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So, I know that it has been a long time since I posted - here is what is happening in the land of BG.

Firstly, great news - the son and heir has passed his driving exam, first time, and is pretty chuffed. (He got four minors, which is pretty good when you're scared witless.)

He has also got a part time job, which he is enjoying. It entails a very early start, which is good for a teenage boy (otherwise he would lie in bed till noon.) This way he has the rest of the day. He may decide to keep it if he gets on his chosen course next year. (Leading into university, where he intends to study creative writing.) He should have got on this course last year, but he panicked and didn't open his A level results, because he thought he'd failed them. (He hadn't.) When he realised he had the grades he needed he applied, but he had left it too late. As you can imagine, he is keen to get on it and make up for lost time.

More stressful news - we are both due in court on Wednesday to appear as witnesses against Nasty Neighbour. Whatever happens, this will mark the end of dealings with her. At least I hope so, you never know when that woman is going to go crazy. If she gets off she may decide to come around and gloat.

If she gets found guilty it is good news for her new neighbours, because she will evicted. And if she doesn't abide by whatever penalty she is given (probably community service) she will go to prison. Given that I can't imagine her behaving herself, that is a distinct possibility.

On Monday I have an interview re my midwifery course - hopefully I will get funding for living expenses while I am studying. Otherwise I will have to get a part time job to see me through - given that it is a full time course, that could be exhausting.

If I get my funding, and the son and heir keeps his job, I may just be able to afford a car for him. Basically, an interest free loan from the bank of Mum. He's always been honest and disciplined with money, so I know he will pay me back.

My Patrick book is slowly taking off. 

And I am going on the cruise I won this month - travelling with my Dad, who has just retired. I've just remembered I have to contact my Doctor about anti nausea tablets, in case I turn out not to have sea legs. In the past I've been okay, but they were just short trips to Ireland. Staying on a boat for eight days is a different thing.

Very much looking forward to my Dad showing me the sites around Ireland. I couldn't have a better travel companion.

Oh - and when I was in Ireland this last month I got my fainne - a badge pin that you wear so people know you speak Irish and are happy to talk to them in it. I was pretty delighted, they are hard to achieve. It was weird talking to little old ladies outside mass in Irish, then seeing the look on their faces when I gave an American directions to the beach. One of them just stared at me silently, the other one said 'you speak great Irish for an English girl.' I explained, of course, and they invited me to tea.

Hmm. What else? Oh yes! I am half way through my Big Bang. Having solved some plot points it is going smoother now - it helps to have a good beta who is prepared to help you wrangle your way through the trickier paths of story. (As usual this one is making me uncomfortable to write. Why I put my characters through such trauma is beyond me.)

And next month in Chicago! Meeting up with fannish friends at vividcon, and then travelling around a bit and staying with another fannish friend. We are planning on making a video together - she wants to expand her technique and teach me the basics. I am very pleased with our song choice, and hope we'll be able to post it after the visit.

I think that's it for now. 

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So, my historical novel about the life of St Patrick is out now, on amazon and other sites, both as a paperback and downloadable for e-readers - kindle, and about thirty other devices. Here is the front cover - pretty cool, actually.

I'm not terribly good at publicity, and am nervous about this, but I'm hoping this website will help explain what it is all about. http://leahmacmoire.co.uk 

(Teenage boy kidnapped and sold as a slave - that's the short version.) If folks choose to have a look at my writer's blog, I will be grateful for any feedback. And if you do happen to read and like the book, then please review it on amazon (or goodreads, or whatever.) I accept concrit by the way - so if there is something you don't like about it, you can let me know via the feedback forms on my blog. I am writing others in the series, so that kind of feedback is really helpful.

But anyway - the book is here! Let me know what you think. (You can download the book here. It is  )

Thank you all kindly!

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Nothing too horrendous, really, when I look at it logically, but it's too cold to go out, and even if I did, I'm too damn miserable. My manuscript is at the printers, I can't do any tweaking with it until the thing comes back. And I tried to update my flashplayer, and instead have inundated my computer with a flood of malware. And the computer guy who was supposed to have got all Neil's old computer stuff onto a hard drive for me by Thursday keeps coming up with excuses. I feel like a fool, because he has taken my money.

He's usually trustworthy, but I just can't help it - I'm worried I'm being let down and taken advantage of left right and centre.

