The weather

It's a beautiful morning, with a little warmth, very little breeze and hazy sunshine. It's a perfect autumn day. I'm not taking any chances though, and have brought a scarf in case I need it later.
As you know my appointment for ASD diagnosis came a week after I wrote to my MP about the outrageously long waiting times. Someone I know has an undiagnosed autistic son, who is unable to access the education he needs because of the lack of diagnosis. I suggested that the person also contact our MP. Now she has an appointment with him for tomorrow, so I am hopeful that the kid will soon receive the support he so desperately needs.

A musical interlude

I've also got a very long day tomorrow, as I'm doing my usual shifts at the historic building and at the pub. It's all good stuff and exactly what I enjoy doing. I expect I'll be very tired come Monday.

My Saturday

The day started with fags and coffee. I defrosted some bread for toast, but didn't fancy any. After ironing my shirt I dressed for today's events. I'm all black, shirt, suit, bow tie, shoes, hat and all, and I'm going to be given a lick of makeup so as I look evil. I'd look much more evil going as I am, if you ask me. It's going to be a long day, and I expect to finish between eight and ten tonight. Afterwards I'm going made up to the Halloween bash at the pub where I play. I don't want to stay long though.

Sleep

I dreamed a lot before waking up at just after four, feeling exhausted. I remembered dreaming that I had double-booked for playing, and was trying to get away from one venue to the other. I had also arranged to be in London at the same time. It was all worry, confusion and sadness. Eventually I went into the cycle of nodding off and waking up repeatedly, before getting up at half past seven.

The rest of yesterday

I had a lovely steak dinner with a lovely salad, then watched The Runaway Bus starring Frankie Howerd, Margaret Rutherford and Petunia Clark. Meanwhile my brain was more than usually busy and I didn't feel settled, so I took myself down the pub for half a pint. I sat out the back on my own , but the music was very annoying. Soon after I sat down they turned up the volume so I got up and left. When I got home I watched Hitchcock's Strangers On A Train. That was passable, but at least I didn't need to concentrate on it. I amused myself listening out for hwens, hwys, hwats etc, and people talking variously about moyder and merrrderrr.
As I was getting ready to go to bed, I realized I couldn't find my phone. That was a terrible shock, as I was convinced it had been next to me as usual. I panicked, and felt very distressed that I must have put it down somewhere, but had forgotten moving it. I thought I had completely lost a moment in time. I sat and had another fag, and sat there feeling shaken. Then I had a brainwave and looked in my overcoat pocket. It was still there from when I'd gone to the pub. I really must try and learn to be more careful. Bed at half past nine.

An autistic gardener

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ho9JeMwCGhA

The recording is of a sarabande in F by d'Anglebert, after Chambonnieres' O Beau Jardin. I've had horticulture on my mind ever since yesterday, when my friend so generously gave me part of his new allotment to cultivate. I've always grown flowers, wild plants and herbs, but this time I think I'd like to try my hand at growing something edible. I was thinking along the line of gooseberries, runner beans, perhaps a marrow or two for starters. What has always put me off growing food is the huge variety of nasties that are out their, and waiting to eat the crop. Let's see. Can't wait!

The last straw

There's a severe outbreak of the most appalling, badly behaved and noisy lowlife you can imagine. They're cunts. I've had enough now. It's doing my head in.

At the moment

I took myself down the High Street to get one of those nice sausage rolls from the butchers. I had a look in one of the charity shops, and then decided I didn't fancy going home. The weather is grotty and autumnal, and it threatens rain. Back at the library now, bored, but deep in thought.

Yesterday evening

I did let off steam when I got to my friend's computer. Good. In the light of yesterday's diagnosis I'm no longer prepared to hold back all the time. There may be a shock or two, but that bitter pill I'll just have to swallow. In short, tough titties.

That's it

I'm starting to feel ravenously hungry. I could almost start gnawing my own arm. So hi ho, hi ho, its orf to eat we go. I don't feel like doing much, but I might well change my mind once I've had something to eat. I'm a bit bored here, and rather distracted by all the thinking. It's all good stuff though.

A nice day

Despite the slight hangover, I'm feeling rather nice today. I fancy a nice steak for dinner with some nice chips made from lovely nice King Edward spuds, and a nice salad to go with it. I expect I'll wash it down with a nice glass of cider. With the right sort of films I think it's going to be a thoroughly nice evening too.

A secret?

