Walls come tumbling down

Redux

Wed, 01 Feb 2012 16:09:41 +0000

It has been a mad month or so. At the start of January I ended up in hospital a couple of times due to a reaction to some medication that I was taking. Effectively it made me hallucinate. The first time I was there the locum ~~idiot~~ doctor examined me, declared nothing wrong with me, and sent me home. There is obviously nothing wrong with someone who has been in la-la land for twelve hours (sic). I went straight my GP's and saw the marvelous Dr J. She advised that I cut down on the medication and see how that went. I did.

A week later I was in hospital again having lost 12 hours of my life where I could remember the smallest detail of what I thought was happening. It was auditory, visual, olfactory, tactile hell. I saw four consultants within four hours. Eventually they pulled out the BMA drug dictionary and spotted that something like 1 in 100,000 people reacted with hallucinations to the drug that I was taking and yanked me off it quick style.

When I spoke to my GP about it, she was mortified. She has been in practice for about 15 years and had never seen anyone react so badly. So she gave me something a little more benign.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up last Thursday morning having spent the night in bed asleep but tripping my proverbials off. I was scheduled to be in Leeds but was wary of driving. It is a good job I didn't go because about an hour after I awoke, I slipped into mad-mode again. It lasted from 08:00-16:15 and every moment of it was living hell. I have never been so scared in my life. To think you know what is going on around you when it quite patently isn't but not be able to snap out of it is disturbing. The hallucinations I had last week were so dark that I am not willing to share them with anyone. I know this has put a couple of peoples' nose out of joint because they perceive it as me being too secretive. I also know that I was obnoxious when pressed on the issue; one, I didn't want to explain the awful vision and two, it was for their own peace of mind that I didn't. Some things are best kept between you and your maker. Given I was exhausted from the experience, I didn't want to interact with anyone at all so shut up shop. People who don't know me well enough would take that as me being angry with them. I do appreciate the concern but when I ask to be left alone for 24 hours, I mean I need to be left alone for 24 hours. Any impinging on that serenity constitutes an assault, especially when I don't know whether the frickin' black wigglies will appear again or not. Better not to be on the phone with me when I'm bouncing off clouds -- I cannot guarantee lucidity or civility.

Suffice to say there has been another juggling of drugs and so far, touch wood, I have been good. There has only been one "solution" drug that has worked but it knocks you sideways for a while. I took it for a few weeks. It was like a slow reboot of the brain. The problem with it is that it is addictive so the doc (understandably) didn't want me on it too long.

Thankfully I have had none of the warning signs of an impending flip-out for nearly a week now so normal service is hopefully resumed. At this point I have to commend Time to Change for their efforts. If you have a few quid/bucks throw it their way.

In other less depressing news Kat moved in on Monday for a couple of weeks. It is fair to say that I'm loving it albeit that I am obliged to entertain her all her waking hours. Lord knows what she is going to do tomorrow when I am at work. As a counterpoint to my being Wigwam's sole personal dancing bear, man, have we eaten well. I'd say I love her to bits but she'd bite my head off and probably roast it with seaweed and peppers. <ducks /> The woman gets away with murder with me. You know the old team-building ice-breaker "Who in this room would you ask to move the body?", well you have your answer.

Kenny on Wed, 01 Feb 2012 16:09:41 +0000

All da Gerties in da house sing w00-00t

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 20:19:36 +0000

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
My, oh my what a wonderful day!
Plenty of sunshine heading my way
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay

Mister Bluebird on my shoulder
It's the truth, it's actch'll
Ev'rything is satisfactch'll
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
Wonderful feeling, wonderful day!

It's like when all the buses (I nearly typo'd nurses not buses there) come at once (oh God, did I really write that). Sack the script writer.

In other news, I have the pleasure of the Kat as a guest for a couple of weeks as of Monday, possibly followed by a less temporary mad woman. Alles ist gut.

Kenny on Wed, 25 Jan 2012 20:19:36 +0000

Bit of a laugh...

Tue, 17 Jan 2012 14:02:48 +0000

This is what I am gladly putting up with at the moment, and loving it, just as a stabilizer from the previous post:

I feel like a teenager. But I couldn't eat a full one.

Kenny on Tue, 17 Jan 2012 14:02:48 +0000

Bit of a rant

Tue, 17 Jan 2012 14:01:52 +0000

I'm feeling contrary today. I get like this whenever I get a cold -- snotty would be too much of a pun for me to stomach.

