24th July 2002
Wednesday 24th July 2002.
I know this is my second entry of the day, but I wanted to write this before anything horrible has the chance to happen. I’m really worried about my diary. See I promised myself that if I was going to do this, the fact that I am making it public wouldn’t change anything about it, but I’m bothered very much about it being so depressing. I don’t want to bring people down, make them think I’m a real miserable cow all the time, so while good things have happened today I want to write about them. I have had one more nasty thing happen but I’m not going to write about it now, that can go on tomorrow’s entry. This one is all positive, nothing down allowed in.
Okay I went to get my car today. Please excuse I’m going to be graphic again but I need to write this down. I was worried about starting to bleed again. Yesterday I went from the hospital ‘titanic launching pads’ to discreet slim panty-liners. There is virtually no bleeding at all now. But with the long walk to the hossy I figured I’d better be on the safe side and revert to titanic. When I got home almost four hours later there wasn’t a mark on it.
I got to my car a bit hot and sticky but otherwise fine. Kalls and I walked through the Haggs. It’s a scenic walk between Barrow and Dalton. At about the half way mark there is a bench under the railway signal box. It’s so beautiful there behind you is the disused railway line all overhung with elms, and in front is just green fileds, rolling hills and livestock. I’m always amazed that the air there is so different from the air just half a mile back on the road. You inhale deeply and it’s sweet and fresh. I felt not only better, but momentarily euphoric, with the excersise and the air and the sunshine. I really enjoyed the walk.
I wanted to show my babies (all of them) ‘The Haggs’ and was comforted with the thought that maybe they could look through my eyes and see it.
To Kali’s consternation she had to be kept on her lead there were sheep roaming lose all over the place, and she’s not that well behaved I’m afraid where sheepsies are concerned.
I knew there was a parking ticket on the car I’d seen it, but when I took the sticker off my window the docket inside said that they had taken my reg number and if I repeated my parking violition I would be prosecuted. I was expecting a fifty pound fine. It was only a small thing but it gave me such a lift. I hadn’t been charged a penny.
Next up was my friend the nursing sister ‘pestered-fart-face’ I’m so glad the wind wasn’t taken out of my sails by her being off duty or off the ward sick (bless her). She was there behind her desk looking sour. I was disappointed to note that she didn’t look delighted to see me. Where was my dear-old-friend hug?
I paid her back the 20p I owed her.
“Oh really there’s no need.”
I told her, “Believe me, there’s every need.”
I smiled my sweetest smile and without saying goodbye walked away. I almost soared out of that hospital. Last time I left I scurried out like wounded vermin. I know it was petty and maybe a bit stupid. It was only twenty pence, but it bought me my dignity.
I felt victorious and in a way it was Angie’s victory I didn’t want her memory tainted by the dirty mother, pregnant by a man who didn’t want to know, who played victim to the hilt.
I’m missing Mark very much and didn’t want to go home so I called to see our Karen.
“Wow you look better,” she said.
I got big hugs off my great nieces. They didn’t say a word about it but just the way they both ran up and hugged me was enough.
Kaz and I sat at the kitchen table with the smell of her home baked bread wafting over us and supped coffee and smoked cigs.
We laughed a bit and cried some and it was really good. The first song on the radio was You’re so vain by Carly Simon, the second was Tamboureen man by um .. forgotten .. and the third one was the one by cliff that starts off “I’ve had nothing but bad luck” we were hysterical.
We got to talking about God, whom I don’t believe in, by the way. Kaz is a bit of a snob, (I’m sorry Karen but don’t bother denying it, you know that you are and yes I know you don’t like it when I call you ‘The Lady of the Manor’ but you wear it so well,) but she has the most wicked sense of humor.
All my life I’ve been dogged by disaster and crisis, my life is a running chaos, most of it of my own making. I didn’t have to be with a no good man. I didn’t have to get pregnant (even though I was on the pill) I didn’t have to help Les do her garden.
Anyway we got on about God being up there with a disaster destined for Mrs. Smith. But Mrs. Smith is such a nice lady that he just couldn’t give it to her. ‘I know’ he thinks ‘I’ll give it to the Simpson woman she’s a good sport, she always bounces back. She’ll be laughing again by next Friday. Probably be pissed up in the Black Bull on double vodka. Yeah she can have this one.’
That led on to catholisism (sp) I was brought up catholic. Kaz said it’s a good job I don’t go to confession. Old father Kernan is an old bloke of delicate disposition
.
He’d be seen daily on his knees at the alter. ‘Dear Lord please, not the Simpson woman again. Give me all the dross of the town, the whiskey drinking repentants, the false and the faithless, but please lord not the Simpson woman, not that.
“Bless me father for I have sinned.”
Bang.
“It’s been ten minutes since my last confession.”
Bang.
“I’ve had another crisis father.”
Bang.
“And it’s all my fault, but I didn’t mean it you see.”
I’d be prattling away and all the congregation outside would hear is methodical bangs as old Father Kernan banged his head against the partition.
We talked for ages and it was good.
Kaz said that I really frightened her because she’s never seen me in such a state before. I know I seemed to be off my trolley. I can see that now.
When I lost Alex it was heatbreaking, but I had Tim with me and I was in my own home and the grief was controlled amd contained. This time I was a raging mad woman.
She asked me if I could remember what I said to her when she stopped her car.
I said that I’d said get me away from here.
Apparently I screamed ‘Get me away from here some women have been nasty to me in the lounge’.
It’s funny how the mind decompartmentalises things (is that the right word, it seems too long?) and shields the big stuff, so that the little stuff comes to the front.
Kaz invited me to a fund raising event next Friday. There’s going to be six local bands on at the Cav. Mark an ex-client of mine has got cancer, it started as testicular cancer, but he’s found secondaries in his lungs and on his liver. The town are fund-raising to send him to Florida with his wife and kids before he dies. I needed that to show me that there are people worse off than me.
I’m looking forward to next Friday, by then I should be back to full fitness and I want to forget everything and just have a really good night. Am I wrong to feel like that when my Babies have just died? I don’t think so.
My cousin died last December. Les (his mother) was out every night before he was even in his grave. I knew what the town were saying. And I was itching, aching, desperate to hear one of them.
I’m not a big drinker, and I never ever drink when I’m down unless it’s to have a good time and be in good company and have a laugh, but I know for a fact, if Mark or Cli died, I’d want to be so drunk that I was incapable of feeling anything at all.
One night I had Les in my bed and we were sitting up writing Dave’s eulogy. Neither of us like the taste of alcohol but we had a bottle of vodka in bed with us and drank it neat as we wrote. It was the only way we could do it.
But this is going to be happy thoughts only so I’ve got to add this. It was so funny.
I went with Les to firstly identify his body, and then later to see him for the first time in the chapel.
She insisteed on taking him a hot water bottle in case he was cold (daft bag) the man was on his way out to leave us alone, but he hovered in the background I think he was worried that the heat from the bottle might melt Dave or make him smell or something. The police had kept his body for over three weeks. It was three days before Christmas.
She leaned over the coffin and tucked his water bottle in. she leant over and said
“Night night darling, I do love you.”
I had tears tripping me up.
She stood up to move away fom him for a minute, then she leant back over him and said.
“By the way you still owe me forty quid you little Bastard.”
Well I nearly fell in the coffin laughing, it couldn’t be held in. Les and I clung to each other laughing our heads off and crying our eyes out and the litle man in his formal black suit nearly choked.
There have been two murder’s in our family. My Mother when I was five and Dave last year. He was twenty four. He was a sweet, kind considerate lad.
But he was sub human you see, and not worthy of anybody’s love. To the town he was only a drug addict. But he was our David, who never, ever, no matter how strung out he was, stole from his Mother, or old ladies or anyone in his family. He might have nicked car stereo’s I’m not condoning that, but he never hurt anyone. And we watched him suffer every single time he tried to clean up and failed. And when he failed the one thing that made him cry was the fact that he’d let his mother and his sister’s down again.
David was a man.
He had his stuff cut by someone he owed money to with warfarin. The man who murdered our David got four miserable years. Because Dave was only a junkie.
My friend Simon King has finished his most recent novel, he’s asked me to eidit it for him. I’m honoured to do it. He’s a fine writer. I’ll do five chapter’s at a time in hard copy and run behind him so that as he edits five he’ll send them to me and I’ll go over them. He’s paternally protective of his work and doesn’t take negative critisism very well, so to have his trust in me means a lot.
I’m missing Mark terribly, but I’ve got my dog and my cat and my lizards. I’ve got a nice home and things could be a lot worse than they are. I’m still hurting a lot, but I don’t think I’m going to drop over the edge of sanity any more (though other’s obviously don’t agree with me on that one!)
And another good thing to finish on. I’m even going to check this entry for typo’s in my mania I didn’t do the last two, and bloody hell does it show!
Night Night all.
Big Brother in fifteen mintues.
Oh God what will I do after this week? It will all be over, How will I cope? How will I exist between ten and ten thirty every night. I will not think bad thoughts. I will not think bad thought. Oh no BB.
Mercy!
;-)
Okay I was done for the night .. but I have to comment.
Tonight jade said in the most innocent voice.
“Kate your orange peel doesn’t look so bad in those brown tights.”
The she looked round at the shocked faces. Nobody could quite believe she’d said something so bitchy.
“What? What have I said? Did I say something wrong?”
I’ve said all along that she’s not nearly so thick as she appears. In fact I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we see the ‘real’ Jade when she comes out. She’s a dental nurse. I can’t imagine her lasting two minutes in a surgery with that voice. I may well be wrong but I think she’s been in character for the last eight weeks. I don’t think that’s her voice. I don’t think she’s stupid and her job doesn’t fit at all with her personality.
“ Inspector Morse, Mr, Hein-stein (einstien) and Mother Theresa are related”
“Tic-tacs” tactics
“Portuginal” portugal.
“What am I, an accordianist?” Ventriloquist
Er Jade I think a ventriloquist is exaclty what you are.
Friday 26th July 2002.
I’m feeling much better now, though still very tired, today especially. Not sleepy tired, that would be understandable as I stayed up all last night (explantation later) , but weary tired, as though every mouvement is too much effort.
But I’m going to have to get my lazy carcas into gear because like it or not, ready or not, I’m back at work tomorrow.
So much for ‘Take as much time as you need love. Don’t come back until you’re ready love. Don’t worry about work love, we’ll sort it all out.’
Surprise, Surprise they’re desperate, but then so am I, I need the money. Yesterday I felt really good and was up for it, today I’m not so sure. They’ve swapped all my lifting calls, but I’ve got several non lifting baths to do and umpteen bed changes.
I have sixteen calls tomorrow and the same on Sunday. Plus I have two new clients, one cover and one permanent.
Today I had to do some shopping, I didn’t feel like getting ready and going out but I had to, Poor Kali has been on tins of cat food for the last two days because I had no dog food in. Cat food is not good for dogs, but I don’t suppose two tins mixed with loads of complete dog food will do her any harm.
I went to the bank, the bakery because Kaz and her two daughter’s were coming for lunch and the co-op. I was out less than an hour and when I got home I felt so washed out I couldn’t even empty the car. Dreading work tomorrow now.