There is something in my life which I've never told anyone, except for two health professionals recently and my best friend yesterday. Now that I have my diagnosis, I needn't be afraid of telling you. What I am about to describe is not unusual for people with my type of autism.
I have already told you that I feel sounds, and the sensation is sometimes pleasant but generally otherwise, according to the sound in question. What I haven't told you until now is that when I listen to music,I see it. I don't see it like I can see the keyboard in front of me, but imagine this:
In my mind's eye I see something like a continuous roll of paper. As the music plays, so it unrolls. I see the melody as a continuous, undulating line towards the top of the roll. There is a similar line towards the bottom of the roll for the bass. The area bounded by these lines is shaded in, and I can mentally see the harmonies. As the music continues, so the roll continues to open. Listening to music demands my full attention. I can neither do anything or think of anything else while I'm listening. I have learned since that this experience is called Synesthesia.

How am I?

This is a jolly queer time for me. Yesterday I had one of the best and most helpful bits of news I've ever received. It's all such a relief, and a great weight off my mind. I'm feeling more scatter-brained than usual, as my brain is processing the information, rearranging itself and assimilating it all. I'm going to go with the flow and let it take its own course.

This morning

My friend drove me home, which was nice and hassle-free. I enjoyed the natter, and getting back so nice and early. The electricity had run out, so I charged it up before taking me tablets. The meeting went well, although I'm not concentrating too well at the moment. I told the man what had been said to me at the workhouse, and he wasn't pleased. He says he is going to take it up with someone he knows who is in the system.

Now

After a lovely evening watching fishing and Fawlty Towers on the telly, lots of wine and me talking nineteen to the dozen, I slept very well indeed. I am a little bit woozy at the moment, but not unpleasantly so. I'm sure it'll soon wear off. Yesterday was one of the milestones in my life.

Eine kleine Nachtmusic

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g8huXkSaL7o

I suddenly remembered the Monty Python Spam Song when I was thinking about my life.  I've re-written the text, substituting the word cunt for spam. See what you think.

Now

It's out with the old and in with the new. My life hasn't been very happy by and large, but now that's going to change. I'm going to learn how to be myself, and how to accept myself. I've always viewed my needs as selfish, whereas they are probably really necessary. I need to take on a new mindset. This time I will be fighting, kicking and screaming.
What I want most out of the rest of my life, is the opportunity to share whatever experiences will be useful to other autists, so that they won't have to live as I have lived, but will be able to make informed decisions that will enhance their lives, and help them to achieve fulfilment, happiness and independence.

Thinking

I think about my life, and about how others have perceived me. I have variously been called daft, stupid, a spastic, a retard, eccentric and all sorts of things. Now I have definitely learned that the nerves in my brain behave differently from those in the brains of the majority of mankind, but similarly to those in the brains of in a significant minority.
Now I am angry. Never again do I want to be told that I am quite normal or that I am not. Do not judge me by your own standards. I can assure you that the vast majority of those who have made such remarks have been, intellectually, vastly inferior to myself, and so were not in any position to reach such conclusions. To put it another way, I am intellectually superior to most people who say I am normal, or that I am not. My family does not make such fatuous claims, because they are my intellectual equals. That is why I love them. They do not judge.

As it is

For me this is a time for reflection. Thinking, processing, assimilating etc. I do not want to know anybody that either cannot accept me as I am, or believes that they should not know me as a matter of conscience. I am myself and that is all there is to it. If someone expects me to change then they can go and fuck orf. My family in Wales, in France, in the West Country and in my locality accept me for who I am, and of that there is no question. But I will not twist myself into whatever shape someone else expects. I've had quite enough of false smiles, false friendships and falsehoods. I'm sick to death of false expectations. All the pretence makes me want to vomit. I refuse to change myself to comply with what other people expect. If anybody (not my family) wants to be my friend, then they'd better bloody well prove it.  In short I do not want to be accepted, except on my own terms.

Later in the day

When I was on the bus going home I texted my best friend to let him know about my diagnosis. Shortly afterwards I was invited to his for a drink, which offer I naturally felt unable (and unwilling) to decline.
I want to tell you about my best friend. He's someone who has never told me I am normal, and has never told me I am not. My friend has always and unquestioningly accepted me for the person I am. My friend has always accepted my faults together with my good points (few as they are). My friend has always been there for me without question. What more can I say? And how could I possibly refuse an offer of boissons chez lui?

