Steroids and antibiotics

That sounds like the title of a rock album, doesn’t it?

We went to a gig over the Jubilee weekend. Is ‘gig’ the right word for 60,000 people in the Emirates stadium, waving remote-controlled flashing wristbands? I wouldn’t know, because I don’t go to them very often. I get a bit dodgy in large crowds. But Coldplay seemed like a pretty safe but cool (in a middle-class way) option, and I do like to fantasise about being friends with them.

Here’s one of my favourite daydreams. I am chatting to them (dunno how I got there, but I worked at Comic Relief with celebrities for a few years, so there used to be an outside chance) and I say “Sorry to do that hideous fan thing, but can I tell you what X&Y means to me?”.

And they roll their eyes a bit, but say “Sure”, and maybe Chris Martin sketches that palms together head nodding thing.

“When I was an aid worker in Africa,” (they perk up a bit here) “I flew back to Kenya from London on the day X&Y was released. We left Heathrow at about 10am, so I just had time to buy the CD. That night, we had a party at our house in Nairobi. Many of our friends were aid workers or journalists, and our house was party central at that time.

“When you’re witnessing the most horrific stuff, travelling all over, you need to go a bit wild on the rare occasions you’re back at base.” (They nod here – they’ve been there.)

“We got totally caught up in the music, played it all night at top volume, and several people downloaded it. By the next day, it could be heard in charity outposts and refugee camps in Uganda, Congo and even Somalia. I took it to South Sudan, where I was working, soon after the peace had been declared. ‘Fix You’ went down particularly well.”

At this point they take turns at embracing me. They insist on writing a song about me. I probably do guest vocals on the rest of their tour.

Anyway, this fantasy was possibly induced by cider. Occasionally, cider seems like a really good idea, when it’s sunny and you think it’ll be refreshing. And drinking bottles rather than pints means you’ll need the loo less, so aren’t as likely to miss your favourite song. But then you remember that it’s just really sweet, you feel a bit sick and your bladder didn’t get the memo.

 Speaking of nausea and uncomfortable abdomens, I’ve been on these mega antibiotics lately which have made me feel GHASTLY. They’re the ones you absolutely can’t drink on, otherwise you spontaneously burst into flames or something, so I imagine most people think I’m pregnant. Which I’m not.

I shan’t describe how I got it, but it’s possible that the inflammation and possible infection inside my insides has set off the pesky nerve in my back, and that’s why it’s playing up. God it’s touchy, that nerve. Like an oversensitive teenager, slamming its bedroom door. Or Logie having a floor tantrum when he is inexplicably denied permission to play with the loo brush.

I hope the steroid is still working, so my back and all the knock-on wonky bits might settle down. I have mixed feelings about steroid injections at the moment, as my godmother recently had some in her knees and wrists, providing dramatically wonderful relief. But she fears they might be wearing off already, which I can’t bear for her.

Ceci is the most capable, uncomplaining person I know, so for her to even mention the problem in her joints was unusual. She is responsible for most of the cake-induced endorphins in the Chipping Norton area, and thinks nothing of turning out canapés for 200 whilst midwifing four cairn terriers into the world.

The good news is that she hasn’t got Sjögren’s syndrome, because she hasn’t got dry eyes, which are the main symptom. And a syndrome never sounds good. Although it might make a catchy single on my ‘Steroids and Antibiotics’ album – I’ll suggest it as a collaboration with Chris...