And the Little one Said

20.08.14 (Day 241)


There were an arbitrary number in the bed and the little one said quite a lot. Most of it was right: words of wisdom, counselling, advice, bollockings. Sometimes he got it wrong or was misunderstood. So some rolled over and some fell out. They gave a little bump and they gave a little shout…


Dear Dog,

Whether I’ve got things wrong or not, things have been strained between myself and The Dog lately. Where once we were brothers and best mates, the rumor mill has been at work, twisting and inventing things. One or both of us has got the wrong end of the stick. One of us got the short stick; the thin end of the wedge.

One of us is on the outside and one on the inside. People have been taking sides when as far as I’ve been able to ascertain now, neither of us created sides. When we were living together, we’d talk about these things but now we can’t. I was the one who helped you and you did the same for me. For that I’ll be eternally grateful. I was the only one who could keep you at heel, as you yourself admitted. It takes a real man to admit something like that, just as it takes a real man to cry and I cried on your shoulder many times. We had a mutual understanding. We are two huge personalities who sometimes clash. We used to sort it out but now that we’re separated, we’re lost. That’s how I feel anyway.

I was the one who christened you The Dog. You were the one who called me Boss. Well the boss is moving on mate. The bells are tolling. I really don’t want to hear a division bell. I don’t want the family to be divided. I want the Pink Hearts to carry on. We had an ethos; we have values. We’ll never be the same but when I’m gone, I need someone to keep the family together; not run a gang, because we were never a gang or a crew. I need my right-hand man. If any of the family want to visit me in my next transitory home, that’s up to them. Lots of us have said farewell but I’ll be within easy reach where I’m going.

And now that I’m starting to get my confidence back, I can meet up with some of the family in town as I venture out further. And you know why I’m able to do that? Because I saw you today and we were both man enough to shake hands. The worst is over. Let’s make things better, together.

We’re both confused but then we knew that from all those nights sitting up and talking when we lived together. We’re confused about what has gone on. Neither you nor I did anything wrong. There was a misunderstanding somewhere but what do we do? Spend the few remaining days I have left dissecting and analyzing things, probably arriving at no conclusion? Or do as we used to: put it down to experience and move on. It’s harder to do now that we’re apart. Spilt milk; water under the bridge.

I need support from the family. We’re The Pink Hearts: never divided.

I don’t want people to forget the family; the one who started it and the one who stood by his side.



There’s a spanner in the works with Colebrook House at the moment but that should be sorted with a few phone calls tomorrow: another day of dealing with the system.

The little one shall speak.

Besides shaking hands with The Dog and hoping that we can get over our perceived differences, today was a busy one. 

I had a first session post-induction with CRI and they continue to be a much improved organisation to the one I used to deal with. I met up with a few old friends and I saw The Wife. That girl is my prop and me hers. She’s signed her name across my heart. She helped me cook dinner tonight and did a good job: her name is signed across my stomach too. We played cards; we had a laugh: what a crack. 831.

I’m worried about what lies ahead but the little one said, don’t.

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