So, I can't go to the gym, too late now to get on a bus, since I can't afford a taxi back, plus I'm spending all my time trying (and failing) to get my computer back to the way it was. One thing I've learned - never click on a pop up box, even to tell it to fuck off - they just see it as encouragement. I keep getting horrid little boxes of ads flashing up on my screen, even as I'm typing this and I feel like I fail utterly. Some programme somewhere is crawling through my computer getting all my data. And oh, look. Another ad asking me to DOWNLOAD NO!!!At least I seem to have google chrome back,but there are banner ads on both sides of my page, and I don't know what little monkeys came through on the trojan horse.

I am very, very annoyed, and perhaps a little tearful. It's that time of the month again. Haven't heard back yet from my job interview, and I'm convinced I won't get it anyway. Can't see why anyone would want to hire me anyway, once they've met me.

I really need a better life. And a brain, so I don't do this kind of thing again.
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So, usually this time of year I've got a serious bad mope on and those who know me are worried about me. but this year I'm seeing the arrival of my mother's birthday as a good thing. Today is a day of many good things. I've been up since just before six trying to prepare for them. (Had nightmares all night, but that's not unusual before any kind of big day.)

People, I have a job interview, for which I am getting ready - I must have changed my outfit three times. I think I'm happy with what I've got on. I think... If I get the job I'll post more details later. Don't want to queer the deal at this point. (Yes, I am superstitious, I know.) My girlfriend is picking me up soon to drive me to the interview, then afterward she and I are going to Norwich, where we're doing bank type things (is that a good sign in a relationship when your partner asks you to help them talk to their bank manager? I think it is.)

After we've had lunch we're going to the gym together, then she's going to pick her kids up from school and I'm going home on the bus.

The bus people, by myself. This, for me, is a big step. 

And, oh wow. I'm getting a call from the printer at 6pm about typesetting my manuscript, and what I want on the front cover. And, uh - guys, I've been asked to speak about my book at the St Patrick Days events in March. Please can you all pray, or send good vibes to the universe that nothing goes wrong and my book is actually in print by then? I'll provide links and so on once it is up on Amazon. (James knows this book, I wrote it five years ago, and have been worrying at it ever since. I finally dared show it to some independent readers who, not knowing me or caring what I thought were able to give independent feedback. And they all thought it was worth publishing. So, it's been worked on, final spell checks being done by a professional editor who isn't charging me because he attends the same church as my son. Already I've had a lot of interest in it - did I mention, book reading on St Patrick's Day! And if the print run comes through in time a book signing.

So, generally, I'm glad these things are happening on my mother's birthday. Did I say I'm superstitious? Yes I am. Feels like she's looking after me today, so I'm happy.

Even if I don't get the job (which to be fair seems unlikely given my age, and that my qualifications are in a different field) I am still pleased that I made it to interview.

Oh, and Nasty Neighbour has handed her keys in today! The whole Close feels like going out and having a house party. (The Momma cat has had five babies by the way. They're all fine.) 


Jan. 8th, 2015 03:07 pm
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Just quickly dropping by to say that some things are a bit better than they have been. Back to guitar, working on what Elspeth calls 'gappy hand' for an arpeggio technique. Not sure what the technical term for it is, but it's both very difficult and weirdly hypnotic. Had a good lesson today.

In desperation at the complete lack of regular physio from the NHS and the long waiting lists, I joined a gym - it was half price as a new year offer. When else am I going to be able to join a gym for ten pounds a month? So, I've been in three times. First time was induction - the guy knew all about my slipped disc, and worked out a plan for me to strengthen core muscle without hurting myself again. So, no running, but I can use the cross trainer, rower and bike for cardio. And no free weights - he showed me which machines to use, and what to watch out for so I knew if I was doing them correctly or not. And he worked me out a series of stretches and toning exercises. I'm still a couple of stone overweight, but I knew that anyway.

So far so good - I'm sticking to the programme and trying to keep my heart rate maxed out at 180. (It's been up over 200, which is probably bad, but it recovers quickly when I slow down. Blood pressure and resting heart rate are fine, and hopefully I'll keep them that way.)

Tomorrow is a busy day - got to see my therapist tomorrow, then I will be gymming it, then I will be doing .... uh.... something. I know not what, but it shall be the terror of the earth!

Oh and very good news, which has taken a tremendous load off me - the Nasty Neighbour is MOVING! The housing association phoned to let me know that they are taking the keys back from her on Monday, and that she should be out of my life. (And out of the village.)

This is a huge relief - I can't even begin to express how relieved I am. It seems very sudden as well. 