As I said I never went to bed last night. I started a new story yesterday that I’m quite fired up about. If I can make it work I think it’s a quite unusual concept. Normally I write short stories in one hit, or novel chapters in one hit. Although I’m really keen on the Idea of this story, I don’t know if I have the right words to do it justice. So after only about a thousand words I didn’t feel that it was going as well as I wanted it to and abandoned it for another day when my concentration is better. I watched BB until two a.m. but all the time this story was nagging at me.
I have two types of writing sleep depravation. Sometimes I have an idea, and once I’ve worked out who my characters are, where my plot is going, and a few general details, I can roll over and go to sleep.
The other kind I suppose the exciting kind (though it’s a pain in the arse at the time) Is when I start having character conversation. And describing to myself in minute detail everything that’s going to happen. In effect I start talking the story through in my mind. When that happens I have no chance in hell of getting any sleep. Fighting it is a complete waste of time, and, regardless of what I’ve got on the next day, the only thing to do it get up and do the damned writing.
It was one of those nights last night.
I got up at two thirty and began to write. But the words of a song kept going through my head and distracting me. I had read a diary entry on ABC by someone else and he mentioned the song ‘The fields of Athenry’ It is one of my favourite songs because it was always the concluding song sung round the camp fire ‘Auld Lang Syne’ style at the Spitting Pig bike rally. So it brought back some powerful memories.
I tried to continue writing my story, but suddenly I remembered about a competition I wanted to enter on Getoutthere. The competition was to write an event review. I haven’t really been anywhere for sometime, and memories of last concerts and things are but hazy memeories. But the details of those rally’s are as clear as If I attended yesterday. I found myself recounting conversations I’d had almost word for word. Remembered the sounds and the smells, remembered being slim and sexy. Remembered being happy.
The story (bless it) was once again cast aside and at two fifty-five. I began writing the event through the eyes of a reporter. Six thiry am and it was written, edited and posted on getoutthere and ABC. I’m pleased with the result and couldn’t care less if it does any good in the comp or not, I enjoyed writing it and enjoyed the memories as they came to me. I haven’t done anything remotely in the way of journalism before so this was a first for me. It’s probably way off beam for what they want, but it doesn’t matter because it did me good.
I’m not going to get much sleep tonight either. I’ve decided to go out (though not out,out) Sod it. Kaz and the girls came for lunch and sad cows that we are we spent an hour talking about BB. I’m heavily into psychology and there are some interesting characters there. Before all this trouble started last week, Kaz and I had made arrangements to go out tonight, of course that had to be cancelled. Somehow I don’t think my poor old bod is up to a night of wild clubbing round Barrow. Okay I’m bragging not so wild, in fact rather sedate these days, but clubbing non-the-less. I told Karen that even if I hadn’t been in hospital I’d have been cancelling, because it’s the grand final of BB. I was actually joking I’m not that addicted. Well only because I’ve got a video
Kaz is on her own too tonight, Grants away, and the kids are going to my Brother’s so she sugested getting a bottle of voddie and me going to hers and watching it together. Big Brother is also on so we might watch that as well as long as it doesn’t affect Big Brother. Let me explain the ‘real’ Big Brother is on The George Orwell version.
My God I’ve just read the last few paras back and can’t believe how sad I sound. When BB started I missed the first four weeks of it. I had a partner, I had a job in the evenings, I had a life. Sad cow.
Anyway I’ll drive to kaz’s, but I can’t stay the night because there’s no one here to have Kali, and ‘The Lady Of The Manor’ wouldn’t dream of having my scruffy dog in her luxury home. My last dog Jinny sneaked up stairs and crapped on her carpet when she was a puppy, Kaz fell out with me for six months and has never really forgiven me. I don’t know what all the fuss was about, It was a hardish one, it didn’t stain the carpet. And was it Jinny’s fault that Karen’s oaf of a husband decied to walk into the darkened bedroom barefoot?
I would die rather than inconvinience my eldest son in his too-busy-to-call-his-Mother-life. So I’ll have to walk home and leave my car. My first call tomorrow is not far from Karen’s house so I’ll set off early in the morning to walk back and go to work. .. With a galloping hangover … and vertigo …. And belly ache …Oh My God I must be mad. I might chicken it before then and go t-total tonight. It would make life a lot easier. But after all the hassle of the last week, I just feel like a couple of glasses of voddie and a laugh.
As I hinted in my last post, I’ve had another bit of a trauma. I’ve said at length that I went a bit loop-lah in the hospital. Come on I’d just lost a baby, had some horrible experiences with family and various incidents of humilitation, I’d been worried over my animals and I almost died. Now I may be wanting to play the martyr here but I do think that entitles me to go a bit crazy and flip out some. Mark wasn’t there and nobody was hurt ,except maybe my pride considerably.
At the time I was offered counselling, and a memorial service for friends and family to attend and a brass plaque in the memorial garden. Non of that was going to bring my babies back and I just plain didn’t want it. What’s the point of public weeping and wailing. Angie’s dead, Alex is dead, so are all the other’s deal with it girl. Hard? Yes, but please don’t think that I don’t care. I don’t need plaques and garden’s I need sterilisation and they refused me that. Mind you a diary might be nice if they are offering, it’s getting difficult keeping track of the names of all of these children of mine. I can list the seven dead ones off pat, but when I try to do it in order and add my two living children I get all mixed up. Some people learn to say the alphabet backwards (I’ve always meant to do that, good party trick) I could do with learning to recite my children’s names.
Anyway after what happened to me, and signing myself out against doctors wishes,(which was absolutely the right thing for me, it might not have been for everybody, but for me it was) they insisted that I have a district nurse for ten days. Her main role is to check my pad. I’m not even wearing a bloody pad (no pun intended), just a tiny pantie liner as a precaution. The lady that came was B. I’ve worked with her, I still have to work with her occasionally when our paths cross, she is a lovely person. I made her a brew and we sat and talked. Suddenly she wasn’t my work friend, she was my nurse, I didn’t like that.
She asked to see my pad. I said that there was no need. The thing is I’m not even ashamed, so many people saw my bits and bobs last week, that it probably wouldn’t bother me dropping my knickers on Tudor Square car-park for everyone to have a shuftie. But to me it is a matter of principle. I just want it to be over.
She said ‘come on Sooz what’s the big deal, it will only take a second and then I can be on my way’ How many times have I cajooled clients in exactly the same way. She was talking nurse-talk at me. ‘I have to see.’
I told her that she might have to see, but that I most certainly don’t have to show. She left wirth a bit of a flea in her ear.
I know I’m my own worst enemy sometimes. I don’t regret leaving the hospital, but I do regret being so hot-blooded about it. I should have shown B what she wanted to see (bless her some people have the strangest desires) it would have taken thirty seconds. But I felt that my rights were being violated and got my stubborn head on.
The hospital wrote their pretty little reports.
My friend B filed her report.
I got a phone call.
“Miss Simpson? This is C D from Ulverston Social Servicess. I’ve had a call from Furness General Hospital and they wondered if it would be possible for me to come and talk to you. You see, they are a bit worried about the way you are feeling, a bit concerned about your state of mind. I believe you have young children Miss Simpson. We thought it might be nice for you if you just had someone to have a talk too about recent events.”
Roughly translated, We think you’re nuts, and need to see if you’re planning a murder suicide for you and your son. I really don’t do myself any favours sometimes.
Well after my childhood if there’s on thing I learned it’s that you don’t play fast and loose with the good old Social Services. I’ve had no personal dealing with the SS since the day I turned sixteen and found myself out on the streets because I refused to go into a half way house full of prostitutes and junkies. I liease (sp) with them on a daily basis in my professional life, most of my clients are SS refferal. I know the way they work.
They will have pulled my file from all those years ago. Paranoid? On this occasion no, you’d better believe that I know what I’m talking about. They are the terriers of the caring profession. Once they get hold they don’t ket go.
Mother murdered by father, age five.
Father aquitted through insufficient evidence, aged six.
Reluctantly returned to Father, aged six.
Taken from Father for mental and physical abuse, aged nine, (Oh but I hid the big one from them that time).
Fourteen sets of foster parents, aged nine - eleven.
Two Care schools, age eleven - sixteen
Detatchment disorder, E.S.N age eleven - sixteen
Not our problem aged sixteen.
I’m not the best mother in the world, and God knows I’ve messed up plenty when it comes to the men in my life. But we do okay. Mark is healthy and happy. He’s clean clothed and fed. I have never laid a hand on either of my boys in anger in my life. And the last thing I need is Social Servises interfereing in my life Thank-you-very-much.
This time I was wise enough to hold my councel. Temper tantrums aren’t going to halep my cause one little bit. I’ll let him come, I’ll answer his questions. I’ll show him that we’ve got a nice home and a reasonable life, and hopefully he’ll bugger off and leave us alone.
Monday eleven-o-clock.
Oh Well Myra’s just come. She’s ‘had a couple’ got to find a tactful way of getting her to go home because it’s time I got ready to go out.
See you later ….
Saturday 27th July 2002.
Had a Really good night last night. Went to Karen’s to watch BB, and it’s ages since I’ve had a good old girlie night where you just sit and gossip and talk about rubbish. In the end I decided not to have a drink the long walk home and then back to Barrow this morning at the crack of dawn just was’nt worth the momentary pleasure.
So Kate won…and I was proved wrong, yup Jade REALLY is just as thick as she came across. Well would you believe it? If I ever travel south please remind me to go to the dentist before I go so that I don’t need treatment while I’m down there. Jade’s dress was awful, baby pink satin and not a flattering cut at all. Kate on the other hand looked tremendous. Though I do think Jade has a beautiful face.
Ade’s just gone he came round to fix my shower screen that Mark had somehow managed to pull out of the wall. We were talking about how crap the television is lately and the upshot was that he got me all fired up about getting Sky again. Especially with the six weeks holidays and Mark being home. And of course I’m in so much more now, I don’t go out much apart from going to work.
I thought it would be a lovely surprise for Mark to come home to, One of the joys of being a parent is being able to surprise your kids with the odd treat. I know I wouldn’t have been able to get it installed by tomorrow when he comes home.
Anyway I grabbed my credit card. I did have the decency to ask it how it was feeling before I callously drained it’s resourses any more. I knew that I probably wouldn’t be able to afford the top package because that’s forty quid a month. But Ade said it starts from ten quid with no sport, loads of kids programmes and one movie channel. Perfect, I hate sport and that sounded good enough for our needs. Anyway the tenner package was crap, no film channels at all. The next one up at sixteen quid a time was better but it still only had one film channel and the woman said it was pretty crap. She shot herself in the foot there going for the top package hard sell because I never had any intention of getting that one, but if she hadn’t said the hallmark channel was crap I’d probably have gone for the deal. But she said all the films are old ones and it wasn’t really worth the money. So I was feeling pretty disheartened anyway. But then she droped the bombshell that if you were going for the top package, installation was thirty quid. Last time I got sky when I was married I’m sure the installation was free. Mind you we did have the best one then. However if you were going for the ten or sixteen quid deals installation is a hundred quid … sod that! Mark will just have to make do with good old terrestrial TV for a bit longer.
