Mr Blue Sky

Sun is shining in the sky
There’s not a cloud in sight
It’s stopped raining
Everybody’s up today
And today is the day we’ve waited for

Running down the avenue
See how the sun shines brightly
In the city
On the streets where once was pity
Mr Blue Sky is shining once again

Mr Blue Sky,
Please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long
Where did we go wrong…

Today is proof positive that November isn’t all gloom and decay.


With my collar bone broken and my left arm unable to work properly I won’t be able to go cycling for another four or five weeks. So all I can do is grumble about the lousy November weather.

*CRASH!!!* AAUGH!!! F#»*ING #*%¢®¡ £|<¥#¥!!!

1:20pm or thereabouts. I was cycling down Lea Bridge Road and about to turn off onto the towpath along the River Lea. I had just spent the morning doing my month’s laundry and I was on my way to do my weekly work at the charity shop in Hackney. Nothing out of the ordinary there… except I was in a really bad mood.

I found myself getting irritated by the pettiest things, especially motorists and their habits. I know it’s a dull and blustery November day, but I just couldn’t understand why I was in such a foul temper.

Well, I reached the bridge over the River Lea and rounded the “Princess of Wales” pub when I skidded on a patch of soggy, decaying leaves and– as the title of this entry says, CRASH!!!

And that’s exactly what I didn’t need. I was in a bad enough mood already and this made it even worse. A string of expletives burst out of me and that started off the two guard dogs behind the pub. A passer-by asked me if I was all right and I replied that I’d be okay as soon as I dusted myself down and stopped effing and blinding to myself.

I went on my way, though more slowly and feeling a bit stiff, but I assumed I’d get over it — I always did.

When I got into the shop and hauled my bike to the back room I felt along my collar bone and discovered that it wasn’t bruised but broken.

Well, Vera at the till didn’t notice and neither did Maria. But when I told her about it and that I’d have to go to the hospital, she got into a real tizzy.

But she called an ambulance for me which carted me off to the A&E unit of Homerton Hospital.

So today has been a day of two firsts for me: the first time in all my 39 years on Earth that I’ve broken a bone in my body and the first time I’ve travelled in an ambulance.

(According to “Trivial Pursuit”, the board game, the collar bone is the most frequently broken bone in the human body.)

Further to my misadventures of November 13th: Over the past week I’ve been reading “The Camp Fire Girls at School”, a girls’ novel written by Hildegard G Frey. I had the presence of mind to bring the book into the hospital with me since there’s precious little else to do in an A&E waiting room.

As I was waiting to be seen to in the waiting room, I came to the part of the novel where Sahwah goes tobogganing and crashes, nearly killing herself. She is comatose for several days. She also fractures her left hip and there’s a strong probability that her left leg will have to be amputated.

As I was sitting in a wheelchair in a cold corroidor, waiting to be x-rayed, I came to the part where Nyoda and Gladys ended up in the upper reaches of a tower, all alone, with no way to contact anyone and the only human they see from one day to the next is a deaf-mute maid.


Cold, cold, cold

“Sing goddamn, damn. Sing goddamn!
Sing goddamn, damn. Sing goddamn!

Winter is i-cumin in,
Lhude sing goddamn!
Raineth drop and staineth slop
And how the wind doth ram
Sing goddamn!

Skiddth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damn you, sing goddamn.
Goddamn, goddamn, tis why I am goddamn,
So gainst the winter’s balm.

Sing goddamn, sing goddamn, DAMN!”

Ezra Pound

My least favourite time of the year is upon us. Dark mornings, darker evenings, lack of daylight, miserable weather, cold, damp, freezing fog… And don’t get me started on Christmas. I griped and moaned about it last year and I don’t like repeating my blog entries.

On top of all this, I’ve got a cold. Not a severe one, though. I’m not bed-ridden and feeling at death’s door. It’s just a nuisance, more than anything else. I’m constantly having to blow my nose and it’s nearly always blocked up. Honestly, where does all the phlegm come from?

It’s not as bad as it was at the weekend. And I’ve been spending the past few days feeding the cold and drinking lots of hot liquid. And it’s slowly clearing up. It’s the first serious cold I’ve had for more than a year and I am defeating it!

Those little perishers

Yesterday, Sunday, my very satisfactory meal at Morrison’s café was spoiled by one small thing. Or, rather, more than a dozen small things.

You’ll see those tiny little flies hovering about in your kitchen, not your ordinary house fly and certainly not bluebottles. I’m talking about tiny flies about two millimetres long. I came across at least twenty of them as I was in Morrison’s café, trying to enjoy a Sunday meal. They hover around you and over your food in slow motion, always threatening to alight on it and ruin the meal for you.

It’s as if they’re taunting you, as if they’re saying, “Come on, catch me if you think your reflexes are up to it!” And when you reach out to grab one– zip! it’s gone… only to reappear seconds later and carry on taunting you!

Unfortunately for those little blighters, my reflexes ARE up to it! No less than fifteen met a bad end between my hands or against the wall. None of them, I’m glad to say, alighted on my food.

Flies and food don’t mix. Morrison’s should know that perfectly well.

Remember, remember…

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Ever should be forgot.

Well, they might have forgotten about the treason but they haven’t forgotten about the gunpowder. For the past two weeks we’ve had fireworks going off all over the place. I was hoping for a good deluge tonight to wash it all out, but that hasn’t happened – only a few showers and some drizzle.

In other news of little interest to anyone but myself, I cycled from Walthamstow to Harrow and back.


Yes, it happens every single day between the hours of 7pm and 11pm – the connection speed on my mobile slows down to a snail’s pace and often stops completely. It seems this time of night is when people are most preoccupied with their computers and are downloading and uploading in their thousands.

At least that’s the most plausible explanation I can think of for the maddeningly slowness of the net. I know this is only a mobile phone and not a broadband server, but the time when connection speed is fastest is during the small hours when I’m usually asleep.

I’m sure I’ll have something better to talk about tomorrow. You see, since I’ve started keeping early hours and going to bed earlier, it follows that my body and brain start winding down earlier. Three weeks ago I’d still be wide awake at this hour. But not now…