The Neighbour of the Beast

Rough night last night: the next door neighbour had left their dogs outside, barking away and keeping me awake. So I went round there, grabbed the dogs and put them outside my place to see how the neighbours liked that. Then at 3 O’Clock this morning, the same neighbour was banging at my door. They might have woken me up but it was okay as I was up playing my drums.
Before I move on, I want to draw a line under the criticism, nagging, doubting and bitching that I’ve been receiving from certain quarters:

  • am engaging with the CRI recovery programme: I’m there every day.
  • am sorting out benefits and housing: there have been hiccups which have caused delays.
  • am working; 14 hours a day.
  • am receiving support; from friends, believers and general helpers.
  • am being encouraged in my chosen endeavour: CRI are supporting me in becoming a professional writer.

( and are now mine. I have a trading name as a sole trader and as well as my own writing, I can write for others, copyright, edit and proof-read.

am getting better.
If anyone wants to swap places with me, I’m actually not willing to do so as I wouldn’t wish my current predicament on anyone. I have vision though and things will be good. And then I’ll still not swap. I like where I am and don’t want to be where my doubters are.
And if anyone wants to check up on me, send me a private message and I’ll make you an approved contact with my key worker at CRI: one person has already done exactly that and my key worker will confirm that I’m making progress, especially in my chosen path of writing, which is aiding my recovery. That’s why he’s had the confidence in me to approve my application for the netbook.
I am not going to indulge this any further and be held back by it. The lack of understanding impedes my recovery. I am literally sick and tired of it.
______________________ < I’ve drawn a line.
I’ve been working for most of the day (as tends to be the case); on the book and on practical things, at CRI, in the library, McDonald’s and the railway station.
Gilbert House Publishing now has a web presence. I need to build the website itself and that’s way down the to-do list but I have at least secured the domains, paid for with the proceeds of the Telegraph vouchers eBay sale, which sold for £60 in the end.
Whilst in the library – whilst researching family names and places for the book – I happened upon The Official Guide to the South Eastern Railway and its Branches, by George Meason. It’s integral to my plotting. It was published pre-Beeching and is a fascinating study.
After the library closed at six, it was the usual interim stop gap at McDonald’s for a coffee, before taking up residence (as poet and story teller) at the station. I’ve concluded that the music played in McDonald’s is actually okay; although that could be because I’ve been music-deprived for so long. Or it could be that they change the music for my benefit whenever I’m in. I shit you not: chatty man that I am, I’ve got to know the staff. We’re on first name terms. Their names are easy as they wear them on badges; I’m just easy to remember (or hard to forget). We’ve spoken of musical preferences (the staff and I) before and whenever I’m in, mine are played. The soundtrack to my life at the moment. In McDonald’s and other haunts, I’m quite a cult (that third letter is the right one); quite famous (infamous?) I’ve been told.
There’s a button gone missing from my cap: the cap my key worker says there’s so much going on beneath. The cap my psychologist said is the lid which keeps so much in. The missing button has left a white space, about the size of a pound coin. Someone suggested today that I should fill it some way. It’s a small space, I was lacking ideas, so I asked them to do it instead. My cap and therefore the left-hand side of my head now bears the legend “42”: they recognised me and had read the blog. Such an apt insription in any case.
I’m three quarters of the way through Life of Pi now (when I get a moment away from working, I read. Moments are rare, which is why it’s taking me so long to finish the book). It continues to be a rivetting read; the protagonist having much in common with yours truly.
Busy day tomorrow: doctor, benefits, forms, working on this and Gilbert House but I’m afforded a longer day as the library is open until 8PM on Thursdays. then the weekend to suffer. But I’m being taken for dinner on Monday, so there’s a light.
As if to make the weekend more unbearable, the weather forecast is for rain (because we need it). With only around two or three exceptions, it’s rained every day since I’ve been out: 36 days now. I’ve gone beyond being depressed with it and am now angry; with the weather. I thought hell was supposed to be warm and dry but it’s not: it’s cold and wet.
Funnily enough, I couldn’t be bothered to walk to Sainsbury’s tonight in the rain to get my baccy (25g for £7.15), so I went to a newsagent next to McDonald’s and although I expected to pay more, found a different brand to my usual: Carlton; 25g for £6.66.
I am in hell.

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