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On Christmas Eve as we were finishing our meal the phone rang, it had been Lucie.

“I’m glad you’re in, I’m at your front door.”



We had sat and chatted awhile, then having shown her the best bit of the film ‘Guardians Of The Galaxy’, the beginning, I said to her; “Do you have to go?”



She had replied, “I thought you’d need to rest.” Well, I’d already been sitting quite comfortably and told her so. Then we had watched the film. Granted it had been the fifth time I’d seen it; but there was so much new to see, still.



When I saw her out our hug had lasted longer than five minutes and, had almost felt like our last hug… such was its intensity.



I went to bed Christmas eve thinking of all those morning in the past, when I’d rise early come Christmas morning, then go through to my folks bedroom and bounce on the bottom of their bed at about 6:00 a.m. reminding them loudly, “It’s Christmas!”



I had risen this Christmas shortly after nine, then had opened my presents with Dad, who seemed to like his few ‘useful’ presents from me of an A to Z and a large Seven Seas and, the Glenfiddich miniatures selection box he got from Barry.



After a good meal followed by crumble and custard, I had my coffee, then went a walk to Raby Mere, saying “Happy Christmas” to those I’d met on the way and on the way home; as a light rain fell on me, from a clear sky… The walk had been a good one and all-in-all I’ had a good Christmas Day… well... until about 4:00 then Dad started on about the dole, again: while I had been working on photo’s on the PC.



He had ranted about missing papers and, though I understand his frustrations, a slanging match does neither of us any good. And, my knees had needed rest, so I’d rested. Christmas and my Birthday are the two celebrations two I like.



This was spoiled, 'coz he won't let go and, although I often admire stubbornness, not here, on this. He’s not helping and may be a hindrance with the dole, for me.



But he wants to do something, anything… and, as this is all so faceless, there’s no one to actually front. Meanwhile I still wait for the papers from the ‘sick’, while the letter from the JSA telling me I no longer sign-on found me quickly enough…



Then by nine Dad was in bed and by ten past, I was on the PC and, I acquired the Doctor Who I had missed, so ... in a fashion the day got better..



On Boxing Day, Dad saw to some hoovering and tidying, as he readied the house for a visit from Aunty Marian and her daughter Lesley. As it happens, Aunty Marian Hours later, I had explained to my cousin Karen from New Zealand, who lives in Australia, “Lesley is here, I can’t really go get Dad, I hope you can ring back please?” She’s one of the few who can challenge my Dad, on his opinions and belief’s. I relish her visits for that and respect her very much, for that.



And, almost as aside, I was lucky enough to be present when she showed my Dad a video of her dancing Argentinean Tango, with a lucky skilled dancer named Andy. As it turned out, she’d been as good as I’d imagined she might be from the little I had seen of the films and, it had been no surprise to hear that they were competition winners. Once Lesley left I recall looking out the front window, the one I cleaned ‘the other day’, to see that the world outside was covered in white: it had snowed. Come the evening we’d got the washing prepared for the next for Dad, while I went on my intended walk.



Then on the Saturday I started out on my walk, after Dad had tried to put me off several times, reminding me at one point that weather like it was responsible for my last fall, which did so much damage to my back.



As it was, I went my walk, for the fruit and vegetables we needed for the week, so that if Dad wasn’t up to driving, he did not have to. I’d got the bus to the village and called on Barry, who was feeling up to going to Azda and getting the groceries he needed and, he even gave me a lift home once we had both finished.



I got home to find more letters from the dole, that’d further acted to illustrate their stupidity, leaving Dad annoyed and frustrated and me feeling somewhat irked. At least making Dad’s soup gave me distraction as I had waited on my visitors: I’d made Spinach, carrot and turkey and, it had been pretty good indeed.



My friends Janet and John had called and taken me for a meal at The Dibbinsdale, which had served a menu we’d tried a couple of years previous, an Italian sort of Chinese style banquet/’Tapas style’, the waitress Becky had described it as.



Essentially, we had each selected three orders and shared each, with each course being so good w e ended up agreeing that nothing there could be faulted, or disliked.



When they left it was suggested I go to bed early: I watched films, wrote, smoked and tried my soup, into the early hours… my body fatigued and my mind still going its normal triple-time on the events of the previous three weeks, or so…



Come Monday morning I was back onto the ESE, making the phonecall I had been dwelling on, well into the early hours. At the end of the conversation it seemed that all was well. It was early Tuesday Afternoon that I then discovered how wrong they’d been, when I got to The Nationwide in the village to learn that there were no funds in my account, other than those for the last few days of my former JSA claim.



