Not laughing at death

14st 1lb (could be a lot worse); 4.0 units of alcohol yesterday (felt I had to be sociable); 1,406; Dead Sea.

I really and truly felt awful when I finally woke up this morning, and resolved to spend the day in bed. I could not decide whether my pitiful condition was the result of food poisoning, alcoholic excess or some passing bug, but then I did not really care. It seemed like the sort of issue that could be resolved with the aid of some traditional black humour once they had obtained the results of my post mortem. Then I remembered that I really ought to go and collect the newspapers I had ordered from the village shop, so I dragged myself there and back before spending the rest of the day under a duvet on the sofa, in front of a roaring log fire. It probably sounds better than it was.

I am so anal that I not only have all my books sorted into alphabetical order, but into various categories (fiction, biography, history, travel etc) and split between the read and the unread. This became important a few years ago when I realized that my failing memory meant that I could easily end up reading the same book over and over again for the rest of my life. As luck would have it, the bookcase next to my bed is reserved for unread paperback fiction, so I was able to lie there this morning feeling sorry for myself and scanning the rows of titles for something calculated to cheer me up. I picked out a novel billed as “hilarious”, written by a well-known TV comedy performer. When I had finished the day’s papers I opened it with high expectations of a good chuckle, but the “humour” proved to consist of baroque violence and murder. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t find anything funny about people being killed, however horrible they may be and however inventively they are despatched. But then I’m clearly in a tiny minority as I’ve been recommended an awful lot of “hilarious” books that prove to consist of just that. Maybe I’ve got a peculiar sense of humour. Yes, I even find this blog funny sometimes when I am writing it, so I guess that must be it.

Thank God for David Renwick’s Love Soup this evening At least that raised a smile, as it usually does. And a smile of recognition at that.