Home for these holidays

I got up early - for me - to pay the oil man after he made his delivery. By the way, I felt like a diary type entry today. Then I spent all day today trying to finish the article I had promised last Friday on the metaphysics of evil - a pretentious title? Moi?! I thought it would take me a couple of hours and then I could get back to bed for some proper kip, but lo and behold if the son of man didn't take till eight o' clock to get it finished. See what I did there with the son of man pseudo-blasphemy. Apparently, the son of man was a typical Jewish way of rather humbly refering to oneself, rather than anything wildly significant christologically. That's still a controversial thesis of course, but one I'm open to. I like to think of Jesus being deferential about himself rather than adopting the Johannine it's-my-way-or-the-highway attitude. But I digress; it took me to eight, that was fitting in a doctor's appointment in between.

I visited my old doctor's partner, as the old doctor thinks I'm a hypocondriac and doesn't even look at me anymore when I walk into her surgery. The partner was much better, treated me much like a real human being and thinks I might have a low level infection in my sinouses from a long time ago that was never picked up on. She thinks it no wonder that I haven't the full quota of energy, not to mention the fact that I can get drunk on 1.4 pints of guinness - well, in fact I didn't mention that last part. Not quite the thing to impress the intellectual classes, that one. If the anti-biotics don't work I may need to get the old sinouses washed out, which sounds curious from the practical point of view. I have to stop the decongestants I've been taking for the last three or four months which her partner - the horse doctor - had told me 'Yeah, just go on taking them'. And the new doctor did it all with a smile and a whizz in about three minutes flat where she also met my eyes on several occasions, even managing a few smiles, establishing both of us as human beings in one fell swoop. She told me not to work too hard - some chance thinks every one else who knows me, who yet fail to apprceiate that Descartes couldn't get up before twelve either - and I feel now that the only way is up, energywise, as Jack Lemmon in 'The Apartment' would say.

So here I am taking it easy in the middle of the night, resisting sleep with the ardour of a benny addict, but just semi-reeling in a sort of Jack Kerouac beat way that I got the article finished even if it was a bit long and 'windy', as is my wont. But nothing soothes the heart and brings balm to the soul like writing, especially writing this stupid nonsense on this blog. It lets the bird of the imagination flap its wings quite ridiculously, and it is just happy to be there and to do it. There, I've tired myself out enough, so now I'll slope off to interlope with a few nymphs into the bejeweled land of make-believe known as dreams, to sleep in tomorrow, as the oil is already in and paid for, and all my washing is done and dried. If you didn't realise it yet, I'm home for these holidays.

And I'm looking forward to seeing you Fionnuala now I'm back, and I'm wishing Barbara well in Milan, Goren well in the Basque, Carlo - thanks for remembering my birthday - well in Ferrara, Francesca well in Turin (there is an Italian theme here), Paul in Sveden (haven't forgotten you, me old spud), Cliona in Dublin if she ever returns from Spain, Ann in St. Catherine's - the place that will live in infamy, right Goren?! - James 'just visiting' Elena in Verona (hey you guys!), Zeljka in Subotica, and Emily wherever she's at just about now. Ciaran (Hanna not Downey), the wild man from Polski, has returned to the motherland and will be interviewed in subsequent days about his adventures teaching English to the yokels - that wasn't meant prejoratively. While Deirdre and her own Ciaran will be tying the knot soon in Rome, how rosemantic! In short, we're all here, there and everywhere, but mostly at home. Even big bro, Robert, and lil sis, Geraldine, are striking out for themselves this year with their own Christmases to make, but meeting up with them and spending time with the rest of the infamly is what the feast of the home and heart is all about. Enjoy yours and don't forget, you forgot my birthday! Should old acquaintance be forgot ... (everybody now).