• Tests. Tonsils. Topiary.

  • Posted on 24/12/21 07:22am
  • Frid - 24 - 12 - 21 - 4:37am

    I've been in Germany. Doing Nikki Iles Big Band music
    for the NDR big band. Ian Thomas on drums.
    Such clear lines in his playing. So easy to play with.
    Nikki wrote some great music and it was fun to play it
    in that setting - getting into the weeds... detailing.
    We had to test pretty much every day. Twice on Friday.
    People I'd never meet again swabbing tonsils and tickling
    the underside of my brain through a nostril and speaking
    German in Germany and how many nostrils have you probed today
    and this is weird and do you go home and practice probing nostrils
    on a mock nose you set up in your mock lab?
    Not to mock. They were warm and friendly and all those noses!

    The travel was a mix of 'this isn't as bad as I thought it would be'
    and 'Just kill me and have done with it'. But how to kill me?
    Leave me in a room of topiarists discussing their day. That's how.
    I wonder if I've ever written that word before. Topiarists. Twice now.
    I've written that word twice in my life. And yet, each retains an individuality.
    It's all in the t and T which is not explosive code.
    I digress.

    The sessions were wonderful at the NDR. The company most evenings,
    Ian (Ianto) and Nikki was sublime and so easy, unforced, shared, interesting
    and other stuff to wax lyrical.

    As you may have gathered, I can't sleep.
    Xmas has gone awry. My daughter, Evette, tested positive for Covid.
    I'd picked her up the night before. Her tonsils shot, and miserable, she'd
    voice messaged me to tell me the state of play and broke down in tears half way through.
    She doesn't cry on a whim. She's a midwife. Sturdy. Dependable.
    So I jumped on my trusty steed, and knight in shining armoured my way over there, wormhole speed
    and beeped morse code outside her Ma's house. 3 beeps. 2 short. 1 long.
    Dad's out-siiide.
    Brought her back to mine, to hers, to ours. Her bedroom unchanged.
    She slips the world occasionally, and rests up at my house, her house, ours.
    Looked after her. Watched a film. Took her mind away
    from the next harrowing horror of swallowing.
    She slept soundly and felt better in the morning.
    I went gift shopping and she rested up.
    Manchester was bedlam. Everyone looked weird to me.
    I'm guessing I looked weird to them.
    It was them, and me. The me and them theme.
    If the theme was an e theme (a theme based on the note e)
    I could say 'it was the me and them e theme'.
    If I left out the 'and' it would be 'the me them e theme'.
    I always knew, even as a boy of 9 months old,
    that the word 'theme' had hidden folds of meaning.
    I remember trying to convey that very revelation
    (yes.... say it again... very revelation..) to my Mam
    when I was 9 months old, just with my face.

    I digress.
    Evette got her PCR test result back the next day
    when I'd not long been back from the weird site of antlers
    on men who are envious of other antlers on other men
    just because those particular antlers flash on and off.
    It's like flashing antlers provide a further layer of individuality.

    The PCR test was positive.
    I was making a fish curry. I heard the sigh like a long goodbye
    from the living room.
    So that was that. No traditional xmas for her. Dinner at my sisters gone.
    Nights out gone. Going back to Ma's gone.
    So the fish curry is really good. And we have a laugh as usual.
    And we watch Elf. And we stay up late.
    It's about 7am now. Slept 2 hours.
    Going for another PCR test in about 3 hours.
    She's here now at least till Boxing day.
    I started boxing again, no not crisps, but actual boxing
    with gloves and my left cross is relaxed and powerful and
    'fuckin 'ell e's not getting up' my trainer with the pads said.

    I digress.

    Let's talk about the good times.
    Right here, right now.
    And the views we choose.

    Sam signing off would be Sam x
    which, at this time of year is the perfect palindrome...

    ah well, nearly there


© Mike Walker 2024