Oh the irony.........

Yet again someone has come along and kicked my little sandcastle into oblivion......



I suppose this sorry state of affairs could be construed as my fault........ my fear of suffering a living death in Eastbourne made manifest by my very own binary enhanced utterances on this site

Serves me right really........

Not sure i deserved to be almost run down by at least 4 motorised wheelchairs on separate occasions......... driven by carefree elderly sterling mosses though.

I say carefree BUT don't think i wasn't aware of the malevolent glint in one grey turbster's eye..... the slight curl of the lip as she missed me........ throwing myself into the gutter to avoid being a drive-by-granny victim.......


The gutter......... i know it well.


I arrived in Eastbourne on the sunday afternoon....... didn't bode well that i'd been given the wrong name of the hotel so it took JUST that little bit longer to find my temporary grail......

The Quality hotel was actually The Langham hotel....... not much difference there then.

But what's in a name........

Well, death, suicide, lying, deceit and MORE death if Shakespeare's anything to go by

And so my stay in Eastbourne began.........

...........with a victory, no less.

Italy won the world cup.. and while i expected to feel ill watching them possibly lose in yet another penalty shootout, i didn't expect to still feel incredibly ill the next morning at the crack of dawn.....

It was the monday........ the first day of the conference........ and as i staggered around my room in a feeble attempt to get ready to leave...... and knowing my luck, find that the name of the conference hall was actually completely different to the one i'd been given....... i realised that i was in fact going no where.

It was a couple of hours later that i also realised that i needed to see a doctor, well, hopefully not just see one but have one examine me....... i knew i had a fever and could hardly breathe my chest was so tight........ my larynx was also constricted to the point of transforming me into a darlek voice-box........

Dr Who?

No.......... Dr Singh.........

Saw him the next day, having dragged my fevered body through the sun drenched heat reflecting streets of Eastbourne...... having registered myself at his surgery as a non-resident.
Thank god and all his little benevolent playmates for my wireless laptop and free access @ the Langham hotel....... not sure how i would have found a doctor so quickly from my sick bed, without it

Was given antibiotics for a bad chest infection......... of the pneumonia sort not bronchitis........ had no cough at all.......... was sweat drenched beyond words but my body temperature was very low......... and looked miserable as sin........ although judging by how i felt AND looked, i doubt sinning of ANY kind was on the horizon for me for a while......

So........... that put an end to the conference for me (NB. NLG Board, please note i don't mean to imply that 'sinning' is on the conference agenda......... )

I'd travelled all the way to the coast............ to be sick.

I'm so proud

Received a phone call from my mother........ who i lied to......... told her i had a bit of a sore throat (lie), that i didn't feel too bad (lie), that i wasn't worried and she shouldn't be (lie) and that i should be alright the next day........... err........ lie. Shakespeare would also be proud......

I actually felt guilty for lying to her, even though i was only doing it to prevent her from worrying....... she has more than enough to worry about being a full-time carer for my father....... until she said........

Don't know why you bothered going to Eastbourne if you were just going to be sick when you got there......

Well yes mother, shame on me......... my usual psychic abilities really let me down this time *sigh*


Having said that........ last week, i'd said.......

Oh God! Just had an incredibly awful thought........ what if i died there?

Would anyone be able to tell the difference? I'd be stuck there forever...........

well, i am catholic......... so limbo should come naturally

Now why oh why couldn't my incredibly temperamental and pathetically transient psychic moments been wrong about THAT one??

Ok..... a slight exaggeration there, in that i didn't actually die, and yes.... i'm not psychic.......... but let's not quibble over inaccuracies that ruin a good allegory........ i spent 5 days, not having to work......... at a peaceful seaside town........ the possibilities for relaxation, throwing half empty bottles of water at turbsters as they try to mow me down, and having failed........ rush up steps and facing them down with a goading tongue waggle na na na na na! But no......... i spent 5 days in a hotel room..... only leaving three times in order to get to the doctors, the pharmacy and a local supermarket to buy bottled water..........

The rest of the time, i was in............... limbo

I sat at my room window, looking out..........

.........at this........

The beach could even be seen from my bed........

And all i could do was watch........ and think....

At night........ i felt loneliest........