Post diagnosis

My condition has been diagnosed as moderate to severe A.S.D. I think I may have had an inkling of that, hence the name of my blog 'Cliffasd'. It's good to know. The days of suspecting, guessing and wondering are finally over. YAY!!!!!!
I no longer feel like a complete failure. Having spoken with the psychologist who assessed me, I now think I haven't done that badly to survive as I have, despite my very real difficulties. I have finally spoken to someone who really understands what life has been like for me.

Marin Marais: Suite d'un gout etranger (1717)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qjqWZ-rJr8&list=PLqG7lxqiprT2KB4rn_D91V8jWCq5GGPr5

I've been trying to get back into the habit of listening to music. I used to enjoy music, but for some time now I've felt very uncomfortable when I've gone to do it. Last night I played this Marais piece when I went to bed. Beautiful. This is exactly the sort of piece I've always loved most of all.

It's orf we go!!

After leaving the library I went to my usual Thursday appointment just round the corner. I turned up half an hour early so I could get away earlier. Afterwards it was straight to the bus stop to get to my big appointment. I got here two hours early, but that doesn't matter. I was terrified of either being late or not getting here at all. I think I've got a little time to kill.

Deep in thought...

I've been out for a fag in the nice cold, damp, grey weather, and got thinking. Thinking about the lowlife that have turned up at the library, and being just as noisy and disruptive as usual. The librarian did ask them to keep the noise down, but they started up again directly the woman finished her shift.
I also remembered all the social media postings of happy, smiling animals. The whole thing is weird. They are animals. Animals don't smile; people do. And animals are not people. I don't get it.
While I was thinking I burned my arm again with a bit of hot fagash. I might learn one of these days.

J.S.Bach 'Sheep May Safely Graze' BWV208

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WocpZrOp1Io

This is for all the unthinking good and the morally superior of this world. I think to myself 'Tongues may safely wag', or 'Fingers may safely point'.

Today

At long last I've finally got the appointment I've been waiting so long for. I am full of anticipation, relief, worry, doing something unknown, and much tiredness. I shan't be having any gin after all. I don't really want any, at least not my own. I've still got some time to wait, as it's not until late afternoon. I just want to get it over and done with now. In the meanwhile I've written down a few things that I want to make sure the man is aware of, and so that the words mean what I want them to say.

Rhetorically speaking

'What is sin?', I ask myself. It got me thinking. My line of reasoning is something like this:
Some early humans invent some imaginary and all-powerful being. Then they persuade others to believe in the same imaginary being. Eventually belief in this being becomes the norm. The people who invent this imaginary being write down all their prejudices and write these down on papyrus. These are then incorporated into stories where the subjects of these prejudices are punished by this imaginary being. Righteous people, therefore, are to have the same prejudices, and to see that transgressors are punished as demanded by the imaginary being. The righteous are simply being righteous, and are therefore not doing anything wrong. (By the way sheep are sheep, and are therefore blameless).
Sin is, therefore, just a word to describe something against which the righteous allow themselves to be prejudiced.

Colours to the mast

I have adopted the rainbow flag on my social media thing. On the face of it, it represents the gay pride thing. I'm not gay, but am attracted to blokes. I'm no more proud than ashamed. However what I am doing is sticking my fingers up to prejudice and intolerance.
What it represents too is the autistic spectrum. I certainly do not want any more labels. What I am doing is showing my solidarity with other autistic people of my own age, who have found life such a struggle, and who have never had any support of any description. I'm also showing my solidarity with the younger ones, who have varying levels of success at getting the help that is available but isn't always so easy to access. It's all so very hit and miss. Thinking of you.

Sleep

I was very tired when I turned in, and managed to sleep without interruption until I woke up with a start at ten past three. I know I had been dreaming but couldn't remember what it was about. I was also deep in thought about my appointment. I wanted to get up but both my body and my mind were too tired. I was awake for more than two hours before I nodded off. I got up at seven.
I had one of those recurring dreams again the second time I slept. This time I'd been to Scotland and was driven part of the way home by someone I seemed to know (but can't remember who it was). I ended up in Settle (I've never been there) and was at a bus station. My coach was in, and I asked the driver if my ticket were still valid from Settle. He replied that it was. Then I asked if I had time to go to the paper shop. He replied that I had. I was gone for no more than two minutes. When I got back to the stop the coach had already left. The next bit is all confusion, no more buses, getting robbed etc. I've already discussed these dreams with my counselor, and she agrees with me that the buses going where I don't want to be, the missed connections, the inability to find the right bus stop, the unfamiliar surroundings are my mind's representation of autism.

