Firstly – and hopefully for the last time – this is not bullshit: this is an online blog of the personal journal which I keep. To those who continue to doubt me, I’d love to swap lives. I didn’t choose to be sleeping rough in the cold and wet; to miss Christmas, become estranged from my family and lose my fiance. Yes, I’m alcoholic and I appreciate all of the help that’s been offered and proferred. Phone calls that I’m supposed to have received seem to have gone amiss as there was a mix up over numbers. I’m grateful to al those who’ve put me up, made calls on my behalf and generally helped but I really don’t need the constant doubting and questioning. I do feel hard done by as I don’t believe that I deserved to have been kicked out of home; I certainly don’t feel I deserve the treatment I’ve received from certain so-called friends and family. Why forsake me? Why not support me? Because you think I’m doing nothing. As I say, there have been misunderstandings and mis-communications: not of my making. I’m dealing with it now – alone – and would appreciate being either left alone or supported and not slagged off or doubted.
Whilst I’m waiting to be re-homed (I’m on it), I sorted out the makeshift in-house camping stove: six disposable roasting tins from 99p Stores (for 99p shockingly) and 100 tea lights for £5.99 from Robert Dyas. The latter placed beneath the former, with the tin perched on an empty drinks can makes a rather good grill. Sainsbury’s Basics baked beans and sausages (45p) with their Basics tinned, cooked potatoes (14p) made for a rather good sausage casserole type thing.
Unfortunately, Basics range tins don’t have ring pulls but a Basics tin opener set me back all of £1. It now resides on my keyring with some of my other utility stuff (pen knife with various functions, a Lego man who’s also a torch and nail clippers. Then there’s my various actual keyrings: a Monopoly hat, a 19th century monotype printing block (an “S”) and a dog tag which spells “Dad” in Binary).
I went to CRI today and acquired a few things from the clothes room: a monochrome striped top, a hooded rugby shirt and a bum bag. The latter is playing host to various niknaks I tend to carry around (poker card protector etc.) The tops will reduce the frequency of necessary visits to the launderette.
Given the in-house catering facilities, I’m reading a Fanny Craddock cookbook borrowed from the library by the light afforded by the tea lights. And I’m reminded of a Johnny Craddock quote:
“Let’s hope all your doughnuts turn out tasting like Fanny’s.”