27th & 28th January

I spent Saturday in the library as Jamie was Ill so there was no contact. Got some useful work done on this blog. Spent the evening reading and making more notes at home.

Picked my parents up from the airport at 11.45pm, later than planed, had a good chat and a couple of beers with the old man once I got them home, and then straight to bed.

Woke in the morning had breakfast and then went off to see my grandfather in hospital. We sat and talked for a while. He said he had never experienced so much pain as he was in right now and that the medication was pissing him off making him "bilious".

In 15 years of severe pain caused by having his rectum removed because of cancer my grandfather has not once resorted to using pain killers. But then my grandfather is a bread of man not long for the Western world. 50 years in the pit give or take several out for bad behaviour, meant that even in his 60s he was a man feared and respected by all other men in the village. Now 88, the once raging inferno is now a mere flame. The blue scars still remain however, Tattoos from a harder life.

“The coal dust of which the air underground is full enters every cut and then the skin grows over it and then forms a blue stain like tattooing, which in fact it is.” (31)

We talked a little about the operation and about his recovery and then talked football quickly followed by stories about working underground. I mentioned my plan to capture his memories on tape but I don’t think he understood what I meant. He did however say this.

“I worked in seven pits and there was only ever one man who could fill his packs quicker than me, he was a Pole. (and with genuine respect) the Poles are really tough you know”.

“It is impossible to watch the fillers at work without feeling a pang of envy for their toughness. It is a dreadful job that they do, an almost superhuman job by the standards of an ordinary person. (He continues) They really do look like iron- hammered iron statues- under the smooth coat of coal dust which clings to them from head to foot.” (32)

My parents soon arrived along with my sister Sam her husband Neil and the two boys. Luckily I had some sweets to keep them occupied together with some tall stories. I think if I told them the sun came up everyday they would not believe me anymore. This time I told them a story that involved me working as a clown for the Moscow state circus and the strong man (drunk on vodka) tipping my caravan over as a prank. Whilst this did not happen to me, it did actually happen to an acquaintance working in the orchestra for the Moscow State circus at the time. When we went outside Ben the youngest asked what the thing on the back of my car was, I explained it was for pulling my caravan, now did they believe my story. The two boys 5 and 3 looked at each other back at me and then back at the car but did not answer.

Returned home and went to the library, spent four hours writing and re editing the draft blog only for my computer to crash taking all my work with it, shit!

Went for an all you can eat Chinese at Maxis to cheer myself up, read Nietzsche while I ate, fuck it!

Home and the final of celebrity big brother. The nation expunged its racist guilt by voting for the Asian Girl.

Bed.

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(31) George Orwell “The roar to Wigan Pier” pp32 (32) pp 20-21
I spent Saturday in the library as Jamie was Ill so their was no contact. Got some useful work done on this blog. Spent the evening reading and making more notes at home.