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To continue with an allusion to Alice, begun awhile back with someone I like and respect, Monday and Tuesday were ‘strangeness indeed.’



For a start, the vicar was alright, a former psychoanalyst, before he took up the white-collar, with a knowledge of my Ankh, that few possess. I hadn’t expected to like the fellow, but I had, in his silver hair swept-back sort way.



And, my Dad and I work, as a strangely bonded team, as we're following the routine laid out by my Mother's time here. And, I have asked one friend for help and she said yes and, even now I regret feeling the need to ask.



Which brings me to Tuesday, I sat to relax with a tape and a beer, watching ‘Existence’, a tape I had dug out from the back of the cupboard.



And, with that particular film ended, I kinda felt connected, with the disconnection of one of the characters in this film, which I thoroughly recommend, being one of David Cronenberg’s finest, in my opinion.

Saturday night I had a friend call round, Graham. He cleans the streets in the village and is a thoroughly good fellow; and maybe it was ‘coz he was pleased about the tips he’d been given, but he’d invited me out for the evening, at his favourite watering hole, The Tap in Eastham Village.



Now The Tap is just off the promenade that overlooks The Mersey and is a pub that I used to frequent thirty-four years ago, hanging with bikers and others.



We’d walked through a lot of ice and woodland to get there; and whilst the real ale was good, the momentary distraction was needed and, so crucial to me, right now.



* *



I did goto visit Karl on Sunday, with rain falling on my head needless to say; rain that seemed to have little needles in each droplet and boy, did they hurt!

Yet, like Saturday night, it was good to be out for a little, with the chance to be able to relax, if only for a short while.

Then later I had typed up my Mother’s story, as seen by my Aunty for my Father, to show to the vicar so he could ‘know Mum.’ It was a gut-wrenching experience, as I expect to find the disposal of her clothes to local charity shops, but while I do it, Dad doesn’t have to.



* *

Lucie called round on Christmas Eve. Dad and I both got hugs and tears had been had: and she’d got a present, some nice perfume, though when I told her I’d got myself a Gwen Cooper, from Torchwood, for my shelf, instead of a Captain Jack as I’d not enough pennies, she left me with enough money to get myself a Captain Jack, once Christmas was over.



Aye, Christmas! The remark my Father made, summed up Christmas Day well: “It was like a ship that was missing its captain.”



Oh everything that was, was good. But there was that certain something, that joi de vivre, which was just gone.



An there were thing’s like the pack A4 and, Doctor Who dvd’s my Father came across, just sittin, waiting to be found, set aside for me, many months ago.



I’d only been thinking ‘I need paper’, on Christmas Eve and Lo, there it is: and the dvd’s? Well, that had been intended as a treat, as I’d had the printer already.

I recall finding that dvd of two, one of which was ‘The Five Doctors’ and Ma saying all that to, then saying, “So you’ll have to wait.”



That from little Mother: she who would be obeyed.



‘But, to find them now?’ That was a pleasant head-wreck.

By the end of Wednesday the funeral has been planned, everyone has been phoned who needed to be phoned and, toward 11:00 as it snowed outside, I typed away quietly. It’d been a really long day and overtly emotional at times.



We needed eggs and sprouts, had been the start of it. So I planned a walk, in the snow that had ice over it, as more and more were having accidents in the local blackspots.



Well as I walked I recalled that I was going passed houses were friends of family called, so felt obligated to call and let them know. Well, one was a friend of my Dad’s and the other my Mum’s and both had kept me talking for ages, regaling me with stories of my Mum, while I wanted to get going. But respect being real, I sat and later, stood and listened, as you would.



And, I’d never weighed sprouts, which was fun, not. As it was, an old dear took pity on me and with an assistant showed me I could weigh out in Imperial, instead of damn Metric, if I needed. I needed.



On the homeward journey I called at Mikes, as the snow got icier and it got darker: and Mike had phoned mine and my Father sounded concerned for me. So I phoned from Mikes to assure him the shopping was alright.



Then, there’d been the evening and, the phone-calls. More fun and jollity.

At least this time I didn’t cry when I told cousin Lesley the story of my Mum’s last moments.