There's nothing quite like being totally ostracised from friends or family whilst being uncontrollably ill.......... not feeling the warm comforting touch of another's hand........ the caring tone of another's voice..... the look, the smile...... the tangible feeling of being cared for..... everything's going to be alright....... i'm here........

On my last night there...... the moon shone brightly......... calling out to those below her to worship and bay at her luminous beauty....... she laid down a glistening path across the gently heaving tide to guide them to her altar........ the sea, her mirrored handmaiden, breathing in..... and out........ in and.........

I noticed two on the edge of the tide....... arms entwined

Lovers, no doubt.........

It's painful to see others where you wish to be............i was one of those worshipers once........ looking up at the red sea moon........ and the memory didn't help........ Bet they were arguing anyway....... i'd like to think so.

Well who knows....... he could have just been holding a freshly murdered body...... contemplating on which wave he should dump her body under......... not so romantic NOW eh?

There........ bitterness purged.......

The wednesday was the worst, as far as emotional self-pity was involved.......... everything and anything made me want to cry........ had no real control over it.......... its mostly an MS thing..... when the body's under attack by a viral or bacterial infection, it starts to run on empty........ for MSers it does anyway...... there is NO backup to rely on and the proverbial reserves are dry........ neural messages thrown out by the central nervous system may lose their way and end up where they're not supposed to or worse case scenario, at a dead end.

Hysteria can be a result of that rerouting....... the most inconsequential thing can set you off on an unstoppable laughfest...... rolling about with tears of laughter....... and even your audience knows it's not that funny...... and before you know it.... you're sobbing....... gutwrenching crying, emotionally tortured weeping....... then a little snorty sob and the seizured laughter is back....

Thankfully, i only have two memories of having done this in public....... and i mean in front of strangers and not just other people....... both times in a restaurant...... once with RL, who i don't think ever got over it..... he didn't understand but then again, at that point neither did it........ and the last time was with SW..... the confusion came from the fact that we'd both been laughing heartily at some silliness we were/are prone to....... but then SW noticed that i'd started crying, not tears of laughter but sobs of misery..... her face took on a startled anxious look and the moment i noticed it, my body spasmed into laughter again........ SW looked relieved and laughed again....... once we were both on the same playing field again, my wretched sobbing returned........ SW's face flashed into concern once more, which sent me back into the laughing pit......

Once it was over......... SW asked....... WHAT was THAT all about?????

I had no idea......... just that i had no control over it whatsoever.

The wednesday was the worst.......... there was no silliness or giggles..... just despair........ safely hidden away in a little burgeoning box........

It was a succinct text from JC that threw it open....

stop being the martyr... you need help, no point bein proud.... one day you're gonna have to put yourself first

The tears and emotionally charged sobbing wracked by body..... i remember melodramatically flopping onto the bed, face down, smothered........ releasing the frustration and convulsive gasps into the duvet covered mattress..........

There was a knock at the door

Never had a full english been so misappriopriately timed.......

I scrambled to my feet and hastely tried to sponge my face and eyes dry with my hands....... never has an action been more misapproriately reasoned....

The young man stood there with the tray in his hands....... manic smile trying to hide the obvious oh god, please don't make me have to comfort her look quivering in his eyes....

I quickly sniffed my way through a just put the tray there....... sorry....... don't worry about it..... sorry...... before shutting the door behind him.

I got over the experience fairly quickly after that...... hope he did too...... i'm well aware that people that work in hotels come across all manner of strange behaviour and things left behind in rooms...... i've left a few of them behind myself in the past. The day before, i'd already singled myself out to the hotel manager as a interesting occupant, when i crawled downstairs to reception with a fever, semi-dressed and slurring, to beg for some fresh fruit........ after a couple of blank looks, they were extremely helpful...... trying to foist water and a sandwich on me....... but i managed to mumble while i was sprawled on the recpetion counter, that fruit was all i needed.......

As the receptionist scuttled off to find some...... i remember looking up at the manager, from my slouched position, and asking Has anyone ever died in your hotel before?

I don't believe he answered........ maybe he didn't want to tempt fate....... but it was more likley that he didn't want to encourage the mad woman in his reception area, before being able to call for help.....

