When the Feast is Finished. Brian Aldiss

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СКАЧАТЬ response: ‘You mean you haven’t seen SF Blues?’ SF Blues was my evening revue, which I had been touring round England and abroad for a number of years, taking the leading role. We staged it once in Felicity’s and her husband Alex’s grand house.

      Following my lecture we then dined in the college, in the Tower of the Four Winds.

      Gill Lustgarten reported next day that at lunch everyone talked of me and my theories. ‘There was nothing else to talk about.’

      All this was beneficial for serotonin levels. Margaret and I drove over to Woodstock and bought a table and six chairs for the dining-room. Having blown over £2,000, we celebrated with lunch at the Feathers. Margaret ate soup and fishcake, I tsatsiki and chorizo, followed by parfait of duck.

      We seemed to be on an even keel again.

      Margaret is much better in health now, although her throat still troubles her. She looks very neat. Her legs and ankles are as slender as they were when we first met.

      We drove to our flat in Blakeney on the north Norfolk coast in February, with Margaret at the wheel, and enjoyed a little sunshine. In Holt, we visited Betty and Antony’s new home in Mill Street, decorated in the Victorian manner.

      For a brief while, we were able to enjoy life, without realising how precious those last months were. On the day Deng Xiaoping died, we went to London to see the Braque exhibition at the Royal Academy, of which we were members. We viewed some of the canvases with almost religious reverence, as did many of the people in the galleries. After lunch, we went to see Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet, filmed at Blenheim Palace. Branagh, far from being a melancholy Dane, acted more like an escapee from a military band.

      The weather was awful that day.

      At this stage, we worried slightly, but nothing more. We had grown accustomed to each other’s weaknesses. So much so that – with the usual misgivings – I went as usual to Florida, to the Conference of the Fantastic, where I have a particular title, Special Permanent Guest. I rang Margaret from the conference hotel, to hear that beautiful voice answering me from Blakeney. On that occasion, she had lunched with Betty and Antony in Holt. She sounded spry and cheerful.

      With April, I made a determined attempt to garden: more particularly, to grow us some vegetables. Along came a period of fine dry weather to encourage us. London was hotter than Athens for a time. Margaret also gardened and planted four trees on the farther lawn.

      While I edited an anthology of mini-sagas, following the Daily Telegraph competition, our energy levels seemed to have improved. This despite the drab news from my agent, Mike Shaw, that HarperCollins, like a laundry that refuses to take in washing, was not making offers for any more books just at present.

      The happier turn life has recently taken and the recovery from our transplantation to Old Headington have restored my abilities to a large extent.

      So I noted. We were easily reassured that all was pretty well with us.

      We drove to Blakeney again, where it was cold. There, one night, we saw the Hale-Bopp comet blazing away into the future over the North Sea. Two weeks later, we took a weekend off at the other end of the country, holidaying with Clive and Youla, over from Greece, in a snug little hotel on Exmoor.

      But Margaret’s problems continued.

      After her death, I found on her computer her own report on the difficulties she experienced.

      How characteristic that she headed it

      My health:

      Following increased breathlessness this year, especially noticeable in Greece in May in the heat, I went to Neil MacLennan to ask for it to be investigated. My blood pressure was diagnosed as slightly high, following a random twenty-four-hour test several years ago, and I have been on Adalat Retard ever since.

      Neil sent me to Dr Hart in the cardiology dept. of the J.R. I went in last week, and first was tested on the exercise machine, the ‘treadmill’. Unsurprisingly to me, I did very badly – as Dr Hart commented – and lasted only three mins at the first speed, and barely another three at the next speed: a quick uphill walking pace. Then I had an echo cardiogram, when my heartbeat was diagnosed on a screen; then a blood test, and then an appointment for a kidney scan later in the month (since one of the family – Tim – has had kidney problems). I had to do a twenty-four-hour urine sample, which I took in the next day.

      Then I had a chat with Dr Hart. He told me the results of all the tests so far, and said that I had substantial thickening of the wall of the left ventricle – the part of the heart responsible for pumping the blood round the body. Probably this was due to high blood pressure: although my blood pressure was not too high taken against the average blood pressure, it might be too high for me. So the thing is to tackle it more aggressively. He also recommended taking more exercise, and not lifting anything heavy at the moment.

      A week later I saw MacLennan, who had heard from Dr Hart in a long letter. He gave all the results – why is it the patient is the only person not to have anything down in writing about his or her condition? That is why I am recording this! – and suggested going on to Ace Inhibitors, together with a slight diuretic, low dose to start, then increased slightly, and to see how it went.

      So I took half a Enalapril last night, and had a really good relaxed sleep! With all the house moving, it is hard to be unexerted at present, but I don’t feel too bad today at all. The Adalat Retard did very well for me, controlling the increased heart rate as I could feel, and also removing most headaches and nosebleeds. Interesting. Let’s see what Enalapril will do.

      November: Now on 10mg. Enalapril, as well as Bendofluazine. And Premarin, and doing well, though really not up to walking uphill yet. Due for a check up with Dr Hart some time soon.

      March: Summoned to see Neil MacLennan because my cholesterol level was up to 11 again – 7 would be good, 5 is average … He proposed to put me on more pills. I said I’d rather try lowering it by improving my diet, so we agreed on that. Not due to see Dr Hart until October, but don’t really feel my heart condition has improved. So I have written direct to him to ask for an appointment. I want to know why he thinks I have this condition – what it is due to. I mentioned my struggling dreams, which I have had for some years. Prior to that, in the days of Heath House and Dr Tobin (whom I told about this) I had dreams fairly often of being in some transport which was going too fast round a corner, to the extent that I nearly blacked out with the G pressure. May be related …

      To see Dr Hart, for the six-month check-up I requested. He suggests I have an angiograph done, a tube inserted into the veins, to see if he can find out what is wrong with the blood supply. Sounds horrid, but must be done, a day in the hospital with local anaesthetic. Ugh. I have to go on to anti-cholesterol pills, to lower it. OK, maybe that will help. I await a date.

      Angiogram duly done, early July: great result – no coronary artery problems at all. So, only the blood pressure and enlarged ventricle to look after, with pills, as before. Thank goodness for that!

      Margaret was a great counter of blessings.

      Often in the night she would wake, and then I would wake, and we would walk about the house holding hands. We put no lights on. A street lamp outside the front door filtered light into the rooms. We were always kind and fond. I enjoyed those waking times; sometimes I would fetch her a little glass of milk from the fridge.

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