11.07.08

Bloody cold week, I had to turn the temp up in the beer fridge to stop them freezing, opened the freezer compartment to warm the garage so I could make it from the house and back, like stepping out of a tent trying to return from the South Pole and stating "I may be some time", fatal that, almost as bad as saying "I'll be right back" when you're a young nubile virgin going down to the basement to change the blown fuse.

I've had ice on the windscreen here in Auckland before but was not prepared for the Antarctic Shelf I found 3 icy mornings in a row resting on my car, no shifting that with wipers, especially as they were stuck in frozen position, the door didn't want to open and thank me I have keyless entry as our Social Worker snapped her key in the lock due to the freeze, the hose was not much help the first morning as I had parked too far away, the next morning found out it didn't matter as the hose was frozen solid, in the end my drink bottle and very blue hands managed to dissolve the lost part of Antarctica.

Prison was strangely cold, I thought a Victorian prison over 150 years old would have better central heating; this is something I was debating late the other night with my only company Mr. Cockroach. Big bugga, first saw him close to admin, then he ambled up to the Round Rooms and then into Main Medical proper. Prison cockroaches don't appear to give a shit about if they are seen or not (bit like the rats - you give way to them thank you very much, and don't try and take the rubbish sack off them, foolish that would be) and this one watched my tapping feet with amusement, his antennae kept in time with my feet getting closer to him, dancing around him and then continuing to get more coffee, me that is though I'm sure it's he who drinks most of it.

I enjoyed the one sided conversation I had with him and was in a state of shock when I arrived the next morning to find him dead, all feet pointed to the sky. I demanded to know who had killed him but after exhaustive investigation my autopsy indicated he was old and perished in the icy blast. Jill one of our admin girls suggested he was the old Alpha Male and due to age left the group to find his fitting end, like a sick Lion ejected from the herd, like an old Bull Elephant wandering alone to the lost graveyard of legend. That made me feel better on two counts; that his death had power and meaning and that I'm not the only one with bizarre takes on moments in life.


But yes, the cold.


Wandering around the prison with a strapped broken swollen black and blue finger/hand draws the usual questions from staff and crims alike, more often than not

"Who did ya hit?"

They are not impressed by the boring explanation.

I was collecting firewood in the dark from the wood shed, hands wrapped around the pile and secured to my chest, the children's hobby horse on the ground (and yes I knew it was there) ankle tapped me and down I went, not sure why I didn't let go of the wood but in any case went splat into the concrete and the wood appears to have broken the finger. Later I was thinking about the reason I did not let go of my bundle and figured it was because it was dark,


At night when I am outside and carrying something 90% of the time it's alcohol.


And I never drop alcohol.


This makes sense and is also part of the most sensible response to my plight.


A prisoner I know looked at my hand and measured the account of the accident and in a short sentence educated me to my mistake,


"You weren't drunk enough"



Which is something I will now go and take care of.








The Grey Madness