Today is a “Moniversary”: one month out…
And still I try to move on and still I hit against brick walls. Today I visited Gateway in Tonbridge and although they were very helpful, apparently I’m unlikely to be re-housed because of the rent arrears I accumulated at Henleys Manor, where I lived alone in Bexley before being rescued by the ex-fiance and we moved to Sidcup together. Another step forward; another two steps back. This is why I give up.
I’d like to move on for many reasons, not least of which is a former friend of mine spreading lies about me which resulted in me getting slapped by a one-time mutual friend and told to leave Tonbridge. I’ll deal with it but I shouldn’t have to and I will move on but only when I’m ready.
I’ve bought myself a travel / camping coffee cup / flask as I’m growing tired of my CRI colleagues nicking my Ghostbusters mug in residence. This one travels with me. It was from 99p Stores: guess how much it cost?
It’s 5.30PM and I’m in the library, reading The Guardian. The library is open until 8PM on Thursdays, so I’ll make the most of the reading and research time available before retiring to Wetherspoons for the remains of the day.
The table which I favoured in the reference section of the library – and which was next to the books on printing – has been moved. It’s now in the Local Studies section and specifically next to the books on local pubs. Printing, pubs: my life in books. So as well as reading The Guardian, I’m studying The History of Sign Boards, by Jacob Larwood and John Camden Hotten, published in 1866 and a fascinating study of pub and inn signs.
I submitted supporting evidence for my Small Sparks application today, in the form of the receipt from Cash Converters (they sell them new, so I’m not gaining from someone else’s misfortune) to my key worker at CRI. He’s signed it off and it now needs to be approved by committee: a process which takes around a month.
This being February: 28 Days Later.
“The point about a journal is that you write it spontaneously; it’s not re-written, it’s not thought about. You’re in a fury; you have a row with someone and you write an account of it. I couldn’t spend days of my life going through it.”