Wednesday, August 02, 2006
I SAID NO MORE POO STORIES AND I STAND BY MY WORD
I've finished the Philip Pullman trilogy: His Dark Materials.
Ok, ok.
So it was an audio book, but they take time too you know!
I was originally given it by Rai, when I was completely incapable of holding or reading a book.
The end is nigh, but the boredom persists.
In a relatively short time my hibernation will end and I will be going home.
A different person.
Better?
Maybe, but different. ( I guess it all depends on if you look at it in physical or psychological terms )
In order for me to do that though I have to step up my physio a bit.
Last weekend's sojourn at home really demonstrated how completely unfit I am and how little endurance I have in regards to remaining and moving in the upright position.
For the mean time, I have to be content with making little observations about my fellow inmates and the screws.
I've found that you can tell if a minor offender like a hip or knee replacement recipient is really having a go in physio, because their ancient buttocks start talking.
If the exercise is rhythmic type like lifting your leg repeatedly, then you get a series of little flatulent sighs of exertion.
If however the exercise is of a strength type nature, the result can be one long 'can't hold it any longer' or 'not again' anal monologue.
Sometimes I fear the monologue will turn into an anal vomit, but thankfully this hasn't occurred in my company.
Yet.
Occasionally they indulge in a little anal conversation whilst parading with their Zimmer frames in the hall of the ward.
I must point out that while this is not strictly restricted to the elder prison population, it is most common amongst the blue rinse set.
The screws however, have kept themselves amused by fucking with my cellmate's head.
First they tell him:
"You should get out and go down to Bridge Road or the pub with your mates or something."
And then tell him off for coming back a little pissed.
I don't know.
This place just sucks.
There's no other term for it.
I know that it's necessary, but the novelty wears atom thin after four and half months.
But you do get the occasional gold nugget like my cellmate's description of him trying to stand up.
You must have read about my previous experience of this and the analogy of looking like a newborn antelope.
His analogy was:
"Shakin' like a dog shittn' tacks."
It's moments like that, which make these incarcerations bearable.
I know it's blurry but the taxi was moving, and I just like the effect of it.
Taken leaving the photgraphy course on Saturday.
.
Ok, ok.
So it was an audio book, but they take time too you know!
I was originally given it by Rai, when I was completely incapable of holding or reading a book.
The end is nigh, but the boredom persists.
In a relatively short time my hibernation will end and I will be going home.
A different person.
Better?
Maybe, but different. ( I guess it all depends on if you look at it in physical or psychological terms )
In order for me to do that though I have to step up my physio a bit.
Last weekend's sojourn at home really demonstrated how completely unfit I am and how little endurance I have in regards to remaining and moving in the upright position.
For the mean time, I have to be content with making little observations about my fellow inmates and the screws.
I've found that you can tell if a minor offender like a hip or knee replacement recipient is really having a go in physio, because their ancient buttocks start talking.
If the exercise is rhythmic type like lifting your leg repeatedly, then you get a series of little flatulent sighs of exertion.
If however the exercise is of a strength type nature, the result can be one long 'can't hold it any longer' or 'not again' anal monologue.
Sometimes I fear the monologue will turn into an anal vomit, but thankfully this hasn't occurred in my company.
Yet.
Occasionally they indulge in a little anal conversation whilst parading with their Zimmer frames in the hall of the ward.
I must point out that while this is not strictly restricted to the elder prison population, it is most common amongst the blue rinse set.
The screws however, have kept themselves amused by fucking with my cellmate's head.
First they tell him:
"You should get out and go down to Bridge Road or the pub with your mates or something."
And then tell him off for coming back a little pissed.
I don't know.
This place just sucks.
There's no other term for it.
I know that it's necessary, but the novelty wears atom thin after four and half months.
But you do get the occasional gold nugget like my cellmate's description of him trying to stand up.
You must have read about my previous experience of this and the analogy of looking like a newborn antelope.
His analogy was:
"Shakin' like a dog shittn' tacks."
It's moments like that, which make these incarcerations bearable.
I know it's blurry but the taxi was moving, and I just like the effect of it.
Taken leaving the photgraphy course on Saturday.
.
