We are not going to see The Willard Grant Conspiracy. This is a very good thing because, although I have never seen The Willard Grant Conspiracy live, I have seen their support act, Howe Gelb, and although there are, I understand, parts of Bristol where Howe Gelb is thought to be quite Attractive and Off Beat Groovy, frankly when I saw him performing in Blackheath with a Gospel Choir, he was very shy-making and the Gospel Choir were predictably the better act.
If he has hooked up with The Willard Grant Conspiracy to make himself look good, outside of Bristol, then I really couldn’t hold out much hope for the evening.
Luckily we are not going.
Because Digby Ogg has a very ill father.
Digby Ogg is John’s Gig Buddy and is married to my cousin Betty.
We were all going out on Sunday night to see The Willard Grant Conspiracy at the Bloomsbury theatre and Ellis was coming too.
I wasn’t very keen, for the aforementioned reasons with the added issue that sitting down in a theatre whilst watching a band, rather than standing in a venue such as The Brixton Academy for example, always results in certain members of the audience nodding their heads or tapping their knees knowledgably to the music whilst wearing rectangular glasses.
I am liberal but to a degree which means I find aforementioned tapping and nodding deeply irritating. I was, however, prepared to overlook it for the opportunity of spending an evening with Betty because I never see her as she is a very high-powered artist who is commissioned by the Arts Council to do unfeasibly complicated things relating to Regneration on the Olympic Site coupled with the Displacement of Resident Gypsies from said Site and Sand Castles.
Anyway Digby and Betty came back from looking after Digby’s father in Bournemouth to find that their baby-sitter had disappeared and was entirely unavailable.
John was very upset because he just loves Howe Gelb whom he believes named his daughter after him* and he loves The Willard Grant Conspiracy.
I phoned Ellis to see if he was coming but he said he couldn’t because he had written off a BMW with his Camper Van. As excuses go I think that was quite a good one. So we didn’t go so, because although I like to please John, there are limits and this was one of them.
* John thinks that Howe Gelb named his daughter after John because John noticed ages ago that Howe only answered questions from girls on his Q&A Webchat.
He noticed that signing himself ‘John’ meant that he never got an answer to any of his questions.
Being an innovative type John signed a question ‘Tallulah’ and received an immediate response confirming his suspicions. John continued his online relationship with Howe as ‘Tallulah’ and was very happy.
Months later, Howe announnced his first daughter was to be called Tallulah.
Coincidence?
Who knows.
Tuesday 20th May 2008
Pychiatric Assessment.
Abigail has an appointment at Guys and Barts to see The Eminent Specialist.
Abigail does not want to go.
I don’t want to go.
We go anyway.
We catch a bus and we go into oddbins at the bus station to ask wher exactly Guys and Barts is. We follow a path and we cross a footbridge and arrive on the second floor. This is the cleanest emptiest hospital I have ever seen. Abigail is very stressed.
‘I really hate hospitals.’ she says ‘I hate people wanting me to talk to them. I won’t know what to say.’ she says. ‘I’m not even thin. I’m not thin enough. They’ll think you’re mad for bringing me.’ she says.
‘I’ll take you shopping later in the week.’ I say. ‘We will buy lots and lots of nice things in Oxford Street. It will be fun.’
We still haven’t found the Department of Academic Psychiatry on The Fifth Floor and we walk through deserted glass atriums and admire the architectural planting schemes in the courtyard below. We spot a man assiduously mopping a floor and ask directions.
The Department of Academic Psychiatry is through a door with a telephone and a code. ‘Do not let anyone tailgate you through this door.’ says a Notice, bossily. I pick up the phone and we are buzzed in. No one tries to ‘tailgate’ us, which is a good thing.
The Eminent Specialist meets us. She is very nice and Abigail goes off with her, while I go off with a Researcher to see if the whole thing is My Fault.
Actually she doesn’t want to see if the whole thing is My Fault she wants to see if I can spend an hour doing puzzles on a computer.
I am very bad at computer puzzles.
The first computer puzzle checks if I can put cards on the correct pile according to an undisclosed rule. I worlk out the rule and put the card on the pile but then the rule changes and I have to worlk out the new rule. I am very bad at this.
The computer says ‘Wrong’ in an American accent lots of times.
Next, I have to see if a picture of a chair with a green background or a yellow one is more threatning than a green cross or sad face. I have to say ‘Green’ or ‘Yellow’ without minding that the face is cross or that the chair’s legs are too long. I am very bad at this too.
Then, I have to recognise a shape in another shape that has obscured it. I am Brilliant at this.
After that, I have to copy a diagram with lots of different coloured pencils that are all slightly blunt while The Researcher videos my hands. I have very bitten nails which worries me a bit.
Bitten nails will not look good on film.
I am very good at this too.
Then The Researcher leaves me alone for a bit and I notice that the office I am in is very messy. The books on the shelves are not organised properly and some books are lying horizontally across other books. This makes me feel very uneasy and I have to resist stacking them properly.
The rug is rucked up at one corner under the desk where I am sitting and I pull it flat and the Researcher comes back.
‘I’d really like you to fill in a few forms.’ she says ‘I’d like to include you in my study.’ she says.
She gives me a Questionaire which says things like ‘Do you feel uneasy if some books are not properly stacked?’ Or a rug is rucked up?’ and ‘Do find yourself double-checking locks and having counting rituals?’ I deny everything. I am just tidier than her, that’s all.
Later I meet Abigail and we sit at a desk and talk to The Eminent Specialist in her office.
In the corner of the office is a large tub of yoghurt with granola on top of it. it’s just sitting there out of a fridge with no explaination. It’s a catering sized tub. I am worried it will go off. The carpet in the corner of the office is all rucked up and threadbare, The Eminent Specialist’s mug has ‘Tea, Coffee, Chocolate, Biscuits and Cake’ written in Romanesque letters around the top of it.
Abigail and me exchange glances.
‘The thing is,’ I say trying to ignore our environment ‘that Abigail doesn’t fit the profile of a classic anorexic. She doesn’t sit in her bedroom obsessing. She has lots of friends. Abigail is very socially able. Abigail is mostly happy and she’s not angry or alienated. She’s very nice.’
‘Abigail did the same tests as you.’ says The Specialist. Let’s compare and contrast the results.’ She compares them and explains that the test results reveal that Abigail has a very over-developed sense of Detail and that sometimes her concentration on Detail may be to the detriment of her understanding of the whole picture.
She says that both Abigail and I fall into the Eating Disorder Spectrum because of our focus on Detail and that actually I am much more typical of an Eating Disorder Sufferer than Abigail. and that I am off the scale in several of the tests, whereas Abigail is borderline normal.
‘Ha!’ says Abigail ‘I knew it.’
On the bus on the way to Oxford Street Abigail says ‘Did you notice that tub of granola? Did you see the state of the carpet? Do you think that was deliberate to challenge people like you with OCD?’
‘I need some new tops.’ I say ‘I think we should go to American Apparel.’
‘OK.’ says Abigail.
We buy tops. We buy loafers in Russell and Bromley because they are very fashionable. Abigail has black patent ones and I have classic brown.
We buy leggings and a dear little skirt for Maisie.
‘I need a belt.’ says Abigail.
‘Shall we go to Gap Kids then?’ I say.
Very bloody funny.’ says Abigail.
We come home in a Black Cab.
We have such I nice time.
I really love spending time with Abigail.
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