I’ll sleep tonight, I’ve had very little sleep the last two nights. Myra wants me to go to the Karaoke at the Black Bull with her tonight, it seems a shame to waste my week
of freedom by not taking advantage of not needing a babysitter, but I’m working until nine ish anyway, and I don’t feel like it. I could get bathed and put my make-up on before I go on my evening calls, I have done that in the past. That means that when I get finished I’ve just got to change out of my uniform. But when I’ve wiped backsides and dealt with less than savoury jobs I feel filthy again. I’ve only got two hours work tonight and none of them are too bad but even so if I’m going out I like to feel nice and incontinence pads just don’t do it for me. So I think I’ve just sucessfully talked myself out of it. Also and I really don’t mean to be nasty here, but Myra isn’t exaclt my first choice of people I’d like to be spending a night out with. Is that horrible? I don’t mean to be.
I’m supposed to be going to the flicks with Ade next week to see Men in Black 2. Ade fancies one of the lasses who works at the Roxy. He says he’ll introduce me as his sister. I said why don’t you just tell her the truth that were mates. His answer to that was that she might think there’s something going on then. And what about if he does get together with her? The start of their relationship is going to be built on a lie. If they become serious presumably at some point she’s going to suss that the sibling rivalry between Ade and I has a less than tenuous family link. But I needn’t have worried, he assures me he doesn’t want to get serious with her, he just wants to get into her knickers. Oh well! That’s alright then Ade!
I got a phone call from M (boss) when I got in this morning. She just wanted to check a dosage with me. As she was about to hang up she said.
“Oh by the way I had a complaint about you today.”
It had to be old Mud Guts. I’ve got a brilliant bunch of clients, I’m really lucky in that at the moment I’ve only got one who I don’t like, and she’s more trouble than the rest of them put to gether. Apart from her I can have a laugh and a joke with all of them. Really great people.
So I said “Oh what have I done to upset my favourite client now?”
M said that it wasn’t from Mrs. R it was from A. I was really shocked. A’s fantastic and we get on really well, everything had seemed fine when I left her this morning.
Every so often M goes round various clients just for a visit to ask them if they are happy with their care and if they have any complaints or anything they want changing. Sometime this week she’d been to see A.
I asked what the problem was.
M was laughing. “Oh it was only a joke complaint. Apparently you didn’t do the can-can when you left.”
When I leave I always ask all my clients if there’s anything else I can do for them before I go. Some clients, particulalry the elderly ones don’t like to ask for things. Every day I get people saying “I don’t want to be a niusance” (usually just before they are )
Anyway last time I did A, I asked her as I was leaving if she wanted anything else. She said she didn’t think so. So I said song? Dance? Cartwheels? Can-can?
Fancy complaining because I didn’t do the can-can for her . Hell if I attempted the splits I’d end up in traction for six months. I’ll get my own back, she loves a bit of fun.
I am having real problems with Mrs.R though. In our job if there’s a real clash of personality, and we have valid enough reason, we can ask to drop a client. I’ve been considering this with Mrs R. I’ve never done it before, but it’s turning into a running battle with her. I only got her as a favour to M because she’d been through just about every one else on the books.
To be honest, I don’t give a damn. I get my wage regardless of whether we are talking about the weather or arguing because I didn’t arrange her flowers the way she likes them done. But it has hit the point where we have ‘words’ every single time I go. She doesn’t like the order of my client list and her place in it. If she gets the early call that she screams and yells for, then I can’t stay over my alloted half hour. If she has a later call because she doesn’t have to go anywhere like some of my other’s do, then I can stay a little bit longer and do more for her, but she doesn’t get her breakfast until nine o clock. I could put the conversation down on a tape and just play it to her every day. It’s the same old argument every single day. Day in day out. And now we’ve hit the point where the first five or ten minutes of every call is spent explaining to her that I only go where I’m told, and do what I’m told, and that if she has a problem with it she should ring M (aint it great when you can pass the buck).
“You don’t care about me.”
And that’s why I’m considering dropping her. She’s damned right I don’t care about her. And that is so bloody wrong. That’s what’s wrong with our profession so many people are in it who don’t care. If I drop her from my list. Then she might get someone who does care about her. All I do is care FOR her. And maybe (pigs will fly, but just maybe) she might get someone that she can learn to like and build a rapport with. We’ve gone too far down the line with bumped heads to ever be friends.
I don’t like leaving a client’s house and thinking’ Miserable old bitch’ and no matter how much of a pain in the bum she is, she is paying (or at least social servicess are) for my respect . To be honest the call is one of the easy ones. All I do is change her dressings and make her a bit of tea and toast it’s a doddle. I’d rather be doing that than doing a full bath and bed change, but I just can’t find any nice feelings for her, and by God I’ve had my share of awkward clients.
This may be masochistic, but I usually like the cantankerous old gits, they are the ones with spirit and personality. M (not boss M, he he, Client M) is an alcoholic and some mornings if she’s been on the whiskey she can be pure evil, but I think she’s great. R has chronic M.S he’s only thirty six and he gets moody and frustrated. He throws the most amazing tantrums, but he’s so funny that you can’t stay angy with him for long. But Mrs R is just selfish to the core and I can’t be doing with her.
One day last week for the first time ever, I left her sitting with her breakfast, because I had to go to my next client. She purpousfully held me back by not eating it when I gave it to her. So I said that if she hadn’t finished it by half past nine I’d have to go. She called my bluff and didn’t even start it by half nine so I left.
She’s right in one respect though.
She should be able to enjoy her breakfast in peace without confrontation every day. I wouldn’t like to be told that I had half an hour to eat my meal or else.
I think Chyna might be gravid. She’s my alpha female Water Dragon. It’s her second adult season, I didn’t breed her last year, but I think the matter has been taken out of my hands this year. I’m not sure, but she’s off her food a little bit and is starting to get a bit aggressive towards Ecco-warrior. I know Eeks has had her once, right in the middle of the living room carpet.
“Ooh look shouted Myra, they’re fighting. That one’s dragging the other one across the floor.”
“Er Myra, that’s not fighting, that’s sex.”
So I maybe be having a clutch of thirty or so lizard eggs in a few weeks.
As for Logan and Saskia, my Bearded Dragons they’re at it all the time but there’s no evidence of her carrying yet.
Going to have to buy a propogator.
28th July 2002.
Ups and downs today.
Work was awful. After flying through my calls yesterday, I really struggled today. I felt so tired and weary. I seem to be having one good day, followed by one bad one. So going to pattern tomorrow should be a good un.
Big news of the day my baby’s home. I’ve missed Mark so much. I knew I was going to miss him anyway but with the added emotion of the last week it was awful, but he’s home now and he had a great time. I’m just glad he’s back.
The other big thing today is the fact that Cli’ finally turned up. I could barely look at him. It’s almost a week since I came out of hospital. We had words and there were tears on both sides.
He just kept saying that he didn’t know I was fighting for my life and my baby’s life in intensive care. He said that if he’d known he would have been there for me. I said that if he wasn’t so damned selfish, that if he cared about me he would have been there anyway.
He couldn’t believe that I accused him of not caring and oh the tears flowed all right, but where was he when I needed him? Lying with the latest of a long line of silly little girls. I almost died last week and it took Chris six days to come home. I only ever call him Chris or Christopher when I’m annoyed with him.
I’ve realised that unless I’m doing something for him, he really doesn’t care unless it suits him. Today I had worked all day then I had to clean the house and make a meal for Allie and David when they brought Mark home. I started cooking and fainted .. Cli freaked … see plays the loving son when it suits him or when his guilt buttons are sufficiently tweaked. I fell on the side of the fire and cut my forehead, but it’s nothing. Cli wanted me to go back to the hospital, but to hell with that I never want to see that place again.
Anyway Cli kindly took over the cooking and made a great job of it. Five minutes before I was going to dish up, cli said he had to nip out for ten mnutes so I held dinner up for him, when he came back he brought a friend with him. I was furious. Anyway luckily I had a pack of roast potatoes in the freezer and they deep fried in fifteen mnutes and the food stretched to feed everybody. I’ve asked him time and again not to do that. I hate deep fried roast potatoes, there’s no substitute for oven cooked ones
Been talking to T a lot, he’s turned into a good friend and I look forward to him coming on line. I always wait for him to speak to me though, I never message people on MSN because I never know if they are busy or not, I don’t like disturbing people so I always wait for them to speak to me, that way I know people really want to talk to me. That’s another way in which Tim has stolen my confidence, I used to know that people like me, now I have to wait for them to talk to me because I don’t want to be unwanted.
I’m really being persecuted on Story Mania. Since I had the original trouble with The Advisor, he’s been hounding me constantly. Every time I leave a review he or one of his associates leaves a disparaging message to humiliate me. And now he’s calling for me to be thrown off the site because he says I’m not a nice person. I’m getting an average of eleven e-mails a day pulling me to pieces. I even have people pretending to be my friend who turn out to be one of them. It’s awful. I got a lovely letter of support from a lady called Debbie today and my first thought was that it was a wind up. Then I saw her website and had a look it showed photos of her family, they’ve taken me for a fool so many times now, that I even wondered if the website was false. Isn’t that horrible when they make you so paranoid that you can’t accept a letter of friendship without being suspicious? She seems like a lovely lady.
It is upseting me, but I’m too stubborn to let him push me off. T says I should just cut my losses and never go back. After what I’ve been through it’s not worth the hassle. But apart from one snotty letter, I’ve never been anything but friendly and I don’t see why I should get off the site. I think it has the potential to be a good site if there were a few more nice people on it. T said that with there being so many friendly sites on the net, why bother with one that is making me miserable. But I think that if I leave now I’m proving to them that they were right and I did do something wrong. No way, I might leave, but I’ll leave when either I’m good and ready or when the site administrators ask me to leave.
I think I need to clear up what might have been a slight misunderstanding. I’ve been reading through some of my past entries. When I was on about writing Dave’s eulogy I mentioned that Les and I were in bed together, suppose I’d better point out that I’m not a Lesbian. Les was just too upset to be left on her own even for a second. She was obviously a mess. I also need to say that it’s no bloody wonder that woman is single I have never known anybody to fling themselves about so much. I ended up sleeping on the floor. But let she who is without sin cast the first stone, apparently I snore! I refute this fact to the hilt, but both Tim and Mark asure me it’s true. I blame the dog.
Cli has just been back .. My God twice in one day. Called to ask Mark if he wants to go fishing one day this week. He is being a concientious son. My My.
29th July 2002.
Horrible day today. Had to call in sick this morning. My boss played holy hell with me for letting her down and asked if I could just do the new lady that I was starting this morning. I went back to work too early I think and the aneamia is making it difficult to get through. I felt awful but I said that I couldn’t. Mark had to get up at eight thirty and take the keys to her.
