hip, hip…

As you may have caught in the ever-shifting flow of news on Facebook, the date is now set for the surgical replacement of my right hip  – 29th January. I’m pleased – that’s less waiting time between the deciding and the doing than I expected. I actually could’ve had January 4, but I enjoy the swimming/sunbathing/partying/relaxing traditions of a Sydney summer too much to so incapacitate myself at the height of it. I’d rather spend January limping and grumbling in the sun than under fluoros doing physio – and hydrotherapy is a long way short of surf and sand – so the end of January is perfect.

My surgeon is Dr Michael O’Sullivan, who does all the ex-dancers and athletes, and pretty much only does hips. We’ll be at the Mater, according to their website “the largest and one of the most respected orthopaedic surgical hospitals in the Southern Hemisphere, performing over 1,500 joint replacements every year”. I’ll be checking in on the 28th and staying 5 or 6 days. Do come and visit – I plan to be an exceptionally lively patient.

adventures in solitude (forthcoming noir zombie vs vampire film)

adventures in solitude pt 1: fact

A little after dark I am driving a pale blue Kombi down an unlit country road and suddenly I come to a barred gate. Damn, not such a good shortcut. I swing the Kombi into a three-point turn and while I’m facing an open field my lights go out. The darkness around me is immense, shadowy and silent beyond my little engine. I have the parkers, which on the Kombi are negligible, and I can see only by holding the high beam on. I check my phone: no reception. Steering while holding the high beam against the wheel and trying not to turn the indicators on, I head back to the point where I took the wrong turn, remembering houses there. On the way, I see a house I hadn’t noticed before and pull over. I knock repeatedly on the front door; no answer. I step back down into the yard and walk round one side, dodging bits of farm junk. There’s a light on inside, but no-one’s home. Suddenly I can hear my own rough accelerated breathing above the anxious orange clicking of the hazard lights, and the rustling quiet of the surrounding night. This is how horror movies start. Hn. Better get back on the road.

adventures in solitude pt 2: fiction

She stood at the black dresser in the lamplight, twirling a toothpick round the cone and gazing darkly into the mirror. Casey appeared in the doorway, looking insomniac. ‘Casey,’ she growled, low, slow and husky. ‘Go back to bed. Don’t come out here tonight. Forget anything you see or hear, and don’t come near me till daylight. I’m -’ her upper lip curled slightly ‘- dangerous… I’m in a mood to do some damage; hell, I’m in the mood that will do damage if I’m anywhere near anyone! Please, go back to bed. And shut your goddamn door.’