30th July 2002

[sue_simpson]

Tuesday 30th July 2002.

Another day dawns in the happy hovel and Mark decides first thing, that he doesn’t want to come to work with me. Well that makes two of us kid, I don’t want to go to work with me either, I want to snuggle down in bed and let the world drift past. He doesn’t see why he should have to come to work with me. Well I agreee with him again, he shouldn’t have to. I shouldn’t have to buy endless comics and magazines, game boy and personal cd batteries and sweets crisps, and fizzy drinks, to bribe him to sit quietly in the car while I work. And in an ideal world I shouldn’t have to work the school holidays when he’s at home, but it `aint an ideal world and I do have to work the school holidays. Deal with it now son, in fact now’s a good time to realise that the world’s shitty and in actual fact these awful years are probably the best your’e going to get. At least this way the dog gets walked in my time, not yours. When he gets home his time is his own. One of my calls is in Leece a beautiful village built around a tarn. While I work, Mark walks Kali round the tarn.

Apart from burning myself quite badly I had a good day today. I needed one of those ‘I’m great at my job’ buzz days to remind me why I don’t just melt into the state and let them keep us.

I was at B’s my first client and managed to pour a kettle of boiling water all over my forearm. Luckily it isn’t bad, could have been very much worse but …pay attention now …here I go with the science stuff again. Boiling water spills on arm and arm moves very, very quickly out of the way. I’ve got a hell of a blister though and it’s still stinging like hell.

What if that had been a client? I really do feel as though I’m temporarily incompetant.

The rest of the shift went well. My adled brain managed to get me to the right places at near enough the right times. I only worked five hours today. But my boss rang and asked me if I could do a call in Ulverston at ten. I said that I couldn’t and she still managed to make me feel guilty. I explained that I could get there by eleven but ten was no good. I got the usual ‘well that’s too late and there’s no one else to do it.’ After I hung up I felt inadequte because I couldn’t fit an extra call in, but my last two calls were 10-11 and 11-12 so even if I’d stuck it in at eleven it would have meant robbing two clients of some time that they were entitled to, meaning that no less than three client’s wouldn’t get their alloted time.

R is still getting fresh scabie sores. I’ve treated him for it twice and they seem completely immune to the derbac. Next weekend I’ll have to try a new prescription. But I’m furious. I asked for aprons weeks ago, they still haven’t got any in. How the hell are you supposed to follow the correct hygiene procedures, and reduce the risk of passing infection between clients when the correct tools for the job aren’t made available? For over three weeks now I’ve alternated ‘stealing’ an apron from an MRSA client and an HIV client every time I go. Soon they are going to run out of aprons. So here’s the moral dilemna. These clients have to have their medications and treatments, and I have a duty to myself and my other clients to make sure that all infections and contagions are confined. Do I refuse to treat these people? By refusing to go to them what does that do to their moral? I’ve played hell with the office again. I told them that if aprons weren’t provided by this week I wouldn’t be doing R. But of course I have. When they finally arrive I’m going to fiddle my request form so that I’ve got a spare packet of aprons to keep in the car. I’ve already got a box of latex gloves sitting on my dashboard. We shouldn’t be put in the position where we have to do that.

I called for the first time at a new client today. Mrs. R (not old mud guts another Mrs.R) She’s a feisty woman in her late forties with early onset osteoporosis and chronic psoriasis. She wears a terrible wig, but of course I don’t know that (don’t stare at her hair, don’t stare at her hair) This lady has always been fiercely independent and deeply resents the fact that her family have put care hours in for her. The family are stretched to the limits having to look after her and one of the main functions of the care is just to have someone going in every single day to make sure she’s okay as she lives alone. My job specifically is to gain her confidence enough for her to let me massage her head and body with medication to combat the psoriasis. Nobody has seen this lady without her wig in ten years. The sores are growing from her head and escaping down her face and all over her body. Of course with scratching they are becoming infected and she won’t let anybody help her. It’s robbed her of her life.

She was very unwelcoming when I went and was quite verbally aggressive. Telling me quite plainly that she doesn’t need any help and can manage by herself. Her house is immaculate and she does indeed manage her life and her household affairs and such as long as she doesn’t leave the house. This treatement is virtually guaranteed to help and can give her back her life again. I didn’t even attempt to mention the psoriasis today. Today’s task was merely to get her to let me in and agree to see me on Saturday. The problem is that although the family want her to have the care and the treatment, she doesn’t want it. We can’t go over her head, because she is treating her condition with creams so it will not become life threatening. She is of sound mind and can think and make decisions for herself. Therefore I can only enter if she agrees to it. I have a key to her house and was told not to tell her. Mention of the key came up when she asked how I’d get in if ever I did find her lying hurt somewhere. There was no way I was going to lie to her. So I told her about the key. To say she wasn’t happy is an under statement, and if I’d had to hand it over my boss would not have been pleased with me. I managed to persuade her to let me keep the key and convinced her that I’d only ever use it in emergencies. I agreed with everything she said. It is horrible having strangers parading in and out of your home. It’s very difficult to have an argument when your contender is on your side. Gradually her shoulders relaxed and she asked me if I’d like a cup of coffee. I didn’t even offer to make it! Result I grudgingly get to go back on Saturday. It’s going to take a while to gain her confidence enough to begin treating her, but the first steps have been achieved okay. This one’s a real kid gloves case.

The reason I feel so good about today is that this lady’s care was supposed to begin yesterday. When I called in sick they cancelled the care start because they specifically wanted me to be the one to go and break the ice with her. So rather than put somebody else in, they postponed it until today. That made me feel really good. Sometimes the job is the pits of hell, you have clients moaning at you from one side and management banging on from the other. And on days like that I wonder why the hell I bother. Days like this remind me why I do.

On the subject of the first Mrs. R .. I spoke to my boss today and she’s persuaded me to give it a little longer. M doesn’t think she’ll fare any better with someone else and at least I’m used to her and her ways.

The swellings IN my hand have become worse this morning. I’m getting quite worried about them. I have two clients who have recently come out of hospital and had canualrs inserted and neither of them have it.

I’m furious, really annoyed with myself. Les rang today I haven’t seen her since she didn’t pick my car up for me. She said she was having withdrawal symptoms from Maj-jong and that she was on her way round to use my computer. I told her that it was not convinient because I’ve got this social worker coming at four and needed to clean my house. She said that was alright I could work round her. I hate people under my feet when I’m trying to get cleaned up, it really annoys me. I can do my housework in an hour if I’m left to get on with it. Then I said she couldn’t use the computer because I’m using it, she blew that one right out of the water by saying that I could use it until I started on my housework and then she would have it. Of course she got her own way.

