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I had finished wrapping my Father’s presents before it became Christmas Day. Then shortly after the clock turned twelve on Christmas Day 2015I got to thinking about those not here, like my Mum and Barry.



I got to thinking like that ‘coz I always wrapped my presents last minute, almost on principle: now, there’s just my Father do it for. And then, there’ll just be me.



Aye, cheerful thoughts on Christmas morn: But at least the nose is much better since the operation and the antibiotics and, the CT scanner wasn’t as onerous as I’d imagined it would be. And, maybe that test will lead to some answers.



It’d been a pretty good travelling day, except for the wind. And, I’ll concede that I’m not at all fond of the gown I was given to wear, with the instruction, ‘do it up like a robe.’ Well, in my case it had been a well washed and screwed up into a ball then nearly torn before worn robe. In other words, I did not wear it well.



Thankfully I’d not had long to wait and, due to my light sensitivity, no-one asked me to remove my gigs and, being told I was a good patient had felt almost surreal, as the blonde at Broadgreen wouldn’t have agreed.



Anyway, a needle had gone into the left arm and, as the dye circulated and, I went into the ‘large Polo-Mint’ I’d felt warm and well, everything that Stephanie the radiographer had said I would feel I had. Truth be told, I had not minded the rest, ‘coz as I had said, “You can tell me anything, I just love the sound of your voice.”

It had been the sweetest of sweet Irish accents and, most pleasing to my ear.



Now I await results, while I still wait to see what the dole will do about the tribunals’ decisions in my favour. Will they concede? Or will they appeal? They’re questions that are keeping me stress-high which isn’t good for the trembles in the gut!



Although I’d thought that I’d planned my Christmas well, I’d been disappointed that the day itself did not go as well as I’d have liked. That said, the two days that followed it had somewhat made up for it. So, I’ll leave the complaining to others.



Ah, and talking of my Father…



A record has been broken. Up until recently, everytime Dad has gone out to see to the moss on the drive or roof, it has rained shortly afterward. Well, ‘the other day’, he saw to the drive and, it had not rained afterward.



Grant you, the record still holds when he’s seen to the roof, meaning that if he’s gone up there to clean the moss off with his spray thingie, or just sprayed upward, it has rained shortly afterward.



And, there is also the one where we goto the Azda on the Friday, to do the weekly shop and, we can virtually guarantee that the majority of the light on New Chester Road will be read and, therefore ‘against us.’



And, the Christmas Period can’t end soon enough for my gut. I mean, it’s got problems already and, all this niceness of edible stuff has not bee good for it.



Then again, it’s a camera down me, this Wednesday…

I did not sleep well Monday night and Tuesday morning; knowing full well where I’d be off to hours later. Then when I rose, it was to travel with a gut ache, to Broadgreen Hospital, taking photographs in Liverpool City Centre on the way to the train.



Having worked at the Wavertree Technology Park, the station before Broadgreen, I’d already an idea of how long the journey would take and, even remembered to press the button to the left of the doors, to get out.



It’d been raining and had been blustery, but as the wind had died down I’d enjoyed the walk, bar the stress tremor to my left side, continuing to view imagery through the lens as I did so.



I’d got to the hospital and found the clinic where I’d given my name in, still feeling as anxious as I had felt the previous night.



When I finally got to se Mr Webb, the fellow who’d done the work on my nose, we had talking of many things… the annoying nurse and, he’d have me back, if I were to need his services, which was good to hear.



But, the punchline is what got to me: firstly, I don’t have cancer, as that had been tested for and what was there is non-malignant. But, it does seem my face broke a record, in that it had five nasty bug type infections, when prior to me, four had been the most he’d seen: And, they haven’t been properly treated in over thirty odd years.



Needless to say, I left the hospital after a trip to the pharmacy and, the knowledge that much of the pain in my face will shortly be gone. That was a nice thought to think, as I’d stood on the station, drinking my drink, a can of American Cream Soda.





