haonowshaokao

I have Bronchitis. Could’ve been a lot worse.
It’s funny, going to the doctor. You sit in the waiting room forever, practicing your cough until finally you’re let in to explain to the indifferent man in a white suit who you’re vaguely wary of the exact narrative of the disease you’ve worked out on the way over, making sure not to get carried away with your own ideas about exactly why you are sick.
So I have to take some antibiotics and something else too, the altogether revolting sounding “Mucosolvan” and not drink for a week or so, which is absolutely fine by me.

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Out on a Sunday Night Spectacular last night. This time there was no soup and the film was Santana Live but the situation was remedied by a barbecue in the back of the Blind Eye. I hung around and had a little meat, then went to bed early.
It’s funny but that place really isn’t my bar anymore. Not that anywhere else is, mind you. It’s just a place I spend very little time in now. I could go away for two weeks and nobody would give me more than a nod and a ‘hi’ on my return, and rightly so too. I do the same for them.
Fate has decreed that the people I have got to know well have mainly gone, leaving mainly those I am just acquainted with. Well, too bad. So it goes. If I were drinking until 6 every night right now (how strange that sounds now, yet it was about the average just 6 months ago) I would be dead. No joke. But maybe boring is good, for a while at least. I’ve written and read a lot recently
Speaking of illness, though, my insurance form came today. I waited in the house for the postman to arrive, and he turned up at 2.15, which was too late, I have lessons to teach now. So I’ll have to ship off to Motol first thing tomorrow. Wish me luck, everyone.

Tomorrow heathcare is mine.
So generally woo and so on.
Free movies tonight though, but first to get through all these Pulp gigs I’ve downloaded.
Spent this morning lying in bed listening to Underworld and reading William Blake. I am part of the smart set.

Hm.
I’ve a temptation to go on at everyone about how crap it is to be unable to drink alcohol or hang around in smoky places because the former makes me sick for two days and the latter isn’t a good idea because infected lungs don’t want encouragement. But I won’t. Is it enough to say I am bored bored bored bored bored? Also, what happened to the gang? There sort-of isn’t actually a gang anymore. Or maybe there is but I’m not in it. Yes, that sounds right.
On Monday I should get a piece of paper called an E111 from the UK. With this I can go to the doctor, get medical treatment, begin to drink beer again, and generally get some kind of social life.
But on the whole I wouldn’t read this crap so neither should you. All I have to positively say is go to http://uk.premiership.fantasysports.yahoo.com/ and tell me if you join and I’ll start up a LNADJKMD league, or something.

My second student today gave me some homeopathic medicine. It seems to actually do something. My cynical nature says ‘bollocks’ but I can’t deny I feel a little better.

There are two new residents in my house. A parrot called Pepicek, who says a lot of things, including “ahoy.” Everything else is in parrot-czech, which I don’t speak. I’m not sure about keeping birds in cages really, there’s something not right about it. Also in the hallway is a rabbit, name unknown. It likes dandelion leaves.
Still sick. Meeting up with Jess to got to a teahouse now, though. She doesn’t know we’re going to a teahouse but, uh, I do.
Ah, one other thing. this has to be the worst idea of the year. Plastic beer bottles? I mean, people? Jesus fucking christ? I will boycott this middling but popular Czech beer until they quit it with the dumbest idea I’ve heard for a long time. Next they’ll be giving it up and just drinking bacardi breezers. Fucking marketing cunts.

If anyones got a memory then they may recall that I was sick a month ago. Well, I’m still sick now. I hadn’t mentioned it because I don’t like to go on, you know, but combined with a two-day Krumlov hangover and a bus journey back to Prague it results in a death-like state. Yes, I actually sat in a cellar bar the previous night and drunk carbonated water, but it wasn’t enough to prevent all kind of symptoms.
So yesterday I was actually unable to work, and went to the chemist, on Martin’s advice. It was still open when I got there, just about, so I thought I was in with a chance. And here is how it went (translated into English):
Me: I’m sorry, I don’t speak very much Czech but I have (mimes cough) and (mimes temperature) and (mimes lung infection) for one month.
Evil Chemist Woman: We have this (brings out infant cough syrup).
Me: No, not for a baby, for me!
ECW: What?
Me: Something, please.
ECW: (shrugs noncommittally)
Me: You have penicillin?
ECW: You have a prescription?
Me: No.
ECW No prescription, no penicillin.
Me: Is there anything else?
ECW: (shouts at me for thirty seconds in Czech)
Me: Slowly, please, I don’t understand.
ECW: (shrugs noncommittally)
Me: I need something, do you have something?
ECW: (Shouts at me for ten seconds, then shrugs noncomittally)
….and then this went on for a further five minutes. Afterwards I sat outside at the bus stop having got nothing at all and dreamed about firebombing the place. There is a certain type of shop assistant here whose mission in life seems to be to annoy. They always do that fucking shrug. Like to say “yes, I see there is a problem, but there are always problems, so what are you going to do?”
So, still sick as hell. if I die, the person solely responsible is the middle-aged woman who works at the chemist at the East of Horni Pocernice.
In other news I saw six nuns on the tram today and they all were wearing exactly the same glasses. Is that in the uniform? Or are they from the shortsighted convent?
Also two days back I had to inform Hamish that Interpol are after him, as you’ve all no doubt read. That was a first, something to tell the grandkids about, maybe?

Still in Krumlov, staying at the hostel of Miss Skippy, in a room with five Germans who this morning disturbed my hangover-headache with a screaming slamming door fest.
But it’s alright, all mainly good. I will be back here a few more times, it is like a strange strange dream, Portmerion maybe. Or something like that.
Last night went to Hostel 99 to hang out with jolly backpackers, argue with them about post-structural-criticism (my viewpoint being ‘it’s bollocks’) and generally get wasted sitting round in the sun and watching people going down the rapids in little kayaks.
Well, more of that to do, I think.

It is a lovely day and I’m off to Krumlov, as soon as I’ve sorted a few random things out. Life is sweet.

Hm. So.
Jess had a party last night to celebrate Wednesday. There was Me, Jess, Hamish, Asher, about twenty creative-writing-exchange-student-chicks from Chicago and a few others. And wine and watermelon. Watermelon would be a good fruit if it wasn’t for the damn pips.
At 12 or so the new guy in the flat turned off the music and announced that the police were coming up the stairs, but he turned out to be fibbing. It was just the old granny from below, complaining that she couldn’t sleep because of the music. I think she was just pissed off she wasn’t invited. We offered her some rum but I fear it was too late.
About half an hour later the same guy again turned off the music and announced that the police were coming up the stairs, but this time they really were and he wasn’t joking. Three cops rang the bell and asked to see everyone’s papers. A wave of panic passed through the flat.. nobody had their passport and a few people (Hamish for example) were over their visas and liable for deportation. Fortunately they gave up and didn’t lock us all up. I say “us” though me & Asher actually did have our passports and would’ve been the only two to escape jail had the worst happened.
Tomorrow I’m going to Cesky Krumlov on my own for the weekend.
It will be sharp darts.