I don’t mind my cousin using my computer she can, anytime she likes. What annoyed me was the fact that 1) she was coming to use the computer not to visit me (Another one who only comes when she wants something) and 2) that I told her I was busy today and she chose to disregard me. I kept going over and over last night’s diary entry in my mind (the bit about being sick of being everyones favourite doormat,) and the very next day here I am again letting somoene walk all over me, rather than let them down.

I’ve got a social worker coming to talk to me because he thinks I’m doo-lally. I’m all in a state about that, and I have Les playing stupid games on the computer when I just want some time to myself to get organised. She’s just left.

He’ll be here in ten minutes. Oh Hell.

I’ll tell all later.

It wasn’t so bad.The ~Scoial worker is absolutely gorgeous. He said he wasn’t going to cart me away … Shame! He can cart me away any time he likes. The result was that he said he didn’t know why he’d been called in and wouldn’t be calling again .. Shame! If I go really whoopee-pop do you think he’ll come back? Okay I know I’m going to be celebate for the next six years or so, but I’d make an exception for him.
He said that he’d come with the intention of trying to persuade me to have some counselling. He still wants to put in an application to somebody or other whose name escapes me, but he says that after everything I’ve been through I seem to be coping far better than he ever would in similar circumstances .. hah fooled you! As I said what good is going over and over it with another stanger going to do? I’d rather just put it behind me and move on. It hurts like hell, obviously I’m looking at babies and thinking about mine, I’m still bursting into tears for no reason several times a day and I still feel like crap. But it will pass and I honestly think the only thing that’s going to get me over the loss of my baby is time.

The upshot is that I might hear from this counsellor, and I’ve agreed that if an appointment is made I will go for one session and then see how I feel, but he said that when he puts his report in, she might decide that I’m not a high enough priority for counselling and she may not contact me.

Panick over.

Cli has been twice today. I think he feels very guilty.

Wednesday 31st July 2002.

I started writing my diary this morning. Luckily I’d only done five minutes but the kitten jumped onto my computer and I don’t know if he hit a vital key or it was just co-incidental that my screen went black and I lost it. Okay I wasn’t thrown in to a fit of unbeliveable temper and melancholy like last week because I’d only written a couple of hundred words, but I lost over an hours work last week and I don’t want it happening again.

So I went into tools/options/ save (see how techie I am, are you all impressed?) And sure enough my stuff is set to save every minute, but it doesn’t. Why? Hmm maybe not such a tecchie buff after all.

I have a brand new compulsion: I am a diary addict. Worse I’m a diary pervert. I almost salivate at the thought of poking my sleazy little nose into someone elses life.
I do have a tiny little nose, it’s one of those ill-defined little button jobbies with absolutely no character. I want a big furkoffski Roman nose that says something. Probably ‘Get out of my space mate before I sneeze all over you.’ I have come to the conclusion that I would make an excellent professional diary reader. Now, all I have to do is find someone to employ me.

The funny thing is, I’ve only read one auto-biog in my life. The Billy Butler story. I have an over effusive mate, Mitch, who used to work for Butlin’s and forced it on me. Actually it was very good especially the bits about the animals.

I have just pushed poor old Meggie-Moggie-Boy off the computer desk and all he wanted was a cuddle and some attention. Wracked with guilt for three seconds, until he came back and used all eighteen claws to climb up my naked leg. Apparently I’ve been exagerating again all this time, I don’t have twenty claw holes in me at any one time, cats only have eighteen claws. No thumb-thing on their front paws.

Anyway back to the diaries. As well as reading the fledgling diaries on UKA, I’ve also been delving into their more established cousin’s on ABCtales. L and IFB’s diaries are fantastic. Funny, catestropohic and damned good entertainment. I’ve noticed something though, men write very different diaries to women. TS has a brilliant diary, but he never ever sells his soul. His, are about events and things rather than about feelings and life’s ups and downs. Women seem to be far more comfortable with talking about themselves and their feelings and lives. Which leads me right slap-bang to my earlier problem with my own diary. Someone on the ABC discussion board said that a diary shouldn’t be too heavy and should be smattered with wit. Mine is so bloody depressing. I’ve tried to lighten it here and there, but just at this moment in time my life isn’t filled with fun and frolic. I tried to make it funny. I recounted in glorious blush carrying my cousin’s shed and falling into her garden pond. That was pretty slap-stick, but that night I started with incredible backache and by the next day I was in full blown labour that led to a sort of heart-attack and miscarriage. Yep that’s hilarious Sooz, where’s the razor blades. Mind you it can be quite amusing to be off your head on the most amazing cocktail of drugs to find out your’e five and a half months pregnant, when you thought you were just fat. Now I’m still fat, but not pregnant …funny!

“Give the reader what they want to read, make it fun”

That’s all well and good in fiction. I have no worries at all about my story writing, or my miserable attempts at poetry. I write, I post, they read and if they like it fantastic, if they don’t then tough. I enjoyed writing it and maybe it’s just geared towards a different reader.

But my diary isn’t like that. I said at the beginning though at the time lightheartedly. This is about me, me, me, me, me. I write it for me because now, I find it helps me get through the day. I crave my diary. It’s a friend who doesn’t agrue with me, let’s me talk a load of crap, let’s me be right. Well until I read it back and realise what a load of drivel I’ve written. I’ve asked myself why I’m posting it (I know why I’m writing it) and I have no idea. And yet I’m still amazed that people are reading it. Why? It’s not entertainment, it’s not fun. Maybe like me they just want to see someone elses life, good bits, bad bits and all the dross in between. Or maybe they’ve read Hellcat, and are waiting for some raunchy sex, wait on baby, you and me both. Six years of self-imposed celebacy to look forward to and counting down!

Mark wrote a story yesterday. It’s really good. Well once I got past thinking it was about a peadophile and worried that my son was trying to subliminally tell me something, it was really good, until then it was heart-attack inducing. But it’s a sweet story written in a child’s innocence. It’s about a group of friends who befriend an old man. He seems to get all literary creative every summer holidays. He wrote a very profound and sad story about the man in the mirror last year. He was nine and for his age it was very good. Apart from school work he hasn’t written anything since. Then yesterday he disappeared into his room for over two hours (bliss) and came down having written three and a half pages of very passable story.

“It came to me Mam and I just had to get it down.”

