On Pains and Perceived Pleasures.

A couple of weeks ago I did the second toughest job in my garden, and did some injury to my right arm in the process. Muscle tear? Ligament damage? I’ve no idea, but it hurt. Ever since then I’ve been doing relatively lightweight work, and the pain in the arm seemed to have eased. So today I decided to do the very toughest job, the one I’ve been dreading ever since I did it last year. I wish I hadn’t.

The fire which smoulders in my forearm grows to an inferno every time I do anything with my right hand, and some little imp indulges its sadistic tendency by sticking a needle into my elbow. Filling the kettle to make a pot of coffee hurts. Lifting the coffee pot to fill the mug hurts. Lifting the mug to drink the coffee hurts. Even typing this post hurts. And that’s not all.

The condition I’ve been calling angina (but which might be something else according to the doctor) didn’t take kindly to the fairly strenuous effort either. It gave me a pounding heart, pressure in the chest, light headedness, general debility, and loss of appetite. It’s all a bit dispiriting, you know? It is.

I still have a mountain of work to do in the garden. I have to drive tomorrow, which will probably hurt. I have to get the house straight because the agent is coming on Tuesday to do a ‘property survey’, whatever that entails.That will probably hurt, too.

I need a rest. I need to be reclining in a hammock slung within the shade of palm trees fringing a sun-kissed beach. The sun needs to be low and golden as sunset approaches, the folds of low cloud on the horizon need to be tinged with scarlet, the sea needs to be blue and the air balmy. There must be a ready supply of young Filipina nurses on call to massage my poorly arm and make it better, and a brace of bronzèd maidens ready and willing to serve toasted cheese sandwiches, bowls of best dairy ice cream, and endless glasses of fresh mango juice to suit my various tastes. I won’t need a sun hat because I’ll be in the shade.

A dream won’t do, so don’t bother. I need the real thing or I fear I might shrink irreversibly and go pouf.

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I finished watching Once Upon a Time in Anatolia tonight, so what should I say about it? Erm… There are some very good-looking women in Turkey, but they don’t say much.