confessions of a Crispy Critter

 Not quite crispy. Borderline crispy. Give it a couple of days...

We are in a heatwave. And anyone who lives in a hot climate-like Florida, for example-will laugh at me. 80F to me is boiling; we're above that, and it's due to be in the high 90s, getting up to over 100 by Tuesday. Air conditioning? Seriously? We're lucky to have indoor toilets, so let's not push our luck.

I do not love the heat. I'm looking at people who are walking up the road, wearing very little, and getting very, very red. Well done, everyone, wait a few years until you develop skin cancer. Tanning? No thanks. 

I do laugh, because I'm so fair skinned that I look like I'm ready for embalming. Put me in the sun without being covered up-I turn the color of beetroot, and there's peeling, pain and a lot of swearing and crying. I just look at the brown ones (and the painfully red ones), and say that I'm happy to be pale and interesting.

Funny-I've been in this country for so many years that I'm beginning to only be able to discuss the weather. It's probably safer that way. 

My mother told me when I was growing up that one should never discus four things when in public (or even in private, actually): politics, religion, money-and sex. All those discussions, she said, lead to arguments-some of them vicious arguments. I can understand that-but where's the fun in discussing only the weather? Or what anyone watched on television last night? 

But then, I've got a very dark sense of humor-and it doesn't match the British sense of humor at all. Dave Allen-the Irish comedian (who sadly died several years ago)- was very dry, very clever, and very funny. If you find any of his work on YouTube, you might like it.

Meanwhile, before the keyboard melts (or I do, whichever comes first), I'm going to have a long, cold drink (fizzy mineral water, whoever said that I'm boring?).

I'll be back soon, and give you a proper update...

The triumph of the human spirit

 Nope-I'm not talking about myself. I'm still a hopeless cynic, really making an effort to avoid being soppy and sentimental (an effort that seems to fail unexpectedly. But I will always make the effort). For me, it would read as the battle of the human spirit.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to a local lecture which featured the daughter of a Holocaust survivor. This woman was interesting in that she brought photos of her mother and her mother's family-most of whom were slaughtered by the Nazis. What interested me was the fact that her mother and a friend and the few family members who were left alive were able to cross Europe and reach England-and not have their boat turned back, which happened to more than a few boats filled with Nazi victims. Her mother went on to become a sculptor and live until the ripe old age of 96. Good genes, that's for sure.

There were about 100 people in the room-and only two of us wore masks, which caused me some concern-but I wanted to hear her mother's story. It's different when you watch Schindler's List-or see archive footage of the atrocities - atrocities for which there are many perpetrators still left who never paid for their war crimes. And when I left, several other people were also very moved and fighting back tears.

I had to go to hear what she had to say-and it made me think about Ukraine. Obviously. I still can't get my head around the fact that the useless wanker (oops-there goes another pound into the swear box) Boris Johnson is busy making promises to Zelensky-promises that he has no intention of keeping-while the Ukrainians are fighting and dying. This government is such a disgrace. Why is Putin still alive?

So that was me a couple of weeks ago. At the same time, I was supposed to have another booster-which the NHS is jokingly calling the "spring booster". I cancelled the appointment, remembering vividly the horrendous ordeal I had to go through with all the other vaccines. Some things you just never forget.

While I was doing my walking and staying out of other people's way as much as possible, I had another attack of BPPV. This is courtesy of the gentamicin, the word and the situation that I said I would never mention again (unless it was relevant. This was relevant). I suffered hugely from vertigo. The room, the world, everything spun around so badly that I couldn't stand up because everything was constantly spinning. Imagine how it feels to be really drunk-but not get any better. Only without any alcohol. Such a bummer...

So I finally got an appointment with Harry, the technician who runs the testing centre. I went along yesterday to face the rotating chair.

Imagine a chair that looks like it could be the electric chair. There are computers in a bank behind the chair, and some in front as well. The chair itself has straps everywhere (so you can't get up and run away). The patient sits and gets strapped in. I couldn't move;, I was then blindfolded, and  a headpiece containing various electrodes was placed firmly on my head. Then  I was turned upside down, where I spent a couple of minutes so Harry could take his readings. Back up, and then turned upside down the other way. That happened twice. Very entertaining. Harry did keep checking to see if I was okay. I said: I'm upside down, how okay can I be?

The thing about BPPV (Benign Paroxismal Positional Vertigo, for any anoraks like me) is that the crystals in the inner ear which are needed for balance get bored; they decide to go exploring, so while they're doing walkies, I'm feeling like I'm whizzing around uncontrollably. The movement in the chair brings the errant crystals back home. Allegedly. For awhile. Until it happens again. And now I've been told that it could recur at any time. So I've got another appointment at the end of August, and I hopefully won't need it. At least I was smart enough not to have breakfast...

That brings you up to date, so I will now do things that I couldn't do while I was suffering from seasickness: laundry. How exciting...but at least I can stand up straight without the world spinning around me.