A Bug's Life

Having picked Paradise (Toni Morrison) then Hearts, Hands and Voices (Ian McDonald) to read, knowing little about them, I am surprised to see how similar they are (in a displaced community, driven out by a lighter-skinned group, with internal conflict and factions sort of way). Not finished HHV yet :-)

Something at the weekend has upset my back. It's been great for almost two months (since I last travelled to London), but Monday it ached, Tuesday it ached more, and today anything below the knees seems awfully far away and chairs look like instruments of torture. If I progress like that, I do not recover in time to survive a trip to Winchester at the weekend, and I will be very sorry to miss people at Corflu.

Prime suspects of last weekend are queuing for half an hour, standing at a party for three hours, and eating a slice of chocolate cake. I had a successful pizza experiment a couple of weeks ago, so I'm less inclined to suspect the dairy in the cake (unless butter is more a problem than hard cheese?). I think it'll have been the nice quiet party.

If, to manage my back, I can't leave Cambridge and have to leave for bed around 9pm for the rest of my sodding life, I'll be very pissed off.

Bored of this yet? I am.