J. Alfred Prufrock may have measured out his life in coffee spoons, but here in Edinburgh we use a different unit.
Incredibly, we’re already over a week into the 2015 Festival. This year Beth and I are centring our participation mostly around the book festival.
[For more of Ricky’s thoughts on this year’s Festival,
you can subscribe to the Apoplexy Tiny Letter here.] Continue reading Gerontocracy
If the Edinburgh International Festival starts in four days, then it must be the beginning of August. It’s even a nice day in Auld Reekie, as if the weather is any guide to what day time of year it is around here.
And if it’s the beginning of August, we must be approaching the third anniversary of The Event – as suggested by last week’s post. I which case, it must also be time that my mindfulness practice, in its largest sense, calls for a check-in.
[What else has been going on? Check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter to find out!]
Continue reading The Golden Lasso of Truth
Eagle-eyed apoplectics will have noticed that we recently had a general election in what, this week, we’re still calling the United Kingdom. The Scottish National Party had a rather good time of it, and 56 new SNP MPs descended on Westminster this week. Here’s Mhairi Black. She’s the new MP for Paisley and Renfrewshire South, and, at 20, the youngest MP since the Reform Act of 1832 (at least). She’s having a chip butty on the Commons terrace.
Ye can take the lassie out of … pic.twitter.com/lCUpr4lO6o
— Anne McLaughlin (@AnneMcLaughlin) May 13, 2015
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Continue reading Hard-#@¢king People
I’ve decided to include this post in the “Great British Strokes” section of the site. I had it in my head that – given his transatlantic aspect – Robert McCrum might not be, or define himself as, British. Maybe he doesn’t. His resumé does put one somewhat in mind of that of Bill Bryson, who seems very confused about all that stuff.
As hashed over ad nauseam on this blog, there are different types of time. Newtonian time. Relative time. And of course, NFL time. Where 3 hours, 12 minutes = 11 minutes.
But one rarely reads about Astley Ainslie time. Y’see, I went to the Astley Ainslie Hospital for a driving assessment last week. When I first checked in with my GP upon my return to Edinburgh in 2013, she told me that due to my stroke, I’d have to take a driving assessment test before resuming driving.
[“What are these weird conversations below the line?”
“Sign up for the apoplectic Tiny Letter and find out.”]
Longsufferinggirlfriendoftheblogbeth mentioned the other day that it’s been over a year since we’ve had a Digesta Plaga/Stroke Digest. And with uncanny timing, here’s the latest round-up of all the stroke news that’s fit to print. Get to the end, and we’ve got strokebots!
[For an extra portion of apoplexy each week, please sign up for my Tiny Letter distributions here. Thanks!] Continue reading Digesta Plaga #7
As I dragged my case up the street I could see, even from a distance, the man gather himself. Maybe it was a quicker exercise than he expected, because I was still fifteen yards away when he said — not shouting, but with an invested intensity intended to carry the message down the hill:
I’m so f—ing scared.
The people at Shelter had asked him for his phone number. And he’d given it to them, in a moment of clarity. But now he could see this would allow them to fit it all together, particularly since he’d been on trial twice. Had I ever been on trial? That’s scary, too.
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Last week on apoplectic.me, in episodes 1 and 2 of the sixth Digesta Plaga, I wrote about the latest developments in blood pressure guidelines, and the news in cyber assistance for stroke patients and survivors of traumatic injuries. In the dramatic conclusion of part one, we left real world creator of the Cybermen, medical scientist Dr Kit Pedler, discussing the nature of life with his wife over the dinner table.
Continue reading Digesta Plaga #6, Part Two — Is There Life On Earth?
As we pass the winter solstice and Big Ben prepares to stroke 2013 out (GEDDIT??!!!), it’s time to fit in a last stroke news digest for this year.
[Y’know, if you haven’t signed up for apoplectic tiny letter email alerts,
you’ve missed Stroke Bloke’s Saturnalia Sending to the Apopostles.
Don’t miss another one. Sign up here: https://tinyletter.com/apoplectic_me]
As is the tradition over the festive period, I’m going to blow the budget of the sixth Digesta Plaga; it’s going to be such a blockbuster that I’m going to have to split it into two parts. Five bucks quid says you can’t guess how it’s gonna finish when we get to the end of part one…. Continue reading Digesta Plaga #6, Part One — Thermal Death Point
Maybe it’s the monotony, or the blank walls, but there’s something about a long hospital stay that intensifies the reaction to any art that’s available.
Continue reading The Art Of Stroke