I had also called on Barry, while in the village, mortified to see him looking as unwell as he did, as I’d hoped he would better than I saw. It had been the second time I’ve seen him that bad since this all began for him and, I’d made a distinct point of not asking, him, “How are you?”



Needless to say, as soon I was home I was onto the phone, to find out what the matter was, only to be told that my money had been issued that withdrawn and, that the advice line could not help me, it was a matter of ‘excess capital’ and he’d contact Birkenhead, to get them to contact me, before five thirty, or 10:30 on the Wednesday.

That did not sit well with me, as my track record with Birkenhead is not good and, the Nationwide shuts at 3:00 Wednesday afternoon.

I had liked seeing'The Librarian' films again prior to the tv series; as I liked the two leads: Gabrielle Anwar, from ‘Burn Notice’ and Noah Wyle, from ER and latterly, ‘Falling Skies’.



Come the Monday Dad and I did the housework, then went to the bank to get a sort code, prior to me phoning the line I’d been given, to seek ESA, ‘the sick’. The phone conversation had lasted over an hour, as the woman I had spoken to had filled in the form, asking me some questions I’d found a tad intrusive, like my marital status. My one cause for a smile had been when I’d been asked my nationality, a I’d been able to say ‘English’, which had pleased me, a many forms only allow me to ay ‘British’. I’m not British, I’m English and, proud of it…



On Tuesday I went to the village, to see about my coin and met Barry. On my way to his, I went passed Bromborough Common and aw a man trying to clean dog muck off his trainers, his own dogs, that he hadn’t cleaned up after. That had made me laugh. Barry and I had gone out and about, much as we used to on the weekend and I had managed to get the rest of my Christmas shopping. I had got home then turned my PC on and, found the startup caught in a loop, one of my unfavourite problems of all, PC-wise that is. I had phoned Karl, who I’d been intending to visit anyway, then left home, needing to get away from my PC. And though I’d enjoyed the journey there, it had been Karl’ help I had appreciated, so much. We had chatted awhile, of something and nothing, then he’d given me a lift home and, managed to get my PC, the tower, up and running again.

Grant you, after he’d left I ran a Malaware check and removed a few files… but…

Thankfully, it had not been needed and, I was able to download ‘Boystown’ and, it’s sequel, for Dad to watch, next time he says “There’s nothing on teevee…” And, come Wednesday night I wrapped my few presents not attended to; and wrapping Barry’s had been… ‘Interesting’, to say the least, as I’d got him what he wanted, a sieve. Well, I’d got him a sieve and a few others things for the kitchen, but they all fit in the sieve and, that’s what I’d wrapped… yes, ‘interesting’ was the right word.

I was watching the Royal Variety Performance and, when it got to the biggest name I’d seen thus far, after over nine performances on the show and many years in show business, I’d been spellbound by Shirley Bassey. Watching her, I’d been reminded of her other show-stopping performances on the show. And, of all the ‘youngsters’ of all today’s generation who were on the stage with her, she’d been the best by far.



Needless to say, watching her was nostalgia personified, as I’d thought of her on The Morecambe and Wise Show, acting to remind me of seeing that programme, sitting with my folks, after toasted cheese, my sci-fi show of the time and then, my bath.



Whereas event have recently conspired to do my damn head in, memories like that help keep me somewhat balanced, with the Past acting to balance out my Present.



On Friday I was awake and hyper, by 7:00 a.m. to follow my plan. I had left home, walked to the station and got the train to Rock Ferry. From there I walked to then across Victoria Park, realising halfway across how muddy it was. And then, as I’d neared the other side of the park hail had begun to fall. Well, as I had the accident that finished my back off in similar sort of pavement conditions I’d been made very wary of walking, as I made my way to the advice centre I’d been directed to.



The walk had been about the same distance as from my home to the village, walking as I had, I’d been shattered when I got to the advice centre, twenty-five minutes early.



The fellow I’d been sent to see used a stick, having polio I think. And, it did pass through my mind that every person who’s been of any real help to me this year has had some sort of physical issue. That said, the fellow had been helpful and direct: and, with amusement pointed out that it would be difficult to say I had problems walking, after my walk there.