Though, it would appear I have inherited a pregnant cat. She has taken up residence in my shed area, and is already at the stage of 'not eating, building nests, turning in circles and wailing.' This is one of NN's cats, and I'm glad on the cat's behalf that it appears she isn't going with.

We'll see though. I'm not counting my chickens (or kittens) before they're hatched.
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So, some of you may know how much I hate Christmas. Some of you may indeed have endured Christmases with me where I have thrown things at you, or broken down sobbing and threatening suicide. (Looking at you, James - sorry.)

Anyway, this Christmas was particularly bad, partly because we had police procedural business on Christmas Eve regarding Nasty Neighbour, and the action the police are taking against her. That was pretty exhausting, though Son and Heir stood up to the stress a lot better than I did, and gave a very thorough statement to the police. We've had it explained to us how the court hearing will go - Nasty Neighbour will be in a glass soundproof box with a guard on either side, so even if she yells at us we won't have to hear it. And if the court deems it appropriate, they'll put up a screen so we don't even have to look at her.

Not sure yet as to dates, but at least it's moving along.

Wasn't able to make midnight mass - would like to blame it on my back, but it was more the crushing horror of it being Christmas - again and the need to stay put. 

The day itself my son enjoyed - he went to church nice and early, sang his lungs out from all accounts. I stayed in bed till half twelve, then got up and pottered about, managed to go share Christmas dinner with friends from the church, which turned out not to be too bad. Ride, you remember Dan and Joy - well, Dan and the Famous One squeed over the RayV badge, and there was much cosplay with guys pretending dramatically to throw in their shield, or displaying it, saying 'Ray Vecchio, Chicago PD,' or 'Freeze, Chicago PD,' or 'Put down that cracker. You're Under Arrest.' 

What made it funnier was the fact that they have very British accents, and argued as to who got to be Vecchio, and who got to be Kowalski. In the end the Son and Heir decided he should be Kowalski, because he's got 'excited blond hair' and cool boots.

There was also messing around with daleks. Dan has nearly finished his - all it needs now is a voice box and some car paint sprayed over it, and then he's bringing it to church to help him deliver a sermon.

Still feeling fairly low, but not so bad as I was. Today is my last day of indulgence before starting on a diet. Weighed in yesterday at 13 stone three, and my body mass index is 26. Going to give myself three months to lose between a stone, and a stone and a half. I usually feel healthier between eleven and a half to twelve stone.

Still waiting on physio for my back - probably the new year.

And I'm going to try and finish some giftfics I've been working on. My first non C6D - post MASH. Working rather slowly toward a happy ending. (Hard to write a happy ending when you're unhappy, on the other hand it's helped me avoid my own angst, and the happy ending might cheer me up.)

Currrently listening to Julian Bream playing the lute. Hilariously enough, yesterday one of my son's gifts to me turned out to be Tom Wait's Jukebox. The songs that inspired the man. Perfect for my mood.

James - I'm still waiting for you to produce "Tom Waits For No Man: featuring 'I will always love you,' and 'Akuna Matata' from the Lion King, etc."

Despite the moaning, happy Christmas and New Year to all. Yay! I survived it!

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 My back seems to be a lot improved. After however many weeks its been of it constantly getting worse, over the last few days it has been getting better. I know a lot of it is the painkillers, but I was able to reduce them yesterday and today, and things seem to be holding steady. The few days where I was doped to the gills actually helped because I was able to move more - and today I put my shoes and socks on unassisted! Still not running, but walking better. 

And, thirteen days from now my glasses should be ready. I'm quite nervous that the new prescription will be hard to get used to, but I shouldn't think the worst. If it doesn't work, I'll just have to go back in and get them changed to something more manageable.

And, ooh! Even as we speak, I got  a delivery just now from America - a Fluffybutts dog calendar. Awesome... I always forget to buy myself a calendar.

Plus... OMG. My son got a tattoo. 

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 So.... I don't know what's going on between Livejournal and Dreamwidth. Apparently they are having a lover's spat and not talking at the moment. Just to let folks know I'm better than I was yesterday, moving about more easily, though still not able to put my shoes on or leave the house. Might be able to sit straight enough to play my guitar later, which would be a plus.

AND! Home deliveries! I managed to do my grocery shopping online for the first time ever, so at least we won't starve. (The grocery cupboard was sadly depleted, but is now much happier.) It's amazing how hard life is when you can't walk to the shops, and amazing how much cheaper it is to find a supermarket that delivers. So, things are looking up.

Plus, I'm writing again.