I just watched the 1 o'clock news. There were a couple of things that *really* narked me.

The first one was Ian Hislop testifying at the Levinson Inquiry. Murdoch may be a t**t of the first order but smart-arse jocular commentary given as evidence will not help anyone. Yes Ian, we know you're a clever guy. What you are not is the messiah. I'll award that round to Paul Merton.

The second was a report on the grading of schools. Regardless of the content, the footage that accompanied it was infuriating. Kids sat in exam halls with calculators. What the hell is up with that? It is no wonder that exam results improve year on year. It will not be long before you earn your degree by Google.

Finally, Scotland, not content by ruling the UK from Westminster, having their own devolved parliament yet a sweet deal on public money, if you want complete devolution/severance from the UK, just go ahead and do it. Adopt the Euro and join the ever-growing list of f*еdcountries.com.

Yes, I'm in a bad mood. I'm allowed one every now and again, especially when I'm expectorating gallons of phlegm a second.

Kenny on Tue, 17 Jan 2012 14:01:52 +0000

Woosh (reprise)

Mon, 02 Jan 2012 10:41:14 +0000

I find myself apologizing again for lack of updates. Facebook seems to be my MO at the moment.

I thought I would bob on here to let you know that I'm a bit discombobulated (which, incidentally, was 5D in a recent crossword). Someone from my very distant past has appeared on the horizon and I have completely fallen for her. As soon as my France Telecom shares have been sold, I'm off to my old stomping ground of Middlesbrough.

I feel like a schoolkid again -- not used to \"courting\".

In other news, I'm off to France again soon. I've not decided on a date yet, but I will be in Valenciennes with Kat soon to see Louis.

'Tis all. Again I promise I will try to write something vaguely interesting soon.

Kenny on Mon, 02 Jan 2012 10:41:14 +0000

Bec doing her stuff

Mon, 05 Dec 2011 21:11:58 +0000

Apparently it is nearly Xmas...

Not sure how festive I feel just yet.

There is talk of me and a certain Waaart going to Sin on Xmas Eve. I'm not too sure whether that is going to happen or not.

In the meantime I'll be the grumpy guy in the corner.

Kenny on Mon, 05 Dec 2011 21:11:58 +0000

Let me sleep

Fri, 02 Dec 2011 03:09:24 +0000

And dream of sheep

It's well late but I'm still awake. Kate Bush's new CD has rocked my little world and I cannot get off track one. If you have a decent set of headphones, plug them in and listen to "Snowflake". It is the stuff that makes your knees tremble.

"I'll find you" hits like a hammer. Three days ago, I was all Siouxsie and the Banshees. Kate Bush has scuppered that one. It is truly the most sedentary piece of music you will ever hear.

'Tis all. It is so exquisite I am lost for words.

Kenny on Fri, 02 Dec 2011 03:09:24 +0000

Little Mo -- we need to talk

Thu, 17 Nov 2011 01:42:43 +0000

Mr and Mrs Mo moved in a few weeks ago. I laced the place with poison. Their response was to tap-dance around the living room with top-hats and elaborate Northern canes. My response to their response to their response is quite simple: \"You start fixing shit around here so more of your mousy nonsense cannot get in you can stay, as long all of you are neutered.\" I think that's a reasonable response, don't you? (Hell, I would never keep my side of the bargain but they don't know that). Thus far, all I have got is a squeak from the corner.

First up, I have just bravely and singly done battle with what was probably a day old beast. I chased it onto the glue pad armed only with a torch, so there it now in situe. Its siblings look like foul little eels, jet back and still wet. It is the single most disgusting thing you have ever seen (re: late great Peter Cook, The Frog and Peach). It could be that there are two or more.

We noticed yesterday/last week that the poison was probably inappopriately positioned. Bec repositioned it to the back of the sofa where it has obviously been a great hit. When we got up this morning the cheeky buggers had moved it to about 2 feet of the fridge. E1 was shocked. E2 was nonplussed. I screamed for assistance: \"The bloody thing is so immune to the blue grains of death that it wants a bloody second helping.\" Honestly.