He’d made me photocopies, of the criteria that I’ll have to meet, to claim ESA, ‘the sick’ and then told me, he’d be willing to help and, he thought I had a case.



The way he’d spoken and the stories he’d told led me to think of Columbo assigning himself to a case; well Columbo with a dash of Perry Mason thrown in.



Come the afternoon I continued my mission, going to the doctors, to let my doctor know what I’d need, dropped my repeat script off, then returned ten minutes later, as I’d not dropped off my Dad’s repeat prescription.



I got home in time for a coffee and beginning of tea, before going out again, to do food testing in the village: tinned Mackerel, something I like. Well, I’d then done my shopping, before going to the bus-stop, to wait for a bus. A it happens I’d ended up waiting nearly twenty-five minutes, as the sky turned black above me and it got colder and colder…



When I got home at 4:30 p.m. when I normally start cooking, I found that Dad been concerned for my lateness, telling me ‘I thought you’d been knocked down,’ when I’d remonstrated with him, for phoning Barry, to see if he knew where I was, while I’d spent nearly twenty-five minutes, waiting for a bus home, as the sky turned black above me and it got colder and colder…

Come bedtime, as many slept, I had watched the second of ‘The Librarian’ films, as I’d typed up the events of the day and, learnt that with Raynauds, getting the top of a bottle of JD is difficult in the comparative cold of my bedroom…

Then on another Thursday, just as I’m leaving to sign on, Radio Merseyside rang me back in response to a call I’d made to them, describing a star, inverted comma’s, who I’d encountered years earlier. “Do you want to tell your story on air?” I’d been asked.

Well knowing the story was a pretty good one and, noting the time, I’d said, ‘Yes.’

I’d waited awhile, my ear to the phone, as I had listened to the show awhile, prior to going on-air myself. Well, when I got my slot I began talking of sitting in a train compartment with the male half of Dollar and his PA, who had been berating the world in general, for the way he gets recognized everywhere he goes. ‘The thing was,’ I had explained, ‘no-one had been interested and, he was saying it loud enough for those in the compartment further down had heard each word he said quite clearly.’ From that story, I got to being a policeman for eleven days and seeing Spiderman and, Helen Worth from ‘Coronation Street’, being chased by twenty TA, or so… Well after telling my story, I had left to go to the dole, to sign on.



Well, ‘they’ say, it can always get worse; and, ‘they’ also say good and bad things arrive in three’s. Well, talking ‘the dole’… the story continued. First I had got the letter from the dole, telling me I owed them a lot of money. Then I got a response to mine, with which they clarified why the decisions had been made. And then, just as I’d thought it really could not get worse, it had. Well, Friday, after some long journeying during the afternoon with Barry, I got home to find another letter from the dole waiting, for me. I’d read the letter with trepidation and little surprise, when I’d learnt that they are now going to reduce my dole by just under half, because of capital I had dash have, whilst lying about why certain monies ended up where they did.



With all that’s happened of late, I will herewith selfishly assert, ‘I wish Barry did not have some sort of painful ulcerous thingie’. As it is, he does have and, he has been waiting to go to hospital, for a camera. But, as I say, I’m being selfish here. With him nigh on out-of-action, we’ve had no weekend long distance travels. And, with all that’s happened of late, it’s distraction I’ve missed.

That said, we’ve had three miserable days of late, so Sunny on Sunday, getting out and about on with Barry and, an agreeable evening meal with Dad ensured a comparatively early night for me, so he and I could be bright, for Monday’s doings.

Shortly after nine, on Monday the first of December I had phoned the DWP via 0345 608 8545, to clarify that the debt in my name would ‘be sorted’ today.

I then phoned the Debt Management Team morning to say that I WILL be paying the £1722, the DWP say I owe, in respect of Capital in my name, which belongs to my father. The monies owed will come from the dual account, set-up on the suggestion of DWP staff, Richard Diamond. And, once the debt is paid, my Father’s taking back his money [intended for his funeral] I hope the DWP will help me with said funeral cost, as that monies now part of his estate once again; although I doubt it.

The cheque for the debt was sent to the Debt Management Team and, I’d written to Jane Finn, Operations Manager, to clarify what I had done, ensuring that I ‘politely’ mentioned Richard Diamond, the DWP staff whose rotten advice had made life awkward, for my Father and myself.



That said, in our own fashion we’re supporting one another through this…