Still hoping to be mobile enough to accompany the Famous Seamus into town on Tuesday.

And hoping this crossposts to Dreamwidth.

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Hello all. As some of you will have noticed, I've been rather quiet lately. Writer's block hit so hard that I couldn't even open my laptop, and have been communicating via smartphone for... well, months. And I couldn't even face trying to write a journal entry on smartphone.

However, mental energy wise things are getting better. Writer's block seems to be getting better (managed just over a thousand words today, thanks to the joys of Scrivener) and I am generally more cheerful. Which is odd, really, as my back is getting worse. It has been about ten days since I've been able to leave the house. No - I tell a lie. I managed to get down the hill to the village some time this week, and then seriously considered a taxi to get me home. Basically, some days I can't bend to put my shoes on, or dressed. However, the doctor has prescribed me some painkillers that are actually helping. I've been able to walk around the house (or shuffle really) today. I do need to get into town at some stage, since my glasses have changed, and I really need the new prescription. So... officially I am an old crock. Bifocals and everything. Though I am at least a reasonably happy old crock at the moment.

Need food though. Must send my son grocery shopping - there is nothing but noodles, rice and onions in the house. 

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Okay, so very brief fly by post today, but OMG! (I've already told Magister about this, since he was intimately involved.) 

Finally, they have figured out what is wrong with my back! For over eighteen years now I have been complaining of back pain, occasionally so crippling I can't move at all. (Occasionally so bad I have threatened to kill Magister, who, thank God, knows me well enough to forgive me, and has the reflexes of a bat. The amount of balled up socks that I could have killed that poor man with, had I only been able to get out of bed and smother him with them...)

Anyway, can you believe that I was GLAD when the MRI scan came back showing something?

Turns out, being in labour for ... oh, I think it was a century and half, wasn't it?... and being given stuff that paralyses your lower limbs so you can't even twitch your toe, no matter how badly your back hurts... turns out that is BAD for you. Turns out, it leaves little fissures and cracks on your coccyx, and bulges all along your back that your nerves get trapped in. Turns out that nearly two decades of doctors saying 'it's all in your mind,' or 'it's just hormones, it will settle down once you're past menopause'... turns out that's crap. (Yeah, that's right, because no woman ever got backache that wasn't related to hormones.)

It does also turn out that there are things they can do to help. So, despite being pissed at the medical profession in general, I am glad. And VERY glad for my current doctor, who ordered the MRI scan, and preemptively apologised for the medical profession, because she couldn't understand why I'd been waiting so long.

You know what, all hail that doctor. Within about two weeks of her ordering the MRI I've got a sodding result. That's a miracle. 

Also, to put this in perspective, me and Magister are glad. (I mean, I'm sure he would prefer me NOT to have a bad back, but he'll understand what I'm saying.)

Let's face it, if I had to break my back for somebody, Magister and I officially have the BEST son in the world. If somebody had presented me any other human being on the planet and said, 'this will be your son, for the rest of your life you will walk around feeling like your heart is living in someone else's chest, you will feel like dying if someone even looks at him wrong...' for anyone else, I would have said 'no'. If anyone else had said, oh, 'let's add long term back ache and (other random embarrassing issues) to the mix,' I would have said 'no.'

But, hey, it's just past two AM, my back is killing me, my son is eighteen and a half, and wow. I don't care! My back has been hurting for nearly twenty years, and he's worth it.

Thank you, Magister, for being part of our awesome son. (This is not me being passive aggressive at all, this is genuine thanks. Ride has met the son and heir, she knows how awesome he is, and how much better the world is with him in it.)

So, at the end of a stressful however long, I've been weighing things up, and on balance, they are good. Sometimes people think the end of a marriage is the failure of a relationship - I disagree. Magister and I never failed. In fact, we succeeded. We met when we were six months older than our son. We still love each other, we're still talking. Our son knows that he can rely on us both, he rolls his eyes when we go of on fannish tangents.... unless of course he's joining in. When I have a problem, Magister is one of the first people I talk to - always has been, over twenty years now, even when I officially 'hated' him. I always knew I could trust him,  that he would be there. I hope he feels the same about me. Our marriage ended, it didn't fail. If somebody stuck a gun at my head and demanded I tell them who my best friend was, there would be two on the list, and Magister would be one. (Of course, such a hypothetical someone would shoot me before I could blurt out an answer. Hence the need for fanfic... I now feel the need to write... something. I know not what, but it shall be the terror of the earth. It might involve blindfolded Fraser choosing between Rays... Damnyou fanbrain, shut up, I'm trying to write something meaningful here!)