It could also have been that his silence was actually trying to disguise the fact that i'd stumbled onto him and his colleague discussing a way to get rid of the body in room 206 without other guests noticing....... and what do i do? bumble over and ask if they'd ever had anyone die in their hotel before.........

Never had a desperate need for fresh fruit been so possibly misappriopriately voiced.......

Well....... i was fevered, delusional and bored....... makes the stay at the hotel a lot more interesting.

I hid in my room for the rest of my stay after that.

On my leaving day, it was obvious that i was healthy enough to withstand the journey by train...... thank god for antibiotics and not having to pay for a taxi back to london....... my senior manager had already offered to pick me up from Victoria so that he could drag my rucksack home for me....... a lovely thought, but i had to refuse since i didn't think he'd be able to manage dragging me home too, which is what it would have required. I decided on a taxi being the dragging vehicle of choice.

As i was getting dressed for my journey, which was a novelty for my stay in Eastbourne, i noticed that the sea air had given me a tan....... how the hell would i explain THAT away when i'd only left the hotel to go to the drs etc etc........ i could hear the taunts, as i pulled my t-shirt over my head....... yeah yeah, course you were sick and bedbound for a week at the seaside..... Great!

Hopefully no-one will notice at work since i don't often walk around with my tops pulled up to disclose my snow white abdomen........ although having just suffered through yet another week of 34c plus in London, the light biscuit colour the seaside had given me, has now developed into more of a freckled ginger cake....... will have to rely on the dark circles under my eyes to prove my recent illness...... although i can't see that proving anything since those particular bags have been packed and ready to go for a few years now.....

The train journey was uneventful........ i was profoundly sad at leaving....... at having missed an opportunity to revel in the tranquility that i'd found there........ i'd wanted to sit on the beach, on my own....... with music in my ears and a book in my lap..... The origin of the world: A history of the vagina no less..... and no place better for it to be than in my lap. I'd bought it specially....... the book, that is......... and it went unused.......... the BOOK, that is............

Wasn't in the right mindset to read........ not even on the train........ but then i did manage to cause havoc with the male trolley dolly and the two cups of coffee he's given me..... i'd begged for a second and he'd given me the wrong ones........ i don't drink cow juice, i explained..... so i didn't ASK for any!!! We ended up having to hide them, couldn't throw them away since he needed to keep the plastic cups to prove sale...... toilet backed up and overflowed so we couldn't get rid of the coffee........ coffee got spilt....... tempers got frayed....... i wanted a BLACK coffee....... more coffee got journey shaken not stirred........ trolley dolly got shaken then stirred........ i got another free black coffee.

I helped him disguise the mess when we arrived at Victoria.

What part of me being in any sort of equation equates to drama?

And so we find ourselves back to Shakespeare again......... more of a farce really.

I amused myself on the train.......... not soley by irritating the hell out of an underpaid trolley dolly....... but by taking photos of myself and then making me look like someone else...... well, better anyway....... that's what women want isn't it? Did an Andy Warholesque thing and thought....... there, no-one would ever know i'd been ill....... until they see me in the flesh, of course.......

The black cab driver from Victoria was chatty........ how novel? but i was glad of it....... at least he didn't kiss me 'hello' which is what i'd received from the mini cab driver on my way to Victoria a week earlier...... but then he was pleased to see me...... and it had been a while......... he'd taken me on many a National Hospital of Neurology visit in the past year when i'd been really ill....... and this time he invited me to the next barbeque they have........... as bad as this sounds, he's proud of his meat and wanted me to taste it........ it's a man/barbeque, Hindu/Muslim thing........ REALLY!!! His family will be there anyway....... just in case.......

The black taxi driver, on the other hand, was very english........ but we miraculously found common ground in our being in Egypt at the same time years ago........ it was astounding to find a total stranger that had had the same experiences as me, trod the same ground....... breathed the same air....... looked up at the same sky......... and yet met years later....... by chance...... in a London Taxi.

Coincidence.......... and we never would have known, if it wasn't for us not being afraid to talk to people........

Maybe if people weren't so hampered by social convention, they'd find more of the links and less of the other.........

When i die........ i aim to die talking.........

Just NOT in the Langham Hotel......... which i'm sure the manager would approve of.......