Yesterday I had a call in Ulverston. I drove the few miles into Barrow, and parked up outside a clients house then thought ‘what the hell am I doing here?’ Dalton is in the middle of Ulverston and Barrow each eight miles at either side. A few times I’ve found myslef in the wrong lane when I’ve been driving , and on my last call I put R’s clean underpants on and started pulling them up before I realised that I hadn’t taken the dirty ones off or washed his bottom. Okay small lackings in concentration and I’m still well on the ball and double checking when dealing with drugs, but what if I make a mistake? It really annoyes me that A’s been off for two weeks with a cold.
I’m very concerned about my right hand. About three inches past where the canular went in, at the point where my wrist meets my hand on the back, there is the carpal valley between the two wrist bones. I have a large swelling in there that feels hard like a piece of cartillage, I suppose it’s a swollen vein but it doesn’t feel like it. I have another one at the side of my hand the opposite side to the ripped artery (that isn’t so bad, just a bit tender) the two hard bits are very sore and I’m a bit concerned because there’s a lot of weakness there. . Suppose it might just be healing something or other’s see how it is in a week or so.
I’m back at work tomorrow. Hope it’ll be okay.
I got up and did a load of house work today even though I felt awful because this damned social worker was supposed to be coming at eleven. I’ve got myself quite worked up about it. Ten-forty-five he rang to postpone until four-o-clock tomorrow (Tuesday).
I had to go to bed for a couple of hours this afternoon couldn’t keep my eyes open Yeuk that’s what old people do! I had the most fantastic nightmare that with a bit of tweaking will make a good story. It involved stalkers and mark being kidnapped.
Obviously because I was taken away by Social Servicess when I was a kid it’s playing on my mind that Mark might be. I know that’s ridiculous I’m a good mother, or at least I’m not a bad one. Either way they have no reason to take my son. All I did was discharge myself from hospital.
I read something today that I found interesting. Apparently 75% of all physically and sexually abused people (both sexes I assume) go into the caring profession.
While I was thinking it occurred to me that one day I made the descision that no man would ever hit me again. No man ever has and that was over fifteen years ago. Why then, do I let men use me? Not just men anybody who wants to really. Why not just say that from this day on, no one will ever use me again?
The thing with being battered or raped is that you know it’s happening. With mental abuse and being used you often don’t realise it’s happening until it’s too late. I’m a pleaser. If I care about someone, I will do absolutely anything to make them happy. Which doesn’t mean that I’m particularly wimpy or mouse-like, I’m not, I just like to please people.
When I think about it though, I don’t WANT to change that, I just want the people I have contact with to change. See I figure that if I’m good to people they’ll be good in return. But it seems that if you are good to people they sit back and let you do everything, pay everything, give everything. I don’t want to become selfish with my time, my efforts, my emotions or my money. I just want my friends, family, lovers, empolyers to give something too.
Since Tim’s been gone and with all the troubles I’ve had lately, I’ve come to the realisation that I don’t need a man in my life. I can be more content on my own. It’s been a tough decision but I’ve decided to stay on my own now until Mark has left home. I got divorced five years ago and already I’ve had two lovers move in with us. One for eighteen months and one for seven. That’s not good for Mark. No more broken dolls, we don’t need it.
This last month I’ve been craving someone to hold me and make everything all right so much, but we’ve got by. Surely the worst is over now and nothing else can go wrong. And I did it alone and without a man to lean on. I’ve never, in my life, had a man to lean on. They’ve always leant on me. I’ve always, in every single relationship I’ve ever had (including platonic friends) I’ve always been the dominant partner. The point is, that I can get through without a partner. We are so conditioned to be part of a couple. All my life I’ve been looking for normalacy, looking to be part of that perfect couple who pull together and make a great team. What’s wrong with doing okay by yourself? I’ve slept with seven men. Two husbands, four lovers and one, one night stand. With the exception of the last one they have all been ‘for life’. For God’s sake I KNEW it wasn’t going to work with Tim, it was impossible, but I always think that if I love them enough , if I can just learn to be good enough I can do it. From now on I’m going to channel all that energy into making it work for me on my own. I’m not going to subject Mark to another man who leaves us.
The problem is affection .. and of course Sex! I have an incredibly high sex-drive. I associate sex with being loved. Therefore only when I’m making love to someone, and they are having sex with me do I feel most wanted and loved. I like sex probably more than a lot of women. My cousin has been by herself now for about four years she’s had a few one-nighter’s but nothing serious. She says that the longer you go without sex, the easier it becomes, until in the end you don’t even miss it. I can’t imagine a time when I don’t miss sex. Well apart from the last week! My cousin doesn’t even masturbate. I can’t imagine getting though another week without an orgasm, let alone the next six years or so until Mark leaves home.
T asked me tonight if I’d ever considered Lesbianism. The answer is yes. I have seriously. I can’t imagine a woman ever treating me as cruelly or as sadistically as Tim did. I think I’d make a good lesbian.
The truth is though I’m not a lesbian, and I don’t think it’s something you can just choose to become. The thought of making love with a woman is abhorrent to me. I think everything about a woman would be too soft, I like a man’s hardness. Right from the kiss down, everyting would feel wrong. A woman’s lips would be too soft. I like the feel of a hard male chest .. ugh boobs .. nasty .. and I don’t think we’ll go any further south than that thank-you.
I do have the capacity to love a woman though. Kaz and I were talking about this very subject last week. Kaz and I are close, but she keeps people at arm’s length, she has her immediate family and that’s all she needs. Kaz feeds off security and she always has that.
Although we are family, we’ve led very different lives. She has always had my brother’s security and financial backing. If she and G have money problems Tony bales them out. I’ve never had anybody to fall back on. And the nearest thing I ever had to security was from a lady called Marian who took me under her wing when I was with her son for seven years. After M and I split up Marain and I didn’t.
Kaz said that although we’ve been close ish, I’ve always forged frindships with other women. And that’s true, during my first marriage I was close to an old primary school Friend until she slept with my husband.
Then there’s Les although she’s family we were very close until a couple of years ago when she had a bit of a flirt with Tat. We are mates again now, but things have cooled considerably.
And then three years ago I met Jan. Cli was seeing her daughter Jemma. And Jem came to babysit for me. Through Jem I became friends with Jan, and within days we hit it off and became inseperable. I was with Tat but that was fine Jan and her family just fitted right along in with us. And we all tended to do things together. Jan met Sean and for awhile things were great. The four of us camped and partied and sometimes just sat round watching TV or playing daft games.
Tat and I split up and suddenly it was different. Almost over night Jan dropped me.
Three months later she rang in tears, saying that it ws all over with Sean and she desperately needed two things, a friend and a night out.
It was just like old times.
But then it got freaky. One morning I came downstairs and Jan and Cli’ were naked on the living room floor together. He was eighteen she was forty one.
Okay!
They were both adults.
I went upstairs and had a shower. I freaked out a little bit, had a minor nervous breakdown, thought it was funny and laughed, thought it was tragic and cried ..dried myself off and came down stairs having dealt with it.
They were sitting nervously downstairs waiting for whatever might errupt, they’ve both seen me kick off plenty and were pretty nrevous.
I winked at Jan and asked the one question every mother wants to know.
“So is he well hung then?”
They both blushed and then Jan killed herself laughing and said.
“You’re so cool. I love you.”
I loved her too, she was my best mate and we had fantastic times together.
My only worry was that she’d be hurt when Cli’ inevitably got bored with the Mrs. Robinson thing and moved on.
It lasted a few months and in those few months I’d never seen so much of my eldest offspring (though not literally) or my best mate.
Eventually sure enough round about Christmas it began to go a bit stale, Cli’s a kid, he became unreliable started letting her down. She met Ade. I knew the day they met that Ade was wrong for her. Why is it you can see right and wrong for other people but never for yourself? I said my piece to both of them and then left it at that.
Things were okay we saw each other maybe once a week. Which was fine obviously when you’re courting you don’t have as much time for friends. I was by this time flirting heavily with Tim. It was fun, he was the much younger, lovely bloke and I was the fool in the pub who made him laugh. We had our own version of ‘follow the van’. I always kept mints down my cleavage for him. But at that point he was only a fantasy. I fancied him rotten but didn’t think I stood a cat in hell’s chance with him.
Christmas eve we had our first snog. And that was it I was doomed.
Christmas day, Jan gave Cli’ a watch that she’d bought for him before they split up. They ended up in bed together despite the fact tat she was now with Ade.
Mark and I spent Christmas alone, it was a horrible day. The highlight was meeting up with Tim as we walked up main street (completely chance meeting) he persuaded me to go to the pub with him. It was the best part of Christmas, he was great with Mark and he was lonely and upset at being alone too. He came home with us for the evening, and before he left we had a kiss and cuddle.
Between Christmas and New Year we saw quite a bit of each other. It was nice.
On New Years Eve Jan and I were going out. I’d offered to give it a miss so that she could go out with Ade, that’s what couples do, but Jan said that We’d had this planned for ages and that she’d much rather go out with me, because although Ade is nice he’s not much of a laugh. Besides she wanted to get as many New year kisses as she could and couldn’t do that with Ade because he was very jealous.
We had a great night, Jan was using her phone a lot. At eleven o clock Ade walked into the pub and it was daggers drawn. He totally pushed me out. For twenty minutes he kissed and cuddeld Jan with his back to me. They never spoke to me again. Yes I was jealous. Jealous because I didn ‘t have any body and jealous because my mate had called him to invade our girls night out.
At ten to twelve we started to make our way to the Cross in Ulverston. I saw my arse good style because Ade was pulling Jan along so fast that I was left behind. I lagged .. and seethed and then did an about turn and walked the other way. They didn’t even notice.
Midnight and I was half a mile out of town at the start of one of the longest lonliest walks I’ve ever made. It was snowing and very slippy. I had five inch stillettoes on and my feet were killing me. The fireworks went off and I could hear everybody cheering. It was awful. The only cars to pass on the eight mile walk were pretty much taxi’s and they never stopped. I had a long black skirt on and a gypsie top, no coat. When I finally got home my legs were blue. Temper carried me home quickly despite the sorest feet I’ve ever had in my life and slippery roads. I got in at four fifty.
Jan had her own drama that night she and Ade went home in the taxi (I’d booked) after the celebrations. At two o clock in the morning Sean rang and said he wanted her back so she left Ade’s bed and got a taxi to see Sean she slept with him that night.
I started seeing Tim properly New Years Day and we slept together for the first time that night. Start of the year and all that it seemed like the perfect omen. Later I found out that he’d slept with Maureen my nemesis the night before.
A month later Jan found out she was pregnant. She told everyone it was Seans they are still together. But in reality it’s a three horse race. It could be Sean’s but it could also be Ade’s. It could even be my Grandchild. Messy eh?
I don’t mean to make Jan sound bad, she’s a lovely person, with a heart of gold. She just makes poor choices sometimes. She's more screwed up than I am.
An hour ago I put a can of Fanta Fruit Twist in the freezer. I’m waiting for the ice to start crystalising in it. The trick is to take it out before it either freezes completely or explodes. It’s lovely.
See I waffled off on a tangent again didn’t I?
I think what I’m trying to say is that I miss Jan.
Mark has been brilliant today bless him. He went into town and paid some bills for me. He hoovered up and had a tidy round and he bathed the dog. Sometimes he’s far too responsible for a ten year old. I guess that’s what comes of being the man of the house.