Anyway, back to the over-emotionalism. Everyone thinks S looks like me, then they see your photo, Magister, and their jaws drop, and if they're female (or even in the slightest way bi) they go 'wow.' You're not PG good looking, (IRL who Who the hell is?) But our poor lad wants to know can he 'shave his head bald' because he's freaked out by girls at college petting it and asking him out. I have told him - no. He cannot get his head shaved bald. If the girls asking him out are a problem, he can sic me on them. 

As a joint parental decision, you would agree with this, yes? I mean the 'not shaving his beautiful hair issue,' not the 'psychotic mommy issues, omg, is she for real, holy crap, I hope she doesn't have a knife, holy cow, she has a knife issues...' which I accept are all my own. Fortunately, they don't realise I'm crippled with pain, they just think I'm very, very cross.

Finally, just so you'se all know. Yes, I am in pain, and sentimental. And no, I am not drunk, nor high. nor on pain meds. (Though Lord, I wish I was.) However, I just felt the urge to revel in the fact that there is a reason for my backache, potential help for it, and that, in the end, who cares.... my son is awesome. Which should have been a very short posting, but then led me to thinking... hey, his Dad is awesome too! Which led to me thinking about tall men with curly hair, which led me to thinking about Doctor Who....

And now I am thinking about Ride being here, and the DW episodes that S and I are considering showing her. (Classic Who? New Who? Shall we just go bananas and watch Torchwood instead? 'Urgh, no! Jack will probably shag a cactus!' 'Son, what sort of fanfic have you been reading?' 'Nothing, I just watched Torchwood. He's a trysexual... try anything, '  etc. There go our evenings.)

Waiting till Ride is here in the next.... TEN DAYS!!!)
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Just because I've been quiet for a while, I thought I should let youse all know what has been going on. Health-wise, still waiting on the MRI scan results, but the back pain has receded a great deal. Stress-wise, through the roof - I feel like I'm living in an episode of a soap opera.

Where to start? Well, the good next door neighbour who died recently was buried on Monday. My son and I decided we couldn't go, because we knew Nasty Neighbour would create a scene. (Apparently she did anyway, but someone else was her victim.)

So, having been denied her scene, Nasty Neighbour tried escalating today - sent her boyfriend round to harrass me, saying I was a thief, owed them money, demanding to go through my house and 'get her stuff' etc. (Seriously, I have nothing of hers, at all.) Fortunately I had an independent witness to this, the taxi driver who dropped me off from hospital. He also picked me up, and has let the police know that the boyfriend had been sitting in his car outside my house both when I was being picked up and dropped off. 

Obviously, I had to call the police out again. They were here within twenty minutes (much better response time than last time, which was four days) and were very reassuring. They warned me that Nasty Neighbour is what they call 'an alleger' and that within minutes of them arriving at my door she would be calling in with a counter accusation about me. Sure enough, the officers were right. I assumed from the things her boyfriend had been saying that they would be accusing me of theft, and from some of the things she has said to my face that she might allege some kind of deviancy (she has accused police officers, social workers and housing officers of sexual assault in the past, for example, so they always visit her in pairs, for the sake of having a witness.)

Anyway, the police, after taking my son and my statements, went over together to warn her and her boyfriend away, then came back to let me know that they had 'wound their necks in' (Norfolk speak for 'backed off') but that Nasty Neighbour was trying to get me put on the race relations register. She claims that at some point (I'm not sure when this is supposed to have happened) I used racially motivated slurs against her. (Seriously, I'm uncomfortable even writing the word.)

Anyway, the police women were fine with me, reassured me that I was doing the right thing by calling them, are going to take it further with the Housing Association tomorrow when the offices are back open. My girlfriend is coming to get my son and I on Friday so we can stay with them till Monday. I've paid someone to mind the cats for me, and am just looking forward to taking off.

Oh, thank God for fandom. Ride (sorry, I can't figure out the tags today) is coming to see me in twelve days. I actually do have some real friends.

Though I keep meaning to finish my comp art for the big bang, and don't feel like I'm doing the original piece justice. I have until Monday, have a basic start, some tech issues. I'm thinking I'll have to wait till I'm at my girlfriend's house so I can set the props properly and take some decent pictures. My gf thinks I'm bonkers by the way for spending so much time thinking of flower arrangements for an imaginary wedding, but she also thinks it's sweet. Her eldest son has actually offered to make a wedding cake for Stella and RayV... I pointed out that you couldn't eat wedding cake online, he said, 'yeah, but we can all eat it.' 

