Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Sport, Writing

Day 180

Last night, after dinner, on our daily walk, an old sports injury in my right foot flared up. It hurt like hell, so when we got back (and I shouldn’t really have insisted on walking the full 2 miles), we went into the hotel bar, and I asked St to fill a plastic glove with ice so I could ice the damn thing. That made it hurt even more, but at least there’s no swelling. And this morning, after we’d installed ourselves on the beach (M in the full sun, me in the full shade) I walked to the nearest apotek (pharmacy to you and me) and bought some ibuprofen and some arnica 30c (which they sell in capsules filled with lots of tiny pills, Euro1.20 per capsule). The young lady in the apotek had her two small children with her, which was really cute (and I love the fact that children are so much a part of daily life here rather than the damn English attitude that they shouldn’t be seen never mind heard). She was very kind to me when I apologised for not speaking Greek, and when I said efkhariksto para poli she said “But you ARE Greek!” How we laughed! So I’ve taken one arnica 30c capsule and I’ll take my first ibuprofen after lunch.

When M glides in and out of the sea in a style far superior to that of Ursula Andress (and Daniel Craig, for that matter), and thankfully far less voluptuous, I’m waiting for someone to tell me to stop staring at that woman so I can say “Actually, that’s my wife.” I daresay it won’t happen. I can dream.

This morning has been quite sobering, because I’ve had lots of congratulatory messages on having survived another year, and now I’m only 6 months away from being halfway through my preferred life-span. Maybe I’ll extend it when I do get to halfway.

My brain, of course, tells me the injury has flared up because I’m not pushing hard enough, because I’m spending most of every day just sitting around doing nothing. And I believe my brain. Which is why, by the time I post this, I’ll have worked on three separate pieces of fiction in one day. That is something I never thought I’d so or say.


AGGIE’S ART OF HAPPINESS – CHAPTER 134


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