Left at Your Door

07.09.14 (Day 259)


The main headlines

I can’t sleep (no change there then). My favourite little person has gone away for a week. Miss You Like Crazy For You #combinedsongtitles #howifeel

It’s early but these stupid hours are often the best ones within which to get things done. So I thought I’d get up and record some thoughts which have been occurring to me.

After a brief hiatus (of a week), I’m back. Seven days. To live your life and seven days to die. That’s almost what it took.

I had to leave another family home temporarily. It was always temporary but sometimes things happen for the best. I’m back now. Another storm in a teacup in my life. It’s happened before and it will happen again. There will be trouble ahead with my future trouble and strife. It’ll be a long and difficult haul but she’s worth waiting for, when the time is right. Sometimes things look wrong to those who don’t know but feel right to those that do. Sometimes things feel like the right thing to do, to me and to others.

I spent four days out on the road in strife and now I’m facing a further six without my troublesome little thing. The first one was a living hell; the second still is and will be for another five sleeps.

To answer some questions which few seem to have the courage to ask me, yes I am, no I haven’t, yes I will, yes we are, yes we are and yes we are. All clear? It’s all about how you ask the question. Talk to me. Just come out with it.

In other news

Whilst on the outside, I kept notes. As is the sometimes ethos of this blog, I shall dispense them as they were written. Some of it may not make sense; be incoherent; such was my frame of mind. This is what I was thinking and therefore wrote:


Back in the Rain, Gang

03.09.14 (Day 255)


Kicked out again, through no fault of my own (that I can ascertain). Two conflicting personalities trying to co-exist and at least one of them (me) not doing a very good job apparently. It’s happened before and it may well happen again in a future life with my trouble and strife. But we’re going to do it.

I’m going to see very little of my cute little thing over the coming days and weeks but we’re resourceful and finding ways. My partner in life and crime have lots in common, including tenacity, not giving a shit and being willful. Where there are wills…

My little friend is one of the main things keeping me going through this latest chapter: Volume Seven in fact, as Volume Six of the story didn’t really work out: yet another part that had to be left where it was being written, like so much else. Another home of someone else’s which I had to leave. They’ll miss my cooking and I’ll miss cooking. They may not miss me but I’ll miss them.

My time was up and although I’d been given leave to stay for a while longer, patience ran out and what had become a patient had to run out.

No hard feelings. I’d have liked to have offered a handshake of gratitude for the help which I received but there simply wasn’t time. I apologise.

A bit of a setback then: for me, for my special relationships and for a business partnership which was in the offing.

So I’m back on the road. I don’t know where it might lead but it’s taken me to some good places so far. Others weren’t so good. But if it wasn’t for this road, I’d never have met my special friends, nor my trouble and strife. If it wasn’t for this part of my life, I wouldn’t have found the rest of it.

I tried; I was trying. But the last month has been like the preceding eight: no help for people like me. A fact confirmed at CRI today during my last of three assessment meetings. I’d been led to believe during the meetings that they were a stepping stone onto a next stage. I was led to believe that I was perfectly capable of becoming merely a social drinker. Apparently not. Apparently nothing and then apparently. The only course remaining is detox towards total abstinence. I’ll do that then.

I’ve been getting better but in doing so, I’m not bad enough to qualify for help or recognition. And in being rendered homeless again – because there are no other apparent options – I will probably get worse.

But I will not succumb. I’ve got some very good friends and my trouble to keep me going. Others have and so would I, were it not for those people. I have many terms of endearment for many people but a few are reserved for the few: “You”, “Trouble” and “You’re alright” (the latter being a reference to one of my favourite films: Ghost.) You; my trouble (and strife): you’re alright.

Life on the outside is tough. So am I, I think. Therefore I am. Life out here does things to you: try it. Last night was my first back out on the road proper (excluding the squat) and it’s still dangerous but I’m classed as low risk, so I’ll be fine apparently.

I walked, trying to find somewhere to sleep. Eventually I simply collapsed from exhaustion and slept where I fell for a short while: in the middle of a field. That happens when you’ve had five hours sleep in the preceding 72. And yet out here – to an extent – you dare not sleep. Sometimes you just have to.

I don’t know what tonight might bring. I’ll try to find somewhere warm and dry. The middle of a field is neither. Then back to a few of a number of old ways.

I’m missing a lot of things and a lot of people. I’m cold, tired and lonely. I’m sad.

But I don’t show my emotions if I can help it. I do my crying in the rain.

I hope it rains tonight.

04.09.14 (Day 256)


Last night went predictably: cold, damp and with very little sleep (again). Tonight I have a tent and permission to pitch it outside a church. It’ll be just like camping.

The churches accommodate us because they recognise that no authority – not even the right side of the law – can help. We’re abandoned; forgotten; the screwed up piece of paper you find in your pocket and throw to the ground. There it gets trodden on and kicked around. If you picked it up and read it, you might see that it’s a sick note. We’re unwell.

Don’t pass us by. We’re right outside your door.

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