I am here. I have not been eaten by the children, or kidnapped by The Kids from Acorn Antiques, nor am I in prison.
All this is good news. The bad news for the moment is that my life is all about the running around. I am fitting in book writing. I am fitting in book reading and reviewing. I am fitting in school and the odd bit of work here and there. I am cooking dinners and keeping clean clothes on our backs, but everything else is subject to change and decay, and mostly I have to keep reminding myself what day it is. Thursday for example was a day in which I spent large parts of it thinking it was Tuesday and getting utterly confused.
This is down in part to me being ill for most of Monday, in London and ill for all of Tuesday, when I got to see the splendid Benedict Cumberbatch in Hamlet. Luckily I was not close enough to breath on him or he most certainly would have succumbed to the lurgy, and I would have had to nip on as his understudy.
I didn’t get home until 2.00 a.m. on Wednesday and have spent the rest of the week trying to compensate for writing off the first half the week. Saturday things caught up with me, and instead of going to London to the theatre I ended up with a ghastly migraine in which the shiny triptans the Dr. gave me did not work, and nor did the anti-emetics. So that was a totally wasted day, spent hunched over a bowl, moaning plangently and wishing someone would be kind enough to put me out of my misery.
Today I did get to go to London and spent the day with Andrea going to watch the very splendid Three Days in the Country at The National. It is a Turgenev play rewritten by the excellent Patrick Marber and starring John Simm and Mark Gatiss. The cast was superb, the writing was taut and clever, and very funny and all in all it was an absolute treat to watch.
It may have to sustain me for the week ahead. I will try to write witty and amusing things in the next few days, but it is debatable whether it will be achieved.