The Hadron Collider

*********************************************8

The Hadron Collider
Has stopped – ‘cos a spider
Crawled deep down inside of the works.
It was looking for flies,
But to its surprise,
All it found there were quinks, quarks and querks.

That’s Clive: the “poet”. Remember him? He’s in here again: a recurrence of his PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)
Sad case. He had a flat over a butcher’s in Rhyl. One night the shop caught fire. Clive is convinced it was arson, because the owner was English and it happened at that time when there was a lot of protest about English people owning holiday homes in Wales. I know you can hardly call a butchers’ shop a holiday home but Clive is adamant that the fire was started deliberately.
The place was like Dante’s Infirmary – as Clive puts it. Well, you can imagine, what with all that fat and grease. Clive was lucky to get out alive: he was carried to safety over a fireman’s shoulder. But ever since then he cannot walk past a butcher’s shop, he has to cross to the other side of the road. And he won’t eat meat. In fact, the reason he’s back in here is that he was at a wedding reception, a bit drunk, and someone handed him a ham sandwich. Before he realised, he had taken a bite, and that was that. It was like a recovering alcoholic having a whisky.

He tells me Freddie is treating him with this new EMDR therapy (Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing.) In fact that was why Freddie was at the conference: The main speaker was Dr Francine Shapiro (Freddie calls her Frankie) who invented the treatment. According to Clive, “This bird discovered it when she was walking through a park.” Like she found it under a bush.
I don’t know what Clive is talking about – and I don’t think he does.

Anyway he spends his time in here going through the papers and making up verses about the headlines. Apparently he saw something in the Telegraph about them shutting down this Collider thing because some copper contacts were faulty. He thought the ‘spider’ explanation was much more interesting. I humour him.

I am currently reading “Shoot The Damn Dog”, a memoir of Sally Brampton’s journey through depression. Freddie is not sure I should be reading a book about depression – neither am I. But the first page hooked me: On that first page she says, “Life is about connection. There is nothing else.” Well, you sure spat a boot-full there, Sal.
I think she is right. This blog is about connection: the two of us connecting. But have you noticed, Anna that other people are reading our story? I don’t mind that, do you? In fact I am pleased – and rather honoured - that we have “followers”, that we are connecting with others, and sharing our thoughts and feelings. And it occurs to me that I should take this opportunity to thank them for their interest in two (for the moment) thwarted lovers.

One of our followers has a blog called “propoquerian” and I had a look at it, and also one by someone called “Lolita”. I am blown away (I believe this is to be the current vernacular) by the creativity and the quality of the writing. Have a look at them. They also have photographs – including a picture of the author. I feel our blog is lacking in this respect and that we should address the problem. But we have a dilemma: I don’t want to be identified as a psychiatric patient and you – well, you are not exactly "on the run" but your presence on this sceptre’d isle is not exactly kosher, is it? Still, I will try to think of something.

That was indeed an amusing incident on the bus. I wonder the man did not quote you the “Freedom of Copulation Act”. No, there isn’t such an act, Anna. Don’t bother to look it up.

Personally, I am not a devotee of pizza, but if pressed I would go for the thin rather than the thick crust. By the way, you toss a mean salad. This I remember from your days at Wynorin.

One final word about Sven. I do not owe your brother any money. It is very noble of him (now he is a born-again park warden) to let me off a debt I never incurred in the first place. Don’t think I am being pedantic but it is a matter of principle to me. So please, Anna, no more about this phantom debt.

I saw a compass in a magazine. It was a super looking thing; it had a couple of big dials around the rim, with “minutes” and stuff marked on them, and there was a light you could switch on when it got dark. I imagine it was the sort of thing the SAS would use. I was tempted, but I resisted. So you need not worry, Anna That watch is the last piece of military equipment I am going to buy.

I have much more to say but will leave it there for now.

Hoping we may one day have an incident on a bus.

George