Seems they’d closed the end of the ward of. She already had one heart attack prior to the one that got her and, my Father visited, held her hand, told her his name and she was gone. And the funny thing, his Father did a similar thing, when his family came to visit, in that he held on, till they were there and then, died. Weird. Nice, but weird.





Yet thing’s got strange on Thursday, a nice strange, while Dad was tidying up: and, though I’ve told this story already, it bears telling again.

Just yesterday, I was thinking, “I’m running out of paper, for the printer.” And there, in the wardrobe, was a ream of 500 sheets, just waiting for me: kinda like my oranges in the stockings, as I’d already had the PC and the printer. And, with it, were two Doctor Who DVD’s, one of which I really wanted, about ten months ago, when my Mother gave me the money for the, telling me, you can have them at Christmas.

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ladyofdragonrose
07:09 Dec 26 2009

little things like that are nice. hang in there.. *hugs*

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It turns out My Mum kept every birthday card that I wrote a drawing in or wrote a poem in for her. And this one said it all, for me:



‘another year older, another year gone … an in case you forget, I Love you Mum ~



The meaning of this verse is real, an its from son … Neil’

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Lovise
00:11 Dec 26 2009

How sweet...

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POST COMMENT

Sprouts

Eggs



Goto the Cheshire to see if I have money



Phsychology course, or basic math?



“yeah, a weird day”

Sunday Karl took me to see ‘Avatar’, as part of my Christmas present. He was even good enough to go see it in 2d with me, as I’d doubted I could ‘see’ the 3d, until I leant later that the technology has changed, and the lenses are no lobger colour dependant.



As it was, I loved the film: ‘Avater’ works on so many levels, the best one for me being a western, where just for a change, the Indians win.



And, when I got home, there was little left to do with the meal, ‘cept make the gravy and eat it. But, I was still having problems sleeping; waking numerous times, with myriad thoughts on my brain and, few of them pleasant.



The end of Monday found me sitting cross-legged in my armchair, with the ubiquitous terry-towel robe on, with a hot chocolate to theoretically aid sleep; writing of the day, which had been moderately alright: with me weeping a little less, only using half a roll of kitchen towel instead of three-quarters of one.



The day had started with me looking out on a world of white, iced over frost and snow, a lethal mix, so when I’d got my act together, I’d had a go at clearing the path, so Dad could go out to pick up Mother’s death certificate.



Needless to say, I had problems with the dole and there is some doubt that I’ll get my last dole payment before Christmas; and was gutted when I took some of Mothers shoes into a second hand shop, asking, “What can you take?” knowing full well that at home, we have a lot of stuff to take in to them.



And, we had one visitor, a family friend who got Dad talking about subjects other than the obvious, whilst not ignoring the subject: which we both need.



Needless to say, there were more phone-calls from relatives, seemingly in as much shock as us, although I sorely doubt that is possible.



And, there were a couple of invites to spend Christmas Day with well-intentioned people, which isn’t what we want at all.



The routine Mother instilled in us, has given us a way of living, that is doing moderately well for us both, so far.

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ladyofdragonrose
03:19 Dec 22 2009

Hang in there Neil...*hugs

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RedQueen
04:35 Dec 22 2009

same here sugar- know you are loved and thought of often.



*hug*

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POST COMMENT

My Father tells me that that by Saturday afternoon it was just less than sixty degrees, as it was in the morning, when he got up at 7:00 in the morning.



The frosting of white that covered our world didn’t dissipate till lunchtime and, then there’d been a flurry of snow, followed by light rain.



Unlike the South of the country, which has already been quite badly hit by severe weather, Bromborough has survived quite well.



The Eurostar train is out of action, ferries have been brought to port and really, for a while at least, England is cut-off, other than by plane; and if the weather gets much worse. And, all the time, the weather in Bromborough is not too bad, considering.



“And the reason for our moderately mild weather?” Well, I put it down to ‘the Bromborough Factor.’ Brombrough is in the middle of the Wirral Penninsula, having a river either side and hills around it. So, when the rest of the country gets it real bad, generally we don’t.



Saying that, my fingers and toes still get cold! [That’s really just down Raynards.]



