A Thousand Words Paint a Picture

10.06.14 (Day 170)


I’m at my old desk, in the new room (the latest temporary one) and I’m back to writing with pen and paper as we received another visit from the property owner today. He was as amicable as the last time we met but was accompanied by the police. They switched our electiricity supply off. Fair play really as we were leeching from the National Grid but now we have no lights, we can’t cook and we can’t charge phones; phones which we need to make and receive calls to sort our lives out.

Rewind to 14 hours ago, when I woke at the usual ridiculous O’clock. at 7.15am, I walked two and a half miles in what would have been glrorious weather in different circumstances. Circumstances as they were though, I have Shingles. The rash itches and burns and the heat made it worse. A discomfort I can’t explain.

I was with one of my lieutenants; the only female one and a very troubled young lady indeed. She’s been staying with us for some time and we’ve been helping her out.

I ran my coffee morning at the church at the other end of town. Our usual customers patronised us. They’re mainly older people and we have a library van visit, so they get to meet with their peers and borrow books. My young charge decided to borrow a book from the library: a biography of Aleister Crowley. She’s finding it quite hard work, so she’s asked me to read it to her. I shall but given the subject, at home rather than in church. She’s also asked me to be her foster carer. She has one already but she feels most comfortable with me. I’ve spoken to her current carer and to various agencies, including the police and all would seem to be in favour of whatever is best for my young charge, despite my circumstances. To be continued…

My foster thing has an amazing talent for photography: a natural ability. She can frame and angle a shot like few I know. We’ve been working together, with me encouraging her to take photographs, then using them as a basis for stories. She does the pictures, I do the words. We’re going to put together a photographic record of this place before we have to move on and those pictures will give me ideas for stories to keep me going for a very long time. This is one of mine:


I don’t need elcetricity. I just need a pen, a notepad and my photographer. My daughter.

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