Knowing that I’d wanted to enjoy a toast of red wine to my Mum with Dad on the Sunday, I’d decided to start the courses on the Tuesday, as we finish the bottle on the Monday. Unfortunately doing all three courses together had drastic effects on my gastric problems, exacerbating them ten times over.



But, I needed to finish the darn things, so chose the strongest and went with that one first, with the idea being that I’d start the other courses after I finished.



Well, needless to say, I soon discovered that the one I’d chosen to take was as strong as it was and, that it was what had affected me so drastically. The only upside was the side-effects was a little less.



Then, while I’m still coming to terms with the judge’s result, I take it to phone Simon, to see if he had any idea’s as to why the dole might be taking so long in contacting me after I had ‘won’.



Simon had reminded me that he had said it could take up to six weeks and, when I’d asked him about the delay he had said, “Well they have a right to appeal.” He had said a lot more and much of it positive, including reminding me that their absence from the tribunal suggested that they were aware they’d be on a hiding to nothing, with my case.

And then, ‘the other day’, I decided to book an appointment with the dentist, to get my fillings checked out before Christmas. The day after I’d made the appointment, a tooth that’s been worked on suddenly needed attention. And the just a day after a temporary had been fitted with a view to a cap, the back of a front tooth just came off, much to my disappointment and, extreme annoyance…



I’d made an early morning phone-call and, luckily my dentist had been willing to see me that afternoon – and, I can only assume it may have been down to me saying I’d be willing to wait to be seen, as long as it would take.



Meanwhile, the side-affects are still getting to me goodstyle; yet I do have the knowledge that once the medication has finished the left side of my face will be much ‘better’ than it has been for many, many years…

I seem to have lost focus of late, to such a point that evening writing coherently has become a major chore.



It’s just that when I am trying to write... it’s not easy. And, now here's the rub - I've spent the evening, early in the week, writing in my head... watching the new frankenstein show and ‘the expanse’ and, the expanse has similarities to my story, which if I finish it, end a five year project.



My baby was originally a short scifi story, using a name I ripped from ‘the green planet’, a story I read years earlier, possibly written by Pierre Boulle. Pass.



Anyway, I’d liked some of the background characters so much, they each got a sequel and now, I’m writing the prequel. BUT, if I finish it, some bit of my backbrain tells me a) I’ll have to think of a new, better project. AND b) My baby won’t be mine any more and, I’ll miss it, once it’s finished and left me.



That is one reason I can’t write of late, another is a lack of focus; while almost all my mind seems to focus on is pain, either in my gut, or in my inoperable, malleable, degenerative spine.



Or, it could be the constant round of hospital appointments that is distracting me and, preventing me from focussing on one train of though log enough, to finish a piece I am working on…



And as to ‘the frankenstein chronicles’... VERY good.

As to new shows, ‘the expanse’ has thomas jane innit. and, I likd him in 'the punisher' and 'thursday.'



Erm, 'into the badlands' is frellin marvellous, made by the dark knight graphic novel fellows. And I’d finally got the appointment with the professor fellow in Liverpool at the Royal, after waiting about three or four months, for some answers.



I just wish that I’d managed to enjoy my Birthday. That would have been cool. But, with the doles medical postponed, I had felt as if I were on standby again: although Simon my advocate had said it was a good thing, as ‘you can’t have two open cases at once’ and, “You’ve got your tribunal coming up.”



And, he was right I know… ‘ceptin it’s just another thing over me. And, stress sets of the tremours in my gut and promotes sleeplessness – so, I’ve not been sleeping and I’ve been sitting up listening to the weather a lot, of late.



But, I did get to et to see Mandy andorner, which it was; not on the corner, her cousin Eve at The Corner, in Wallasey. And, when I’d got there after a lot of planning, I’d stood there confused, wondering why it wasn’t Talula’s as I’d found on the Net. It was later; I’d been reminded that the email I’d received had said it was The Corner, which it also had been…



The journey had already been exhausting; planning my Father’s ease for the evening, the travelling with gut, back and knee pain and then, the journey itself. But I’d been pleased to see both Mandy and Eve, getting a present to Storm, Mandy’s eldest, eighteen on the Friday and who I pushed in a pram, when she was months old.