Don’t we all know that feeling? I told him to wait until it happens at four o clock in the morning and won’t be denied. Very similar to, though not to be confused with the need to pee Son. I’ve said that if he types it out and edit’s it I’ll post it on AFO for him. Last year he posted his mirror man and it went straight to number one. Though I have no doubt that the wonderful folk there went easy on him with being the youngest member, even though I told them not to. If he wants to compete in an adult world at an adult game, then he has to play on an even playing field and take his knocks like the rest of us. I’m just a little bit concerned that we have a particularly gnomeish troll at the moment who could rip his fragile ego to pieces. But I can check his reviews out before he goes on site.

My came round last night. She’d had a few bless her, though was still able to string coherent sentences together. She went months only drinking once a week when she was looking after Mark for me (of course her once a week was when she didn’t have Mark) It did her a lot of good and for all her faults she’s never wavered in her care of Mark.

Anyway I got the latest goss on Tim. But I said something horrible and feel terrible for it. Since leaving me, though certainly not because of leaving me because he’s never given me a second thought, he has been drinking heavily. He’s been seen all over town in some less than pretty states. He’s lost his girlfriend ‘who he was madly in love with!’ because he slept with her best mate one afternoon. Some boyfriend, some mate! My, My how some things never change. He’s moved in with a 57 year old woman and is now sleeping with her. He’s twenty-three and going out with me was bad enough. He’s also lost his job. He was highly respected by his bosses. He’s a builder and had worked himself up from labourer to foreman in less than a year with them. While he was with me he never missed a single day of work. Since he’s been gone aparently he’s hardly ever been there and when he has he’s been so hungover that he’s been useless. He was saying to someone in the pub and Myra overheard that his life is falling apart. He’s very depressed and is going to see the doctor to get some anti-depressants bless his little heart. Maybe his guilty consience is pricking at his endorphins.

My told me that he’s depressed, and I said ‘Good I hope he goes and hangs himself.’

Alex was gone and there was nothing either of us could have done to stop that miscarriage, But Angie might have been saved if he’d just told me his blood group or at least given permission for the doctor to find it from his medical file. When I said that awful thing, for a little while I really truly meant it. With the exception of my father, and possibly my first husband (though we get on, on the surface now) I’ve never wished anyone dead in my life. I don’t like that side of me.

Later lying in bed I had a fleeting thought of calling him to see if there was anything I could do to help him. I don’t like that side of me either. After everything he’s done, everything he’s said and everything he hasn’t done, It still hurts me to think of him in trouble. Sod him let the Bastard rot (though not die)

Mind you, I’m feeling all powerful now. When I came out of hospital, I was talking to My, and I said that I hope he never knows another day’s happiness or joy for a long, long time.
So be warned don’t any of you get the wrong side of me I’m Dark Sooz, The Witch Queen of New-Ordalton.

Cli came three times last night. Okay Son you’ve made your point. And I’m sorry I’m still very hurt and angry with you, but like everything else, it’ll pass in time. He came at ten-thirty last night With Donny, I’ve known Lee (Donny) since before he was born, his Mum Karen and I were pregnant and avidly knitting together. After the blood, pain, and tears of making those twenty-three identical jumpers in glorious and technicolour splendour I haven’t knit a stitch since. Cli’ ought to have been ashamed going out in public in his pram wearing one of my creations.

Donny came in .

“Hello Auntie Sooz.”

He’s a little git and gets into lots of trouble, not something Cli’ needs to be associated with, but when he heard about things he wanted to come straight round to see me. After spending half an hour talking them down , Donny had got Cli’ pretty fired up about things. I persuaded them (I hope) that rearranging Tim’s pretty face into a Wharhol reproduction would serve no positive purpous. Donny said that horrible things like that shouldn’t happen to someone as caring and nice as me. It’s one of the nicest things anyone’s said to me in a long time. They both kissed me when they left.

The thing with Story Mania is really getting me down now, it’s making me miserable and unhappy and I know I should just cut loose from the site and never go back. When your liesure time makes you unhappy, why do it? But things have become so nasty that I feel that I can’t go until I’ve cleared my name.

This troll is perhaps the most clever that I’ve seen. He has managed to manipulate things so that I’ve become the troll and he and his many personalities have become the victim. I decided to just not bite and keep my head down I figured that if I did as much reading and reviewing as possible and avoided all the argument, then everything would settle down. But they’ve been waiting for me to say the slightest thing that’s negative in a review and then use it to say that I’m the troll and I’m sabotageing the site to make everyones writing look bad and to say that it’s crap so that mine looks better. They’ve also been taking bits of reviews and little things that I’ve said out of context, they cut and paste them onto the bottom of my reviews so that I seem horrible.

I’ve had letters of support from people that at first seemed nice and then turned out to be him again and I got blasted from a man called Wolfa who had one of the ‘tampered with’ reviews. He convinced me that he wasn’t this ‘The Advisor’ after someone e-mailed me to say that he is, then I got a letter from the site administrators themselves.

Thank you for the information. It appears that Cadillac Blonde, Wolfa, 'The Advisor', Markus, JA St.George, and some other names, are all one and the same person. So not to worry about not being welcome, in fact you are very welcome and I appreciate your contributions, as do many others. I will send an e-mail to this person not to be obnoxious.
Thank you for your patience,
Sam
Editor, Storymania
----- Original Message -----
Next time one of them tried to cause trouble for me I posted the bit about all the aliases. The Advisor came straight back at me which I expected. Then I got another yelling at from Wolfa, he said that he thought we had got this all sorted out (so did I) and that I keep attacking him etc etc and that he is NOT The Advisor..

Now I’m so confused and paranoid. I don’t know who’s for real and who’s playing with me. I even suspect that the site itself is and has been all along run by The Advisor.

Either:-

The site administrators are right and Wolfa is the one causing the trouble

Or

The site is actually at the bottom of the trouble and the site administrator is ‘The
Advisor’

Or

The site has made an awful mnistake and I’ve upset someone who was genuine all along.

That’s the reason I can’t leave the site. If I have been mis-informed then I feel awful. I hate to upset anybody and can’t stand the thought that people on there, good genuine people think I’m a troll and a trouble maker.

I know I’ll never make it as a writer, but it’s a dream I need to cling to. What if a prospective publisher does scout the site, and what if he sees something of mine that he likes, and then sees all the trouble I’m supposed to have caused, He won’t touch me with a brage pole.

Taking it one step further, what if I did mange to make a living as a writer and then all this trouble came to bite me on the bum. The accusation of cheating, the doctored reviews that make me come across as a ruthless bitch attacking other people’s writing just for the hell of it. And then the childish arguments on the discussion group. Non of it looks good.

