LOSS OF BALANCE

I went back to the nurse today. She was a little happier about my ear as she peered into it.

The perforation has healed anyway - it's just still oozing, though she didn't know why.

"These things can take a couple of weeks to clear up," she said, reassuringly.

"Um, how long before I get my hearing back?" I asked.

"Oh that could take up to six weeks, dear."

A little longer inside the invisible bucket then. Though I forgot to ask her about my lack of balance and spatial awareness.

I tried singing last night - I had no way at all of knowing whether what I was doing was in tune; I had to rely almost completely on the shape of my throat to tell. While I reckon I could play a silent piano and still hear the music in my head, I'm not quite good enough to control my voice without listening to it properly.

However, on the plus side of all that, I didn't collapse into a coughing fit, and what came reverberating through my head didn't sound too much like Kermit the Frog. At least if it did, Rory and Ruth didn't say anything.

They could have! When they sang together it sounded incredible. It has always amazed me how friendship impacts the way people sing. I reckon there are a number of reasons why we sound so much better when our friendships are stronger: there's a lovely equilibrium between wanting to be the best you can be and wanting the same for the other person. That floats across in the harmony. You make better eye-contact and you watch more closely and you don't compete for space. It just all works better when everything is balanced.

I bid the nurse goodbye and headed out into the rainy car park. I've got one amoxicillin left. The rain pattered out of the sky and I shoved my hands into my pockets.

Then I opened the car door and accidentally stumbled into it. I probably ought to have told the nurse about my lack of balance and spatial awareness.