Oh dear.

I’m very sad. The doctor has told me that for the next three to six months, I have to very careful with my voice. I've spent the last week in total silence, visited the doc again today, and now for the next fortnight have permission to speak a few words at a time, "only when absolutely necessary", along with various other instructions, medicines and even a series of calcium injections that my bum will play host to. Ouch. (Those of you who are wondering, no, calcium supplements won't do. I already asked.)

No singing, no wind instruments, no lovely noisy clowning. At least for the next few months. I would really miss singing my favourite Christmas carols. And I'm already missing my flute. Most of all I miss my voice.

Off I go to think more sad thoughts.

Gifts from London.

Fiona is a lovely person! She’s never met me before but that didn’t stop her from bringing me a bagful of goodies from London! What a noble soul! I am now the proud owner of red and white striped clown stockings, three glorious (and easily washable) pairs of colourful gloves in pink, yellow and orange and a multi-coloured pair of suspenders.

It was all deliciously exciting (oh yes, she also brought me two packets of an old favourite of mine: Rowntree's Fruit Gums) .. but horribly frustrating to have to react silently!

Talking of silent (talking?), I have decided that while my voice is on hold, maybe my twin brother Glad could go out and do my clowning for me. He’s a quiet lad, never has much to say anyway. Sweet little soft-spoken Glad. We are Siamese twins, don’t you know, and between us we have only one skin, so we take turns at being inside out or outside in. He’s quite happy being outside in, but seeing as I have this medical emergency, I’m hoping he’ll help me out.

I'm all shut up.

Bad news, I think. All that talking at the Clown Show turned out not to be the greatest thing for my vocal chords. So here I sit in silence. It started with a little lump in my throat that didn't hurt but wouldn't go away. I finally got the courage to go see a doctor about it. The good news is that I don't have throat cancer. The bad news is that I must have total voice rest for at least a week.

That means no talking. (And those of you who've had the honour to meet me in person, will know just how hard that is!) It's very frustrating. It's less than 24 hours since I succumbed to silence, and it is Very Difficult.

Plus everyone has started to talk really loud (I'm not deaf, just mute) and also speaking in one-word sentences and waving their arms around with lots of gestures and what appears to be their idea of sign language. I now must carry a note around to remind people that just because I can't talk, doesn't mean they can't use full sentences.

What will happen to me? I don't know. After the swelling's gone down, I'll have to do some speech therapy exercises or something. And then we'll just have to see. Because I’m quite a noisy clown. I don't think I’d like being a mime quite as much.