I know that is all ridiculous because I’m never going to make a career from my writing, but it’s more than that. It’s the same principle with ordinary people. Someone might read a piece of mine and think I seem like a nice person, they might want to e-mail me and they might have become a friend. But all this stuff makes me come across as someone horrible and nasty. So a few nice people might think I’m a bitch, so what? What does it matter?

But it does matter, it matters to me because I’m not like that.

The reason I’m suspecting that the site might not be all it pretends to be, is that the site admin, knows about all the nastiness that’s going on and yet they are not lifting a finger to stop it. When they say they will send this bloke an e-mail telling him ‘not to be so obnoxious’, well it doesn’t seem very professional. Usually wouldn’t they mention servers and things … I don’t know maybe not. But I can’t help thinking that if someone on UKA was doing these things, Richard and Andrea would kick them off the site.

Common sense tells me that I should just cut my losses and walk away, it’s not worth losing sleep over and I’ve got enough on my plate at the moment without petty rubbish like that invading my life. I feel that I’m constantly being made a fool of.

Cli’ has just been with Donny to borrow money to go to the pub with. I wanted to say no I haven’t got any spare, but I handed over a tenner as usual, a tenner that no doubt I’ll never see again. He’s been off work for two weeks with a bad back. I have a horrible feeling that he might have lost his job and is trying to hide it from me. That job is the best chance he has to make something of himself. I was so proud of him when he got it, and he’s been doing so well. They think a lot of his ability and are pleased with his progress. He keeps a lot from me and I’ve got a horrible feeling that his time keeping is not all that it should be. If I find out that he’s lost that apprenticeship I’ll be so disappointed with him. I know it’s tough when all his mates either work nine to fives or don’t work at all, and he has to work unsociable hours, but it’s all going to be worth it in the long run when he is in a position to pick and choose his hours and he’s earning five times more than all his mates. He can’t see the bigger picture though and I understand that.

Oh and in case anyone’s wondering I’m in no doubt that I’m to blame for the break in good weather (What an ego eh?) My tumble dryer blew up and I’m having to hang all my washing on the line. I may have to leave the country suddenly when the bikini brigade catch up with me.

It’s the end of the month, and to date I’ve written 31,274 words in my diary, waffle or what!

Thursday 1st August 2002.

Start of a new month, how quickly this year has flown, and so much has happened. I wrote almost 32 thousand words in my diary last month, I hope this month is less eventful and a whole lot more cheerful.

I’ve been feeling a bit cranky for the last hour or so, it’s suddenly occurred to me that I haven’t had a cig yet today. I remember planning to walk over the room to get my baccy and fixings earlier but then I got side tracked and forgot. That’s good isn’t it that I can go all morning (12:40) without thinking much about smoking?

I have just had the most awful experience again purely of my own making. I can blow the smallest most insignificant event into a bloody three-ring circus.

My friend Ade is always asking me to do things with him. Tonight I was supposed to be going to the flicks with him, but my babysitter isn’t available. I was really pleased about this because I’m going out with Karen tomorrow and really can’t afford two nights out. Also I don’t want to go out socialising two nights on the trot because it’s not fair on Mark, so I was very happy to postpone it until Monday. Ade seemed okay with this, but me being me I felt bloody guilty. So I had to burst into explanation about going out with Kaz tonight.

The next thing I know Ade has invited himself along. I was horrified and tried everything I could to talk him out of it. I said that all the tickets might have been sold, but he knows Charlie and will be able to get a pass, I said that it was going to be a whole pack of giggling women, I should have known that would be no deterrent to Ade. Eventually in despair I admitted defeat and said that he could come.

I worried about it all night. Ade is a lovely, lovely man, and probably about the truest friend I’ve got at the moment. I know Karen would not be pleased about Ade tagging along because before she was married, she actually went out with Ade for a while about a hundred years ago. At the time she was going through fourteen year old anarchy and rebellion against my brother (which all somehow turned out to be my bad influence) Ade was the most outrageous punk in town and Kaz made a bee line for him. He hasn’t changed a lot over the years bless him, the hair is a bit calmer and less gaudy but he’s still very uncouth for want of a better word.

Today when I rang Kaz to tell her of the mess, she finds herself with a similar problem, G is coming home tomorrow and has also invited himself along. Because I’m distanced from the family Kaz thought I wouldn’t want G coming out with us. Hell I don’t mind in the slightest, at least G when he’s on form is good for a laugh. Poor Ade is completely devoid of a sense of humour. He would talk about football and electrics and that’s the total sum of his range of conversation, well unless he gets on a maudlin one about Jan and his ex-wife and then he can go on for hours.

Anyway with G going it’s even worse that Ade is tagging along, All those years ago Kaz dumped Ade for G and when Ade talks about him it’s not exactly in complimentary terms.

So you see my predicament?

I was talking to T about it last night and saying that I didn’t want Ade to come and then feel uncomfortable all night or unwanted.

T said that I only really had one choice and that was to tell him and be honest about it. I know I’d feel hurt about that, but I’d rather that than go somewhere thinking that people wanted me to be there, Only to find that when we got there I was unwelcome.

I’ve rung him and got his machine, sweetened the blow by inviting him for tea tonight. I’ve done a home-made lasagne. I know he likes that. Damn I hate anything unpleasant, and I feel like such a bitch, but I just know that if he comes it will be awkward. I have to be very careful how I deal with Ade, he’s lonely and he’s looking for A) sex, any sex will do, from anyone, he’s not fussy. And B) and this is much more delicate he’s looking for someone to love him. We established months ago when he first split from Jan and I split from Tim the second time, and the subject of some unconditional sex came up, that we don’t fancy each other at all. I’ve made it very clear that I don’t do casual sex, only relationships (with the exception of one horrible night many years ago). Two words that don’t go together are ‘Ade’ and ‘sensitive’. He doesn’t see why two lonely, horny people shouldn’t get it on now and again, even if there is no real attraction there. Another reason I’m a bit bothered about night socialising, is that we live in different towns, so it would mean him staying at my house or me staying at his.

So far his advances have all been verbal. Ade is crude and tact often just doesn’t work with him, So I’ve told him straight that with his attitude towards women and the way he makes his advances, I wouldn’t sleep with him if he was the last man on earth. Far from being offended by this brutal talk he merely sees it as a challenge, but as I say it’s always verbal and he’s easy enough to put back in his box. If we slept in the same house (something we’ve only done when he was with Jan) and he is loosened by alcohol, I’m fairly certain that he’d try a little bit harder and I have no lock on my bedroom door, or the bathroom. If he did come into my room at night it would be awkward and embarrassing, because Ade and I will never be anything other than friends.

