On a Met line train, making my way out of London for my teaching day in Watofordo. Running very late, won't be able to move stuff around (which will prevent me from using my printer, locked in a filing cabinet in my old teaching room which I cannot use because of a broken window mechanism that the school hasn't had time to fix, it's only been nine months since I reported it for the first time). This is probably going to be an interesting teaching day. As per the old supposedly Chinese curse.

The BT/Openreach engineer came yesterday, fixed the line, confirmed that 'somebody' had disconnected me to connect somebody else. This makes me wonder how long I will have telephone and internet before it happens again if it happened twice within 36 hours.

Elbow seems to be healing well but now I'm getting pain in my wrist (and more creaking when I turn it -not liking this much) and have noticed bruises on my knee and my leg that I hadn't noticed before, maybe because of the elbow. I should be able to play the guitar by the end of the week. I hope so; it is so much more long-winded to explain things in words than to demonstrate guitar in hand, even if you have the right words

Wondering about some friendships of mine (ok, one) that seem to be one way only, as in 'I try to be a friend, the other person tolerates my friendship'. That is not a satisfactory situation and I think I'll just get out of their hair. Anyone who reads this and knows my recent history will probably know who I'm talking about. Not their fault, we all are how we are.

Need to push the house-concert microgig idea more and get myself a few recitals for the summer. I'm so rubbish at 'selling the product', though. Need an agent, clearly... but that's another minefield.

Well, that's the current state of the flavio, I think. That, and strange dreams of loss and recovery and strange but familiar distant cities.

Tags: health, life of flav, the essential futility of it all, the information age