…or maybe just old and fucked. Anyhow, definitely one year older and nearer to death however you look at it.
Fuck knows how I got this far. All around me are dropping like flies or dropped many years ago. Like my friend Phil who dropped dead on Waterloo station in his thirties when an aneurysm in his brain just decided to pop. Or Jim who used to play rhythm guitar in one of the several school blues bands and fell out of the sky in a hang glider accident. Or my old friend Paul who died a year or so back from unknown causes but knowing him as I do probably drink related. Then there’s Keith who popped his clogs from cancer last year. The list goes on so I suppose I should quote Chas’ song “Everybody’s fucked but me” ?
So today I am supposed to be luxuriating on a lovely little boat called Hebridean Princess half way up Sognefjord in Norway. Except, of course, I’m not because Covid got in the way and they cancelled it, offering instead to take me around the wilds of Shetland and the Hebrides. Except I’m not there either because dear Wee Kranky Sturgeon decided that no cruise ships would be allowed into several of the ports we were visiting – even though it was a Scottish ship sailing from a Scottish port and never leaving Scottish waters. I got the distinct impression from a somewhat unamused tour operator that she was just being a bitch who had to not be seen doing what the hated English were doing.
So they offered me a trip around Lundy and the Isles of Scilly instead. Very nice except that we were already booked to do it with Noble Caledonia the next day. Never mind. Nice big refund to spend on something else.
So where am I today? Well I’m luxuriating on the north Norfolk coast in a very nice boutique hotel in one of my favourite spots, Brancaster. Very pleasant but not exactly the Norwegian fjords. Still, I shall enjoy a few days here stuffing my face with excellent food and wine and celebrating not being dead with a nice bottle of champagne.
Fuck Covid for buggering everything up, but when life is shit – and believe me it is lately – then you just have to get on with it, and at least for a few days I can not worry about my upcoming sleep test although I can’t forget about it altogether because part of the test is that I have to keep a sleep diary for a fortnight before checking in to Papworth.
The section that records alcohol consumption should prove interesting…