Seeking Inspiration, or Saint Philip

I do appreciate the imagination of those who compile the Catholic Encyclopedia, as well as those in general who have made up stories based on a few inconclusive lines from inconclusive books. Get this (from the Catholic Encyclopedia) for example:

• Before the miraculous feeding of the multitude, Christ turns towards Philip with the question: "Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat?" to which the Apostle answers: "Two hundred penny-worth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one may take a little" (vi, 5-7).
• When some heathens in Jerusalem came to Philip and expressed their desire to see Jesus, Philipreported the fact to Andrew and then both brought the news to the Saviour (xii, 21-23).
• When Philip, after Christ had spoken to His Apostles of knowing and seeing the Father, said to Him: "Lord, shew us the Father, and it is enough for us", he received the answer: "He that seeth me, seeth the Father also" (xiv, 8-9).

These three episodes furnish a consistent character-sketch of Philip as a naïve, somewhat shy, sober-minded man.

How the hell could those three episodes furnish a consistent character sketch of anyone? Let alone of a shy, sober-minded man? Yet it is accepted as part of 'doctrine'. They're all mad I tells ya. Mad as boxes of frogs.

With the increasing likelihood of my not finding employment (gainful or otherwise) in the near future, I need some inspiration. I have been afflicted with some dreaded lergy or other over the past week or so, and feel a shadow of my former self. Simply because I can, I will go into some detail, which may be repulsive to some and entertaining to others.

Whilst in Oswestry a couple of weeks back I developed a sore spot (looking back, I blame it on the Turkish Cypriot barber who gave me a trim before I left. Probably didn't sterilise his cutthroat properly) on the back of my neck, and a few days after returning to London, it had developed into a monstrous carbuncle of Charles Windsorian proportions. I'm not unusual I think in avoiding visiting the doctor, so things had degenerated pretty badly by the time I did finally make an appointment, the thing had grown to almost an inch across and was dominating my body. The doc took one very brief look (he didn't even come close to me, let alone touch the damned thing) and prescribed a sackful of flucloxacyllin and penicillin to be taken 4 times daily for a period of one week plus, the which I am still forcing down my neck.

These medicaments in themselves had a negative effect on my system, and contributed to the general feeling of malaise and enervation I was suffering. Then, finally, on Wednesday evening, just after enduring the pathetic City display, things came to a head. Enough detail for you, I reckon. Save to say that I doubt I will ever be able to eat toffee sauce again. Two days later, and still the goo was draining out, and still my guts were troubled by the fungal antibiotic activity.

One could hardly say the weather has been perfect, but there have been some days when I could feasibly have taken the bike out for a bracing spin, but I have not felt in any shape to do so. I am therefore reduced to Twitter and Facebook, along with regular flips into my Gmail to see if any of the numerous applications I've sent are going anywhere. Nada, if you want to know.

It is imperative, now that I am at last starting to feel almost normal again, that I find a couple of activities to occupy mind and body. I will aim to write a book, and resolve to get out on two wheels on the mean streets before I lose my sanity. I will have to ignore the countdown to Christmas, difficult as that will be.