The end of yesterday

After a simple meal I watched Waterfront starring Kathleen Harrison and Robert Newton, and Dry Rot. I was part way through Laurel & Hardy's Blotto when I decided to turn in at half past nine.
I was in for quite a shock last night. Upstairs were quiet all evening, and that helped me to settle down. My mood was considerably better at bedtime than it had been during the day.

The rest of today

I had wanted to keep my brain occupied at the library, but it has now become so noisy with all the various conversations taking place, that it has become impossible for me to think despite the earplugs.
Off home now via the supermarket, where I daresay I have a nice noisy evening to look forward to, while I try and watch a film or two. What am I to do? I just cannot escape from noise.

Thinking

I just went out for a fag. I waited for the loo, but I think the present occupant must have moved in. I'll try round the corner when I go. Outside I started thinking again about my younger days. My teenage years were horrible, and I don't like to talk about them. There are some black holes in the time leading up to me moving out of the family home. I won't have forgotten anything because of the way my brain works. It must be that I've done a good job of suppressing those memories. My brother remembers and has tried talking to me, but I won't let him. One of these days I might bring the subject up myself, and let him continue.

Me and my big mouth

I just wrote about the weirdos from another establishment who sometimes pester me where I play. As soon as I finished writing I thought to myself 'oh, oh, I recognize that voice'. When I looked up, I saw that it was one of the said weirdos trying to sound important and influential, and talking very loudly to someone. The content of the talk was mind-numbing in the extreme. In short, it was pure and utter bollocks. I don't understand why some people need to do that.

Thinking

I've decided not to dress up as a zombie, because they are so commonplace in the town where I live. The library, the supermarket and the post office, for example, are full of them practically every day. After I finish on Saturday night I'm going to the Halloween bash in the pub where I play. The barman I get on with will be there. If it's busy I can always stand outside, and nobody (except the weirdos from the other place, if they are there) will bother me. They won't mind either. It's brilliant! I will really need a slug of something after so much playing.

In the meanwhile

I had a nice session at the historic building, and my stuff went down well. My hands are tired, but my head feels much better than it did this morning. I'm going to do my level best to keep my brain occupied until tomorrow.
Another update, I'm going to be painted up for the daytime session on Halloween, as well as the nighttime one. I hope me mascara don't run!

At the moment

Two idiots talking on mobile phones. One of them either thinks he is, or is trying to sound like he is west indian. Unbearable. Need to leave. Fag, butchers, then move keyboard to historic building. Cunts.

Earlier on

I was very tired and dazed with the coffee and fags, so needed to go back to bed afterwards. I don't know whether I slept or not, but I either thought or dreamed lucidly. Felt slightly more human when I got up afterwards. I finally took a bag of unwanted clothes to the charity shop, then made my way to the library.

The springtime of life

Last night I dreamed that my diagnosis had been sorted out. I felt comfortable for a brief moment when I woke up, until I realized it had been a dream. There are things I am unable to talk about, so I've been writing things down so I can show the man what I really mean.
Early on I started thinking about the time I 'came out'. It was terrible. It was thrashed out of me before I was ready to say anything. The whole thing was a massive guilt trip. It was all about my mum's need for grandchildren, my mum's need for security (her husband), my mum's need for me to have a 'normal' life, my mum's need for me to fit in. As usual I thought everything was my fault. It didn't occur to her to wonder how I might be feeling, or what my needs were. Her indifference to me, which coincided with her second marriage, turned to outright hostility. In the case of her husband, his dislike of me turned to blind hatred. He abused me with the most terrible words and my mum backed him up. It has taken me over three decades to pick up the pieces, and I could never have done so if my mum were still alive. Can you blame me for not wanting to talk about it?

Sleep

It was a bad one. I woke up for the second time, and it was ten past midnight when I checked the clock. Dreaming and dreaming and waking up. Got up with a start just after five.

The rest of yesterday

I got home still feeling very jumpy, so took myself to the pub for half a pint at half past four. I went home for dinner, and while I was eating it the things upstairs started up. Bang bang bang screech etc. Then at twenty to seven it was Swing Low Sweet Chariot at full blast with the windows open, plenty of shrieking and shouting from the adults and the kid stampeding around all over the show. Took meself dahn the boozer again for another half and came home for some Laurel and Hardy films. The stampeding went on until about half past nine, and I had to keep stopping the films when the noise got too intrusive. Bed at half past ten.