Well, having laboriously sewn up the gaping holes that had grown beneath the pits of my green and blue terry-towel robe, I sat on the bed at 16:00 hrs, the mended robe over my achingly cold toes, eating pieces of ‘Mosher Roth’ chocolate, made by the finest chocolatiers; and is 85% cocoa, both beautiful and smooth and slightly bitter.



Having prepared the evening meal, ready for cooking at 5:00, so Dad could go visit Mum, I sat with warm toes ‘Polar Storm’ on while I counted the minutes, till I would begin cooking our meals, with Dad’s help, at his insistence.



The film had the fellow with horn-rim glasses in from ‘Heroes’ and the kid from ‘Terminator 2’ in it and as pre-Apocalyptic films go, it was one of the best of its kind that I have seen: not that there’s many films of it’s kind that is.



Then when my Father got home, I went to close the gate, whilst he garaged the car and wiped it down from the rain.



“I’ve got bad news,” he said to me, as we passed each other.

And as I’d waited for him to dry off the car, I stood there in the kitchen knowing full well what he was going to say.



“Is she dead?” I’d asked.



“Yes,” had been the quiet answer.



It turns out she’d had one heart attack after beginning to recover from the pneumonia, after going into hospital with the broken left wrist. Then Saturday night, she couldn’t take a second one. And, she died, with my Father at her side.

So as he wandered round the house, as upset as me, I began to ring round her immediate friends and family, including first off, my brother, who was truly devastated.



And it was almost heart-warming, to learn that her death affected them as much as it did me.



* *



RIP Joan Kendrick, 80 something.



She had more things wrong with her than you could imagine; yet took the time to Love and help many.



Ahe and Dad were together sixty years.. being stoic doen't come easily to me. I weep a lot.

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RedQueen
11:37 Dec 20 2009

My poor love. Count my tears amongst yours; I feel as if I knew the lady well, and lady she was, just from your descriptions of her, I feel as if I knew myself.



Twould that I could put my arms around you and hold you tight, till it passed, but from experience I know it never does, only eases a bit. Thinking of you in your time.

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CuRsEdToDaRkNeSs
22:56 Dec 20 2009

I am so sorry luv. I know those are only words that do not make it better, but I do mean them, and although I am across the pond from you, you know I will do anything within my means for you. You can call me whatever you wish. xxxx

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Guardian
20:50 Dec 21 2009

Oh Neil.

Exits are rarely graceful

All there is to see, is behind.

If you can do this with joy in your heart

Then it was all worthwhile.

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Lordpeace
03:21 Dec 23 2009

oh my brother what can i say to ease the pain i have been in your shoes and i know how much it hurts so i offer a hug and my deepest condolences

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margareet
04:28 Jan 01 2010

As I was going through your journal, several months back to December... I found myself humbled. There are no words that I can give to comfort, and I know the wounds are still fresh in your heart. I have lost so many close to me, .. however, I know how ones passing feels...Ive experienced it since a small child... but each one of us feels differently, and morns differently...With this being said, I cant give words of comfort, but I can say...seeing what all you have had to go through in the last few months ( illness, injury, and now a passing of a loved one), this leaves me feeling empty and tearful. Literally. I am truly sorry for the pain you have had lately, both physically and emotionally...and I hope you find comfort in your heart soon over your mothers passing. With each tear you drop/dropped, that its over the joy she had given you over the years, the love you felt for her as she has felt for you, for all the special moments you shared together,for all the laughter's and smiles you two had from the time you were a tiny baby until her passing day,for all the nights she came to comfort you when you were ill or scared as a child til the time of adulthood when only a mothers hug would do, for the new experiences in life that she taught you as a young male yet her patients and guidance made it all okay to learn new things without fear,for the times she held your hand guiding you to walk your first steps, and for the tears you two shared together that no other knows about except you and your mother...Those are the tears of joy, the tears of memories and the tears of knowing she will be missed.

**lowers head in respect**

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MinxyMoon
01:05 Jan 09 2010

I;m so sorry Neil.... I hate death... we lose all we love.. She waits for you I believe that.