Night night.
I know this is my second entry of the day, but I wanted to write this before anything horrible has the chance to happen. I’m really worried about my diary. See I promised myself that if I was going to do this, the fact that I am making it public wouldn’t change anything about it, but I’m bothered very much about it being so depressing. I don’t want to bring people down, make them think I’m a real miserable cow all the time, so while good things have happened today I want to write about them. I have had one more nasty thing happen but I’m not going to write about it now, that can go on tomorrow’s entry. This one is all positive, nothing down allowed in.
Okay I went to get my car today. Please excuse I’m going to be graphic again but I need to write this down. I was worried about starting to bleed again. Yesterday I went from the hospital ‘titanic launching pads’ to discreet slim panty-liners. There is virtually no bleeding at all now. But with the long walk to the hossy I figured I’d better be on the safe side and revert to titanic. When I got home almost four hours later there wasn’t a mark on it.
I got to my car a bit hot and sticky but otherwise fine. Kalls and I walked through the Haggs. It’s a scenic walk between Barrow and Dalton. At about the half way mark there is a bench under the railway signal box. It’s so beautiful there behind you is the disused railway line all overhung with elms, and in front is just green fileds, rolling hills and livestock. I’m always amazed that the air there is so different from the air just half a mile back on the road. You inhale deeply and it’s sweet and fresh. I felt not only better, but momentarily euphoric, with the excersise and the air and the sunshine. I really enjoyed the walk.
I wanted to show my babies (all of them) ‘The Haggs’ and was comforted with the thought that maybe they could look through my eyes and see it.
To Kali’s consternation she had to be kept on her lead there were sheep roaming lose all over the place, and she’s not that well behaved I’m afraid where sheepsies are concerned.
I knew there was a parking ticket on the car I’d seen it, but when I took the sticker off my window the docket inside said that they had taken my reg number and if I repeated my parking violition I would be prosecuted. I was expecting a fifty pound fine. It was only a small thing but it gave me such a lift. I hadn’t been charged a penny.
Next up was my friend the nursing sister ‘pestered-fart-face’ I’m so glad the wind wasn’t taken out of my sails by her being off duty or off the ward sick (bless her). She was there behind her desk looking sour. I was disappointed to note that she didn’t look delighted to see me. Where was my dear-old-friend hug?
I paid her back the 20p I owed her.
“Oh really there’s no need.”
I told her, “Believe me, there’s every need.”
I smiled my sweetest smile and without saying goodbye walked away. I almost soared out of that hospital. Last time I left I scurried out like wounded vermin. I know it was petty and maybe a bit stupid. It was only twenty pence, but it bought me my dignity.
I felt victorious and in a way it was Angie’s victory I didn’t want her memory tainted by the dirty mother, pregnant by a man who didn’t want to know, who played victim to the hilt.
I’m missing Mark very much and didn’t want to go home so I called to see our Karen.
“Wow you look better,” she said.
I got big hugs off my great nieces. They didn’t say a word about it but just the way they both ran up and hugged me was enough.
Kaz and I sat at the kitchen table with the smell of her home baked bread wafting over us and supped coffee and smoked cigs.
We laughed a bit and cried some and it was really good. The first song on the radio was You’re so vain by Carly Simon, the second was Tamboureen man by um .. forgotten .. and the third one was the one by cliff that starts off “I’ve had nothing but bad luck” we were hysterical.
We got to talking about God, whom I don’t believe in, by the way. Kaz is a bit of a snob, (I’m sorry Karen but don’t bother denying it, you know that you are and yes I know you don’t like it when I call you ‘The Lady of the Manor’ but you wear it so well,) but she has the most wicked sense of humor.
All my life I’ve been dogged by disaster and crisis, my life is a running chaos, most of it of my own making. I didn’t have to be with a no good man. I didn’t have to get pregnant (even though I was on the pill) I didn’t have to help Les do her garden.
Anyway we got on about God being up there with a disaster destined for Mrs. Smith. But Mrs. Smith is such a nice lady that he just couldn’t give it to her. ‘I know’ he thinks ‘I’ll give it to the Simpson woman she’s a good sport, she always bounces back. She’ll be laughing again by next Friday. Probably be pissed up in the Black Bull on double vodka. Yeah she can have this one.’
That led on to catholisism (sp) I was brought up catholic. Kaz said it’s a good job I don’t go to confession. Old father Kernan is an old bloke of delicate disposition
.
He’d be seen daily on his knees at the alter. ‘Dear Lord please, not the Simpson woman again. Give me all the dross of the town, the whiskey drinking repentants, the false and the faithless, but please lord not the Simpson woman, not that.
“Bless me father for I have sinned.”
Bang.
“It’s been ten minutes since my last confession.”
Bang.
“I’ve had another crisis father.”
Bang.
“And it’s all my fault, but I didn’t mean it you see.”
I’d be prattling away and all the congregation outside would hear is methodical bangs as old Father Kernan banged his head against the partition.
We talked for ages and it was good.
Kaz said that I really frightened her because she’s never seen me in such a state before. I know I seemed to be off my trolley. I can see that now.
When I lost Alex it was heatbreaking, but I had Tim with me and I was in my own home and the grief was controlled amd contained. This time I was a raging mad woman.
She asked me if I could remember what I said to her when she stopped her car.
I said that I’d said get me away from here.
Apparently I screamed ‘Get me away from here some women have been nasty to me in the lounge’.
It’s funny how the mind decompartmentalises things (is that the right word, it seems too long?) and shields the big stuff, so that the little stuff comes to the front.
Kaz invited me to a fund raising event next Friday. There’s going to be six local bands on at the Cav. Mark an ex-client of mine has got cancer, it started as testicular cancer, but he’s found secondaries in his lungs and on his liver. The town are fund-raising to send him to Florida with his wife and kids before he dies. I needed that to show me that there are people worse off than me.
I’m looking forward to next Friday, by then I should be back to full fitness and I want to forget everything and just have a really good night. Am I wrong to feel like that when my Babies have just died? I don’t think so.
My cousin died last December. Les (his mother) was out every night before he was even in his grave. I knew what the town were saying. And I was itching, aching, desperate to hear one of them.
I’m not a big drinker, and I never ever drink when I’m down unless it’s to have a good time and be in good company and have a laugh, but I know for a fact, if Mark or Cli died, I’d want to be so drunk that I was incapable of feeling anything at all.
One night I had Les in my bed and we were sitting up writing Dave’s eulogy. Neither of us like the taste of alcohol but we had a bottle of vodka in bed with us and drank it neat as we wrote. It was the only way we could do it.
But this is going to be happy thoughts only so I’ve got to add this. It was so funny.
I went with Les to firstly identify his body, and then later to see him for the first time in the chapel.
She insisteed on taking him a hot water bottle in case he was cold (daft bag) the man was on his way out to leave us alone, but he hovered in the background I think he was worried that the heat from the bottle might melt Dave or make him smell or something. The police had kept his body for over three weeks. It was three days before Christmas.
She leaned over the coffin and tucked his water bottle in. she leant over and said
“Night night darling, I do love you.”
I had tears tripping me up.
She stood up to move away fom him for a minute, then she leant back over him and said.
“By the way you still owe me forty quid you little Bastard.”
Well I nearly fell in the coffin laughing, it couldn’t be held in. Les and I clung to each other laughing our heads off and crying our eyes out and the litle man in his formal black suit nearly choked.
There have been two murder’s in our family. My Mother when I was five and Dave last year. He was twenty four. He was a sweet, kind considerate lad.
But he was sub human you see, and not worthy of anybody’s love. To the town he was only a drug addict. But he was our David, who never, ever, no matter how strung out he was, stole from his Mother, or old ladies or anyone in his family. He might have nicked car stereo’s I’m not condoning that, but he never hurt anyone. And we watched him suffer every single time he tried to clean up and failed. And when he failed the one thing that made him cry was the fact that he’d let his mother and his sister’s down again.
David was a man.
He had his stuff cut by someone he owed money to with warfarin. The man who murdered our David got four miserable years. Because Dave was only a junkie.
My friend Simon King has finished his most recent novel, he’s asked me to eidit it for him. I’m honoured to do it. He’s a fine writer. I’ll do five chapter’s at a time in hard copy and run behind him so that as he edits five he’ll send them to me and I’ll go over them. He’s paternally protective of his work and doesn’t take negative critisism very well, so to have his trust in me means a lot.
I’m missing Mark terribly, but I’ve got my dog and my cat and my lizards. I’ve got a nice home and things could be a lot worse than they are. I’m still hurting a lot, but I don’t think I’m going to drop over the edge of sanity any more (though other’s obviously don’t agree with me on that one!)
And another good thing to finish on. I’m even going to check this entry for typo’s in my mania I didn’t do the last two, and bloody hell does it show!
Night Night all.
Big Brother in fifteen mintues.
Oh God what will I do after this week? It will all be over, How will I cope? How will I exist between ten and ten thirty every night. I will not think bad thoughts. I will not think bad thought. Oh no BB.
Mercy!
;-)
Okay I was done for the night .. but I have to comment.
Tonight jade said in the most innocent voice.
“Kate your orange peel doesn’t look so bad in those brown tights.”
The she looked round at the shocked faces. Nobody could quite believe she’d said something so bitchy.
“What? What have I said? Did I say something wrong?”
I’ve said all along that she’s not nearly so thick as she appears. In fact I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we see the ‘real’ Jade when she comes out. She’s a dental nurse. I can’t imagine her lasting two minutes in a surgery with that voice. I may well be wrong but I think she’s been in character for the last eight weeks. I don’t think that’s her voice. I don’t think she’s stupid and her job doesn’t fit at all with her personality.
“ Inspector Morse, Mr, Hein-stein (einstien) and Mother Theresa are related”
“Tic-tacs” tactics
“Portuginal” portugal.
“What am I, an accordianist?” Ventriloquist
Er Jade I think a ventriloquist is exaclty what you are.
Friday 26th July 2002.
I’m feeling much better now, though still very tired, today especially. Not sleepy tired, that would be understandable as I stayed up all last night (explantation later) , but weary tired, as though every mouvement is too much effort.
But I’m going to have to get my lazy carcas into gear because like it or not, ready or not, I’m back at work tomorrow.
So much for ‘Take as much time as you need love. Don’t come back until you’re ready love. Don’t worry about work love, we’ll sort it all out.’
Surprise, Surprise they’re desperate, but then so am I, I need the money. Yesterday I felt really good and was up for it, today I’m not so sure. They’ve swapped all my lifting calls, but I’ve got several non lifting baths to do and umpteen bed changes.
I have sixteen calls tomorrow and the same on Sunday. Plus I have two new clients, one cover and one permanent.
Today I had to do some shopping, I didn’t feel like getting ready and going out but I had to, Poor Kali has been on tins of cat food for the last two days because I had no dog food in. Cat food is not good for dogs, but I don’t suppose two tins mixed with loads of complete dog food will do her any harm.
I went to the bank, the bakery because Kaz and her two daughter’s were coming for lunch and the co-op. I was out less than an hour and when I got home I felt so washed out I couldn’t even empty the car. Dreading work tomorrow now.
