Aberdeen Anguish

The sky feels heavy, my eyebrows have sunk so low they have settled on my top lip like Che Guevara’s moustache.
My forehead is concertina-ed and there’s a very slight niggle of an ache starting at my temples.
My clothes smell of petrol – I had to pull the petrol pump pipe over the car as I had parked the wrong way round in the garage. When I pulled out the nozzle petrol spewed out over the boot, my thighs and my t-shirt. I arrived at my acupuncturist smelling like a North Sea oil rig.
Not that I have ever been on an oil rig, although Jim and I did once spend a day in bed in Aberdeen.
We were touring with our theatre group and had one day off between gigs. The weather was churlish and grey and we had nowhere else to go. The digs we were staying in had an interesting beamed ceiling and a big bed. There was no choice.
You could say that today feels a little like that Aberdeen afternoon. The petrol pump attendant was a Siekh from Stirling and Battersea feels as grey and gritty as Bannockburn.

I had a serious session with the needles today, 3 in my head, 2 in my toes, 2 in my fingers and 2 in my arms. My Swedish therapist attempted to lift my spirits, raise my game, up my anti and ground me too. You can’t get more yin and yang than that.
Given the nature of my Aberdeen anguish she had to treat me for damp. In Chinese medicine symptoms are described in many ways from damp to hot, to deficient or stagnant. Today I arrived in Clapham dangerously damp and depressingly deficient. Bananas, wheat, chocolate, concentrated juices and sugar – some of which I have been having in bucket loads – all reinforced my condition.
Last week I was given a treatment that made me cry. My Swede was delighted. I cried so much it made my eyes itch. But then I told you all about that. My Swedish torturer told me that crying is good. It releases anger, vexation, resentment, frustration. It frees the spirit, raises us up to the high road of well being and good health and elevates the Chi allowing it to fly.
If that’s the case my surfeit of tears should have got me a return flight to Mauritius.
But the girl from Uppsala did good. I do feel grounded, if a little spaced.
I discovered Acupuncture back in 1975. A South African accountant with a ‘calling’ gave up his ledgers and took on guinea pigs, well not guinea pigs exactly – human beings willing to be guinea pigs. He practiced on several of us; actors, lawyers, doctors and his orthopeadic surgeon. He was a good man with a gentle touch.
My Scandinavian is only happy when she’s hurting you, believing that the patient can only benefit from a determined thrust. So I have been at the sharp end of many a fierce prick over the years. My daughter has been subjected to them, as has my husband, my two step daughters and my homoeopath. If you’re needle phobic I should stick with anti-biotics. But the accountant saved my life – literally- so I have been a firm believer in Traditional Chinese Medicine ever since.
After one hour of recovery from the needles the evening began with a round trip into town. I went to see my nearasdamnit son in PURE GOLD at the SOHO THEATRE, but not before dropping off the husband at THE GLOBE. I felt like the mini bus that takes tourists from their hotel to Theatre Land, only I don’t have a well thumbed copy of ‘Esquire’ in the back pocket of my car seat.
I got Jim to SE1 at 6.30 and arrived in Dean Street, via Covent Garden with 2 minutes to go. Clarence’s play was touching and well acted. My boy was excellent as were the other supporting players. I really enjoyed the writing, I cried – yet again – at the acting, the story line and the tenderness of the piece. The aftershow drinks weren’t half bad either. B and I I left at 11.30, stopped off for a take-away kebab and ate it with Jim in the flat, after which I drove the kid back to Camberwell through the deserted streets of Brixton.
Its now 2.17 am. Clarence is in bed, Jim’s chatting to a mate on the balcony and I am going to bed as tomorrow I’m doing ‘Food Poker’ and a book launch in the evening.
The acupuncture has made me all woozy and the kebab has made me all thirsty. so I’ll grab a drink and retire.
For all of you who sent messages of concern, Thank you so much I’m fine, really I am. Sometimes I have to let out the tears otherwise I would explode like a dirigible and you wouldn’t want that now, would you?
I will let you know how the book launch went.
Until then –
Night night and thank you all for your kind comments.
cusoon