But, the back, the gut and, a whiskey too many meant that I had leave The Corner.



Then the return journey had gone awry, somewhat. I’d like to blame a lack of food so I could travel, or the painkillers I’d taken to travel; or it could have been a lack of my restraint, as I felt ‘off my leash’. Either way, the night hadn’t ended as I’d wanted.



I’d got to the station eventually and got onto my train, then put my head down. When I’d lifted it I had gone passed Hamilton Square and gone round the loop, waking to find myself at James Street Station. I’d got off the train on an empty long, white station and managed to get to one of the moulded seats, where I’d sat, with my head down.



When I had lifted my very heavy head, it had been to see to men in black ‘n white and high vis vest – British Transport Police. It seemed they were there to escort the inebriated individual out of the station.



Well, I stood as requested, but suggested the stairs, not the lift and, as I’d been escorted through the barriers, something in my head told me to produce my ticket, so I’d done just that.



Minutes later I’d found myself looking curiously up and down the road outside the station, with the two officers, who reminded me, there’s be no train for me – “You’ll have to get a taxi, or a bus.”



I rarely get buses, from the Wirral to Liverpool, or vice versa, so I had been momentarily at a loss what to do, until I realized I had enough money to get safely home, via a taxi.



Needless to say, I’d had to assure the driver I did not feel sick and, my Father had been surprised to see me home early.



The very next day I went to see Simon my advocate, to discuss my preparations for th forthcoming dole tribunal, during which we discussed many tings – my writing being one of them. And, while I’ve had to accept I can’t do my voluntary work, walk, or garden as I used to, with dedication and focus, I can still write. Hence this.



Now I need to get back to my story… there’s a chapter to finish and, a story to end...



Well, after a poor Friday and Saturday night I slept well on the Monday and then got a lift to Raby Mere in the rain, from Alex. That’d been cool. Then, after I’d seen to the tea and rested my knees, Mike called. Before we watched the intended movie, ‘Attack On The Block’, he told me a story: As part of his Uni course, he’s looking into fingerprints on birds feathers, which led to a planting at Talacre, during research.



Last weekend he was at Talacre he went there on retrieval and parked where Barry had parked a year earlier, with Mike and me in the car. That’d been the day I’d lost my favourite black lighter, with stickers of Jenna Coleman either side. As he’d got out of the car, he saw the said lighter, lying on the floor looking up at him and, it still worked as well…



Well, he wanted to escape his worries and, I wanted to forget the tribunal for a few hours and ‘Attack On The Block’ had been a good way to do it.



Once he’d left, I’d been on the net, to check on the details, for the tribunal, gut already rolling with the idea of the darn thing…



Well, needless to say, I was up real early on the Tuesday, so I’d be fit to travel and, be on time for my appointment. I’d got out after going over my papers again, several ups of coffee and smokes, being sure to take the lighter that Mike had found with me.



As promised, Simon had been there for me, literally at 11:00; metaphorically holding my hand, from the moment I met him. We’d waited in a small room and, the tribunal had been a little early, if we wished. I had.



And although at a few points, I’d been more than a tad emotional, but the actual tribunal had gone fairly well, in that the judge and lawyer had seemed to listen. Then once it was all over and I’d been back in the small room with Simon he’d told me, “You don’t have to go in, once they’re ready to give their decision, if you don’t want to…” Well, I’d assured him I didn’t want to, ‘coz in truth it had been too much…



After a short while, Simon had come back in to tell that my appeal had been found in my favour. And then, as we had been about to part company, he’d told me the firm he works for might not exist after February. “Grrrr… that’s oh-so-wrong!"



Anyway, I’m still thankful for the lighter and, truth be told… I’d felt as though Barry had been with me, throughout the whole morning…