The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

I'd seen the nutritionist at the royal, pleasing her a little with how I'd roughly kept my
weight on. I'd been pleased to see her, as she not only listens to me, but also provides a degree of sense for me, that I often so need.
I had seen her two times through the year and, I admire the slime intelligent woman very much. Last year she had taken time off to have a child.
As we had spoken I'd asked, “So how's motherhood treating you?”
She had coughed and changed the subject, to which I had said, “Ah, that good eh?”
The conversation had continued, as I had listened to her words.
Finally the session was over and the idea was to arrange another appointment, so I'd suggested; “Is six months month’s alright?”
She had then told me it would and informed me she'd be taking maternity.
'Irksome,' I'd mused.
“So is five months okay?” She had queried with a smile.
Needless to say, I'd been more than a little pleased that she'd be able to see me, at all, so said to her, “Yes, thank you.”
As I'd left the Liverpool Royal, I'd sought the nearest whiskey shop, with a meandering thought weighing heavily on me, 'Why would someone have a second
child, when having one was irksome?'
It was something I seriously couldn't see at all, as I sought Lime Street Station, where black hacks ranked up outside.
I'd got the taxi home, dwelling on all that we'd spoken of, intent on following her advice. She had wanted me to try to eat for more than two days running, which I've done once or twice, since I encountered her all those months ago.
For me to do so though entails a lack of stress.
Then after a stormy night I'd decided to travel, after eating the day before. Then as I had begun to get ready Dad had arrived at my bedroom door, showing me a lock and a broken key.
“Does your key still work?” He had asked, as I had got ready to go out. Then he had asked about them again and again.
Although I am sure he does not have dementia, when he gets obsessed his memory does become somewhat annoying, when he will ask a question again and again.
'What day is it?' Gets asked a lot and, on this occasion, having snapped a key in the gate lock and failing to accept responsibility, he persisted in asking me about the key again and again.
I had eaten, with plans to eat again, on the Saturday, after eating twice already and writing of it.
Come the Sunday I'd been pleased to have had success, although I'd had few hours in my day, with the rest spent waiting on the bathroom, as I'd eaten the day prior.

I went to the doctor's on Monday to enquire about the results of a scan on my lower back: an my spine is worse. I am used to having compression, displacement, impingement and pain. Now it seems I have Spondylolysis throughout my spine.
And further still, I have an infection on my head; after scratching eczema during my sleep, with nails that I'd trimmed a little too late.
But, to have a serious infection on my head, like 'what the hell': I'd only gone to see how my back is.
Well needless to say, the little weeding I have done has not brought me the relaxation I'd felt needed. Yet that said, I'm keeping up with my 'routine', as best as possible and, Dad does eat well.
Ha, that said... another's life lesson the other night... don't use dressmaking scissors, to try and separate two slices of black pudding; the results can be dramatic, to say the very least. In this case it was a proper puncture-wound, going straight into the middle of my left palm.
Now one could say, 'did you go to hospital?'
And... I'd respond by saying, what can they do I cannot... and that's pretty well always been my way... and I survive.
Speaking of 'survival', Dad's pleased I like to cook; I'm pleased I like my banana and
blueberry cream-shakes as much as I do... with them and my soups, I've been managing pretty well, when solid food is difficult, or inconvenient to Dad's lifestyle.
So yeah, “I survive'... and, often with a smile.
Talking of survival... one has to wonder why when has some pretty nasty stuff happen with one's teeth, it has to happen on a Friday... and worse still, on a Friday when the following Monday is a Bank Holiday.
On this occasion it was my top plate breaking in half, quite literally.
Needless to say, that'd mean an emergency appointment with the dentist...