Richard Wright

There is sunshine. Summer must be here. About bloody time, too. In about five months, when I live in India, I’ll probably be longing for a bit of honest chill in the air. Hey, I’m English. I complain about stuff. It’s our way.

Speaking of India, things are slowly getting organised, at least in terms of the mechanics of getting there. Most reassuring so far, is my daughter getting a place at one of the private international schools there. A week or so ago she had to sit an online assessment, and to be honest, it was a bit of a struggle. Their curriculum is quite a bit ahead of the Scottish one, and as she was being tested to their standard, she was facing quite a few things that she’s never encountered in class before. I suspect the school encounters this quite a bit though, and an offer came through a couple of days later, along with a checklist of things they’d like us to cover with her over the summer to bring her up to speed. None of it is rocket science. She’s a bright kid, and should pick it up fine. I have to confess to feeling a bit let down by the national curriculum here though. I presume it all balances out in later years, but that’s not much help right now.

Of course, with the wedding and the emigration, my to do list remains longer than my arm. Possibly even longer than yours. This week, I have to stop procrastinating, and arrange vaccinations. So many needles, all pointing at me. Part of my brain, the needlephobe bit, shirks away from arranging a series of appointments during which I will be professionally and repeatedly stabbed. On the other hand, a quick flick through what I need to be vaccinated against includes Hepatitis A, Hepatitis B, Japanese Encephalitis, Polio, Rabies, Typhoid, and Yellow Fever (on top of the routine tetanus, diptheria, and flu), none of which sound reassuring, so I suppose I should suck it up.

Fun for all the family.

Hmmm… what else has been going on? I went to see Star Trek, and had a terrific time with it. Not as thematically challenging as the best of the classic series, but a fine summer adventure, with some well played character relationships. As you’ve read everywhere, Zachary Quinto is a particularly fine Spock, but all of the actors nail enough of the essence of who they are supposed to be that they can move on and make it their own thing. I look forward to more, if the same team keep hold of it.

Oh, you might also remember that I was trying to improve my fitness (erm, from a baseline of ‘none’) using the British Army training programme. While I don’t know how well it’s going, I’m certainly sticking to it. I’ve had to make a couple of modifications, for scheduling purposes. The programme would like me to do a strength workout and a short run on Monday and Friday, with another run on Wednesday, and rest days in between. That doesn’t work for me, as it leaves me too little time to get on with other things on the Monday and Friday evenings. Instead, I do a longer run on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday (each of which is more than the programme asks for), and the strength workouts (so far a mixture of press-ups, sit-ups, dips, and dorsal raises) on Tuesday and Thursday.

On that schedule, I’ve so far covered everything I’m supposed to. It’s been four weeks, and the next-day feeling of having been beaten up after the strength workouts is becoming way too familiar. This Sunday I redo the fitness test I started with, to map my progress, if any. Should either be motivating, or the nail in the coffin of the enterprise. I will let you know.

Right, off to write letters, make phone calls, and entertain daughter (who is unexpectedly off today – I can never keep up with school holidays). I’ll leave you with a reminder that the soon to be out of print Short Trips: Transmissions and the currently Stoker Award shortlisted Beneath the Surface, are both on sale at the moment. Check them out, while it lasts.

I can confirm, with little fear of contradiction, that my adductor strain (groin strain) had not completely healed prior to my tentative run earlier this evening. Now it’s sore again. On the other hand, it kept me upright on the move, so as long as I’m not hobbled tomorrow, we’re back on track. I hope so, because my fitness has definitely dropped while recovering. Very frustrating indeed, that it goes so much faster than it builds up…

So, as I mentioned yesterday, my left knee is what we in the United Kingdom commonly refer to as ‘gubbed’. It has been since Tuesday night. Alas, it’s nothing to do with getting fit, running, starting to work towards a half marathon in September, and so on. No, it’s simply that Tuesday night was freezing, and the streets were layered with ice. My foot went left while the rest of my leg quibbled the directional decision, choosing instead to jerk right. The resulting pain was utterly sickening, and I spent a couple of minutes bent over a low wall, holding myself up and stopping myself from actually being sick. I was a good half mile from home, and it was a long, painful hobble back. A horrible, random act of chance.

Nothing whatsoever to do with the bottle of champagne I had shared with my birthday lady in advance of the next day’s flight to Krakow, nor indeed the decision that a jaunty walk would be the very thing to clear my head. No sirree bob.

Anyway, at the moment I barely notice the damage most of the time, and normal walking barely causes a twinge. However, if I try to use the leg to stand, or put weight on it in any other direction than straight door, there’s a little screaming moment of white pain. The same applies when there’s any impact. Unfortunately, this so far seems to include running.

Which is what I really wanted to be doing this week, and the lack of which is making me somewhat glum. Yes, I know it’s my own fault. No, that doesn’t make feel any better about the whole thing.

I need to reevaluate so very much of my lifestyle. Apart from quitting smoking, that evergreen work-in-progress, and getting more exercise, the over-consumption of caffeine is a continual concern. You might be might be tempted to label me a hypochondriac and move on, after a statement like that, but consider the story of Jasmine Willis, aged seventeen, who was rushed to hospital after drinking seven double espressos at work. Her symptoms included inexplicable bouts of laughter and tears, palpitations, breathing difficulties, and fever.

I read that story on BBC news, and my first thought was ‘lightweight’.

Then I started thinking about it. I drink a lot of coffee during the day, right through the evening. A lot. Most of it is from an enormous mug, half again the size of a regular one. I do not use a teaspoon to measure granules of coffee into said mug. I tip the jar, until a mound of of coffee that would daunt many hobbit hill walkers awaits the boiling water. And water is all. To add milk or sugar is to pervert the pure coffee experience.

On top of which, I have a hideous love for energy drinks, particularly Red Bull. When I buy a four pack, it’s rare for there to be any left the next day.

To lift a line from Frankie Boyle, all this adds up to me having the resting heartache of a serial killer in a hardware store during a closing down sale.

On the plus side, there are strong indicators that caffeine helps the body to actively defend against, and even destroy, cancer. In which case, I must be pretty much immune.

Yay me.