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I'm frazzled.

Mothers not coughing, but I'm now wired, waiting for her to start again.

Both my folks are in their lates seventies. Though they seem to have been late seventies forever.

It's only when they're ill like this do I stop seeing them in their forties.

Last night I went to The Swinging Arms in Birkenhead, to see The Foundry play.

I still feel low, physically, but the night itself was a real tonic.

My friend Daz plays synth and organizes the band. I went to hear the new material played.

They did an excellent rendition of 'won't get fooled again.' Superb.

Just plodding today.

The parents need fussin over, so bang goes Saturday ..but, I hope to go and see my friends in a band later, playing some original material.



I haven't been to a pub in the evening for ages. Should be, interesting.

Besides, I want to here what my friends sound like doing their own stuff.

well, voluntary work is good for me for me evidently.

when I needed the project, years ago, I'd learnt it was something I needed to fill that void.

now it helps, knowing I'm needed.

when its approprite, theirs no such thing as being bigheaded.



Raynards ~ a numbness and tingling in the lower extremities.

It makes the arthritis and tendonitis in the left hand much worse.

I like profiles to be simple. Too much codes, like from photobucket and a page slows down.

I even saw one the other day that was blank, except for the words 'Photobucket bandwidth exceeded.'

Been seeing to a job app. and relying to correspondance on the clean machine, with a very flushed face: and I should not be smoking!

as it is, once these are posted, a walk awaits ~ my lungs seriously need fresh air. And, it's only 17 mins to The Mere.

so I know where I'll be going.e just learnt I’m in a new coven, Bloodshroud.

I’m not knocking Vampire Dove, at all. Quite contrarywise. Nice people there.

Yet, I'm still a little unwell and learning of the new coven was a surprise: I guess I shouldn've checked that blinking system message.

Just enjoyed a moment’s idyll, from the quiet chaos that ensues here at present. I went outside, wrapped up warm, wearing the cap and ate porridge, late afternoon, sitting on the bench, just enjoying the air, a little chill, with a warming sun: and, I’d even seen a humbly bubbly bee. And what with the yellow crocus and the white snowdrop in proliferation, the back garden is already in colour.

Anyway, I am now up and around, although I’m now on a second course of antibiotics and other than the dole on Friday, all I’ve seen is home and voluntary work. But, Father is now out of bed, just

And, if he thinks I’m being a bother, trying to be helpful, he threatens to go back to bed. He’s quiet when he actually does feel ill: but, he hardly drank, or ate at all.

And, as they’ve not been “to Azda,” there is hardly anything in. So I went shopping. Well, I’d thought I did quite well, saving this much here and this much there; then got too much milk. Having a distinct issue with litres and pints, it was easy.

And, I went for a plod around the back garden earlier with little Mother and she’d started pruning away at a spindly thing with, with a yellow flower on it, with her fingers. So, I opened up the garage, got the secateurs and she set to work, with a will. And while she’d been pruning away, I asked her where did the small cutting of fir tee I’ve noticed appear in the ground.

She hadn’t known. So, it suggests to me, that when my Father is pruning the fir trees, he puts cuttings in the soil.

My Father. Surreal.

As I write away Now, there’s a bright sun, just beginning to set beneath the houses at the back and my parents are working together in the kitchen, to see to their evening meal. I do appreciate the way they just look so right, at times like that.

To grow old with a partner you Love. Ah, special indeed

Something in a profile really made me stop, pause and think.

'I also hate people who abuse their wife/child/pets.'

Why not include husband, or partner?

In Britain, 1 in 6 acts of abuse are directed against the male: a fact rarely noted.

I am against all abuse, but wish that abuse against men, in a relationship, was recognized and not laughed at.

as I'd called this the chest infection from Hell, anything has to be better than it was, so 'yes.'

but, it is a very loose term, 'yes' in this context, says he trying to swallow: so I'll just say, a little.

Got to be careful around my mother though, she is a proper Bronchitic.

I'm just an amateur.

..arose from my sick bed long enough to find out that installing codecs isn't easy and now I have the most bitchin headache you wouldn't believe.

Yearly, it seems, I get a chest infection. This time it really knocked me out of my socks: and I've got two pair on. I feel like I've risen from a grave with ice water instead of blood.

..people got fed.

and some Buddists gave us loads of treats, courtesy of a fellow who used to be a volunteer on the project.

So, at the end of the night everyone got choccie bars.

I'm doing okay. Sore throat, chest infection; I'm on antibiotics ~ it's snowing outside, properly. And, I'm off to voluntary work soon.

..and i have a shore throast and bad chest like i haven't for ages!!

..currently i wake sounding older than I am.

..last night I went to bed, desolate.

..I felt extremely upset AND in pain with my left hand.

..not a good combination, at all.

..Unlike 'the young,' I'm having to face my mortality Now, with the sure and certain knowledge that I'll die alone.

..Sometimes that's just TOO much.

Where I had been working back then, was a taxi-base for private hire cars.

At weekends, I’d go out with clipboard and pen, to maintain a degree of order for the crowds coming out of the clubs – and those getting off the tunnel bus coming from Liverpool, after twelve, through to the early hours of the morning.

That night there’d been a beer festival down at the tramsheds, where old trams and trains are renovated, prior to display.

As a crowd of about ninety had waited, with impatience by some, for their ride home, I’d come out with the platitude: “They’re cards, not planes, they’ll get here when they get here!”

But, I’d been tired, emotionally and physically – and when a friend who I hadn’t seen for many years strolled up from the festival, supporting a fella either side; and said to me: “How are you?” I’d wept – and she’d hugged me.

For once, besides my parents, I felt someone care, for me, unconditionally.

..the left hand works today: sometimes the mix of ailments it endures are too much for it, yet saying that ~ today, it works.

..although, I felt foolish going to bed wearing a woolie glove.

..if I'd been wearing it on my right I could've smiled about it ~ but then, wool is one of the few things I don't have a fetish about. :)

..I try to call things as I see them and like it very much when others do the same.

..it shouldn't be to hard to do ~ but, there are those who can't be themselves with themselves, let alone others.

..I served time for selling cannabis

..nine months of an 18 month sentence.

..it was bad news for an ex policeman ~

there were five attempts on my life

..and the manner of a request yesterday brought back a lot of memories, when I already had pain in my hand to contend with and a so-called 'friend' giving me advice over Love, via a stupid chain letter.

..well, to be my intense self.

..its interesting to find who are friends here and who just talk the talk.

..the left hand is worse than it was & it is possible to type wearing a thinsulate glove on one's left hand, I've found.

..it does slow up ones' typing, as I found tonight while typing up my new story, 'The House Called Nowhere'