In the library

There's a group of people talking away loudly in the most hideous language. I wish the noisy cunts would shut up for a minute. I can't stand it in English either, but it's even worse when the sounds themselves are so scruffy and grating.  I'd love to be able to record these characters, tie them to chairs and make them listen to the recording.
That's it now. They're still cackling and droning away. I think I'll be better off at home. Cunts.

A moment ago

I went home via the shops and had the buns I'd intended to have for breakfast. I'm permanently deep in thought at the moment and that's making me a bit jittery. I didn't feel comfortable there so I've come back to the library to use the computers again. It won't be long before I get my own seat, I'm sure. I've been looking at what I am to expect post diagnosis. If what I read is correct, the help I can get will be a godsend. I don't believe in god, but can't think of another word. I don't want things. I don't want millions of quid. I don't want to be mollycoddled and given preferential treatment. All I want is some talking support from someone professional who knows the issues I face, and has been trained in helping people to deal with them. All I want out of it is for life to feel more comfortable.

Now

That's it at the library. Home now via the shops for a spot of lunch, and a normal, quiet sort of evening.

It's all go

My life is soon to be crowded with incident. I have appointments on Thursday, Friday and Monday. On top of that I'm playing tomorrow afternoon, and on Saturday and Sunday afternoons and nights. I'm going to be a bit tired come Tuesday. It's not going to be soul-destroying though, as the appointments are all good, useful ones.

Unusual

This morning I saw someone who works with me at the historic building, and we started nattering about the Halloween 'do'. The whole event has been waylaid by an outside party and we've really got the hump with the woman fucking around with the original arrangements. Even now she keeps springing things on us. We feel that we've been treated very shabbily by the cunt.
Later on I was contacted by the person who helps autistic youngsters, and to whom my name was given. I'm looking forward to meeting up with them at some point. If they think my experiences of life can be used to help others, then I'll talk. I want to give the young 'uns the start in life that I never had.

Diagnosis

It's D-Day minus two and the thing is foremost in my mind. I'm apprehensive about it. I don't know what to expect and it's something completely different in my life. I've been going over and over how I'm going to get to the appointment. I'm going to leave about an hour before I need to, just in case there are any delays to the journey.
The thoughts were very much around all evening, but the dvds held my attention for a bit. I was tired at bed-time but didn't feel relaxed, so I put on a cd of  Boccherini's string quintets Op29. That gave me something different to think of when I dropped off.
I know I was deep in thought all night because of the fragments of dreams that I remember, and because my bed looked like it had been vandalised this morning.

This morning

I woke up deep in thought and feeling very tired. I took my time with the fags and coffee and went to get washed and dressed, and then I threw up. The buns I had defrosted for lunch will have to do for lunch or tea, depending on when I get home.

Sleep

I had another bumpy night and remember turning over a lot. I was wide awake at a quarter past three and stayed awake for quite a while. I noticed a particularly bright star (probably the planet Saturn) through the window and watched that for a bit. It didn't really do much so I lay down and closed my eyes. Up just after seven this morning.

Yesterday

Yesterday's counseling session was quite an ordeal but I made it through. I know it's good for me and I look forward to the sessions, difficult as they are. Afterwards I went to the supermarket and then straight home.
I made a pseudo-Bolognese for dinner and then watched Peter Cushing, Nigel Stock and Grace Arnold in some Sherlock Holmes dramatisations. In fact I watched all four dvds before turning in at twenty to eleven.

The news

I have just read that a nasty dictatorship feels that its relationship with my country is under threat. This is probably because there has been a lot of public criticism here, of that country's atrocious record on human rights. About time too. Any country with any claim to respect for the person should have nothing to do with that country. In fact it should put pressure on that country to start treating its citizens decently.
Oh I nearly forgot the country is a theocracy. Religion just will not tolerate criticism because it is always right in its own eyes, hence that country's representative complains of our meddling in its internal affairs. Of course his country doesn't meddle in any other country's affairs, does it? I could almost laugh at the hypocrisy, if it weren't so terrifying. That country's regime is no more deserving of respect than those of Hitler, Pol Pot, Stalin or Mussolini.

Noise

I don't want to go home until after my appointment, so I'm spinning it out at the library. The ambient noise is quite excruciating; running conversations just behind me and the hound of small children downstairs. I'm getting old now, but I remember a time when libraries were oases of peace and quiet. I've got the earplugs in now which has deadened it a bit, but I can still hear everything. Very distracting.