As I said I never went to bed last night. I started a new story yesterday that I’m quite fired up about. If I can make it work I think it’s a quite unusual concept. Normally I write short stories in one hit, or novel chapters in one hit. Although I’m really keen on the Idea of this story, I don’t know if I have the right words to do it justice. So after only about a thousand words I didn’t feel that it was going as well as I wanted it to and abandoned it for another day when my concentration is better. I watched BB until two a.m. but all the time this story was nagging at me.
I have two types of writing sleep depravation. Sometimes I have an idea, and once I’ve worked out who my characters are, where my plot is going, and a few general details, I can roll over and go to sleep.
The other kind I suppose the exciting kind (though it’s a pain in the arse at the time) Is when I start having character conversation. And describing to myself in minute detail everything that’s going to happen. In effect I start talking the story through in my mind. When that happens I have no chance in hell of getting any sleep. Fighting it is a complete waste of time, and, regardless of what I’ve got on the next day, the only thing to do it get up and do the damned writing.
It was one of those nights last night.
I got up at two thirty and began to write. But the words of a song kept going through my head and distracting me. I had read a diary entry on ABC by someone else and he mentioned the song ‘The fields of Athenry’ It is one of my favourite songs because it was always the concluding song sung round the camp fire ‘Auld Lang Syne’ style at the Spitting Pig bike rally. So it brought back some powerful memories.
I tried to continue writing my story, but suddenly I remembered about a competition I wanted to enter on Getoutthere. The competition was to write an event review. I haven’t really been anywhere for sometime, and memories of last concerts and things are but hazy memeories. But the details of those rally’s are as clear as If I attended yesterday. I found myself recounting conversations I’d had almost word for word. Remembered the sounds and the smells, remembered being slim and sexy. Remembered being happy.
The story (bless it) was once again cast aside and at two fifty-five. I began writing the event through the eyes of a reporter. Six thiry am and it was written, edited and posted on getoutthere and ABC. I’m pleased with the result and couldn’t care less if it does any good in the comp or not, I enjoyed writing it and enjoyed the memories as they came to me. I haven’t done anything remotely in the way of journalism before so this was a first for me. It’s probably way off beam for what they want, but it doesn’t matter because it did me good.
I’m not going to get much sleep tonight either. I’ve decided to go out (though not out,out) Sod it. Kaz and the girls came for lunch and sad cows that we are we spent an hour talking about BB. I’m heavily into psychology and there are some interesting characters there. Before all this trouble started last week, Kaz and I had made arrangements to go out tonight, of course that had to be cancelled. Somehow I don’t think my poor old bod is up to a night of wild clubbing round Barrow. Okay I’m bragging not so wild, in fact rather sedate these days, but clubbing non-the-less. I told Karen that even if I hadn’t been in hospital I’d have been cancelling, because it’s the grand final of BB. I was actually joking I’m not that addicted. Well only because I’ve got a video
Kaz is on her own too tonight, Grants away, and the kids are going to my Brother’s so she sugested getting a bottle of voddie and me going to hers and watching it together. Big Brother is also on so we might watch that as well as long as it doesn’t affect Big Brother. Let me explain the ‘real’ Big Brother is on The George Orwell version.
My God I’ve just read the last few paras back and can’t believe how sad I sound. When BB started I missed the first four weeks of it. I had a partner, I had a job in the evenings, I had a life. Sad cow.
Anyway I’ll drive to kaz’s, but I can’t stay the night because there’s no one here to have Kali, and ‘The Lady Of The Manor’ wouldn’t dream of having my scruffy dog in her luxury home. My last dog Jinny sneaked up stairs and crapped on her carpet when she was a puppy, Kaz fell out with me for six months and has never really forgiven me. I don’t know what all the fuss was about, It was a hardish one, it didn’t stain the carpet. And was it Jinny’s fault that Karen’s oaf of a husband decied to walk into the darkened bedroom barefoot?
I would die rather than inconvinience my eldest son in his too-busy-to-call-his-Mother-life. So I’ll have to walk home and leave my car. My first call tomorrow is not far from Karen’s house so I’ll set off early in the morning to walk back and go to work. .. With a galloping hangover … and vertigo …. And belly ache …Oh My God I must be mad. I might chicken it before then and go t-total tonight. It would make life a lot easier. But after all the hassle of the last week, I just feel like a couple of glasses of voddie and a laugh.
As I hinted in my last post, I’ve had another bit of a trauma. I’ve said at length that I went a bit loop-lah in the hospital. Come on I’d just lost a baby, had some horrible experiences with family and various incidents of humilitation, I’d been worried over my animals and I almost died. Now I may be wanting to play the martyr here but I do think that entitles me to go a bit crazy and flip out some. Mark wasn’t there and nobody was hurt ,except maybe my pride considerably.
At the time I was offered counselling, and a memorial service for friends and family to attend and a brass plaque in the memorial garden. Non of that was going to bring my babies back and I just plain didn’t want it. What’s the point of public weeping and wailing. Angie’s dead, Alex is dead, so are all the other’s deal with it girl. Hard? Yes, but please don’t think that I don’t care. I don’t need plaques and garden’s I need sterilisation and they refused me that. Mind you a diary might be nice if they are offering, it’s getting difficult keeping track of the names of all of these children of mine. I can list the seven dead ones off pat, but when I try to do it in order and add my two living children I get all mixed up. Some people learn to say the alphabet backwards (I’ve always meant to do that, good party trick) I could do with learning to recite my children’s names.
Anyway after what happened to me, and signing myself out against doctors wishes,(which was absolutely the right thing for me, it might not have been for everybody, but for me it was) they insisted that I have a district nurse for ten days. Her main role is to check my pad. I’m not even wearing a bloody pad (no pun intended), just a tiny pantie liner as a precaution. The lady that came was B. I’ve worked with her, I still have to work with her occasionally when our paths cross, she is a lovely person. I made her a brew and we sat and talked. Suddenly she wasn’t my work friend, she was my nurse, I didn’t like that.
She asked to see my pad. I said that there was no need. The thing is I’m not even ashamed, so many people saw my bits and bobs last week, that it probably wouldn’t bother me dropping my knickers on Tudor Square car-park for everyone to have a shuftie. But to me it is a matter of principle. I just want it to be over.
She said ‘come on Sooz what’s the big deal, it will only take a second and then I can be on my way’ How many times have I cajooled clients in exactly the same way. She was talking nurse-talk at me. ‘I have to see.’
I told her that she might have to see, but that I most certainly don’t have to show. She left wirth a bit of a flea in her ear.
I know I’m my own worst enemy sometimes. I don’t regret leaving the hospital, but I do regret being so hot-blooded about it. I should have shown B what she wanted to see (bless her some people have the strangest desires) it would have taken thirty seconds. But I felt that my rights were being violated and got my stubborn head on.
The hospital wrote their pretty little reports.
My friend B filed her report.
I got a phone call.
“Miss Simpson? This is C D from Ulverston Social Servicess. I’ve had a call from Furness General Hospital and they wondered if it would be possible for me to come and talk to you. You see, they are a bit worried about the way you are feeling, a bit concerned about your state of mind. I believe you have young children Miss Simpson. We thought it might be nice for you if you just had someone to have a talk too about recent events.”
Roughly translated, We think you’re nuts, and need to see if you’re planning a murder suicide for you and your son. I really don’t do myself any favours sometimes.
Well after my childhood if there’s on thing I learned it’s that you don’t play fast and loose with the good old Social Services. I’ve had no personal dealing with the SS since the day I turned sixteen and found myself out on the streets because I refused to go into a half way house full of prostitutes and junkies. I liease (sp) with them on a daily basis in my professional life, most of my clients are SS refferal. I know the way they work.
They will have pulled my file from all those years ago. Paranoid? On this occasion no, you’d better believe that I know what I’m talking about. They are the terriers of the caring profession. Once they get hold they don’t ket go.
Mother murdered by father, age five.
Father aquitted through insufficient evidence, aged six.
Reluctantly returned to Father, aged six.
Taken from Father for mental and physical abuse, aged nine, (Oh but I hid the big one from them that time).
Fourteen sets of foster parents, aged nine - eleven.
Two Care schools, age eleven - sixteen
Detatchment disorder, E.S.N age eleven - sixteen
Not our problem aged sixteen.
I’m not the best mother in the world, and God knows I’ve messed up plenty when it comes to the men in my life. But we do okay. Mark is healthy and happy. He’s clean clothed and fed. I have never laid a hand on either of my boys in anger in my life. And the last thing I need is Social Servises interfereing in my life Thank-you-very-much.
This time I was wise enough to hold my councel. Temper tantrums aren’t going to halep my cause one little bit. I’ll let him come, I’ll answer his questions. I’ll show him that we’ve got a nice home and a reasonable life, and hopefully he’ll bugger off and leave us alone.
Monday eleven-o-clock.
Oh Well Myra’s just come. She’s ‘had a couple’ got to find a tactful way of getting her to go home because it’s time I got ready to go out.
See you later ….
Saturday 27th July 2002.
Had a Really good night last night. Went to Karen’s to watch BB, and it’s ages since I’ve had a good old girlie night where you just sit and gossip and talk about rubbish. In the end I decided not to have a drink the long walk home and then back to Barrow this morning at the crack of dawn just was’nt worth the momentary pleasure.
So Kate won…and I was proved wrong, yup Jade REALLY is just as thick as she came across. Well would you believe it? If I ever travel south please remind me to go to the dentist before I go so that I don’t need treatment while I’m down there. Jade’s dress was awful, baby pink satin and not a flattering cut at all. Kate on the other hand looked tremendous. Though I do think Jade has a beautiful face.
Ade’s just gone he came round to fix my shower screen that Mark had somehow managed to pull out of the wall. We were talking about how crap the television is lately and the upshot was that he got me all fired up about getting Sky again. Especially with the six weeks holidays and Mark being home. And of course I’m in so much more now, I don’t go out much apart from going to work.
I thought it would be a lovely surprise for Mark to come home to, One of the joys of being a parent is being able to surprise your kids with the odd treat. I know I wouldn’t have been able to get it installed by tomorrow when he comes home.
Anyway I grabbed my credit card. I did have the decency to ask it how it was feeling before I callously drained it’s resourses any more. I knew that I probably wouldn’t be able to afford the top package because that’s forty quid a month. But Ade said it starts from ten quid with no sport, loads of kids programmes and one movie channel. Perfect, I hate sport and that sounded good enough for our needs. Anyway the tenner package was crap, no film channels at all. The next one up at sixteen quid a time was better but it still only had one film channel and the woman said it was pretty crap. She shot herself in the foot there going for the top package hard sell because I never had any intention of getting that one, but if she hadn’t said the hallmark channel was crap I’d probably have gone for the deal. But she said all the films are old ones and it wasn’t really worth the money. So I was feeling pretty disheartened anyway. But then she droped the bombshell that if you were going for the top package, installation was thirty quid. Last time I got sky when I was married I’m sure the installation was free. Mind you we did have the best one then. However if you were going for the ten or sixteen quid deals installation is a hundred quid … sod that! Mark will just have to make do with good old terrestrial TV for a bit longer.
