There should be an antidote to local anaesthetics. My dentist, bless her socks, decided to give me four Lignocaine™ injections on Tuesday morning before doing whatever it was that she'd decided she simply had to do to me, and in consequence I spent the next several hours with the left side of my face quite paralysed, incapable of coherent speech and prone to drooling. The same will happen, though to the right side, next Tuesday morning. It's at moments like those that I'm tempted to cry "Rip out the lot of 'em! nevermore dentistry again!"
My mother and her sister seem to have restored a condition of truce between them; just ready for the whole foofaraw to break out again at Christmas, no doubt.
Julian, my cousin, is due yet another operation, this time to shorten his leg to above the knee, poor lad, or so my mother told me yesterday. Then again, she's not always entirely accurate in medical matters - anyone who can confuse circumcision with castration has to be interpreted carefully - so I shall probably call him at the weekend and see how he's doing for myself.
Yet again I fear that I'm going to have to disappoint the_g_man, since Justin and I shall have to be at a Roberts family get-together on that weekend. Charles and Madeleine will be over from Portugal on one of their rare visits, and Jo will be at that time about to produce our newest nephew, so it'll be pleasure as well as duty. Alas, I'll also probably not be able to make December's game either, Geoff, since I'll most likely be in Manchester looking after mattp, though of course it depends on when his operation is and how rapidly he recuperates.
All the bad stuff that's been happening recently to so many people about whom I care has definitely been getting me down; normally I'd be able to face it with a kind of distressed equanimity, but the depression has made it feel more as though I'm at the centre of a cursed zone and of very little practical help to anyone. I remarked to youngatheart a week or so ago that I felt, in the idiom, about as much use to anyone as a chocolate teapot. Yesterday at lunch she gave me a present - a chocolate teapot!
Of course, the reason that I'm seeing so much bad stuff right now is that I know so many good people - one can't be grieved at the misfortunes of one's friends if one doesn't have any. There's something verging on the paradoxical in that.
Following a casual remark on Monday evening, I can report to various people that my first attempt at saffron vodka, at the strength of one gram of saffron to 250ml of vodka, turned out to be far closer to the medicinal than to the delectable; however, tempering it with a modicum of honey and a little vanilla and rosewater has produced a quite astounding infusion, pretty much an aurum potabile. I may bring along a little on Monday for people to sample, if they'd like.
And so, until next time, adieu.