Hello, Mr. Kureishi! I've reading your blog for some weeks now and I read it aloud to my husband. We live in Mexico ciry. Both of us are huge fans of your work, starting when we were single and hadn't meet each other yet. I found "London kills me", the movie, in a videoclub near home. I rented it many times and when the videoclub went on bankrupcy and they put on sale most of their movies, I bought it. Then I found the book. And I was such a happy gothic mexican post-teenager till I lent both the movie and the book to a friend who never gave them back to me. My husband started with "My beautiful laundrette". Everytimenwe finish reading one of your post, we talk again about how astonishing was finding your work back then, long before we ever dreamed about writing for a living. You inspired us then and you inspire us now. I was kind of shy of writing all this in your comments -and my English is not that good, I know -but when Ibfinidhedbreading aloud this post I thought I had to do it now. So here I am, wishing you and Jon more chats and some relieve and thanking you for all the time dedicated to make your art.
If nothing else, you have cemented the idea in my mind of fingers up the arse as a fractional unit of measurement, in a boundless scale of humiliation. The Kureishi Scale. Four fingers to a Fist, in the same way that there are 16 ounces to a pound, and 100 grams in a kilogram. It's five if you are on the continent, where they do things differently and count the thumb. I wonder whether all those people who had diseases named after them had any say in the matter, or if it was just accepted that they would assume that mantle. It's a good way to kill-off of a surname. Nobody wants to be Mr and Mrs Syphilis.
The kind of bugs that result in wards quarantining patients can and do kill people. The fines if a hospital logs too many cases are eye-watering, but it can be isolating for patients.
Hospital gardens are not like normal gardens. There was one – I forget where it was – it might have been a residential care facility. The pathway was a figure of eight, which allowed dementia patients the freedom to roam without getting lost.
Reading this blog and thinking about what I have read, has made more me appreciative of my own relative good health. On paper I am seriously ill. In the eyes of the law I am disabled. However, I do have my freedom of movement. I can put on a Diamanda Galás CD and turn it off when it becomes too much. Someone – a literary rival perhaps – could come into your room with a boom box, put 'Plague Mass' on repeat, crank the volume, and leave you to your fate. It is a sobering thought.
I acquired 16kg kettlebell. It is a heavy weight for me to carry. I love the resistance that it gives me. I walk around the garden holding it above my head at the end of a single extended arm, feeling the untidy thatching of the grass under my feet. I was out there on Wednesday evening when the Summer, that has lingered long into October, irrevocably shifted to Autumn, in what seemed like the passing of a few minutes. There was something almost miraculous about it. I thought: I am lucky. I won't always be lucky. One day I will lose my grip on this kettlebell and it will fall on my head. At the moment though I am, and I should revel in every small passing moment.
It is a quarter past eight in the evening. I have been fasting all day. In a minute, I will go down and light the barbecue. I will sit in the dark and obsess about lions, which is what I always do when I am alone under these circumstances – the thought that in other countries where there are large predators, you would always be scanning your surroundings for the light reflecting in a pair of large eyes.
Let Jon have his sexual fantasies. It worked for de Sade when he was locked-up in Vincennes. Anyone who lives long enough will experience their horizons drawing in to the point where they are confined to a room. In time, we all have no choice other than to retreat into our heads and make best use of what is there.
Always love to hear your perspective. The idea of being completely at the mercy of the elements, especially humans, is sobering. Lucky us. But maybe that, too, is just a fantasy thinking we have some control. Anything and everything can go sideways in a moment... and probably will.
Yes, as Laura said, I am glad also that you found a new friend. Always read your blog first thing.
I was just in London and really found the amount of immigrants so interesting. I don't live in NYC any more and when I was there, of course experienced and enjoyed NY's famous melting pot atmosphere. But it seemed to me that London has excelled at incorporating peoples from many disparate cultures- they all are British. Whereas in NY one enters at one's peril at times an enclave of otherness - whether it be a block of African Americans, or a white upper class bastion, or a muslim neighborhood, or a orthodox Jewish one. Of course I was only there three days visiting my son, and most of my impressions come from a couple of bus rides. My best memories are of Uber drivers from everywhere, and eye contact with women wearing hijabs. And seeing my dear son and his dear wife and my two charming and beloved granddaughters.
I'm getting older and find it harder to walk. That used to be my 'sport'- that and bike riding. And now it's so hard. Why has this happened to me? I see many people my age striding along. I even see hugely fat people moving with great ease, but I struggle. Anyway, Hanif, we all suffer, and reading you we are all experiencing something that is beneficial because it increases our capacity to understand the experiences of others, and our compassion. I'm really hoping your rehab does its work and you are truly better equipped after it to handle your situation, which will be improving as time passes instead of degenerating like most of ours.
