Weaponised

By my front door is a small stack of objects that haven't yet found a more suitable home. In amongst the canoe paddles, crutches and walking sticks is my father's claymore (which at some stage will go on a wall somewhere...probably over my head, my very own paternal sword of damoclean judgement), it has now been joined by a socialist worker placard from the Manchester demo...whatever or whoever comes to the door now I'm ready for them.

Since Sunday I have, as expected been completely hors de combat, as they say. Haven't felt this bad since my first spinal surgery,..the one where they dropped me off the table...this was for a better cause though. One of the things I suffer from is the pretty much constant feeling that someone has dowsed my feet in petrol and set them on fire, this sometimes extends up my calves, rarely further - since the small hours of Monday morning this has intensified and spread throughout the entirety of both legs, accompanied by electric shock like pains in my lumber and thoracic spine and a thundering headache from my messed up cerebrospinal fluid pressure. There's various other things going on such as the intensification and spread of my altered sensations that make the lightest touch (including from clothes) extremely painful...but I think I have inflicted far too much detail on you already. I have had to give in and take some of the drugs I weaned myself off months ago, purely temporarily...consequently I am currently high as a kite. I'd like to emphasise that I'm not describing all this in some pitch for sympathy - on the contrary I knew this would happen and I went on the march anyway, it will subside back to my normal levels (well...more or less) within a fortnight or so, no the reason I bring it up is to underline just how important it is to oppose the systematic destruction of our society that is underway, I don't feel I have any choice but to drag myself to every protest I can reach.