Blogs, Bones and boils

Book News:

Much to my astonishment, comic sf short story, Creative Accountancy for Beginners, has sold a copy in Slovakia, well gosh. Many thanks, kind Slovakian reader - I hope there are more of you out there! I'm also pleased to say I've sent back the galley proofs for gay short story, Dating the Delaneys, which is published on Sunday 6 November, and you can now read an erotic extract on the Amber Allure site. Enjoy ...

At the same time, Riptide Publishing have asked for two more blog posts ready for the upcoming blog tour - one about favourite Christmases and one about the story behind writing gay short story The Heart's Greater Silence. So I'm getting my brain in gear (don't wait up ...) for those projects.

And I'm very happy with the Quarter 3 royalties made by gay thriller The Bones of Summer. I'm surprised it's still selling, but hey I'm not complaining. Never think that.

At Vulpes Libris meanwhile I've discovered my best book of the year (hurrah!) and can only encourage you all to rush out and read Evelio Rosero's Good Offices. A marvellous little novella.

This week's meditation poem is:




Meditation 583
Solomon builds
his temple
with a glorious excess
of gold:

a reminder
when starting your project
you should always attempt
to be bold.


Life News:

Hmm, what can I say? The title of this post has probably given you the clue so all I can say is if you're squeamish, best to skip to the very end, ho hum ... As you may remember, the pesky little cyst (AKA Carlos) on my collarbone has been giving me hell all week and has shot up from a brief and fairly idyllic childhood to be three times its original size in its difficult teenage years, all in the space of seven rather unholy days. My, what fun. It's had its rather painful moments too, and getting into bed without gritting my teeth and wincing (let alone attempting to sleep) has been tricky.

Well, my op was scheduled for 6.30pm this evening and I was starting to get rather angsty as the last time I had an infected cyst removed (from my back) twenty odd years ago, on the NHS, there were several rather unfortunate events which may be best simply listed: a trainee doctor out of his depth (bless him), a call for an emergency surgeon on the hospital tannoy system, being left in a room on my own bleeding onto my t-shirt while everyone rushed around trying to find said surgeon, being told that they couldn't give me any more drugs as I was over the limit now so the rest of the op would be painful (it was ...), no aftercare, wandering round the hospital in my blooded shirt (heck, no wonder people were staring!), and eventually getting home without any clear idea of how I managed it. My lodger at the time (a nurse) took one look at what they'd done and shrieked: Lord, they've butchered you ... Which did at least have the effect of making me laugh while I drank my gin. I bear the scars with something like a survivor's pride really ...

So, today I was a little nervous. However, in the event there hasn't been time to think. I went in to the clinic at 11.30am for a pre-op consultation, the very lovely surgeon took one look at it, said he'd need to do it there and then as it was infected and by the way please could he take a few photos as he'd never seen a furuncle cyst (aka boil, for the uninitiated in these things) so badly advanced before (naturally I let him - I do so love the camera under any circumstances ...). He had to bring the beast down in size before he could use the drugs (no, please, don't ask ...) and he then whipped up a few nurses and an ops trolley and did the dirty deed. After the drugs kicked in, it wasn't as bad as expected, hurrah.

I now therefore have the largest neck dressing I've ever seen - which did rather startle the good people of Tesco as I popped into the pharmacy on the way home - and enough antibiotics to kill a giraffe. The surgeon has also booked me in for a follow-up appointment next week - let's hope he doesn't discover anything else he wants to whip out, eh - and has commanded me in any case to ring the clinic immediately if I think the wretched beast might be on its way back again before then.

However, in the midst of all this, I am strangely heartened to think that the op scars on my back will now at last have a matching set on my front. How I do love to be symmetrical. But, then again how will I know which way I'm facing?...

Stay healthy, folks!

Anne Brooke
The Thoughtful Corner