I too find walking more and more difficult. As a former actor who studied ballet and did Pilates and walked all over cities in various countries (including London), this lack of mobility makes me very sad. Good luck.
I'm not sure you are going to fully appreciate my thoughts, but go easy on those who have visited a lot and are now flagging. It is not usually because you aren't important to them or they don't care terribly much, it's more that modern life, with long hours, children, their own illnesses, other people who they have to care for; it's terribly relentless. In a crisis, everyone leaps about. But they can't all keep leaping forever. Some measure of everydayness has to be restored. This is when it's wonderful to meet a person like Jon, who is new and also needs a friend. It's good out of a bad situation, for both of you. Hugs, Hannah x
We are dodging bullets all the time. For the most part, they are what-if bullets. What if abortion had been legal in 1965 and my mother, who had a rough pregnancy with my brother, had followed her inclination? What if the ferry sinks, the plane crashes, the bus goes off the twisty mountain road, the food harbors a pathogen, a suicide bomber walks into the cafe ... these are things killing and injuring people who, for the most part, are suffering through no fault of their own. They didn’t make a risky choice, or anyway, no riskier than the choices made by the person who makes it to 95 more or less hale and relatively hearty. Yet a bullet hits a body and does its damage. There isn’t a reason for everything. There are innumerable coincidences. Random fortune rewards and destroys. We can do all the healthful things, make all the safe choices, and suddenly a genetic defect brings on a cascade of debilitation and death. Sorry to go on like this, but randomness comforts me more than God having a plan. I’m here for now, trying to make the best of what isn’t so bad a situation, considering.
I find it encouraging to know that I am not the only person who thinks about the what-if bullets. I've made it to 75, which is more than several of my friends managed to do, but a sudden decline in my health which I suspect is due to Long Covid is proving to be a drag and very worrying at the same time. Reading Hanif's blog makes me think more deeply about a lot of things and I concur with your final sentence.
We're still here Hanif and thank YOU for not giving up on yourself or us. Isabel's devotion and stamina are amazing. What a big heart she has! I hope you appreciate her more than your hands and legs.
Hanif you are not forgotten these messages from the brink are oddly helpful to us all that your mind continues to work inspiring, articulating a human experience many of us might face. Your question why me reminds me of the Cohen bros film ‘A Serious Man’ which poses the question and of course posits no answer. It’s where the religious can flourish with pie in the sky rhetoric which of course provides succour. As an ex rock climber I read Jon’s blog.Thank you again David
Thank you Hanif. I always find your blogs enriching and thought provoking, though at the same time I feel upset that they came into being because of your horrible accident. I agree with you that there are parallels between hospitals and prisons, even though none of the health professionals that I know would want this for the people they look after. But the way that hospitals are organised reflects the old military model and means that power imbalance is overwhelming. I find it telling that whatever the status of the person they are referred to as having been 'released from hospital'.
It's good to know that you have finally made it to a rehab unit. Hope it goes well for you there and that more of your family and friends manage to visit. Looking forward to your further updates.
I read some of Jon posts. He is excellent! I loved the series on “how to break your junior doctor etc”. I don’t know how you both manage, but your writings are great and appreciated. Very happy that you found Jon!
Thank you for this - I have been/am still there and this blog is a huge comfort. That is probably a very selfish thought, but hearing another person’s experience of a different health catastrophe makes me feel normal again.
Hello Hanif… thank you.. I just subscribed to Jon’s blog because of what you wrote. Your courage inspires me. Earlier I was feeling sorry for myself … your words are like a distant light visible in a thick fog ..
I like the fact that you say Jon is the most intelligent person you met so far. I often wonder what people mean by intelligent. Many equate it to, say, being able to do complex things, like solve a difficult maths problem, or being very articulate. I have always thought that intelligence must also include a certain moral intelligence. I mean is Putin intelligent? I wouldn’t describe him like that. He is certainly better than me at getting through complex situations. Don’t know. Just wonder what you mean by “intelligent”. :)
Hello, Mr. Kureishi! I've reading your blog for some weeks now and I read it aloud to my husband. We live in Mexico ciry. Both of us are huge fans of your work, starting when we were single and hadn't meet each other yet. I found "London kills me", the movie, in a videoclub near home. I rented it many times and when the videoclub went on bankrupcy and they put on sale most of their movies, I bought it. Then I found the book. And I was such a happy gothic mexican post-teenager till I lent both the movie and the book to a friend who never gave them back to me. My husband started with "My beautiful laundrette". Everytimenwe finish reading one of your post, we talk again about how astonishing was finding your work back then, long before we ever dreamed about writing for a living. You inspired us then and you inspire us now. I was kind of shy of writing all this in your comments -and my English is not that good, I know -but when Ibfinidhedbreading aloud this post I thought I had to do it now. So here I am, wishing you and Jon more chats and some relieve and thanking you for all the time dedicated to make your art.
