"The creative genius stands always outside the circle of experts." - Adolf Hitler

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Hard work is not something I have ever been good at.

But immediately having made that statement, I realise it is less than the truth. (Here we go, the old ‘truth’ thing again.) I can be – and often am – very creative. And when I am creative, I suppose I work hard at it – although I don’t call this work. It is more like enjoyment.

But what I mean is: the capacity for applied, sustained effort has been cruelly denied me. It’s a gene thing, I suppose. And it is a pity, because if I had had this gift bestowed upon me – along with the creativity, of course – then by now I would have written several best-selling novels, have the cream of the acting profession fighting to be cast in my plays, and be a famous face on television talk-shows. Oh yes, and be very wealthy.

But alas, I was pitched onto this stage-set we call ‘Life’ with a ragbag of tricks and gimmicks, and a script with several pages missing, and told to get on with it. And that is what we all have to do. A Bugger - is it not.

Yes, I am in a reflective mood tonight, Anna. I have been reading some of these blog ‘profiles’ and wondering whether I should expose more of myself in public. This is something I have often felt the urge to do but, being of a shy, reclusive disposition find so difficult. What do you think?


I saw the doctor today. Not our little Indian lady – she is taking a holiday to visit her parents, in Bradford. Gretchen drove me to the local GP’s surgery, where I saw Dr Plankton. He placed his stethoscope upon various parts of my body, telling me to breathe in and out. I took care to turn my face away from him so as not to blow my germs up his nose. (Although he did not seem particularly worried - I imagine doctors are used to this sort of thing and probably become immune after a while.) Then he looked down my throat inviting me to say ‘Aaaaa’, and followed this by tapping my head and face in various places, and asking if it hurt. ‘Only when I laugh.’ I replied. No, I didn’t.

Finally he looked in each ear with a little lamp. His diagnosis was that I have an infection and definitely need a course of antibiotics.
‘So it’s no alcohol then.’ I said, dispiritedly.
‘In moderation,’ he replied, ‘No more than two units a day.’
Well, I never drink more than a pint of beer anyway, so I was quite pleased.

I thanked him, and Gretchen drove me to a pharmacy where I got the tablets. I have to take one, three times a day. I have taken two so far. I hope they do the trick because I don’t think I have ever felt so ill as I have these past two weeks. (Well not for such a length of time.) I expect it’s a bit early to see any improvement, although, strangely enough, I am feeling a little better tonight.


Next morning…

Oh dear, like the girl on the bridge at midnight – I spoke too fucking soon.

At 11pm I had diarrhoea – and again a couple of times in the night. I guessed it was a reaction to the antibiotics and so this morning it was a visit to the emergency surgery: this time it was an Indian gentlemen. (I was going to ask him if he knew our little Indian lady doctor, but I suppose India is a big place, and anyway I couldn't pronounce her name.) He was very thorough. After an examination which took in blood pressure, temperature and being stethescoped all over, he prescribe different antibiotics. I have started on these and am hoping they work because I feel drained of energy and totally out of it.

Our National Health Service comes in for so much criticism, but I could not have wished for more speedy, attentive care had I been a ‘private patient’. And, of course it did not cost me a penny. Incidentally, my prescription was made up there and then by the on-site pharmacy – which is open seven days a week up until 10.0pm.

(And thanks Gretchen for your sterling work at the wheel.)

Anyway, I am now taking things easy: a little rice and tuna here, a bowl of soup and a bit of pasta there… let’s see what tonight brings.

It brought the following morning - but not before my encyclopedia of dreams opened at several unrelated places. I mostly enjoy my dreams - you meet such a variety of people. Unfortunately I have not had an erotic dream for ages.

Now then, Anna, please do not take this as a threat, but if I do not hear from you soon I may do myself a mischief.

Your lonely George