He doesn’t want me, anymore than I don’t want him. The thing is he might just decide that if he can’t get any better he might just want to settle for something that he doesn’t want. We’ve both said that it’s a real pity that we don’t fancy each other, because we are both on our own and lonely and are both good people who’ve been hurt and know what it feels like. But if the feelings aren’t there, then you can’t flog a dead horse. And let’s face it how could you fancy someone whose greatest role model and influence in life, is The Stranglers! Having said all that though I do like him very much and don’t want to hurt his feelings.

I had the most volcanic stand up row with Mark last night. One of my pet hates is that I’m the only one in our house who ever thinks to empty the kitchen bin. If the bin is full both Mark and Cli’ will continue to fill it. It’s only a small pedal bin and tries it’s little best, but the boys make unfair demands on it. Yesterday I went to wash up and mark had overflowed it with 2ltr pop bottles and large dog food cans. I’d asked Mark to bring me the teatime pots from the living room and he emptied an ashtray on the already full bin. I made some sarcastic comment and I suppose I was nagging when I asked him to empty the bin, when it gets over full you can’t tie the bag and then it’s unhygienic when it’s decanted into the dustbin. I explained this to him for the umpteenth time, Mark from his point of view was impatient he wanted to get back to his murder, theft and grand larceny on Grand Theft Auto Three. Suddenly from nowhere he threw the most amazing tantrum (I would have been rather proud of that one myself) he scooped all the rubbish from the top of the bin onto my previously clean kitchen floor, while yelling at me about how '‘tight’ I am. Normally I would thank a man for this observation, but it hardly seemed an appropriate response to my ten-year-old son, not that I get complimented very often on my pelvic muscle control these days. I lost my temper and yelled back ordering him out of the room while I cleaned up the mess myself.

Mark continued to yell at the top of his voice from the living room. This verbal tennis match continued from kitchen to living room to half way up the first flight of stairs, where he was retreating to slam his door pointedly and play very loud music.

“You get back down those stairs right now mister.”

“Why, so that you can yell at me some more, You don’t care about me, I might as well back my bags and move out.”

Well that’s novel.

Suddenly I wondered why I was battling for decibel supremacy with a ten-year-old. Normally he’s a placid child that you can talk things through with and reason with. I told him that I refused to argue with him and that I demanded he go to his room, no music and think on his behaviour for a while.

Half an hour later things were just ‘too’ quiet so I went up to his room and knocked on the door, there was a note outside: it read.

You obviously hate me, so I’ll never bother you again. I am going to live in my room and never come out except to go to the toilet. I would be very grateful if you could possibly bring me some water and food up occasionally.

Oh the angst! I remember it well.

This is the child that has to eat every ten minutes or die! Hunger drove him out to apologise one hour and ten minutes later, a record for him.

Saturday 3rd August 2002

Hard day today lots of cover. Think of the money Sooz, think of the money.

Monday 5th August 2002.

I’m not doing very well with my diary this month. I’m so bloody tired. Been working hard and when I’ve finished work all I want to do is sleep. Had a good night out with Kaz on Friday, it was pretty quiet Kaz didn’t like the do we were attending so we left and just went round town. I was bothered because I was convinced we’d run into Tim. My emotions are high when it comes to him, I despise the man I can’t get it out of my head that if Angie had just had that blood transfusion she might have lived. If I’d seen him I don’t think I’d have behaved like a lady. Anyway we didn’t so it was a good but sedate night.

Went to work on Saturday Morning with a hangover. That was not good. I had a hell of a busy weekend on and my delicate condition and the intense heat didn’t help any. If I ever hear Karen say ‘Go on just have one more’ one more time I won’t be accountable for my actions. I did stop drinking at ten though because I had to drive at six forty-five on Saturday morning, didn’t want to be over the limit, so between ten and two-thirty I went on pints of water. Guess who was up and down the stairs peeing all night? Well not on the stairs you understand.

We have legionaries’ disease in Barrow. I walk that alley almost every day, most people do as it’s the main route from the town hall to the shops. I’ve hardly given it a thought though I think I’ve had my quota of bad luck this year. It does have a ten-day incubation period though so people will still be dropping for another week or so. What it does mean is that all qualified staff have been put on stand-by for people coming out of the hospitals. They are going to be suffering severe lung/liver/kidney damage and will need home nursing for some time, extra work for everybody.

I have a new friend S, is a writer shortlisted for international poet of the year apparently. He’s been writing to me and we get on well.

Things feel a bit funny with T at the moment though, he’s a really good friend and I enjoy talking to him, but the other night he said that I annoy him because I winge too much. The thing is I don’t know what constitutes whinging. I asked him to tell me if I’m getting on his nerves, but he said he just ignores me. I just tend to waffle, much as I do here, I can see that I might be depressing and I don’t want to be. So now instead of just talking to him I measure every word to see if it is all right or not. The other night I started to tell him that Tim has nicked my ‘Black’ CD but thought better of it. When he asks ‘how are you’ I just say ‘fine thanks’ and leave it at that. I value his friendship and it hurt a little bit that he’s thought that all this time and not said anything. If I do something to upset someone I’d much rather they told me so that I can do something about it.

Going to the flicks with Ade tonight. It’ll make a change I suppose. And it is now six thity and if I’m going to be ready by eight I’d better get a move on.

Later.

Tuesday 6th August 2002.

Had a really good night last night. The film that I was so dreading because it’s sci-fi was absolutely bloody fantastic. Minority Report I can highly recommend it. There was a boring chasey/action bit in the middle but it didn’t last long before you were back into the story. I loved it. Ade was the perfect gentleman, he’d made a real effort to look nice, he smelled fantastic, something with just a hint of citrus My old mate Ade shouldn’t be allowed to smell that good. He had two free tickets for the film, so because he provided the tickets I bought supper. We had the debate about your place or mine to eat. He said his because if we went to mine I won’t want to go out again. Which is quite true and I had to run him home. We went to his and had cheeseburger and chips and a can of fanta each and he asked me if I’d like to stay the night, motioning the sofa. I declined and left, and he never made one improper suggestion all night, he did fart in the middle of the film though, which he and half the auditorium found funny but I had to sit next to him and didn’t. We both had a good time and I wished again that there was some spark of romance between us, but there isn’t. I couldn’t fancy a man who farts loudly in the middle of the cinema.

