Stop the wobbles


Currently trying a revolutionary new treatment for winter ailments. Take massively heavy doses of cold remedies and keep going. If keeping going entails hopping on a plane – ear pops! – walking all over Dublin rumbling a wheelie case with you for days, drinking every evening and sleeping in a different bed every night, so much the better. Try to get soaked a couple of times. Make sure your shoes leak. Skip meals. Take something with codeine. Oh, and some sinus medication – lots of it, to no noticeable effect. Yes, you will suffer from patchily severe nausea. Yes, you will get more lurgies, chasing each other like cloud shadows across a hillside and yes, you will look paler and puffier than you thought possible, but hell – push yerself.

Catching up with old mates was lovely. Not only was I able to spread my germs and pick up some new ones, but also I could bleed them white for career advice. Post-master’s blues have been bad – for all of us, not just me – and I’ve been kicking about, wondering what to do with life. Though being really run down probably isn’t the best time to think about what to do with life when it’s against a paracetamol-scented mantra of personal shortcomings.

Comfortingly, lots of people felt the same way. So we’re all big fat loozah-loozah-loozahs together. Hurrah. Actually, it’s given me a boot up the arse to sort myself out. Stop with the self-absorption. Since we’re all fucked we’d better laugh. I might even give blood next week. That will encourage my new outward-looking outlook AND diversify the platforms/create additional delivery systems to spread my germs.

With that in mind, can I suggest that you try not to need blood in Tooting for a month or so? Avoid DIY, knife fights and reckless road-crossing for a few weeks until my package of filth has either been pumped into some mashed-up loozah-loozah-loozah or is past its sell-by date. I’ll pray for you.


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