under another sun

Up and working in the morning, after a bad night's sleep. A strange misty day, with the mist visibily rolling in from the sea, our street just a little above the mist-line. Then I hopped on a bus and bought new sodastream gas. Standing outside the shop on Western Road and watched a dealer blatantly dealing on the main road, happened to follow the purchaser down the street, and he trailed the smell of skunk like Pepé Le Pew. They might as well have been wearing day glo jackets. I walked to the physio for what I hope is the last time. Lay on my side listening to her talking with great animation about a variety of subjects, her massaging broken off every now and then as she kept waving her arms about to make a point. Nevertheless she did an excellent job only occasionally making me yelp when she reached the tasty stuff where the tear is. I am now much improved, however, and can walk up stairs using both legs normally, thank goodness. Then on to see Helen and listen to the work she...

Another wild and windy night. Up fairly early and working before I had to bus off to Hove again.  The bus route, prone to unpredictable reroutings at the moment, went down by the sea, and the waves were green and fierce. Got off and hobbled just in time to reach the no-nonsense Clare the physio - she seems excellent at what she does and my leg felt a good deal freer on the way home. She was talking about politics again today, what with the election being this week.  As for the torn leg it is improving slowly but is a few weeks off normalcy. If only I could say the same. Caught a bus back into Brighton. A north African man was playing music softly on his iPad on the back seat and an older woman trundled her little shopping basket and sat next to him. Soon she was handing him a prayer in an envelope about the morning star Jesus Christ. He said he was Muslim, but accepted it gracefully, and when she got off a few stops later they were full of good wishes to each other, and as t...

A taxi to Hove to see Clare, a physiotherapist Catherine had recommended to us. She was very charming and took a strong-forearmed approach to the leg of evil. She estimated I should be back to (what passes for) normal in six weeks, massaged the hurty bits and offered straightforward exercises and advice, such as if you do anything that hurts, stop. I gingerly caught a bus home, a good plan despite an oaf treading on the offending limb. But I'm feeling much happier now that I've had someone sensible look at it, and have a clearer picture of what to expect. Little other news. I simply worked on poems today, spoke to Mum and Mas on facetime, and got on with work. I'm trying to work hard. A poem I am pleased with, that arrived almost fully formed yesterday, which was a bonus.  And nimble enough on my feet to cook a curry for Lorraine and I which was rather fierce. Read a couple of chapters of a book I've had for a while on Mindfulness. I need to cultivate this.