… CONTINUED FROM DIARY No 28 …
SUNDAY 2nd AUGUST
In my last diary blog, I mentioned that Ariane Sherine (newly aka Ariane X) said she had discovered that, since finding a new man in her life and becoming happy, she has been unable to write songs.
Inevitably, of course, as soon as I posted that, she wrote another song for her upcoming album, released on the (if you are British not American) palindromic 12.02.2021.
This is part of it:
When you’ve no money left
No love or hope or friends
And your heart it is closed
And you think that it’s the end
And you’re praying to God
Yeah to come and save your soul
Well I’ll save you instead
Bring you in out of the cold
Also last time, I mentioned Charles Aznavour’s observation that, when people are happy, they are all happy in much the same but, when people are sad, there are varied, specific reasons why, so ‘sad’ is more inspiring and more interesting.
Erudite performer and man about town Peter Stanford pointed out that Aznavour had perhaps read the first sentence of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenin (or, on my Russian college course, Karenina):
“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”
All I really remember about Anna Karenina is some bloke tapping the wheels of a train and maybe that was only in the movie.
MONDAY 3rd AUGUST
NHS confusion continues.
Last week, my face-to-face appointment with the Kidney Man was changed to a telephone consultation but, having experienced this twice before, I disbelieved it.
On Friday, I checked with the Kidney Man’s secretary and it was indeed a face-to-face appointment.
When I arrived at the hospital at lunchtime today, the two security men checking arrivals (no visitors are allowed because of the COVID-19 restrictions) directed me to Reception just inside the door.
It was the same man on Reception as before – last time he said the entire Nephrology department had moved to another hospital – so I ignored him and went straight to Outpatients reception.
They directed me to the appropriate Consultation section’s Reception. The nurse on that Reception tried to find my details but couldn’t. Then the actual Receptionist arrived.
She told me all the face-to-face appointments had finished; there were only phone ones now. The nurse told the receptionist: “There’s no John Fleming on the list. In fact, there is no list. It may have been thrown away by accident.”
The receptionist said: “I will ask the doctor if he will see you.”
He said Yes.
The Kidney Man knew he was supposed to be seeing me masked-face-to-masked-face.
He told me I’m still “a mystery”. Nothing showed up on the last blood test. He may send me to see an Ear Nose & Throat man in case that throws up any irregularities. He also has a colleague who is “interested in calcium” so he might want to see me. And they might try a kidney biopsy, though that is unlikely.
“What is a biopsy?” I asked. Does it involve cutting me open?”
“We just stick a needle in your back, under local anaesthetic,” he replied, “and take a little bit of kidney out.”
My next face-to-face appointment with the Kidney Man is in two months, unless something bad were to show up on the blood test.
He sent me down one floor for a blood test. “They may be closed,” he told me. “If they are, just phone the number on the sheet and make an appointment.”
The Phlebotomy (Blood Test to you and me) Department was open.
I left the hospital and went to the National Express office at Golders Green to see how much a two-day coach trip to Edinburgh on 15th/16th August would cost. I want to see what the Edinburgh Fringe is like without the Edinburgh Fringe… and to see comedian Arthur Smith do his annual midnight tour of Edinburgh.
It was £76 return by coach. Much, much cheaper than a railfare.
TUESDAY 4th AUGUST
Irish politician John Hume died yesterday. He won the 1998 Nobel Peace Prize for his work trying to bring peace in Northern Ireland.
A BBC commentator said that, the first time Hulme met the IRA leadership face-to-face, he (Hume) said it was like meeting a cult. They were genuinely shocked to find out people genuinely had different views to them. Before then, they had only talked to themselves and their supporters. Anyone outside that circle who disagreed were not seen as people with genuinely different opinions – they were seen as evil.
I immediately thought: Corbynistas… Brexit… almost anyone on Twitter… To hold any opinion different to what you and ALL your friends have is not valid because it is not possible. If you disagree, you must be total evil, must be silenced.
Just me on that one, then?
There was an explosion in Beirut today – around 150 dead and over 4,000 injured. It turned out to be not a bomb but fertiliser. Of the kind used in bombs. Shit happened.
I was going to book an airfare to Edinburgh, after searching cheap price comparison websites. The cheapest return was £65 via Easyjet – cheaper than a coach and a journey time of only 90 minutes as opposed to 10 or 11 hours in a face mask.
My eternally un-named friend suggested looking on the actual EasyJet website. She was right.
It was £65 on the cheap price comparison websites and £55.98p on the EasyJet site itself. (Same flights.)
WEDNESDAY 5th AUGUST
Arthur Smith cancelled his tour of Edinburgh because of the Scottish government’s COVID restrictions on outdoor events. Shit happens.
THURSDAY 6th AUGUST
I got a letter saying my next face-to-face hospital appointment with the Kidney Man is on 19th Ocober. Inevitably, a few days before this, I will get an erroneous text saying it has been changed to a telephone appointment.
FRIDAY 7th AUGUST
I spent the afternoon with my eternally un-named friend.
At one point, an arrangement went wrong. She said: “It’s a dabbical.”
We both looked at each other. Neither of us knew what the word should have been. I suggested it was a reasonable-sounding word so should be in common use.
Later, I was in conversation with someone totally different and it came up in conversation that, in the US, she had been told the British word ‘gangbang’ means ‘carjack’ over there.
Later still, I looked it up online and, as far as I could find, on both sides of the Atlantic, gangbang = gangbang and carjack = carjack. A very odd misunderstanding.
I do always wonder, though, what would happen if an Eastender from London said to someone in Kansas: “I want to bum a fag”.
Late night: my eternally un-named friend phoned to say: “Debacle…”
SATURDAY 8th AUGUST
Continuing with linguistic problems, in the new ultra-PC, non-binary world, a performer posted the following on Facebook:
QUESTION: I’ve been working very hard on replacing gendered collective terms like “dudes” & “guys” with “folks” whenever I address groups. I occasionally slip up. But I’m trying.
I was convinced that “pal” was non-gendered but I’ve just looked it up and it isn’t.
Its etymology is:
First recorded in 1675–85; from English Romani: “brother, mate,” variant of continental Romani phral, ultimately from Sanskrit bhrātṛ “brother”.
Does anyone know a non-gendered equivalent, please?
I’ve just found out that by using “pal” with a trans friend (who calls me “pal”), I’ve been unintentionally mis-gendering her and I don’t want to.
“Alright, friend?” feels odd.
There must be a non-gendered equivalent? Surely?
That said I’m struggling to think of a feminine version and the lack of that might be the reason I assumed it was non-gendered.
It’s two things:
a) Does this have the capacity to hurt someone?
b) Is it easily within my gift to avoid even the potential of causing that hurt and it cost me nothing more than the tiniest bit of thought?
If the answers to both of those questions are “Yes” then I’d feel like an utter arsehole if I didn’t at least try.
It’s my job as a decent human being to try to make extremely minor and trivial accommodations to avoid the possibility of hurting someone.
I may be revealing myself as an utter arsehole here but – admirably caring and commendably sensitive though his aim is – I think if someone is linguistically sophisticated enough to be offended by the 17th century Romani or ancient Sanskrit roots of perfectly commonplace 21st century English words, then they are probably intellectually resilient enough to cope with being called “pal”… although, frankly, I would be wary of using the word without care in Glasgow (where “cunt” is a genuinely commonly-used conversational term of affection).
… CONTINUED HERE …