My respects to you and your family.

xxx

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POST COMMENT

Watched ‘Doghouse’ after a couple of new episodes of ‘Stargate Universe.’

I can see why some Stargate fans wouldn’t like the show, it’s darker, with a harder edge to it.: a bit like the difference between BSG classic and new. The only difference is that ‘old’ Stargate is still within recent memory.



And, as for ‘Doghouse?’ Well like ‘Lesbian Vampire Killer’, it’s a British film, heavy on horror, laughs and Kensington gore. And boy, is it a good laugh!



And good laughs have been needed of late.

Come Sunday morn I was late getting up, as my Father was keen to remind me: though it could have something to do with not being able to sleep the last few nights.



Anyhow, in the chill of the day, I relished the brisk air and exercise, as I delivered my Mother’s local Christmas Cards, as per instruction.



Then, as Dad finished off the ironing, I’d whazzed off a few files from the portable harddrive, so there’d be free space on it, if Karl had anything interesting, for me.



At the station, I counted my pennies, to ensure I had the correct fare for the day’s journeying, finding it ironic my present for Karl was a ten pound note: such is the nature of giving presents, I guess.



And speaking of Karl, Dad left home to visit Mum at 12:30 and I hade left for his at 3:30 just as a multi-layered red and orange tint to the sunset highlighted the far horizon, over the welsh hills: a portent of a pleasant day the next day, I hoped.



As it was, when I got home, my Dad told me that Mum has got over the problems with her blood pressure: the only problem is that she now has pneumonia.



In an attempt to relax, if that’s the right word, I sat to watch ‘Constantine.’

With my Mother in hospital, my Father and are have lost our focus. Yet, we maintain the routine, but nothing's the same. So I had gone a walk to The Mere, to watch the sunlight rippling on the Mere. For a moment, I was at Peace; then it was back home, to be sensible and help my Father, with the routine he knows; like which bin goes out and, which towels to put out, after the wash. And aye, ‘No Mother back on Saturday.’

But when he went to visit, she was giving orders, reminding me that the local Christmas cards were to be hand-delivered, ‘My job.’

'Snot fair, I expected her home.. frail she may be.. but I HATE that hospital. as a care worker I took loads of little old ladies there to die.

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MyArmyMyMilitaryMyLife
01:40 Dec 12 2009

Calm down. Your mum will be fine. Stop worrying so much.

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Lovise
09:45 Dec 12 2009

Please don't stress yourself, I wish for the best and my mother said 'hi'.

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RedQueen
12:15 Dec 12 2009

*hugs* chiming in with my own little southern bit o help love- hope she is doing better by the time you are able to read this

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POST COMMENT

And, I got the application-form to the one-stop shop, where they’d post it for: so it could make its deadline. And, I did find it moderately amusing that the Council’s equal opp’s form breaks European legislation, in more than one instance. But after the fog, the weather was oh-so chilly. And, though we had expected my Mum home; due to low blood pressure, when she’s being treated for high, “we’re not.” With a broken wrist at eighty, an she's still in hospital: and, after a mess up but they eventually operated. She's in bed, with an oxygen mask over her face as I type..

“Do you need anything else?" I’d asked my Dad, just as I’d been about to leave the house for the project. And, that’s really how I spent much of Thursday, trying to ensure that my Dad could maintain his ‘normal’ routine, as much as possible, whilst he was obviously still very frustrated about his wife, my Mother.



Other than do the housework, the poor fella looked lost; not being able to do more than he had. And, I had rung the hospital for him, as the minutiae of such a phone-call would’ve been lost on someone with Tinnitus.



The first time I phoned, I’d been told she was about to have an operation on her wrist.

Then about two hours later, I’d been told she was now on an orthopaedic ward and, was waiting for her operation.



And, I’ll admit that’s when I lost it: not that I was rude, I wasn’t. But, I just couldn’t get my head round a little old Lady being kept waiting like that, for hours on end.



I got home at 9:00 from the project, and Dad still hadn’t been able to see her, as when he went up, she’d finally gone for her operation, so I fussed over him a little, making him an Instant Hot Chocolate and, buggering off, so he could watch Newsnight in peace. Besides, I had a covering letter to write out, for a job I’m trying for.

