under another sun

Foot pain has enjoyed something of a renaissance, hobbled to the doctor's this morning and collected my prescription of the Catch 22 pills, very effective apparently, but I can only take them after this bout, the most persistent one I've experienced, is over. Bah to it. As far as productivity is concerned, a wasted day. Hard to concentrate. I learned that I came nowhere in a poetry competition. Sleeping a good deal, but also finished my audiobook of Maya Angelou's I know why the caged bird sings . It was read by Maya Angelou herself and skillfully presented episodes from her life as emblems of the African American experience.  I can see why she is held in such high regard. Angelou was sexually abused as a child and spent the next few years barely able to speak. It made me remember a little girl in my own class at junior school called Stephanie who was almost mute, perhaps just with shyness, or just the trauma of finding herself in Neasden after being born in Jamaica. So...

So officially released back into the wild for the next week or so. Mightily pleased, as I can go about the business of recovery. More chats with the doctor this morning, by phone, with more advice on how to control the gout which is still gripping me. New pills have been prescribed but I have to have a hiatus from symptoms for a couple of weeks before I go on them. This is what's proving tricky. Never had this as badly, and still hobbling and disinclined to fly to coop into Brighton. Spoke to Mum and Mas on FaceTime, talking about houses, and tidied up a few admin bits, billing, timetables and so on.  I do however find myself drained, which the quack said was completely understandable. I am making mistakes in my work due to it too. Throbbing pain and the fact that the new folks next door were understandably using power tools and hammers on the wall all day meant I gave up attempts to work and read  I know why the caged bird sings  by Maya Angelou which is rather splendi...