Thursday, November 04, 2004
Over the VolcanoI feel like that bad joke where he says, "Yes, doc, I have a drink problem: I can't get enough."
Sérieusement, one - well, me, *I* - shouldn't joke but there's a comic element to just how long I've thwarted.
- Friday Oct 22: My guitar pupil finally keeps an appointment so I'm free by noon to collect flagon of unpassable white and Marlboro killers. That sees me thru to - well, it sees me.
- Sat morn/pm: Recovery. Sat eve: Keep meaning to sally forth for hair of dog but distractions and phone calls hinder
- Sunday: Thither to supermarché for brek stuff and other victuals, including hooch n baccy. Meet my divine PCP in the aisles - whom I've not chatted up since before my op. She smiles so sweetly and enquires after my health so I haven't the heart to undo her good work.
- Monday 11/25, morning: Job lead demands clear head for tweaking CV. Afternoon: Take camera out to Fay Bainbridge and snap "views", after which promise self visit to that special vintner in the Pavilion. En route back, see police cars boxing in a rather nasty looking crash. Take the hint and head straight home for sensible salady lunch. Evening: one advantage of teaching guitar so early (9am) is that i daren't booze night before. By now feeling quite ill with sobriety.
- Tues: teach guitar and use rest of the time collecting guitar stuff for the pupil's own instrument. We go for coffee thence to his probation officer and me for home, completely forgetting to buy booze.
- Wed, 26th: Bainbridge Review ask me to interview Bill Frisell which so pleases me I haul out all his albums and previous write-ups and do my homework, incl tackling his transcription of "Moon River" which is so beautiful and ingenious that it seems a crime to ever think of picking up the guitar drunk again. In the evening, chat with Anna which makes me wonder how a father could think of staying in anything but the best poss shape. Watch crumby DVD and ditch it for more work on Moon River. Fancy a cig and search out last Friday's pack but cough and splutter so badly over my music that I hurl it into the fire in disgust.
- Thursday: date with oncologist so nil booze and, since it's guitar lessons next day, nothing in the evening.
- Friday guitar followed by more homework on Frisell and then out to photograph a garden of pals of Mum. For some reason, forget to buy booze. Oh, I know why: test results in and the cancer is creeping back. Decide the prostate is enough for the horrid C to be gnawing at and deny it the lungs.
- Saturday: surely today? Big reward for staying clean, non? Head to supermarket but the only aisle open is Carol's and she always looks at me with such sad disapproving eyes when I include vino n cigs that I stay with the food and promise myself a later sortie, which I forget. As a result, guitar work on the Frisell goes rather well and the sniveling organism dares not pester me for liver or lung damage.
- Sunday: Adjust clocks, microwaves, stereos and chronometers. Too disoriented to hit the bottle. Election fever in full overkill. Decide if I start on the booze I'll not end and, anyway, crack of dawn Tues is guitar.
- Wednesday: no sleep after staying up all night to savour the full horror of the country voting Red.
- Thurs, 0845hrs: date with the scalpel wielding Doc Corman who does his inquisition thing and decides he wants me on the operating table Monday noon. Catch ferry home and detour via shops for a brace of Vouvray and pack of Dave's lite cigs
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