.. my Mother fell today.



[and, my heads gone west.]



.. I am devastated. Dad is a chicken with his head cut off.



.. she’s in A&E, Dad says it was bad: hurt her face.. broke her wrist: fell onto concrete, hence the injuries.



.. am playing with the scanner. am seeking distraction.



.. playing with images, for VR, while I wait for Dad.



.. If I didn't have this Now, I'd go nuts.

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crowgirl
02:17 Dec 10 2009

You know you have me whenever. I'll always be there. And she will get through this. I KNOW it. Prayers beamin' her way, 24/7.

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Guardian
04:46 Dec 10 2009

I've been away for a bit-sorry to hear about your mum. You and your family in my prayers...thank goodness for distractions.

Take care, friend.

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Lordpeace
03:23 Dec 23 2009

ahh neil

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POST COMMENT

I walked to The One-Stop-Shop, to pick up an application form, for a job with the council. On the way back I called at Mikes. His new machine was very poorly, with the nasty that is picking on Windows 7 right now.



After three and a half hours, of sitting with three laptops, using two different OS, my head was burnt out; but it seems I got it sussed.



When I got home the house was dark and empty.



But, there was a note: “Mum in hospital. She’s had a fall.



And, my thighs went, as they are as I type this, cold and shaky.



In the end I could take the suspense no more and phoned A&E and, got through to my Dad, just as my Mother was being seen to.



“She’s not very well.” He told me, “I was out. And, she was outside in the back. She fell on the concrete. Is that all?”



“Yes Dad,” I told him, as he went back to his wife, my Little Mum.

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MyArmyMyMilitaryMyLife
00:08 Dec 10 2009

Aw... I hope she's okay... :(

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Well all I can say is that with ‘Inglorious Basterds,’ “you get what it says on the tin”.

Yes, there’s the obligatory homage to several various cinematic styles, including that of Sergio Leone, but this was Tarantino at his height. I thought the film was excellent; I even quite liked the bit where he re-wrote history, to suit a good story, well told.



And though I’d wanted to say Brad Pit was sh*t, you know, I can’t.



Hell, there was one sequence, that has a heroine, an emphasis on red; and, sheer style, that just has to be copied to clipboard a dozen or so times, to acquires I series of images, that I just have to have. I mean, “it’s that good.”

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Lordpeace
03:28 Dec 23 2009

great i want to see this one

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When I went round with some geranium cuttings, the neighbour asked me how I was.

“Bit flustered,” I’d replied, adding; “thing is, you can control yourself, but not the others around you…”



And that brings me to why I’m flustered.



Last night I messaged my ACM, to ask why she had kicked someone out of the coven, who I like, without consultation.



I formed the coven, in part to please her: but there’s a marked lack of respect involved, when the person you’d expect to do their best for the coven kicks out one of the two other females there, the third being their housemate, with whom there’d been an altercation, about an accusation of sarcasm from the kicked out member to the flatmate. I read the thread concerned, heck I took part in it: they were far less sarcastic than I am, or ever could be. And during that thread, I read some quite reasonable points; and that’s the thing, there was more than one point of view.



When I saw both my ACM two account pics on the right of the screen I messaged them, asking why this member was kicked out, saying that rather than her being kicked out, some of the male members who she’d inducted and never posted should have been.



After sending the message, I sat waiting for an answer, well beyond the time I should have, as I’m still recovering from the chest infection and, feel tired much of the time.



There was no answer, not from either of my ACM’s two accounts, for over an hour, so I had gone to bed, a tad flustered.



What’s worse, now I don’t know what I’ll find that they’ve done while I’m offline?



I mean, how are you supposed to feel as an ACM when your ACM acts against your wishes, like that?? I understand that she’d originally felt that she was speaking out on behalf of your flatmate, but my own wishes deserve more respect than shown me.

“You cannot defend the indefensible..” I finally decided, moments before closed my eyes, listening to the rain fall heavily outside.



I just can’t comprehend how someone can say, ‘I told you I was like this..’ when they took you on their ‘friends list’, as to explain bad manners and, abrasive nature: clearly illustrating how little you belonged there in the first place; then acting as if that meant nothing later.