So, I'll probably be eating wedding cake this weekend, and toasting dS nuptials. My son and I are hoping to tempt R and her boys into the fandom, but so far only the youngest is interested. (He's eight, wants to be a Mountie and drive a Riv.) Usually what happens is we plan to watch dS, then her lads decide to watch Doctor Who instead. 

Anyway, this weekend, if the eldest, our master chef gets around to decorating the cake, I'll take pictures - there is a reasonable chance we'll just eat it. 

Gah. I'm going to bed. Am knackered.

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So, it  is now officially Thursday the eighteenth in the UK. I've made it through my seventh anniversary without Neil. This time, of course, I couldn't phone his mother. My son and I had planned on watching one of 'his' movies - ended up listening to his music instead. Now I've got Eddie Starr, and the Kinks, Bob Marley, and Northern Soul and Bread in my head.

Tomorrow - today, actually - I have to get up early for an MRI scan. Not so much scared of it as completely bewildered. I don't know what to expect, and don't know if I can actually lie motionless for twenty-five minutes in an enclosed space while a machine is making whooshing noises all around me. Not to mention the fact that lying on my back for that length of time is going to hurt like hell. Honestly, I'm an eejit - I should have phoned my doctor and asked for an anti anxiety med. Too late now.

Other than that - well, really, things are okay. The police did finally come out and take S and my statements. Nasty neighbour has stayed away. The dS troll has been quiet for a few days. (I keep having to delete insults veiled as 'reviews,' have had to ban her from my journal, report her to various mods on various forums, and flag up her email as spam. It's been going on since my last day in Toronto, so about a month now.)

And... seriously, I'm an adult. How can I let such silly things get to me? Séamus' girlfriend had much more serious back issues than I do, and she's just a kid. She managed to lie still in the MRI scan. So, I can do it.

Just a shame I can't read dS fic while I'm in there. I'll just have to think myself into my happy place instead.
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So, not as dramatic as previous. Life bumbles along. My employer has been depriving this worker of her wages for over a month, and I thought, sod it, and just walked out. On the other hand, I got a date today for an MRI scan - this Thursday. So it's not as long a wait as I had been fearing.

The police have not come out yet to take my son and my statements. (Why does that sentence look wrong to me.) They assure me they are coming out today. I'm kinda nervous about that - I don't know if it will make things better or worse on the neighbourhood front.

Stood on the scales today (which was naughty, I normally only weigh myself on a Saturday morning.) But my skirt was surprisingly loose on me this morning, so I was curious. Lost twelve pounds since coming back from Canada. Or maybe I'm grieving for Toronto. It could be the distinct lack of poutine in my diet that's done it. It's the more surprising because I normally bloat up a little this time of the month.

Other than that - life as normal. At some stage I'm going to do a post of stuff I wrote in Canada and after returning home. Maybe that's how I should avoid writer's block in future - travel to dS related locations. Next year, Chicago!
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So, sad news. Yesterday my good neighbour and friend, Ted, passed away. He's been ill as long as I knew him - the last two years - and he's also been consistently kind and decent no matter what.

First met him a few days before my son and I moved in, officially. The famous S and I were painting the living room, looked around, and there was a little old man painting the walls with us. "Hello," he said cheerfully. "I'm your next door neighbour."

He liked to garden - soon after I moved in, I woke up one morning, and he was out front, planting flowers along the borders in my front garden. He tried valiantly (and failed) to impart some of his knowledge to my son, but did succeed in teaching him how a lawnmower works. (Walk in straight lines, don't weave around like a drunken sailor.) When my mother-in-law was ill, I asked the famous S to keep an eye on Ted when I was away. I then asked Ted to keep an eye on S when I was away. This resulted in them cooking a meal together and sitting watching telly in Ted's living room - again, Ted valiantly tried to teach the FS the joys of football. Nothing doing. Did teach him snooker though, and they developed a mutual love for watching big trucks hauling across America and Canada, (particularly the ones travelling the iceroads) Warehouse Wars, and so on.

Sadly, he was financially abused by one of our other neighbours, to a shocking extent. (Basically she stripped him of his pension, 'borrowed' thousands of pounds, and sent him on weekly grocery runs for her and whatever animal is unfortunate enough to live with her.)