I’m very tired. I can’t work out if it’s the aftermath of last month or just that I’ve taken on a few too many clients and am staying up way too late at night.

Wednesday 7th August 2002.

Today has been a mixture of good and horrible. I had a good morning at work, one of my hour long calls had gone into hospital so that meant that I finished an hour earlier than expected. That’s always a boost because if you’re rostered for a call then you get paid regardless of whether someone’s in or not.

I got home and finally decided that I had to do some course work. I haven’t done any since Tim left and I’ve fallen dangerously behind on my course. I’m two units behind which is eighteen full essays. It’s a tough course and I’ve probably taken too much on with doing the grade three and four together, it might have been best to do them separately.

Anyway I suppose with being depressed about one thing and another I’ve got lost with them. The unit I’m working on now is one of the six compulsory units. It’s the worst one of the lot concerning client’s rights and legal considerations. It’s a bugger.
I got in from work, skipped lunch, Mark was at Kaz’s so no distractions there and I got stuck in. Today I’ve done four essays all of between three and six thousand words.

At four-o-clock the phone rang and it was Michelle.

“Sooz what happened with Mrs J this morning?”

I looked blankly at the phone for a minute and then asked who Mrs.J was. She is only my new client that I had completely forgotten about. Last Thursday I was called into the office to discuss extra work and cover. M flung names, addresses, times and treatments at me and I furiously scrawled them down on a piece of paper. I’d parked on double yellows and was rushing to get the information down and get out. I was given cover for the weekend, new permanents and cover for the next three weeks.

Mrs. J was one of the many new clients I did at the weekend and I thought she was one of the cover calls. But she was a permanent and I was supposed to do her twice today.

Mrs. J is a diabetic but she is also terminal with cancer (though not on official terminal care yet). Until she becomes ill with her illness we are in there to get her used to us, but also to be in situ when she does become very sick and needs the 24/7 care. We are mainly controlling her diabetes. She was due to have her bloods checked and an insulin injection at twelve thirty and again at tea-time.

Luckily for me she is with it enough to do her own bloods and her levels were acceptable. I don’t know if she’s having a bed time call because I haven’t been asked to do it. If she has a bedtime, then they’d have found her in a diabetic coma if Shell hadn’t called me, if she doesn’t then by Lunchtime tomorrow she may well have been lying dead. That’s Manslaughter.

Shell said not to worry too much, no harm was done. Yes but by sheer good luck no harm was done. What happened was unforgivable. I was given the correct information and because I was distracted and in a rush, I didn’t copy it down correctly. What I did today is the kind of mistake bits of kids make, people who are training and constantly covered and checked on. It’s not the sort of thing that should ever happen to someone with the responsibility to do a trained job. However you wrap it up I am guilty of gross negligence. I left a seriously ill woman without her care, and if Shell hadn’t called I’d have missed not only one but two calls to her.

To be honest I don’t think I can even blame my recent health and emotional problems. Yes I’m a bit over tired, but when I went to the office I was perfectly well and alert, I just allowed myself to be distracted when I should have been paying more attention.

I had to eat humble pie and apologise to the lady this evening.

That wasn’t the only mistake I made today. I have another new client R. He’s brilliant. I made him coffee and he takes black coffee in a black cup. I was so embarrassed when I went to wash up and he’d drunk a cup (without mentioning it) of boiling water. Because I was in and out chatting to him when I made his drink I’d forgotten to put the coffee in the cup and with it being black couldn’t tell when I poured it. He must think I’m a total idiot.

I’ve decided from this moment on, NO MORE STUPID MISTAKES. What happened, happened it’s done, time to get on with it and stop letting my stupid state of mind affect my work. I’ve lost two more babies I don’t want to lose my job as well. I’ve always prided myself on being very good at my job and always professional, but the last few weeks I’ve been behaving like a brain-dead Jade.

I think the problem is, that with only taking three days off work I never really had a chance to either grieve or recover. I almost died and two babies did. I hadn’t got over the loss of the first one before losing the second and then after just three days off it was back into work. I think I should have taken the two weeks I was advised to take. I’ve never been one to take my problems to work with me. Now it’s time to focus totally on what I’m doing. I’ve been going through all the motions being happy, happy getting on with the job, but I’ve made more silly mistakes this last couple of weeks than I’ve made in the last couple of years. What happened today wasn’t just silly it was bloody negligent, and that’s an ugly word.

I’m sick of hearing about Sherie Blair’s miscarriage.

Mark is going to Bolton again tomorrow. It’s funny but I feel completely different about it this time. My point is, that last time I was dreading him going because I was still missing Tim terribly and didn’t want to be left alone. Of course now I understand that my hormones were all over the place with the pregnancy. Now I couldn’t give a shit about Tim and am damned glad that the mess I called a relationship is well and truly over. I’m finally over him and that feels good. He can rot in hell. I’m comfortable now with being on my own again and it’s as though he never was.

Well time to go, last lot of calls for the day. Three bedtime calls and I’m done. Yippee.

Thursday 8th August 2002.

Were up at six in the morning. Yeuk.

Saturday 10th August 2002.

I’ve got a weekend off. This is a rare and spectacular event under any circumstances, but as I was supposed to be working the next month solid without a day off, I’m extra lucky. M rang me on Tuesday and said that all the extra cover I’d been given fell on my off days, and how about transfering it to my on days so that I’ve got some free time in between. This means that until the end of next week I’m working from seven in the morning until ten at night with very little time in between calls, but it bought me this weekend so I’m happy.

Mind you it didn’t stop her ringing me at ten forty five last night to ask me to work this morning. I was ready for her I’d been practising the word ‘no’ all day because I knew damned well it would happen. I told her there was not a chance. I’d worked bloody hard all week and was really looking forward to a lie in today. I knew what was coming next. “But we’re desperate and there’s no one else to do them, and as you’ve got no plans it would be really helpful if you could just do the urgent ones for us. If you don’t they’ll have no care.” For the first time ever I held firm. It’s not my fault that we haven’t got enough qualified staff on the books and It’s not my fault that she can’t arrange her staff so that all the calls are covered. I’ve said to her before that if she hired another half a dozen staff, two qualified and four carers, and kept them exclusively for cover, so that they had no regular hours at all, it would solve the problem. The regular staff resent being given cover on top of our regular calls all the time and we resent having to continually give up our off time. If she had a few casuals we wouldn’t have to. There’s hundreds of nurses and care workers out there who give up work to have children because they can’t fit their kid’s round rigid nursing shifts. Just being on call to do the odd client here and there would suit them down to the ground, and they’d be keen and enthusiastic to be asked instead of resentful and unhappy about it. We always have plenty of cover available so they could take as much or as little as they wanted. M could ring them up at a minutes notice and if they were available fine, if not she could move on to the next one, and if they were all unavailable THEN she could begin ringing round us. The pressure would be taken off everybody. It seems like basic common sense to me, but she says you can’t have people hanging around waiting on the off chance of a phone call. Well with our firm they wouldn’t have to wait very long, people are always leaving or pulling sickies.