London Kills Me is a wonderful film. I've seen it many times, too.
How can I access it? I haven't seen it but would like to.
You can find it on Youtube at times.
If nothing else, you have cemented the idea in my mind of fingers up the arse as a fractional unit of measurement, in a boundless scale of humiliation. The Kureishi Scale. Four fingers to a Fist, in the same way that there are 16 ounces to a pound, and 100 grams in a kilogram. It's five if you are on the continent, where they do things differently and count the thumb. I wonder whether all those people who had diseases named after them had any say in the matter, or if it was just accepted that they would assume that mantle. It's a good way to kill-off of a surname. Nobody wants to be Mr and Mrs Syphilis.
The kind of bugs that result in wards quarantining patients can and do kill people. The fines if a hospital logs too many cases are eye-watering, but it can be isolating for patients.
Hospital gardens are not like normal gardens. There was one – I forget where it was – it might have been a residential care facility. The pathway was a figure of eight, which allowed dementia patients the freedom to roam without getting lost.
Reading this blog and thinking about what I have read, has made more me appreciative of my own relative good health. On paper I am seriously ill. In the eyes of the law I am disabled. However, I do have my freedom of movement. I can put on a Diamanda Galás CD and turn it off when it becomes too much. Someone – a literary rival perhaps – could come into your room with a boom box, put 'Plague Mass' on repeat, crank the volume, and leave you to your fate. It is a sobering thought.
I acquired 16kg kettlebell. It is a heavy weight for me to carry. I love the resistance that it gives me. I walk around the garden holding it above my head at the end of a single extended arm, feeling the untidy thatching of the grass under my feet. I was out there on Wednesday evening when the Summer, that has lingered long into October, irrevocably shifted to Autumn, in what seemed like the passing of a few minutes. There was something almost miraculous about it. I thought: I am lucky. I won't always be lucky. One day I will lose my grip on this kettlebell and it will fall on my head. At the moment though I am, and I should revel in every small passing moment.
It is a quarter past eight in the evening. I have been fasting all day. In a minute, I will go down and light the barbecue. I will sit in the dark and obsess about lions, which is what I always do when I am alone under these circumstances – the thought that in other countries where there are large predators, you would always be scanning your surroundings for the light reflecting in a pair of large eyes.
Let Jon have his sexual fantasies. It worked for de Sade when he was locked-up in Vincennes. Anyone who lives long enough will experience their horizons drawing in to the point where they are confined to a room. In time, we all have no choice other than to retreat into our heads and make best use of what is there.
Always love to hear your perspective. The idea of being completely at the mercy of the elements, especially humans, is sobering. Lucky us. But maybe that, too, is just a fantasy thinking we have some control. Anything and everything can go sideways in a moment... and probably will.
Great piece of writing x
Your comments are wonderful, Mr Redlark.
Yes, as Laura said, I am glad also that you found a new friend. Always read your blog first thing.
I was just in London and really found the amount of immigrants so interesting. I don't live in NYC any more and when I was there, of course experienced and enjoyed NY's famous melting pot atmosphere. But it seemed to me that London has excelled at incorporating peoples from many disparate cultures- they all are British. Whereas in NY one enters at one's peril at times an enclave of otherness - whether it be a block of African Americans, or a white upper class bastion, or a muslim neighborhood, or a orthodox Jewish one. Of course I was only there three days visiting my son, and most of my impressions come from a couple of bus rides. My best memories are of Uber drivers from everywhere, and eye contact with women wearing hijabs. And seeing my dear son and his dear wife and my two charming and beloved granddaughters.
I'm getting older and find it harder to walk. That used to be my 'sport'- that and bike riding. And now it's so hard. Why has this happened to me? I see many people my age striding along. I even see hugely fat people moving with great ease, but I struggle. Anyway, Hanif, we all suffer, and reading you we are all experiencing something that is beneficial because it increases our capacity to understand the experiences of others, and our compassion. I'm really hoping your rehab does its work and you are truly better equipped after it to handle your situation, which will be improving as time passes instead of degenerating like most of ours.
