under another sun

Felt like Neo in the Matrix gulping the last of my morning's six red steroid pills. On the plus side, I am able to lope adequately again, on the minus side I have never experienced such episodes of confused depression and paranoia as I have done in the last few days. They do not agree with me, and they are done. Today's tactic was to keep my brain occupied with listening to audio books and playing a repetitive computer game.  Finished off Fatherland by Robert Harris, not my normal fare, but an intriguing alternative history, set in the sixties after the Nazis had won the second world war with its hero a policeman uncovering the truth about the camps. Reading an introduction to Heidegger. I've read it before, but then Heidegger has large ideas. The pills wearing off in the evening, and a pleasant time with Lorraine, munching virtuous salads, and Betty and her pal Laura being cheery. Below the choice...

Penultimate steroids day. Scarily dark and paranoid thoughts. Checking the patient information leaflet it said that psychological problems could start right away. Found things difficult to cope with, despite Lorraine and I simply going to a plant nursery and doing bits at home. Still there was football, Engerland justly being put out of the Euros by Italy, after a long drawn out talent-free resistance to the Italian's silky skills.

Sorry for myself first thing, sick of pain and feeling my whole life impeded. Hobbled slowly off to the doctors and had time in the waiting room to twice listen to a 20 minute meditation tape. I at least felt centred after this, and had visions of Moulin Huet valley in Guernsey. Snapped out of this to find the doctor prescribing me a stiff five day course of steroids. Mad people are liberally sprinkled along London Road. I effortlessly blended-in, hobbling and scowling on the way home. When it began to rain it also gave me the opportunity to wear Lorraine's ill fitting wet top, as she had left home with mine. I paused for a coffee and a sandwich in a cafe and listen to the last two chapters of Moby-Dick. Yay for Moby-Dick who strikes back on behalf of benighted sperm whales/writers everywhere offing Ahab and sinking his ship Peqod . You feel in need of a shower after reading Moby-Dick to wash away all the whale grease, gore and caked sea salt. An amazing book. Later, I started ...