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Mom

Too Much Analysis

I’ve been thinking about human interaction a bit. Bad idea. Thinking usually ends up troubling me.

Sometimes, it seems to me that a lot of human interaction is bullshit. You pretend to feel better than you really do whenever possible, pretend to be more interesting than you think you really are, and generally ‘sell’ yourself. I’m absolutely useless at doing this. You’d think, understanding the theory, I might not be quite so pathetic at it—then again, part of the problem is understanding it, because then you start to question its futility or dishonesty and open another massive can of worms. Oboy. Too much time on my hands = too much analysis.

Work situation… a brief rant…
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Retail Therapy

Today, being out shopping (for food, not pleasure, alas), I passed a book store and I of course succumbed. Some people buy shoes; some people can’t pass a novelty shop without buying some little cuddly toy; but me, I guess it’s books. It used to be comics more than books, but books are better value for money these days, and comics don’t have many Jack Kirbys out there anymore. (*sigh* I might get nostalgic.)

It was a close one. This store had several copies of Stephen King’s Cycle of the Werewolf, with wonderful illustrations by Bernie Wrightson. I wanted this so much when I heard about it maybe 17 years ago, but amazingly, I have never seen it for sale anywhere. I didn’t even know it was still in print. Anyway, that’s earmarked for purchase v.v. soon. I passed it today.
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Christmas Approaches

I got pretty bummed out yesterday, but it was just over general stuff. Nothing major. Mom was in out-patients briefly, to have a couple of skin cancers removed… not serious, just an unfortunate side-effect of the drugs she takes as a transplant patient. (Kidney transplant, 1990.)

Today, we watched the 1956 Moby Dick movie on Channel 4. I generally don’t watch afternoon films, but I’d actually never seen this one. It was directed by John Huston, screenplay by Ray Bradbury. Anyhow, glad I finally saw it. Gregory Peck—who I’ve always had immense admiration for—was typically brilliant as Ahab. And it reminded me that I’d like to see To Kill a Mockingbird again sometime, as I hardly remember anything about it (I saw it a long time ago). Harper Lee’s original novel is excellent, and would probably be in my top ten list if I thought there was any sense in making in such things.
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The House Must Go

About the house move situation (see August 18th)… the house wasn’t in very good shape, really, and a lot of things have needed to be done. We still need to get a door fitted to the back of the garage—we bought the door, now we need someone to put it on! Dad did all that stuff, and to be honest, my limit is painting walls. The old door was/is falling to bits, literally. Otherwise, I think the place is just about presentable, although I have some tidying to do on my tip of a bedroom.
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What’s Up?

Life update since the death of my father…

Mom has decided to sell this house and move somewhere smaller, so that we have some money in the bank as savings. Dad left no savings at all and had no life insurance. We’ll be staying in this area, though. We might even get a two-bedroom flat, actually. Neither of us are gardeners, so a garden would be a needless burden.
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Angst Chronicles

Right, to update the last entry: mom came out of hospital the Wednesday after, and she’s more or less okay now. Our dog, Fred, who some of you will know is ill and sadly not going to make it, has been up and down, but holding on. So right now, I guess things are as ‘normal’ as they can be round here.
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New Year Blues

First entry of the year, eh? What took so long? Well, let’s see… I had this short but gruelling tour of book-signings to promote my latest best-seller, followed by a short break in Italy and a couple of extravagant shopping sprees. I’ve been a bit busy!

Hm. So I tried the interesting version. I don’t think anyone bought it, though. Oh well.
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Bad News Explained

Okay, so ‘tomorrow’ was a long time coming. But I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind one way or another.

The bad news I mentioned is that our dog, Fred, who is only seven years old, was pronounced terminally ill by the vet. I was really shaken by the news, and on reflection not entirely convinced the vet wasn’t being overly fatalistic—but technically, Fred is mom’s dog, and she has accepted the diagnosis.
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Down in London

Saturday was time to head down London way again. I was planning to go into Ilford while in town, to see my old pal Tim Bateman, but got caught in a rainfall and had to give it a miss. Although I had a nice, long chat with him on the phone, until he started worrying about his bill and rung off! Then I wandered round Waterstone’s for a while and bought a couple of books I couldn’t afford.

The train home was screwed. Surprise! The rail service has become shambolic. I had to get a train into Watford Junction and wait there for almost an hour to get another one into Brum. Then the train at Brum to take me back home was delayed. And since my feet were by then killing me (it was almost midnight), I decided to get a taxi from the station too. Costly, time-consuming and tiring.
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