Doctor’s Notes

After Georgia and Sophie left last night and I deposited myself in Wetherspoons, I met Vicky and her twin sister (the name escapes me: sorry). They read a couple of entries in my journal and observed through my grammar, articulation, vocabulary and ability to place thoughts and double meanings between the lines that I’m too intelligent to be where I am (their words; almost strangers). I pointed out that my intelligence is part of the reason I’m where I am. And my alcoholism. And my inability to maintain relationships.
When I’ve analysed my path leading here with my CRI keyworker and various mental health professionals, certain catalysts have ben identified; one being the loss of my business (through circumstance). I’ve always been prone to drink but that was one of the drivers. Funny how alcohol destroys things (marriage, family, friendships, relationships, business, homes) and the resultant fall out drives one to drink. It’s a sort of anti self-serving mechanism. And that’s the opinion of a psychologist.
But before the business failed, it was partly my intelligence (and ex-wife and balls of steel) which allowed me to set up and run a successful company.
The twins also complimented me on the neatness of my handwriting. they must have been humouring me as my journal notes are what I refer to as my doctor scrawl: stream of conciousness stuff, scribbled down quickly as it occurs to me, then edited for the blog.
For only the third time since I’ve been out (of the prison which was the ex-parents’ house), it’s not raining today. In fact it’s sunny, so I’m sitting in the park writing the journal.
I was put out (released) on 23rd December. The timing could hardly have been worse. Christmas lunch was a turkey sandwish in hospital and pretty much everything and everywhere was closed over Christmas and New Year and the weather has been mainly cold and wet. I’m grateful to my ex-parents for their festive spirit and goodwill to all.
A bit of a touch today when I found some Telegraph subscriber vouchers dropped on the pavement. It’s be impossible to trave the owner (and they can get replacements) and I have no need for them as I read the newspapers in the library. Therefore I have but one option: sell them on eBay. three months’ worth and thus worth about £120. I have to recall my eBay details first though.
That’s one of many jobs for early in the week, including writing the blog, starting the Shelter process, going to CRI and visiting the doctor (chest infection; septic finger and renewal of sick note). At some point there’s laundry to do and visiting Bridge Trust to keep housing options open.
Then there’s shopping: belated Christmas presents for the kids (which I’ve been asked to post), a new notebook as this one is almost full (this will become volume 1 and I will attempt to scan the pictorial contributions, messages and signatures as an appendix), food and baccy (Yes, I still smoke, largely through boredom: my day is punctuated by cigarettes. Recently I’ve been buying 10g pouches for £2.99 as I’ve been down to loose change. Tomorrow I shall purchase a 25g pouch for around £7, saving all of 50p: it all adds up. This will last a few days).
Coupled with the savings on food I’ll make by virtue of evening meals at Shelter, the little money I currently get will go further. And the money situation will improve further when I’m eventually re-homed, then more when I’m fit for work or to re-start my old business. My Small Sparks application for a notebook or tablet computer has been supported by my CRI keyworker.
With the ex-Mother ship having now forbidden all contact but threatening to donate my remaining belongings which she has there to a charity shop (they’re in the shed, so hardly in the way), I’ve been advised that this constitutes theft. It won’t be Avon at the door soon.
Final thought: am I alone in being quietly amused when hearing the jet engine of a plane in the sky, looking up and seeing a lone pigeon gliding overhead?
Just me then.

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