Dracula: Red and Loving It

I feel a bit like a lobster. Purple, cooked and tender.

My head, lower arms and lower legs are various shades of red or scarlet, and any abrasion gives a stinging, burning sensation that lasts several minutes.

The last time I had that symptom, I was spending 3 days in hospital 11 years ago, as the result of a never-diagnosed aliment that one doctor said looked exactly like scarlet feaver, but couldn't be.

The Tolpuddle festival can manage without me, especially as it's actually hotter today than it was yesterday - and I don't want to know what another day in the sun would do.

So...asleep inside all day with curtains drawn, unable to go out in the sun, unwilling to look in the mirror, a certain aversion to christian symbols and a creepy fondness for young virgins. Maybe I'm a vampire instead of a lobster.

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Being trapped here in this dread castle, I spent the afternoon OCRing Peter Schaffer's Play Equus. I was impressed by the film version years ago, but have never got around to reading the script.

Of course, in the hour it took to OCR, I could have read it, but nevermind.

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Mother has found an intriguing alternative to flyspray. And I bet that's the first time you've ever read that precise sentence.

With the heat giving us flies buzzing around the kitchen, and the cost and unsanitary nature of toxic aerosol sprays around food, we now have...a venus fly trap on the fridge.

And no more flies. I have this premonition of a venus flytrap in every room. It's just a little plant - the pot would fit easily into my hand - but there's something about it that looks...predatory, somehow.

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Rick, if you're reading this, let me know what's happening in your life. And maybe even send me a picture, so I know what you look like.