Substack diary no.152: Wednesday, 13th. May 2026
It is blustery outside and cold inside; two t-shirts and a jumper cold. My back-ache is quite bad this morning, to the point where I am avoiding picking anything off the floor, so if I drop a tea towel it might just have to stay there for a while.
Oddly, I felt the urge to take a colchicine tablet this morning rather than the more usual paracetamol or ibuprofen. The need to take colchicine is a marker in the second half of life that lets everyone know you have reached maturity. Throbbing big-toe syndrome strikes, you writhe in agony and your friends laugh like drains. Yes: you have gout, a crude four-letter word that suggests an unimportant and insignificant medical condition, unlike the very long and often unpronounceable names of ‘real’ medical conditions.
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