There’s been another death from the legionaires disease. A lady in her fifties died the day before yesterday. And I’ve had my first client down with it. Went to M’s the other morning to find the place all locked up and no answer (again). This is the fourth time it’s happened in the last few months. I never know if she’s in hospital or lying in her bedroom hurt. She refuses to give us a key, and to be honest I don’t blame her, I wouldn’t like the thought of people being able to traipse through my house when I wasn’t there either. But if I was M (boss not client) I’d demand that we either have a key for emergency use only or we’d withdraw her care. I told S last time this happened that if it happened again I’d refuse to do her anymore, and sure enough it’s happened again. But I like M (client not boss), I’ve had her for months now and she trusts me (though not enough to give me a key obviously  !) But if she’s left to die lying on the floor behind her bedroom door, when she has care laid on, then ultimately it’s down to the company and more specifically her nurse to ensure that she gets that care. Anyway she’s in hospital with legionaires disease. She’s a very sick lady anyway so I don’t know if she’ll have the strength to fight it. When she comes out I’ll talk to her again about the key.

Mark’s gone to Bolton for a few days, they enjoyed having him so much last time that they asked him to go back this weekend. They must be mad. This will hopefully cheer him up a bit. Allie and David are brilliant with him.

So while the cats away I’m going out to play tonight. I’m not overly bothered though, it’s only to the karaoke night at the Black Bull, I’m going with our Les but to be honest I don’t like some of the company she gets into, but the alternative is sitting in on my own and vegitating so might as well go for a couple of hours. I can always cry off and come home early if I get bored. Mind you, it’s usually a three-o-clock jobbie when we get out of there. I’m still nervous about seeing Tim. I know that he’s going to come over and pick a fight if he’s had a drink. Normally I’d just walk away and refuse to lower myself to his level, but I despise him so much because of Angie that I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold myself in check. I want to enjoy the entertainment tonight …not be it!

I got a text from him yesterday. Cli must have been talking to someone in the pub about having a go at Tim.

“Call your rottweiler off you fucked up bitch, I didn’t kill your sprog, just grow up will you.”

I had my finger on the phone ready to retalitate and then realised that was just what he wanted me to do. The best form of defence is to pretend that he just doesn’t exist, which is easy when I’m sitting at home all calm and relaxed, not sure how I’ll feel when I come face to face with the Bastard for the first time. I literally feel physically sick when I think deeply about him. He’s always very particular about his appearance when he goes out and has lots of designer stuff, maybe I’ll just let him turn my stomach and vomit down his front..

‘Your sprog.’ That says it all doesn’t it?

The positive thing about it though, is when I got his text, it angered me and I got this painful burning somewhere in the region of my hatred, but it didn’t upset me at all. As little as a few weeks ago I’d have been devastated to get a nasty text off him, but not now. So who knows, maybe I’ll have no trouble just ignoring him when we finally meet.

I sat and giggled at myself earlier, I even looked in the mirror, something I normally try to avoid apart from the necessary. I stared at myself and don’t look abnormal, well not really abnormal, and yet everything I touch turns to dust … Why?

As I said, I wasn’t really bothered one way or the orther about going out tonight, but I was really tired still got up at seven this morning, dog wanted walking, needed to pee (me as well as dog) couldn’t sleep damned cat kept us awake. So at dinner time I decided to go for a lie down, I went out like a light and never woke up again until half past five, and then it took me another half an hour to get out of bed. I got dressed and went straight out to get some nice bubble bath and some money.

The sleep had done me the world of good and suddenly I was really loking forward to a night out, okay the company leaves a lot to be desired but I’m sure they feel the same about me. Anyway guess who frogot to transfer money yesterday?

I have two bank accounts and my wages go into my savings account. My credit card thingy is for my current account. It’s not a credit, credit card it’s one of those where you have to have money in to take money out but guarantees me up to fifty quid. Every Friday I transfer money into my current account to last the week. I’ve found that’s the best way of doing it because I don’t over spend .. or in this case I don’t spend at all!

Bang went my night out.

As it happened though it turned into an okay night because Ade came round and we got a chinese and a video. Behind Enemy Lines. Again it’s a film that I would never have chosen in a million years, but it was good, not brilliant but very watchable.

Les really pissed me off. She rang just after Ade arrived and said that as I’d ruined her night (as far as I knew she was going out anyway) she was on her way round to use my computer. I told her that it wasn’t convinient because Ade had just arrived and we were about to watch a video.

She said “Well it’ll have to be all right because I’m almost there now.”

Okay Ade and I are just mates, but what if we had have been more and wanted a nice romantic night in alone? We sat and watched the film while she clicked away at maj-jong from eight o clock until midnight. Ade left at ten because he had to get up at six. I think he was a bit annoyed about Les being cocked there clicking. At five to twleve Les got up and said “right I’m going now.” She’d spoken less than half a dozen sentences since she had arrived.

I don’t want to come across as mean or begrudging. My friends can use my computer anytime they like, I really don’t mind, but the last half dozen times I’ve seen her she’s played on the computer and hardly spoken, you can’t talk to her because it ruins her concentration and I feel really used again.

I’ve decided that I’m not going to let her do it again. Next time she says she’s coming round to play it, I’m going to tell her how I feel, I’m also going to tell her that’s it’s inconvinient and this time I’m going to mean it.

Am I being selfish?

It annoyed me tonight that when she’d finished she wouldn’t even stay for a brew and a chat.

I’m happy though because it’s my weekend off and I will lie in tomorrow.

Mark was supposed to be comming home on Tuesday, but the trains are on strike Tuesday and Wednesday, so it looks as though he won’t be coming home until Thursday. Don’t know yet I might ask for him to come back Monday so that I can spend some time with him before he goes off to camp. He’s off again from next Monday to Friday with scouts.