At the moment I am hearing loud squeaks to my left every few minutes. These are closly followed by high pitched screams from me. The neighbors might have called the police, I don't know. If I die tonight, you can pretty much dispense wondering why. I am assuming that there is one squeak per slimey black sack of disease. By that token we are now on eight but one has been \"retired\". I think we bagged lard-arse early this week. He was holed up with an golden nose stud. God, they are ugly and putrid. They also clamber around the place like they have hooves. Two of the smallest that I have seen have bodies the width about half that of a pencil and as long as a usb connector. How many more synonyms could I possibly come up? Humor me and hit the Thesaurus and you'll still be reading at the weekend, which I would not advise, but I am not God so I won't. Or am I?

Prepare to have said hello the world, meeses, and then to quietly and politely f*** off back from whence thy came.

I am doubling the defense budget as result of this invasion. There will now be a full £30 allocated next year, subject to not having to bite into any contingency we have this year. Greece, Italy, Portugal, Ireland, Spain -- don't even think about doing the same.

Toodles and, once again, it has been nearly a month since I bitched about something. I vow to scream every time I either see one of these mice or when I've bagged one for the greater good.

Kenny on Thu, 17 Nov 2011 01:42:43 +0000

Ob-post

Wed, 02 Nov 2011 16:36:54 +0000

I feel compelled to let you all know of the horrors that have befallen me over the last few days. They are numerous.

The first is that I have a mouse. The thing is jet black and has an arse the size of a small football stadium. I have laced the house with poison but it appears unattracted to said tasty yet lethal manna.

The second is that I bucked trends by going out with my old drummer, Mr Gilman on Saturday to attend something called Sin City, a retro 80s night where I found my legs again and actually danced. Unfortunately my legs failed me while walking back to Piccadilly Station. John and I were, quite frankly, utterly lost. Within two minutes, we had been approached by two lasses offering "services". I wanted to run but the legs are not quite that good yet. My gut instinct in these situations is to throw money at them and tell them to go home, pour a nice glass of wine, get in the bath and forget their predilection for anonymous sex for cash, just for one night. Thankfully John dealt with them with a gentle "No thank you". I came home and had to bathe. It's quite strange that in any other circumstance, I would never have pegged them as being hookers. 'Tis a brutal world that they live in and my heart went out to them. But that's just me; show me a cute lass in trouble and I fold. Thankfully I didn't on this occasion.

There's other gubbins going on but it's not appropriate for me to elaborate, so I'll leave you at two.

The guys in Leeds need pies so I am off over there tomorrow. Shout if you need a chunky steak pie or a custard.

Kenny on Wed, 02 Nov 2011 16:36:54 +0000

Hola, my special fromages

Sun, 23 Oct 2011 16:23:27 +0000

Well, look at that. It's been damned near a month since I was last on here. I have excuses but I'll not go into too many details.

Today has been horrendous. From my Facebook status:

"Waxing [my legs] would have been less painful than being beaten by goals by a bloke who sounds like a type of pasta, a bloke who sounds like a type of Seat car, a bloke who sounds like an insurance company and a bloke who sounds like a cockney precious metal."

I am not accustomed to being battered 6-1 by the blue half of the city. If I had a gas oven, I would have had my head in it by about 80 minutes. As it happens I have an electric one. By the time full-time came around, I was quite willing to try sticking my head in that, just in case I missed a physics lesson that was pertinent to these circumstances.

On the upside of down, I have been through some serious druggage over the last few weeks which has rendered me either asleep or too dopey to think. I started off on some mood stabilizers (nothing to do with the football) which were the equivalent of a 'sync; sync; halt' followed by a slow boot up. They blasted me from here to outer space and back. By the time I had finished my course of benzodiazipines, I was a jittering wreck. These have now been replaced with beta-blockers which are God's own creation. I have never felt so calm and surprisingly, my legs appear to have started working again. I'll not be playing for Utd any time soon but there is a marked improvement. The doc is baffled about the legs.

While all this has been happening, her Katness has moved house from the People's Republic of Red Salford back to Farnworth. This is slightly closer to Wigwam but still not close enough. Each night, at silly o'clock, she texts me telling me she is missing me. She's even asked me when we are getting married, bless. I fully intend descending on her new house next weekend, probably for the whole of the weekend.

Anyway, I have some football grieving to be done and some shirts to be ironed before the very last episode of Spooks is aired, so I must love you and leave you. I promise to be more diligent in updating you on the mundane nothing that is my joyful existence. Before I do, a plea: please do not try to outbid me on ebay for Gaddafi's wardrobe -- that is all mine.

Kenny on Sun, 23 Oct 2011 16:23:27 +0000