Starting 2006 -- A Retrospective

Well, the lost page continued over the new year to febuary, so again it'll have to be a retrespective. It might be a bit disjointed. I warn you now, it isn't good news but I'll get it up to present, and then I can have the healing power of writing in my diary back again.

5th January, I had a career interview with Elaine Barrry at Hammersmith college, where we discussed qualification options. GCSE, A level, counselling ect, and I had some things to chase up.

One day I spent a whole day looking to see if junko exists anywhere. I found an email for the unep spokesperson in france, [email protected]. J mentioned her boss was a Frenchman called Robert... and I'm thinking... I know his girlfriends name, J mentioned it, maybe he often goes to ... should.....

I got myself accepted on the electoral register in Hammersmith, and then the housing list for in 14 months time (possibly).

Actually, that interview in Clapham Junction was on the 13th January.

I got a letter back from the Job Centre. They refused to give me any benefits at all, not Job Seekers Allowance, not Housing. On the 19th I had an appointment with Clementine Nicolas at the CAB in Mund Street, who told me to pay off my debts and tell them of a change in circumstances.

25th January was Australia Day. I had an interview at Skywings, a travel agent in Gatwick Airport. I thought it had gone OK but the Travel Academy phoned next day to say I didn't get it.

In the hostel, the management left a NO SNORING sign on my bed after complaints. At one point I was in with the staff and was a woman, I think called Emma, passive aggressively shouting about me.

I saw Nikki again. I met two of her friends in a North London Restaurant. DISASTER. I barely spoke, to the point that they became angry with me. I made everyone so awkward, perhaps I should mention to people that CAPD is one of the symptoms of my disease... or maybe I should just stay away from everyone? Anyway, I doubt I'll hear from her again, that's how bad it was.

I've written in my diary for some reason, that 'FREEDOM STARTS IN A LAUGH', which I think is true. Think of all the things that hurt us once that we can learn to genuinely laugh about eventually. We should take all the pain in our lives and consciously laugh as a spritual excercise.

I did, as always, send Junko's card, from the same place in Kings Mall as the last time, or was that for something else? Anyway, it went off and it's her birthday next week now.

I had a dream that I was looking at the stern of a boat in the dark. All of a sudden, the divers hole turned and opened. A deep-sea diver surfaced and took off the helmet and it was Junko. I was overjoyed, but she had a baby with her. I didn't care and we went off as friends, having fun. But everywhere we went, Geoff was there complaining about everything.

Of course, there have been other dreams, but I can't recall them to write them down now they are lost. One thing, I have long periods when I don't drink now, days so far. Usually I have some interview so I only get an hours sleep, next day I'm so tired I go to bed early sober and once my sleep cycle is reset, I don't need alcohol.

But when I fall asleep sober, I have these vipassana type insights which are almost painful, awful should I say? One night I was falling asleep in Globetrotter and I had a very distinct clairvoyant image while relaxed but awake. It was a black woman sitting on the bed, pointing to a Tequila Sunrise on a menu, and said, April.

This worried me, as I'd been sick myself. Stomach pain and sensations, but I was laid up in Annes house for about ten days after the Gatwick interview. So bad I couldn't even get out, my leg raised up on pillows and constantly hurting.

But of course, J4 from the Colva prophesy... each time a J went past, January, July ect. I became apprehensive. Then I became convinced it was me going? Then I thought it means J will write? But... my mother's name is Josie... and it's Febuary now.

I hate writing retoropectively like this but I have no choice. I'll say what's really going on.

Mother's hand spasms got really bad so she was referred to a psychiatrist. He asked all sorts of questions, like 'do you think people are ever trying to poison you?'. She got through all that, but then had to do a simple task, write 1 2 3 4 5, and he said it might be a tumour. She was put on a waiting list, but decided to pay and have it within a few days as she's started fainting and fell off a bus.

C & G took her. There was a scan. They said it was a brain cancer, but are not sure how bad and immeadiately hospitalised her to Milton Keynes Hospital. For a few days they kept bringing students round because she was so hard to diagnose.

I was at Annes' house once. She phones me to speak because otherwise... we don't speak, even though we're in adjacent rooms. She said there was word from the hospital. It is a cancer and it's inoperable. They can do things to prolong her, but not for more than a year.

I went to see her Thursday. Visiting times are 3-5pm. but the bus got lost. I found it in the end. She isn't in general ward, kind of screened off near a window which is nicer. We sat on the bed together and she started telling me she has brain cancer, lung cancer, ect. She asked if I wanted to know and I said no so she stopped. But she said that she's instructed the doctor that she does't want to linger and to stop treatment when it's time and they've agreed. G also agreed with her against radiotherepy. She told me to think about stopping smoking. She was confused also. The registar came, a horrible African man, took her blood pressure and told her it was high and to lie down, but she didn't understand.

We chatted on. She was speaking finally, telling me to speak to Carly and not ignore her. Try and speak to Anne. She wanted me to speak to Nikki and try and make up with her, though that'll not happen. Eventually, it was five and I had to speak. I said I'll see her next week. She made a gesture of throwing something from her heart to me as I walked away, and I stepped out.

I sat alone at the bus stop and cried. Then I cried on the bus. (I'm crying now). I had to get another bus to the coach depot. I came to London and had to launder all night. Next day I had an interview at Jurys Inn at Heathrow. I don't think it went well, though I couldn't give a s*** to be honest. Then I moved over to a hotel in Olympia. It's a hovel full of dss people, though I have this feeling I'll be there often in the future.

So that's the rubbish, awful, dark times I'm living nowaday.

End of reterospective. The diary proper is continued

HERE