With almost the exact anniversary of my last hiatus to hospital I get sick again. This time however I don't think it was thirty years of Famous Grouse and (more importantly actually) the diclofenac sodium that did it, just my niece's eighteenth birthday party. You wonder what the ancients must have thought of the fever and the dread, sleep being already that most curious of instruction manuals, full of omens. What is especially disconcerting when the body appears to come to some kind of full stop, with all the dashboard gauges of physical life on empty, is the sparking of interminable life in the head. You may sleep all day, but you somehow don't. In my case, since I had unfortunately tackled Yessongs last week, I heard nothing but the splatterings of it all, mixed up of course in my delirium, and since Yes had the misfortune of putting too much music into every song already and in the first place, the mental pain was excruciating.
Luckily, whatever it was lasted a mere twenty four hours, and there are few better things than feeling better.
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