Two Lumps or Three?

28.11.14 (Day 341)


Edited notes from the last few days:

I’m somewhat distracted by a lump which is somewhere where there shouldn’t be a lump.

Little Blue lies lifeless beside me. We’ve tried everything but to no avail: soft reset, hard reset, factory restore: nothing.

I have a new Little Clementine, in the form of an orange Lumia 530 bought for me by Monsieur Thernadier (The Master of the house in Les Miserables) and it does a lot but little blue was my life. A life lost; like so much else, including the enjoyment of being able to watch my own TV on Little Blue, play poker and so much else.

The lumps: there was a lump in my throat when I thought I’d lost The Wife (my dear little friend and then some) but we’re okay now. She’s with someone and dropped me for a while but we’re back together now. All sorted and carrying on almost as we were. Another lump is one I’ve found where there shouldn’t be one. Well, there should be two but I have three. Lots of tests and visits to hospital will now follow and may well put paid to my planned trip to meet my biological kids on Saturday, given the fares I’ll have to pay out and that I may then not have the money needed to get to Milton Keynes. I thought I should point this out to someone to prepare for the worst and to prepare the kids for the worst but I fell upon unsympathetic ears. The person in question shall remain nameless as they have asked that no reference be made to them here,

I did wrong in the past; I’ve lied, cheated and stolen, to and from many people. I’ve tricked them, conned them and stolen hearts. But those days are gone (thank “god”). I’ve been on the right side of the law since February, when I received an 18-month suspended sentence for theft and carrying a blade. As recently as last week, I was working at a church serving a community lunch. Among the diners were two local officers of the law, who commented that it had been a long time no see.

I realised that there’s no point in dishonesty not long after being on the road, as it only trips you up. So now I’m nothing but honest, believe it or not. A reformed offender and character. I paid the price and now it looks as though I may pay the ultimate one. But rather than leave baggage at the door and sympathize, some continue to doubt. Not so the current wife (just a good friend – as mentioned many times before – but as others have observed in the past, we may as well be married). We’re very close and we argue a lot. But we always get on and make up. Friends with benefits. But we’re more than that. We really may as well be a couple. And she will stick by me – along with others – while I go through whatever I may now have to go through, which of course is a fantasy I’ve created for myself according to some.

I’m the boy who cried wolf in the eyes of some and I have a very long email from a certain quarter pointing out the many errors of my ways in the past. I have freedom of expression available to me in this blog in the public domain and I may choose to edit comments and replies to my posts. I will entertain reasoned debate though and argue my case against any criticism of my posts. Unless those criticisms are so self-deluded that the poster is impossible to argue with, as is the case with the vehemently self-righteous.

A recent criticism (nay, attempted destruction of character) from one source, so afraid of reasoned argument and allowing both sides of the story to be heard was sent from a temporary email address, set up for the sole purpose of criticizing me. As such, I have no means of recourse, other than this blog, which the sender of the email forbade me from using to put across my side of the story; the one which is true. It’s like knock down Ginger, specifically the version I used to play where you wrap dog shit in newspaper, place it on someone’s doorstep and set the paper alight, before running off. They then have to stamp out the fire and get covered in shit.

One of us is self-deluded and I know which one. The character assassin has made their views known to many people and I really have better things to do with my time than to explain my side of the story to all of them. I know they read this blog though. So the name has been removed but to address some of the criticisms, here goes:

Brain tumour: when I lived in Sidcup, I was experiencing severe headaches. A doctor said that it could be a tumour. I was referred for scans but left Sidcup before those scans were due. Upon returning to Tonbridge the headaches had ceased. I saw a doctor and was advised that it was probably tension headaches.

Faked death: in the early days of being on the road, a concerned person (I know not who; it could be one of many) was concerned for me. They thought it would do me a favour by sending a message to the ICE (In Case of Emergency) contacts on my phone. The police got involved (naturally) and found me when they returned my phone. I was labelled a fraud, making a plea for help. Honestly, I’d have just asked. And I did.

Dying wishes to friends, who have now probably disowned me because of the poison they’ve been fed and absorbed: I was over the brain tumour scare and had returned to Tonbridge. Having no real next of kin, I turned to my two best mates and gave them each a letter containing my dying wishes. I never said I was dying (although, aren’t we all?) I’d had a scare and it had got me thinking, so I issued the letters.

Alcoholism vs. alcohol dependency syndrome: there is a difference, although both fall under the same general heading. Read the Wikipedia article. And I am not hiding behind one to disguise the other. I am receiving treatment through CRI and have my next appointment on Monday.

Tablet: Little Blue was not bought for me by the host family, as is one of the many accusations of me using and hanging on. The tablet was gained through a grant from CRI. The Small Sparks grant scheme allows clients to purchase something which will allow them to further themselves. In my case, this was to exercise my writing skill (recognised in my fiction by The Royal Society of Arts, no less) and to build a business: Restaurant at Home. In the case of RSA, I saw my tutor on Wednesday when I visited CRI and my short stories and parts of this blog are being used in an exhibition to be staged at both CRI and the local library. And this is the alcoholic who sits around doing nothing and not trying to get on with anything, including life? I’ve been trying for almost a year. It is trying. Try it for a week.

Phone: the main criticism leveled at my hosts. My host family bought me a new phone. I didn’t ask for it. I ask for little if anything in fact. They realised that I was struggling without my Nokia Lumia 520 and my tablet, so they bought me a new phone. Perhaps the money could have been used to pay for a ticket to visit my kids but that would have been a one-off, although a nice one. By accepting the gift of the phone, I have gained the means to further business, gain some income and make visits with the kids a more regular event.

I’m hoping to get some more financial stability even today, when I visit Soup Bowl in Tunbridge Wells and have an appointment with the resident CAB advisor. We’re going to continue the long, ongoing battle with DWP to try to release the back payment of PIP I’m owed. Also to reclaim the over-repayment of Carer’s Allowance I’ve been having deducted from ESA.

My main critic is obviously determined to destroy the life I’m trying to rebuild and I would challenge them to spend just one week surviving as I have for the best part of a year. Yes, there are good things about them but I won’t mention those things here as I’m merely responding in kind. They and others gave up. I haven’t. But if this lump does turn out to be malignant, in some respects I’ll be relieved. I can escape this hell created by others.

There are two sides to every story of course. Believe what you like.

Time for a drink. Coffee with lots of sugar, or gin and tonic with ice: two lumps or three?

A stiff drink is needed: coffee; two lumps or three?

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