journal of a writing man

Friday December 21, 2007

Well, we made it. The weather outside might be frightful but today is the shortest day and from now on we can navigate into the light rather than away from it.

There’s a massive feeling of relief in me at that thought.

Yesterday I went for my 6-monthly dental check.  The teeth are fine but the gums, well, age is telling its story there.  So I have to go back towards the end of January for a 20-minute session of periodontal surgery to remove two ‘pockets’ of gum decay. First time for every thing, I suppose.  I shall see how I feel about it when it’s done, but I suspect there are a few more teeth heading for the trash in the next year.

Finished at the dentist, I walked across the courtyard to the doctor’s surgery for my 6-monthly blood tests.  Blood pressure fine, still ticking away nicely on the low side of normal. I get the results of the tests in about a week, allowing for holiday intervals.

The whole world is teetering on the edge of interruption due to the holidays, it seems. The local college had finished its big end of term party and gangs of cider-laden youths dressed in strange costumes were wandering about the town, celebrating. And interrupting.

Rowdy, and a trifle intimidating, but they were good-humoured kids, not out to do any harm.  I was happy to see the police keep their distance.

And then home for early lunch and nap, waking when Graham called to let me know he was on the train home. One more event, today, and then we shut down finally for our Christmas.

Driving to the station I saw one of the young revellers stripped to singlet and light trousers, striding through the town. It was beastly cold and I was tempted to call him over and ‘lend’ him the old coat I keep in the car for emergencies. Thought better of it, though. He had his youth and an awful lot of cider to keep him warm.

I still haven’t heard any carols being sung this year. Three kids came a’knocking at our door the other evening, purporting to be carol singers and asking for their Christmas pennies.

“What are you going to sing, then?” Graham asked.

“Oh, we don’t do the singing any more.”

Graham’s response was not suitable for publication. They did not get their pennies.

Reader’s note: I have been ‘tagged’ to write an entry telling five interesting things about me. I’m thinking about it.