Busy week this. A visit to the Tate Modern for the Lubaina Himid exhibition – a Black Feminist with a gauche style and a penchant for colour
– a street art tour around Liverpool Street
(both to be reviewed later) and an old fashioned dinner party with friends plus the usual mix of garden
Currently I’m in week two of a course of anti coagulation medication preparatory to a cardioversion procedure to correct an atrial fibrillation which decided to squat in my chest last summer. I have a long history of being clumsy – my gran called me heavy handed when I was about 8 and I’ve not improved with age. Consequently the family have been discussing how to protect me from myself, esp around the head area. Bicycle helmets and bubblewrap seemed to be the preferred choices until I stumbled – ha told you I was hopeless – on this puppy…
…the bump cap with a hard shell but otherwise looking like a jockey in search of a horse. It’s excellent.
Someone asked, apropos this procedure, if I’d be knocked out or aware – it involves those defibrillator pads you see on medical dramas. I wasn’t sure but a doctor friend confirmed they anaesthetise me. ‘When I worked in A&E’ he told me, ‘we had a patient we were desperately trying to resusitate but whose heart kept stopping. I was told to prepare the defib and was poised about to apply the charge. As the doctor stepped away having been applying compression I hit his chest at the same moment he came to. His eyes shot open, he sat bolt upright and glared at me, saying “fuck that hurt!’ So yes I’ll take the sleep option.
The news has, of course, been unutterably grim with the revelations in Ukraine making news programmes seem like those drive by car accidents. You don’t want to look but they draw you in. Boris joined the queue of oremiers and similar visiting Kviv, combining it with an announcement of more lethal weaponry. Rumours that this comprises a book of his speeches translated into Russian and broadcast over the Russian forces have yet to be verified…