Steve didn’t come today with my live food order for the lizards, he normaly comes on a Saturday. They’ve had a tin of cat food instead. Chyna loves it, the other’s aren’t quite so keen but between them they’ve polished off a full tin. The had prawns yesterday again it was mainly Chi who ate them all. I was quite worried about her a while ago About two months ago I had to separate her off into the nursery viv because she had lost a lot of weight very suddenly. Lizards can lose two thirds of their body weight in twenty-four hours. If they become ill they deteriorate very quickly. I had noticed for some time that she’d been losing a bit of weight and was keeping an eye on her. I think with the others being more dominant she was always last in the queue
for food. She’d been a little bit dehydrated and she was showing a little bit of rib, so as a precaution before she got bad, I separated her off. She hated it but soon put a bit of meat on. Since being back in with the others she’s been voracious, eating anything and evrything put in front of her. She’s doing really well. When the live food order comes I’ve been taking the others out of the viv and giving her first dabs at the mealworm, waxworm, giant mealworm,locusts, and crickets she’s like a beafran at a banquet chasing round after her food. This week though I’m not going to give her first pickings she can take her chances with the rest of them.

Had to put the fire on tonight, I grabbed a quick shower while Ade went through to Ulverston to get a video. I don’t like to bath while he’s here because he once wanted to come into the bathroom to use the toilet while I was in the bath, he might be comfortable with that but I’m not. After my bath I only had a thin vest and skirt on and it got damned cold. Last night I had to put a t-shirt on in bed, I always sleep naked so I must be getting soft. I think I’m still very anaemic. It feels as though Winter’s coming already. I need to buy a few night shirts I threw all mine out last week. I wore them round the house in the few days after I got out of hospital and after I washed them I couldn’t stand the sight of them. They just reminded me of being in hospital and losing the babies. I couldn’t touch them. Which meant I couldn’t iron them, so I threw them out.

Got a lovely e-mail from one of the authors I wrote to last week, he’s agreed to do an interview with me for UKA, that’s great, what a nice man. The lady I wrote to first was a right high handed mare. She agreed to submit an article but demanded that a whole list of demands be met. To be honest I thought her article was crap anyway.

No work tomorrow … Yeeeesss.

Tuesday 13th August 2002.

I haven’t written since Saturday. Which means I’m getting to the point where my diary is slipping and the gaps between days will gradually lengthen until I just don’t bother anymore, it always happens that way. I don’t want to let it slip because it helped me so much to get through last month. It would be like abandoning an old friend.

I’m sick of always being down though, I want to come to it buzzing, happy and funny and entertaining, but my life is on the turn and changing for the better. I’m more content with myself these days, not constantly longing for happiness, I suppose that means I’m ‘content’ with my lot at the moment. I think the last time I cried over the twins was Friday, is that terrible of me, or is that just natural healing? I don’t want to hang on to the misery, what’s the point? I just want to let it go and for it all to be over.

I saw Tim twice yesterday. He’s painting a house on Broughton Road. I had to drive passed to get out of town and the second time I almost changed my route to avoid him in case he thought I was purpousefully driving passed to see him (the egotistical git would) anyway in the end, I decided that to do that is still letting him have some control over my life. Even though he was halfway up a ladder he saw me both times and glared at me. I pretended that I hadn’t registered it was him and just ignored him. The fact that my evil thought of a slight swerve to knock him off his ladder made me smile so I drove past oblivious to his existance with a happy smile plastered on my mug. Nice one.

I got my weekend off which was wonderfully quiet but far too brief. I got to my first client yesterday and didn’t feel as though I’d been off.

Max (FKA Meggie-moggie-boy FKA Meg) is living on borrowed time, Mark may well be coming home to kitten stew. Last night I slept like a log, fantastic nights sleep, but for two nights before that I hardly slept at all due to that damned cat. On Saturday night before I went to bed I let Kali out for her pee. Max snuck out as well and disappeared. If he’d been older I wouldn’t have bothered and thought that if he was stupid enough to go out then so be it. But the weather was awful and I literally worried about him all night. I set my alarm every two hours to go and whisper-shout him. At seven-o-clock when I got up he came into the house with his tail stuck right up in the air, telling me he’d had a great night and could I feed him please … NOW!

Sunday night Two am, I was woken by this almighty crashing and banging, it was like a loud rumble with lots of bangs in the middel of it. I went upstairs to investigate and there’s Max doing the wall-of-death at a hundred miles an hour round the bath. It’s his new trick, but he only does it between the hours or two and seven am.

I’m going to describe in lurid and horrifying detail Sunday night. Bless me! I got up early on Sunday, despite promising myself a lie in I was driven from my bed by the urge to write and got up at pretty much my normal time. I decided that come hell or high water I was not going to cross that doorstep for the next twenty-four hours. My plan was to not even get dressed. I didn’t bother showering, normally I can’t function until I’ve had a shower and sat round perfectly happy like some sad old git in my dressing gown. It was bliss. Sunday Lunch consisted of a coffee and toast (I never eat breakfast) and I not only got a new piece of writing done, but I also wrote the interview for Willie. The evening came round and I had seen no one, I had done no house work despite it being my day off and the ideal opportunity to give the house a good blitz and my only plans for the rest of the day were to have a long hot bath, stealing some of Mark’s shower Gel to use as bubble bath and an early night.

Seven---clock the phone rang and it was Ade, he sounded terrible.

“Will you come and get me mate, I’m a mess.” The phone went dead.

He sounded as though he was either hurt or crying, so I flew upstairs, flung some clothes on and went to Swarthmoor to get him. I assumed he was at home.

I pulled up outside his house and he came staggering out with a huge grin on his face.

“Iya Mate. fking Arsenal shot the Liverpool Bstards right up the fking arse.”

He was shit-faced. I’ve never seen Ade very drunk before, he’s always been a couple of pints man. I was really angry because I’d just given up my time for that. He somehow managed to get into the car without falling over, this involved several more swear words, and my heart sank as I realised I was stuck with him for the night and worse in that state instinct told me he was going to be difficult.

We got half way home and he said he wanted to ask me a question. He asked me when was the last time a man had taken me out for a slap-up meal. I told him about seven years ago before my marriage started to go sour. Right then, come on turn the car round we’re going to the poshest restraunt we can find. I explained that I came out of the house in such a rush because I thought he was ill, that I hadn’t so much as had a wash, brushed my teeth or put a brush through my hair. In typical blind man fashion he told me that I was fine and we were going.

Sober he can be really pushy, drunk he’s a pain in the neck and kept on and on. I really didn’t feel like going out to eat. I couldn’t afford it, and I was tired and wanted to watch the second part of the Michelle Collins drama, the first part of which I’d missed the night before when he’d turned up unnanounced. Anyway, finally we agreed that I’d go but would have to go home and bath/change first and that I