And they’re derisory about me talking of respect… well, as I’ve said before… “How some those who talk so much of tolerance and equality are loathe to display those attributes themselves…”



I’d called them pseudo-Alpha: yet really, I guess I’m being disingenuous to Alpha.. Males.. to be specific. After all, they can’t help how they are, it’s nature.. sad, but true.. whilst she.. well, she should know better.



I thought she did, hence seeking her friendship in the first place.



And, what else did she rant on about.. “Oh yeah, no need to take it personally.”

Well PARP.. if you direct your comments in a thread towards the person who made it, then what on Earth are they supposed to think.. WAZZACK.



All in all, I gotta say.. aren’t I lucky.. to be off her friends list? [Answer: “Yes.”]

Aw sweet, I got a mention in someone's journal, just 'coz I treated them as they did me.. and they took offence a hedge and.. "what else?"



Oh yes, leave of their senses: as if their petty-mindedness worries me.. right now I have greater fish to fry, says he mixing metaphors, than some pseudo Alpha-male preening..

..daft bint, shoulda left her blocked.



Ah.. but that's just an opinion.. and of course, not meant to be directed.. **Guffaw**

chrumbs.. am offto the to the bi-polar thread, before vvsoulshroudevv has a say there an all..



[he's my irritant of the day!]



had a pop on my whattcha wear thread cont'd.

darn brown noser.

Travelling home last night from the project, two shell-suited young prople had got in the same compartment and sat near enough to me that I could hear every word they said, particularly every word she said, “Yeah.. an she said you could get gripped there.. but it’s easier in Primark.. and, their things are cheaper..”



So first she’d been talking of their shoplifting; and then as she caressed his hair as she stood over him, their cocaine habit. Grant you.. nothing was too obvious.. but that said, I am my age.. and, I have my experience.. and, when they got off, I turned to the couple facing each other to my right and said, “Marvellous example of our species.”



I mean, it would have been all well and good, for them, if I’d been plainclothes.



..



And then.. when I got to VR.. what do I see.. but more examples of disrespect.

Now anyone who has read the stories I’ve written of my childhood knows that I’ve been fortunate, to have the folks I have, who instilled into me the values I have today.



But, I led my own path.. which wasn’t always’ a good one.



Now, I won’t say I learnt the error of my ways’; but I learnt the worth of loyalty and respect. And, boy.. is that sorely lacking in some here, as in Real Life.

Before I had left for the project, I went to my ‘Beloved Threads’ and went to my ‘Proud To Be Bi.. Polar On VR’ thread.



I’d been surprised to read the somewhat vitriolic response left by xxFallenxxAngelxx

In which she’d castigated me goodstyle, with ‘who are you…’ and, I’m assuming she was inferring, ‘to question others.’



What she wrote had demonstrated two things to me: -



Firstly, she’d chosen not to wholly read my question fully.

And secondly, “I’m the fellow who’s dealt with the conditions, for over thirty years, without taking medication.



And, though I realise that not everyone can deal with manic depression as I have/do .. up until Now, I have chosen not to slag off someone else, for their opinions on the subject.



What is it ‘they’ say, opinions are like assholes, everyone has one. The difference is some people choose to listen to the opinions of others without prejudice, which is why I’m so pleased with that particular thread, that has some powerful insight from some very knowledgeable individuals, who listen to their peers and share that understanding.

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crowgirl
02:53 Dec 04 2009

I know how you feel. And you know I do. I've been diagnosed with clinical depression, and I'm not ashamed to say it. I just wish people could accept what is written without resorting to pointing and yelling *crazy! nutjob!* It's like, duh, I know! It's a legally recognized medical condition. So either you read it and deal with it as we do, or just shut the fuck up and don't leave comments.

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RedQueen
04:29 Dec 04 2009

*chuckling*



My poor Brit...so many things we share, and yet so far away.



