Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter


Day 291

The saga of the door handle continues. It now appears we have the only non-standard door handle fitting in the UK, if not the world. This means drilling a new hole in the door for a screw. This M will attempt tomorrow. It’s only been 6 days since the damn outside handle snapped off in A’s dainty little hand. And the amount of time I spent crouched and twisting on an old bar stool trying to get out the stripped screws from the damn fitting have left my back in a state of occasional but strident complaint.

I am reading Julie and Julia by Julie Powell right now. Not a big fan. I do hope this blog doesn’t come across as whiny as I think her writing is. I do remember watching the film and finding it quite amusing, but I think the film was probably doing the book (and the woman) a favour. But maybe they’ll say that about this blog one of these days when they choose some marvellously handsome man to play my part and some woman admired by the world (but vastly inferior to the real thing) to play M. If I knew how to put emojis in this blog, I probably would. Perhaps Stanley Tucci will play me. That would be doing me a favour. He has hairy forearms very similar to Robin Williams’ much-missed forearms, something I could never even aspire to (and I won’t even mention my entirely hairless legs which are the envy of many).

The saga of the covid side effects continues also. It is a misfortune of small dimensions, but it’s a misfortune (and an irony) nonetheless that just as I was starting to feel good about my insides, the damn disease has to make every damn thing inside there flare up again, and make me spend too much time somewhere I don’t want to spend it. Colour blindness and hypochondria don’t help either, and M, as always, is my saviour and guardian angel without whom I would be in a right state. I’ll just be glad when the antibiotics are done (Friday night, I think) and I can try to get balanced again. Mind you, flu jab Saturday, which, along with a whole load of other pressing stuff, means that I won’t be able to go down to London for the rescheduled Rejoin march. Here’s hoping it will turn into an anti-Tory march as well.

I had planned to restart Aggie today, but I’ve run out of time – let the ideas carry on scurrying around in my mind.

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