Some of you will will remember that she also caused me a lot of trouble earlier this year, when she started trying to blackmail me. Yes, pathetic really - she threatened to out me to our village church. (My girlfriend really, really doesn't want to be outed. Apparently the shock of it would scar her boys for life. I'm supposed to wait ten years until her youngest is eighteen.)

So, eventually, the lady now to be referred to as 'Nasty Neighbour' became so threatening and abusive that I had to take legal action to protect my son and I. (She had shown him pornographic pictures of herself, and then told people he was 'sexually confused' because his reaction was one of disgust rather than what she'd been expecting.) When I was in Manchester looking after my dying mother in law, she was texting me constantly, sending my son to the shop to get her electricity and gas, etc.

Once she sent after my son, that was it. I decided not to be blackmailed, and came out locally - to mixed reaction.(Most people really don't care. My erstwhile church are all praying for me) Didn't tell them who my girlfriend was (none of their business really.) Nasty Neighbour at that point started threatening suicide, threatening to kill her dog by injecting him with Ted's insulin, banging on my door and texting me on a regular basis, asking for money, or my prescription medication, repeating either that she would kill herself if I didn't comply, that I was abusing her, or that she was going to set my garden on fire. I texted her politely asking her to desist, followed by a barrage of hate mail. Which was actually a good thing, because it provided evidence in court, and she was slapped with both an injunction and a PIN, forbidding her to approach or communicate with my son and I, or to send any of her associates on her behalf.

Unfortunately she got legal aid, turned up in court saying it had all been a terrible misunderstanding, that her mental health would suffer irreparably if she was burdened with an injunction. So, the injunction got swapped over to a 'Promise of Good Behaviour,' with a duration of only three months. (If she broke her promise to the court it was still an arrestable offence.) 

Anyway, she's been trying to stretch the terms of her PIN ever since - Famous S and I have continued to blank her.

As soon as I heard that Ted died, I knew in my gut that she'd use it as an excuse to try to approach us. My gut was right. Last night included banging on our front door. When we slammed it in her face there was a little bit of shouting. Then she sent around one of her boyfriends. Then she sent me abusive texts, including one telling me that neither S nor I are welcome at Ted's funeral, that we're petty, pathetic, that everyone knows about our 'disgusting display' (I think she means me shutting my own front door without a word and turning the key.)

Obviously, the police have been informed. 

What is sad is that she has obviously got away with this kind of behaviour before. In Ted's case, toward the end of his life he was frightened to be seen talking to me in public places. We'd chat over the back fence, but I couldn't have a cup of tea in his living room anymore, because she had a tendency to storm in and start yelling at him if she thought he was talking to her 'enemies.' (Of whom I am obviously Maniacal Enemy Number One. I mean, seriously? Who has mortal enemies in real life? Besides me, apparently.)

Ted was a lovely old man, and I'm sad to have lost his company, but glad that he is out of the debilitating and constant struggle he had with his blood pressure, heart and diabetes. I'm glad that he's no longer forking over most of his pension money to this woman, I'm glad that he's in a better place. Or, if my religious theories are wrong, and the soul doesn't survive, then still - he's out of pain, and no longer being bullied.

Anyway - obviously I can't go to her funeral. Ted's been dead less than 24 hours, and she's already making the whole thing into a soap opera. As my son says, 'it doesn't matter Mum, we don't have to go. Ted won't be there, after all.'

Just - a sad end to the week. He had been looking forward to meeting [personal profile] ride again in a few months (he wanted to see your reaction to the Scottish blue potatoes in my garden, and had made some slow gin a few years ago he thought you might like.)

And sorry for the long and rather gratuitous self-pity post, and any typos herein. It's been a long and horrible year for the most part, with certain exceptions. (dS con for the win!)

Guess I needed to get it off my chest. 

Okay, now I'm going to breathe.

butterflyghost: (Default)
Well, I think it's good news anyway.

After the RayK decision that he was going to drop out of college and get a job, my son has not only changed his mind, but got back in full time. Basically, he scared himself witless with the reality of the job market at the moment, and the discovery that - hey - he's poor. Who is he to turn down a grant?

We had a good long talk about things, and turns out he was dropping out because he was worried his girlfriend would leave him if he went the uni route. (She has a full time job at a supermarket, and he was thinking that they might drift apart if he did something else.)

Anyway, he's realised that while he has nothing against working at the sumpermarket or in a factory, and might do it part time, he doesn't want to make a career of it, and that if he spends a year like that  his brain will melt, and he'll probably hit his line manager and up jobless anyway. And he missed the routine of going into college, studying in the library, turning in his assignments etc. He had no idea how boring looking for work was, or how depressing the actual job market is.