I have always had what I called my "dark spots"...I would fall into one, sink to the bottom for a day or two, shutting everybody out, and then come back sunny and bright. It wasn't until I had my son, and suffered an almost complete collapse that doctors tried to put a name to what I had. At the time, it was dubbed "post partum depression bordering on psychosis" A big fancy name for something that meant I could not only not take care of my son, but I couldn't even take care of myself. My now ex husband was sure I was going to do myself a harm, one way or the other.



Then the upgraded version of "the baby blues" passed. And I was still miserable. And I got worse. The Zoloft they had put me on after Connor was born no longer even made a dent in it, much less helped me cope. I moved on to Cymbalta and others, to no avail. I eventually decided to quit cold turkey, with all the same withdrawals as any other mood enhancing drugs, legal or not. They weren't helping (but then again, I was still in the situation that was making me miserable) and I felt hollow, as if everything inside me was dead, and nothing made me happy anymore. Before dragging my son into the same pit I had been in, and before I could do to him what my mother did to me before she died, I left.



I now have a husband who loves me, my son is a happy and well adjusted 9 year old living with his dad who didn't have to see his mom have a stroke or blow her brains out, I have a job I love in a country I love with a family I love and who loves me.



Drugs don't have to be a crutch as some people claim, but they also don't have to be the end all be all for every little thing. Sometimes they are necessary.



Sometimes they aren't.

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POST COMMENT

.. talk about in the world of the blind?

Karl did a lot to get a machine goin, the someone [not me] come along an takes off it’s anti-virus software, thinking windows will see to it.

So how many malaware did it get?? Anyway.. so there’s me, using retrograde software to remove it, on a Vista running machine, that was so badly done in with malaware, that it wouldn’t allow anything

Woke at about 9:30 a.m. with what I knew to be all the signs of a proper chest infection. While the folks had their breakfast I had phoned the doctor, mentioning that I get this sort of thing quite bad every year, or so. You’ll get a ‘triage’ phone-call this afternoon, they had said to me, when I had said I was going to the hospital in the morning. My Dad had told me that as soon as I had got dressed he’d take me to the hospital for my x-ray and, as it was sunny I did not mind the walk home whatsoever. At the waiting room, I saw to well-spoken well-dressed chav’s both using their mobile phones, with the young woman telling her Father, “I’ve waiting over half an hour and, I’m at Clatterbrdge, so [so-an so] wont be able to pull any string’s..” which left me annoyed. As it is, thankfully they were called shortly after.

And, near me was a young woman, who bespectacled child was running happily around hyper-style. It turns out he might be autistic, but was excellent with me, when I encouraged him by name and example, to pick up the leaflets he had distributed all round the place. And, as to the x-ray on my knee, “why do you have to wear a hospital gown?” They’re not conducive to any form of pride in my opinion. Yet that said, I was treated well and wasn’t there too long at all. Before I was off on my walk home, which was only marred by the amount of rubbish I noticed in the hedgerows.

When I got home, I was-oh-so pleased to help Little Mother on with her coat, so she could go out and potter in the front garden, as she so-likes to do. And to be helpful, I’d got a brush out, to sweep up the cutting on the path leading up to the mulch-bin.

And I do keep saying to Little Mother, “You should teach the Blackbird to clean up for itself you know..” Darn thing never will though, will it!

And, I turned on the radio, to hear that early in the morning John Paul Massey, a four-year-old boy was killed by a dog in Wavertree Liverpool: it had also seriously injured his Grandmother, when she tried to get it off the child. Needless almost the whole of the local radio lunch-time phone in was all about dog’s and irresponsible owners.

The funny-thing is, ‘these people’ always say, ‘it was a good dog’ until it happens.



Well, the doctor phoned as they’d told me I would and realising I wasn’t ‘pulling the wire’, gave me an appointment for 4:15 So I wrote awhile, then went out.

Up above, the sky was still light blue, although their was a bright full moon up above in the sky. And, Dr. Brocki had given me the Amoxycillen I needed and then, I’d walked home, about twenty-five minutes later, with the sky nearing blackness and the full moon looking even brighter. It was only when I got home that I realised I’ve somehow lost my reading glasses, somewhere: and, I’m thinking it was in the house, but I’ve looked everywhere!

COMMENTS

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Vampiress25
01:33 Dec 01 2009

nice story hun, RIP Massey

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