Golden? Today was dark, cold and wet in my part of the
world. And the wind didn’t help. Such weather sucks the light out of me.
I remember submitting a picture of a brown puddle lying outside
a muddy field to a photography magazine once, because such a sight is more
redolent of a true English winter than the snowy boughs and puffed up robins of
Christmas card tradition. It got published, too. Mind you, it was accompanied
by several other pictures and an article which all got published. It was even
translated into Dutch. It was my first lesson in the effect fame has on the
ego, and how urgently one should strive to move beyond such frippery and grow
up. Eventually I did, the limelight faded, and the episode ended as all
episodes do.
Tonight I woke out of a bad dream which had lasted for three
days and threatened to end a most valuable liaison. I also had the odd
impression that absolutely nothing matters.
And today I got the call to attend hospital, there to have
slimy stuff smeared all over my legs so the ultrasound thingy runs smoother. My
first thought was to wonder how much it’s going to cost the NHS in paper
towels.
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