So, today we went in to see if it was too late for him to sign up for a course, and his tutor took one look at him and said 'oh, thank God.'

Unfortunately the course they originally accepted him for (Creative Writing) is all full up, but they said he can switch next year. In the meantime, he's doing his first year in (wait for it) business studies. He's like, 'what the hell?' But it will stretch and challenge him, and he'll learn something useful and new. And, oh, thank God, his grant was still available, hadn't been assigned to anyone else yet. (If we'd gone in tomorrow they would still have had him, paid for the academic but he wouldn't have had the living grant, or the travel bursary.)

So, yay! Big stress of this mother's mind. 

Other than that... back still achey, limping around a bit. Happier in my head than I have been. And [personal profile] ride_4ever   has her tickets sorted and will be here in just over a month! We will run around squeeing!

When I was in Toronto, I was running around going '\\\0/// the buildings are so big!' 
 Ride, when you get here, we'll run around going '\\\0/// the buildings are so old!'

In other words, I've had a reasonably good day.

butterflyghost: (Default)
So, my back is much better. Still tender, but I can walk around and everything. After a mere eighteen years of complaining the doctors are finally booking me in for an MRI. The very nice doctor I saw today (I was actually able to walk to the surgery, though it took longer than usual) apologised to me on the part of the profession. Apparently most of her colleagues over the years have been writing my back pain of as psychosomatic (because, you know, people with mental illnesses never ever get anything physically wrong with them.)

She examined me, stuck pins in me etc, and thinks it's probably neurological, but probably not anything to worry about. It 'should be manageable,' but she wants to see the spinal involvement to be sure. Looks like I'll be on anti inflammatories and painkillers for a while, but at least I don't need those effing anti spasmodics anymore.

Currently sitting at home, unable to write.

Well, never mind. It will come back to me at some point. I think. I hope.

It always has done before.

butterflyghost: (Default)
This will, perforce be brief. Been awake forever, the painkillers are mainly making me nauseus. The doctor insisted when she came out that I should sleep with what she gave me, and I would feel much better in the morning.

I am now suspicious she gave me a bunch of placebos.

I can at least sit up now, briefly, and have been helped with ablutionary needs.

Now, if my back would only stop hurting I could sleep...

butterflyghost: (Default)
So, I was planning all sorts of fun things today - and discover this morning that I cannot get out of bed. I thought it was bad at half six this morning, when I had to crawl to the bathroom, and it took forever to get there and back, much of it staring at the porcelain throne thinking, how do I get ON it from here?

Anyway. It's got worse. The pain in my back is so bad now that I literally cannot roll onto my side.

Now, before anyone panics, I've had this before, and I'm sure it will pass. But in the meantime, gah! I am beyond pissed off.

butterflyghost: (Default)
So, this time yesterday, I thought, 'oh no, I shall never write again! My brain is busted forever and ever, I'll have to take to my bed and sulk for the rest of my miserable existence on this earth.' (Please tell me I'm not the only one who gets days - or weeks - like that?)

Anyway, TODAY I had to get up at stupid o clock in the morning, and I wrote A THING. And then, ANOTHER THING.

And then, about noon, I wrote ANOTHER THING.

And I checked, and realised that last week I wrote A THING too.

So, apparently, my brain is not blocked, and I do not have to spend the rest of my miserable life sulking in bed.

Weirdly enough THE THINGS that I have been writing have been gen. Or... actually... does it count as gen if there is no sex, but it's hinted that two men might be in a relationship?

In that case maybe only one of the things I wrote was gen. But definitely no sex in any of them.

I hope to redress the situation. At some stage. Soon, I hope.

Here are the things what I wrote:

Portrait of a Marriage  WIP, but is finished in draft. Won't be an epic, but eventually a happy ending for RayV. Benny, of course, is best man.

Question 589 words, complete, in which Bob (duh) asks Ben a question. Might not like the answer.

Things Our Parents Taught Us 232 words, complete, dialogue only, three conversations between the male leads of dS and respective parents.

The Boots 381 words, complete. Everybody obsesses about the boots.


Aug. 25th, 2014 05:04 pm
butterflyghost: (Default)
 Good Lord, I thought I'd never get back in here. It's like Fort Nox.

Okay, folks, I am not dead, merely technically impaired. Still coming down from #rcw139, and don't know how to post pictures on here - but am working on it!

Hello everybody! 

July 2015

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