I’ll sleep tonight, I’ve had very little sleep the last two nights. Myra wants me to go to the Karaoke at the Black Bull with her tonight, it seems a shame to waste my week
of freedom by not taking advantage of not needing a babysitter, but I’m working until nine ish anyway, and I don’t feel like it. I could get bathed and put my make-up on before I go on my evening calls, I have done that in the past. That means that when I get finished I’ve just got to change out of my uniform. But when I’ve wiped backsides and dealt with less than savoury jobs I feel filthy again. I’ve only got two hours work tonight and none of them are too bad but even so if I’m going out I like to feel nice and incontinence pads just don’t do it for me. So I think I’ve just sucessfully talked myself out of it. Also and I really don’t mean to be nasty here, but Myra isn’t exaclt my first choice of people I’d like to be spending a night out with. Is that horrible? I don’t mean to be.
I’m supposed to be going to the flicks with Ade next week to see Men in Black 2. Ade fancies one of the lasses who works at the Roxy. He says he’ll introduce me as his sister. I said why don’t you just tell her the truth that were mates. His answer to that was that she might think there’s something going on then. And what about if he does get together with her? The start of their relationship is going to be built on a lie. If they become serious presumably at some point she’s going to suss that the sibling rivalry between Ade and I has a less than tenuous family link. But I needn’t have worried, he assures me he doesn’t want to get serious with her, he just wants to get into her knickers. Oh well! That’s alright then Ade!
I got a phone call from M (boss) when I got in this morning. She just wanted to check a dosage with me. As she was about to hang up she said.
“Oh by the way I had a complaint about you today.”
It had to be old Mud Guts. I’ve got a brilliant bunch of clients, I’m really lucky in that at the moment I’ve only got one who I don’t like, and she’s more trouble than the rest of them put to gether. Apart from her I can have a laugh and a joke with all of them. Really great people.
So I said “Oh what have I done to upset my favourite client now?”
M said that it wasn’t from Mrs. R it was from A. I was really shocked. A’s fantastic and we get on really well, everything had seemed fine when I left her this morning.
Every so often M goes round various clients just for a visit to ask them if they are happy with their care and if they have any complaints or anything they want changing. Sometime this week she’d been to see A.
I asked what the problem was.
M was laughing. “Oh it was only a joke complaint. Apparently you didn’t do the can-can when you left.”
When I leave I always ask all my clients if there’s anything else I can do for them before I go. Some clients, particulalry the elderly ones don’t like to ask for things. Every day I get people saying “I don’t want to be a niusance” (usually just before they are )
Anyway last time I did A, I asked her as I was leaving if she wanted anything else. She said she didn’t think so. So I said song? Dance? Cartwheels? Can-can?
Fancy complaining because I didn’t do the can-can for her . Hell if I attempted the splits I’d end up in traction for six months. I’ll get my own back, she loves a bit of fun.
I am having real problems with Mrs.R though. In our job if there’s a real clash of personality, and we have valid enough reason, we can ask to drop a client. I’ve been considering this with Mrs R. I’ve never done it before, but it’s turning into a running battle with her. I only got her as a favour to M because she’d been through just about every one else on the books.
To be honest, I don’t give a damn. I get my wage regardless of whether we are talking about the weather or arguing because I didn’t arrange her flowers the way she likes them done. But it has hit the point where we have ‘words’ every single time I go. She doesn’t like the order of my client list and her place in it. If she gets the early call that she screams and yells for, then I can’t stay over my alloted half hour. If she has a later call because she doesn’t have to go anywhere like some of my other’s do, then I can stay a little bit longer and do more for her, but she doesn’t get her breakfast until nine o clock. I could put the conversation down on a tape and just play it to her every day. It’s the same old argument every single day. Day in day out. And now we’ve hit the point where the first five or ten minutes of every call is spent explaining to her that I only go where I’m told, and do what I’m told, and that if she has a problem with it she should ring M (aint it great when you can pass the buck).
“You don’t care about me.”
And that’s why I’m considering dropping her. She’s damned right I don’t care about her. And that is so bloody wrong. That’s what’s wrong with our profession so many people are in it who don’t care. If I drop her from my list. Then she might get someone who does care about her. All I do is care FOR her. And maybe (pigs will fly, but just maybe) she might get someone that she can learn to like and build a rapport with. We’ve gone too far down the line with bumped heads to ever be friends.
I don’t like leaving a client’s house and thinking’ Miserable old bitch’ and no matter how much of a pain in the bum she is, she is paying (or at least social servicess are) for my respect . To be honest the call is one of the easy ones. All I do is change her dressings and make her a bit of tea and toast it’s a doddle. I’d rather be doing that than doing a full bath and bed change, but I just can’t find any nice feelings for her, and by God I’ve had my share of awkward clients.
This may be masochistic, but I usually like the cantankerous old gits, they are the ones with spirit and personality. M (not boss M, he he, Client M) is an alcoholic and some mornings if she’s been on the whiskey she can be pure evil, but I think she’s great. R has chronic M.S he’s only thirty six and he gets moody and frustrated. He throws the most amazing tantrums, but he’s so funny that you can’t stay angy with him for long. But Mrs R is just selfish to the core and I can’t be doing with her.
One day last week for the first time ever, I left her sitting with her breakfast, because I had to go to my next client. She purpousfully held me back by not eating it when I gave it to her. So I said that if she hadn’t finished it by half past nine I’d have to go. She called my bluff and didn’t even start it by half nine so I left.
She’s right in one respect though.
She should be able to enjoy her breakfast in peace without confrontation every day. I wouldn’t like to be told that I had half an hour to eat my meal or else.
I think Chyna might be gravid. She’s my alpha female Water Dragon. It’s her second adult season, I didn’t breed her last year, but I think the matter has been taken out of my hands this year. I’m not sure, but she’s off her food a little bit and is starting to get a bit aggressive towards Ecco-warrior. I know Eeks has had her once, right in the middle of the living room carpet.
“Ooh look shouted Myra, they’re fighting. That one’s dragging the other one across the floor.”
“Er Myra, that’s not fighting, that’s sex.”
So I maybe be having a clutch of thirty or so lizard eggs in a few weeks.
As for Logan and Saskia, my Bearded Dragons they’re at it all the time but there’s no evidence of her carrying yet.
Going to have to buy a propogator.
28th July 2002.
Ups and downs today.
Work was awful. After flying through my calls yesterday, I really struggled today. I felt so tired and weary. I seem to be having one good day, followed by one bad one. So going to pattern tomorrow should be a good un.
Big news of the day my baby’s home. I’ve missed Mark so much. I knew I was going to miss him anyway but with the added emotion of the last week it was awful, but he’s home now and he had a great time. I’m just glad he’s back.
The other big thing today is the fact that Cli’ finally turned up. I could barely look at him. It’s almost a week since I came out of hospital. We had words and there were tears on both sides.
He just kept saying that he didn’t know I was fighting for my life and my baby’s life in intensive care. He said that if he’d known he would have been there for me. I said that if he wasn’t so damned selfish, that if he cared about me he would have been there anyway.
He couldn’t believe that I accused him of not caring and oh the tears flowed all right, but where was he when I needed him? Lying with the latest of a long line of silly little girls. I almost died last week and it took Chris six days to come home. I only ever call him Chris or Christopher when I’m annoyed with him.
I’ve realised that unless I’m doing something for him, he really doesn’t care unless it suits him. Today I had worked all day then I had to clean the house and make a meal for Allie and David when they brought Mark home. I started cooking and fainted .. Cli freaked … see plays the loving son when it suits him or when his guilt buttons are sufficiently tweaked. I fell on the side of the fire and cut my forehead, but it’s nothing. Cli wanted me to go back to the hospital, but to hell with that I never want to see that place again.
Anyway Cli kindly took over the cooking and made a great job of it. Five minutes before I was going to dish up, cli said he had to nip out for ten mnutes so I held dinner up for him, when he came back he brought a friend with him. I was furious. Anyway luckily I had a pack of roast potatoes in the freezer and they deep fried in fifteen mnutes and the food stretched to feed everybody. I’ve asked him time and again not to do that. I hate deep fried roast potatoes, there’s no substitute for oven cooked ones
Been talking to T a lot, he’s turned into a good friend and I look forward to him coming on line. I always wait for him to speak to me though, I never message people on MSN because I never know if they are busy or not, I don’t like disturbing people so I always wait for them to speak to me, that way I know people really want to talk to me. That’s another way in which Tim has stolen my confidence, I used to know that people like me, now I have to wait for them to talk to me because I don’t want to be unwanted.
I’m really being persecuted on Story Mania. Since I had the original trouble with The Advisor, he’s been hounding me constantly. Every time I leave a review he or one of his associates leaves a disparaging message to humiliate me. And now he’s calling for me to be thrown off the site because he says I’m not a nice person. I’m getting an average of eleven e-mails a day pulling me to pieces. I even have people pretending to be my friend who turn out to be one of them. It’s awful. I got a lovely letter of support from a lady called Debbie today and my first thought was that it was a wind up. Then I saw her website and had a look it showed photos of her family, they’ve taken me for a fool so many times now, that I even wondered if the website was false. Isn’t that horrible when they make you so paranoid that you can’t accept a letter of friendship without being suspicious? She seems like a lovely lady.
It is upseting me, but I’m too stubborn to let him push me off. T says I should just cut my losses and never go back. After what I’ve been through it’s not worth the hassle. But apart from one snotty letter, I’ve never been anything but friendly and I don’t see why I should get off the site. I think it has the potential to be a good site if there were a few more nice people on it. T said that with there being so many friendly sites on the net, why bother with one that is making me miserable. But I think that if I leave now I’m proving to them that they were right and I did do something wrong. No way, I might leave, but I’ll leave when either I’m good and ready or when the site administrators ask me to leave.
I think I need to clear up what might have been a slight misunderstanding. I’ve been reading through some of my past entries. When I was on about writing Dave’s eulogy I mentioned that Les and I were in bed together, suppose I’d better point out that I’m not a Lesbian. Les was just too upset to be left on her own even for a second. She was obviously a mess. I also need to say that it’s no bloody wonder that woman is single I have never known anybody to fling themselves about so much. I ended up sleeping on the floor. But let she who is without sin cast the first stone, apparently I snore! I refute this fact to the hilt, but both Tim and Mark asure me it’s true. I blame the dog.
Cli has just been back .. My God twice in one day. Called to ask Mark if he wants to go fishing one day this week. He is being a concientious son. My My.
29th July 2002.
Horrible day today. Had to call in sick this morning. My boss played holy hell with me for letting her down and asked if I could just do the new lady that I was starting this morning. I went back to work too early I think and the aneamia is making it difficult to get through. I felt awful but I said that I couldn’t. Mark had to get up at eight thirty and take the keys to her.
Yesterday I had a call in Ulverston. I drove the few miles into Barrow, and parked up outside a clients house then thought ‘what the hell am I doing here?’ Dalton is in the middle of Ulverston and Barrow each eight miles at either side. A few times I’ve found myslef in the wrong lane when I’ve been driving , and on my last call I put R’s clean underpants on and started pulling them up before I realised that I hadn’t taken the dirty ones off or washed his bottom. Okay small lackings in concentration and I’m still well on the ball and double checking when dealing with drugs, but what if I make a mistake? It really annoyes me that A’s been off for two weeks with a cold.