I too find walking more and more difficult. As a former actor who studied ballet and did Pilates and walked all over cities in various countries (including London), this lack of mobility makes me very sad. Good luck.
I always read through to the end and am cheering you on from afar -
You are a wonderful chronicler of your days -
Thankyou for sharing with us - and chin up as my mother said as she was dying with rigours ..... 😊
Absolutely the case … so good of a chronicler, in fact, that he want to take it up professionally!
I'm not sure you are going to fully appreciate my thoughts, but go easy on those who have visited a lot and are now flagging. It is not usually because you aren't important to them or they don't care terribly much, it's more that modern life, with long hours, children, their own illnesses, other people who they have to care for; it's terribly relentless. In a crisis, everyone leaps about. But they can't all keep leaping forever. Some measure of everydayness has to be restored. This is when it's wonderful to meet a person like Jon, who is new and also needs a friend. It's good out of a bad situation, for both of you. Hugs, Hannah x
We are dodging bullets all the time. For the most part, they are what-if bullets. What if abortion had been legal in 1965 and my mother, who had a rough pregnancy with my brother, had followed her inclination? What if the ferry sinks, the plane crashes, the bus goes off the twisty mountain road, the food harbors a pathogen, a suicide bomber walks into the cafe ... these are things killing and injuring people who, for the most part, are suffering through no fault of their own. They didn’t make a risky choice, or anyway, no riskier than the choices made by the person who makes it to 95 more or less hale and relatively hearty. Yet a bullet hits a body and does its damage. There isn’t a reason for everything. There are innumerable coincidences. Random fortune rewards and destroys. We can do all the healthful things, make all the safe choices, and suddenly a genetic defect brings on a cascade of debilitation and death. Sorry to go on like this, but randomness comforts me more than God having a plan. I’m here for now, trying to make the best of what isn’t so bad a situation, considering.
I find it encouraging to know that I am not the only person who thinks about the what-if bullets. I've made it to 75, which is more than several of my friends managed to do, but a sudden decline in my health which I suspect is due to Long Covid is proving to be a drag and very worrying at the same time. Reading Hanif's blog makes me think more deeply about a lot of things and I concur with your final sentence.
Two philosophers/writers in the same hospital: I'm glad you have found a new friend in Jon, Mr. Kureishi. Wishing you both all the best.
We're still here Hanif and thank YOU for not giving up on yourself or us. Isabel's devotion and stamina are amazing. What a big heart she has! I hope you appreciate her more than your hands and legs.
Hanif you are not forgotten these messages from the brink are oddly helpful to us all that your mind continues to work inspiring, articulating a human experience many of us might face. Your question why me reminds me of the Cohen bros film ‘A Serious Man’ which poses the question and of course posits no answer. It’s where the religious can flourish with pie in the sky rhetoric which of course provides succour. As an ex rock climber I read Jon’s blog.Thank you again David
Thank you Hanif. I always find your blogs enriching and thought provoking, though at the same time I feel upset that they came into being because of your horrible accident. I agree with you that there are parallels between hospitals and prisons, even though none of the health professionals that I know would want this for the people they look after. But the way that hospitals are organised reflects the old military model and means that power imbalance is overwhelming. I find it telling that whatever the status of the person they are referred to as having been 'released from hospital'.
It's good to know that you have finally made it to a rehab unit. Hope it goes well for you there and that more of your family and friends manage to visit. Looking forward to your further updates.
I read some of Jon posts. He is excellent! I loved the series on “how to break your junior doctor etc”. I don’t know how you both manage, but your writings are great and appreciated. Very happy that you found Jon!
You are a mentor to Jon.
I am sending both of you healing ❤️🩹 love from San Pedro California.
Thank you for this - I have been/am still there and this blog is a huge comfort. That is probably a very selfish thought, but hearing another person’s experience of a different health catastrophe makes me feel normal again.
Hello Hanif… thank you.. I just subscribed to Jon’s blog because of what you wrote. Your courage inspires me. Earlier I was feeling sorry for myself … your words are like a distant light visible in a thick fog ..
We love you.
I like the fact that you say Jon is the most intelligent person you met so far. I often wonder what people mean by intelligent. Many equate it to, say, being able to do complex things, like solve a difficult maths problem, or being very articulate. I have always thought that intelligence must also include a certain moral intelligence. I mean is Putin intelligent? I wouldn’t describe him like that. He is certainly better than me at getting through complex situations. Don’t know. Just wonder what you mean by “intelligent”. :)