Every day in every way. . . .

. . .things are getting worse and worse.  Most things, anyway.   Piping technique seems to be getting better.  Not mine, of course; that's gone to hell in a handbasket.  Yes, practice would help.  But piping technique in the world at large.  You saw the World's videos cited below; I rest my case.

But, otherwise, things, i.e., church and state, seem to be in a race for the abyss.

And I seem to be falling apart my own self.  Sciatica, would you believe.  Or something very like it.  Stabbing pain in the hip when I walk and coursing down the left leg.  Oh, yes, and some annoyance in the back.   The doc says the x-rays show no stenosis and that it's all soft tissue and will improve.  The physio says it sure seems like stenosis to her.   Wonderful.   In any event, we are proceeding with the therapy and perhaps there is improvement or perhaps I'm imagining it.  Probably the latter the way things are going but I'm thankful for the imagination.

But what sciatica also means is no dancing.  No strathspeys, no reels, no jigs, no hornpipes.  Especially no three-beat pas de basque.  If things have not improved by Asilomar time, I will not be fit to live with.

And not  nearly enough highland pipe practice (see above) for which some standing and walking are required.

Do you want to hear about the diverticulitis that has flared up again?  No?  Well, all right but it did require a visit to the emergency care thing.  (No, that's not right.  What's the right name of those things that are not the emergency room but will look after you when you get the miseries after hours?  Ah. "Urgent" care.  [I asked Mary.])