I’m very concerned about my right hand. About three inches past where the canular went in, at the point where my wrist meets my hand on the back, there is the carpal valley between the two wrist bones. I have a large swelling in there that feels hard like a piece of cartillage, I suppose it’s a swollen vein but it doesn’t feel like it. I have another one at the side of my hand the opposite side to the ripped artery (that isn’t so bad, just a bit tender) the two hard bits are very sore and I’m a bit concerned because there’s a lot of weakness there. . Suppose it might just be healing something or other’s see how it is in a week or so.
I’m back at work tomorrow. Hope it’ll be okay.
I got up and did a load of house work today even though I felt awful because this damned social worker was supposed to be coming at eleven. I’ve got myself quite worked up about it. Ten-forty-five he rang to postpone until four-o-clock tomorrow (Tuesday).
I had to go to bed for a couple of hours this afternoon couldn’t keep my eyes open Yeuk that’s what old people do! I had the most fantastic nightmare that with a bit of tweaking will make a good story. It involved stalkers and mark being kidnapped.
Obviously because I was taken away by Social Servicess when I was a kid it’s playing on my mind that Mark might be. I know that’s ridiculous I’m a good mother, or at least I’m not a bad one. Either way they have no reason to take my son. All I did was discharge myself from hospital.
I read something today that I found interesting. Apparently 75% of all physically and sexually abused people (both sexes I assume) go into the caring profession.
While I was thinking it occurred to me that one day I made the descision that no man would ever hit me again. No man ever has and that was over fifteen years ago. Why then, do I let men use me? Not just men anybody who wants to really. Why not just say that from this day on, no one will ever use me again?
The thing with being battered or raped is that you know it’s happening. With mental abuse and being used you often don’t realise it’s happening until it’s too late. I’m a pleaser. If I care about someone, I will do absolutely anything to make them happy. Which doesn’t mean that I’m particularly wimpy or mouse-like, I’m not, I just like to please people.
When I think about it though, I don’t WANT to change that, I just want the people I have contact with to change. See I figure that if I’m good to people they’ll be good in return. But it seems that if you are good to people they sit back and let you do everything, pay everything, give everything. I don’t want to become selfish with my time, my efforts, my emotions or my money. I just want my friends, family, lovers, empolyers to give something too.
Since Tim’s been gone and with all the troubles I’ve had lately, I’ve come to the realisation that I don’t need a man in my life. I can be more content on my own. It’s been a tough decision but I’ve decided to stay on my own now until Mark has left home. I got divorced five years ago and already I’ve had two lovers move in with us. One for eighteen months and one for seven. That’s not good for Mark. No more broken dolls, we don’t need it.
This last month I’ve been craving someone to hold me and make everything all right so much, but we’ve got by. Surely the worst is over now and nothing else can go wrong. And I did it alone and without a man to lean on. I’ve never, in my life, had a man to lean on. They’ve always leant on me. I’ve always, in every single relationship I’ve ever had (including platonic friends) I’ve always been the dominant partner. The point is, that I can get through without a partner. We are so conditioned to be part of a couple. All my life I’ve been looking for normalacy, looking to be part of that perfect couple who pull together and make a great team. What’s wrong with doing okay by yourself? I’ve slept with seven men. Two husbands, four lovers and one, one night stand. With the exception of the last one they have all been ‘for life’. For God’s sake I KNEW it wasn’t going to work with Tim, it was impossible, but I always think that if I love them enough , if I can just learn to be good enough I can do it. From now on I’m going to channel all that energy into making it work for me on my own. I’m not going to subject Mark to another man who leaves us.
The problem is affection .. and of course Sex! I have an incredibly high sex-drive. I associate sex with being loved. Therefore only when I’m making love to someone, and they are having sex with me do I feel most wanted and loved. I like sex probably more than a lot of women. My cousin has been by herself now for about four years she’s had a few one-nighter’s but nothing serious. She says that the longer you go without sex, the easier it becomes, until in the end you don’t even miss it. I can’t imagine a time when I don’t miss sex. Well apart from the last week! My cousin doesn’t even masturbate. I can’t imagine getting though another week without an orgasm, let alone the next six years or so until Mark leaves home.
T asked me tonight if I’d ever considered Lesbianism. The answer is yes. I have seriously. I can’t imagine a woman ever treating me as cruelly or as sadistically as Tim did. I think I’d make a good lesbian.
The truth is though I’m not a lesbian, and I don’t think it’s something you can just choose to become. The thought of making love with a woman is abhorrent to me. I think everything about a woman would be too soft, I like a man’s hardness. Right from the kiss down, everyting would feel wrong. A woman’s lips would be too soft. I like the feel of a hard male chest .. ugh boobs .. nasty .. and I don’t think we’ll go any further south than that thank-you.
I do have the capacity to love a woman though. Kaz and I were talking about this very subject last week. Kaz and I are close, but she keeps people at arm’s length, she has her immediate family and that’s all she needs. Kaz feeds off security and she always has that.
Although we are family, we’ve led very different lives. She has always had my brother’s security and financial backing. If she and G have money problems Tony bales them out. I’ve never had anybody to fall back on. And the nearest thing I ever had to security was from a lady called Marian who took me under her wing when I was with her son for seven years. After M and I split up Marain and I didn’t.
Kaz said that although we’ve been close ish, I’ve always forged frindships with other women. And that’s true, during my first marriage I was close to an old primary school Friend until she slept with my husband.
Then there’s Les although she’s family we were very close until a couple of years ago when she had a bit of a flirt with Tat. We are mates again now, but things have cooled considerably.
And then three years ago I met Jan. Cli was seeing her daughter Jemma. And Jem came to babysit for me. Through Jem I became friends with Jan, and within days we hit it off and became inseperable. I was with Tat but that was fine Jan and her family just fitted right along in with us. And we all tended to do things together. Jan met Sean and for awhile things were great. The four of us camped and partied and sometimes just sat round watching TV or playing daft games.
Tat and I split up and suddenly it was different. Almost over night Jan dropped me.
Three months later she rang in tears, saying that it ws all over with Sean and she desperately needed two things, a friend and a night out.
It was just like old times.
But then it got freaky. One morning I came downstairs and Jan and Cli’ were naked on the living room floor together. He was eighteen she was forty one.
Okay!
They were both adults.
I went upstairs and had a shower. I freaked out a little bit, had a minor nervous breakdown, thought it was funny and laughed, thought it was tragic and cried ..dried myself off and came down stairs having dealt with it.
They were sitting nervously downstairs waiting for whatever might errupt, they’ve both seen me kick off plenty and were pretty nrevous.
I winked at Jan and asked the one question every mother wants to know.
“So is he well hung then?”
They both blushed and then Jan killed herself laughing and said.
“You’re so cool. I love you.”
I loved her too, she was my best mate and we had fantastic times together.
My only worry was that she’d be hurt when Cli’ inevitably got bored with the Mrs. Robinson thing and moved on.
It lasted a few months and in those few months I’d never seen so much of my eldest offspring (though not literally) or my best mate.
Eventually sure enough round about Christmas it began to go a bit stale, Cli’s a kid, he became unreliable started letting her down. She met Ade. I knew the day they met that Ade was wrong for her. Why is it you can see right and wrong for other people but never for yourself? I said my piece to both of them and then left it at that.
Things were okay we saw each other maybe once a week. Which was fine obviously when you’re courting you don’t have as much time for friends. I was by this time flirting heavily with Tim. It was fun, he was the much younger, lovely bloke and I was the fool in the pub who made him laugh. We had our own version of ‘follow the van’. I always kept mints down my cleavage for him. But at that point he was only a fantasy. I fancied him rotten but didn’t think I stood a cat in hell’s chance with him.
Christmas eve we had our first snog. And that was it I was doomed.
Christmas day, Jan gave Cli’ a watch that she’d bought for him before they split up. They ended up in bed together despite the fact tat she was now with Ade.
Mark and I spent Christmas alone, it was a horrible day. The highlight was meeting up with Tim as we walked up main street (completely chance meeting) he persuaded me to go to the pub with him. It was the best part of Christmas, he was great with Mark and he was lonely and upset at being alone too. He came home with us for the evening, and before he left we had a kiss and cuddle.
Between Christmas and New Year we saw quite a bit of each other. It was nice.
On New Years Eve Jan and I were going out. I’d offered to give it a miss so that she could go out with Ade, that’s what couples do, but Jan said that We’d had this planned for ages and that she’d much rather go out with me, because although Ade is nice he’s not much of a laugh. Besides she wanted to get as many New year kisses as she could and couldn’t do that with Ade because he was very jealous.
We had a great night, Jan was using her phone a lot. At eleven o clock Ade walked into the pub and it was daggers drawn. He totally pushed me out. For twenty minutes he kissed and cuddeld Jan with his back to me. They never spoke to me again. Yes I was jealous. Jealous because I didn ‘t have any body and jealous because my mate had called him to invade our girls night out.
At ten to twelve we started to make our way to the Cross in Ulverston. I saw my arse good style because Ade was pulling Jan along so fast that I was left behind. I lagged .. and seethed and then did an about turn and walked the other way. They didn’t even notice.
Midnight and I was half a mile out of town at the start of one of the longest lonliest walks I’ve ever made. It was snowing and very slippy. I had five inch stillettoes on and my feet were killing me. The fireworks went off and I could hear everybody cheering. It was awful. The only cars to pass on the eight mile walk were pretty much taxi’s and they never stopped. I had a long black skirt on and a gypsie top, no coat. When I finally got home my legs were blue. Temper carried me home quickly despite the sorest feet I’ve ever had in my life and slippery roads. I got in at four fifty.
Jan had her own drama that night she and Ade went home in the taxi (I’d booked) after the celebrations. At two o clock in the morning Sean rang and said he wanted her back so she left Ade’s bed and got a taxi to see Sean she slept with him that night.
I started seeing Tim properly New Years Day and we slept together for the first time that night. Start of the year and all that it seemed like the perfect omen. Later I found out that he’d slept with Maureen my nemesis the night before.
A month later Jan found out she was pregnant. She told everyone it was Seans they are still together. But in reality it’s a three horse race. It could be Sean’s but it could also be Ade’s. It could even be my Grandchild. Messy eh?
I don’t mean to make Jan sound bad, she’s a lovely person, with a heart of gold. She just makes poor choices sometimes. She's more screwed up than I am.
An hour ago I put a can of Fanta Fruit Twist in the freezer. I’m waiting for the ice to start crystalising in it. The trick is to take it out before it either freezes completely or explodes. It’s lovely.
See I waffled off on a tangent again didn’t I?
I think what I’m trying to say is that I miss Jan.
Mark has been brilliant today bless him. He went into town and paid some bills for me. He hoovered up and had a tidy round and he bathed the dog. Sometimes he’s far too responsible for a ten year old. I guess that’s what comes of being the man of the house.
Night night.