send it back to him.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. What's wrong with Eddie Mair? Have you got a thing against homos?

      Delete
    2. He is a sanctimonious prick.

      Delete
    3. I like him. He injects humour into almost everything.

      Delete
    4. I like him too but I still find him a sanctimonious prick at times.

      Delete