Daylight robbery

This Saturday I shall be playing the part of an evil harpsichordist at the historic building's Halloween event. Just now I walked down to the joke shop to buy some war-paint. The first ones the man showed me were £9.00, and they had far too much of the stuff for one person, so I asked him for something smaller for which I coughed up £4.50. Shortly afterwards I wandered up to the 99p shop for something else. Guess what? Yep, they sold the stuff. I bought a full kit there for 99p. I'm not complaining about the joke shop. They are bound to be a bit dearer, cos they don't have the turnover. But I wish I'd known the 99p shop sold the stuff in the first place.

Sleep, and that

I've had a few awful nights in a row, and have been waking up to my bed looking as if an assault course had been carried out on it. I think my sleep must be noisy too, because my friend knew I'd slept badly the other day, when I hadn't said anything about it.
My moods haven't been great either, and Saturday night was particularly black. A couple of comedy films and a corny 'horror' film kept my attention for a moment or two. I now realize why Asylum is called a horror film. It's because of the fashions of the time; bell-bottom trousers, slutty makeup, big hair, end menicured exents.

An oddity

It's odd to me that people increasingly seem to see me as a positive role model for younger autistic people. I find it strange because I know all the things I have to struggle with in my daily life. Perhaps I'm so good at masking it that people don't realize. Perhaps people think I'm more successful than I really am. I am quite puzzled by it all. I just don't understand what there is to like about me.
What I do like is that people feel I have something worthwhile to give to those who may be finding life even more difficult than I do. I know about that too. I've been there.

A nice natter

I don't do small talk. I don't know how to do it, and besides it's irritating. Last night one customer started talking to me when I'd stopped playing. He came the 'superior intelligence' bit, but needless to say he was onto a loser. He bought me a pint and apologized for his earlier ''mischievous'' remarks. I ain't in the least bit bothered. The pint soon put things right.

Just now

While I was outside having a nice fag in the cold, damp weather, I thought again of Munch's painting The Scream. It was the bands of colour that got me thinking. They are like the pulses of physical energy that so affect me when a sound is unpleasant; the pounding on the arms and chest, the scraping, the near-hysteria. And the colours are just as aggressive as the sensations.

The home front

I wasn't hallucinating the other day. The woman late of upstairs is back in residence. Groan. The thought is too horrible for words. The contradiction between what I am told and what actually is, is quite bewildering. I'm dreading it.

Thinking

I always think a lot when I smoke outside. I know I must drift off, because I often feel myself snap out of it. Something happened last night outside the pub, which has happened quite a few times in my life. A car pulled up next to me, someone shouted out of the window, and then they drove off laughing. It always gives me a terrible shock. I suppose they are just having some harmless fun, but I don't know what enjoyment they could possibly get from it.

This morning

I still felt drunk when I woke up, so had egg & bacon after the fags and coffee. I've been thinking about this afternoon's appointment with the counselor, and am still very preoccupied with my appointment on Thursday. All this thinking does tire me out.

Sunday

Yesterday was an odd sort of day. The historic building was closed, so I spent the day doing housework and playing card games on the computer. Yesterday afternoon the pub landlord contacted me to ask if I would play at his establishment in the next town that evening, instead of the one where I usually play. The latter had an event on. Of course I agreed but it really shook me, as it was all so last-minute.
I had an early dinner then took my keyboard to the venue by taxi. It was very quiet with only two customers in. I played for an hour and a half and the people enjoyed it. I was both distracted and pestered by the annoying little flies that kept bobbing about.
Then two people came in who started singing, then a group of three, and then another couple. They sang for a further two hours. In the meanwhile a few more people sat around and listened. It was a lovely night, and people told me how much they had enjoyed themselves.
I got the taxi back home. That was quite a feat of logistics; getting the keyboard and bits back, with me in an advanced state of inebriation.
When I got back I watched some more Laurel and Hardy before turning in.

Social Media

Lately I keep getting friend requests from people I've never heard of. When I check them out, they all turn out to be fundamentalist Christians. I really don't know why they spend their time following atheist pages. Haven't they got anything more worthwhile to do? There's nowt as queer as folk.

Saturday

After taking the keyboard home I popped round to the supermarket. I was bored so ended up having sausages again after all. I had fun with the dvds; I started with Small Hotel starring Irene Handl, then watched Peter Cushing in Asylum before ending with Laurel & Hardy in The Chimp. I can't remember what time I turned in.

Time

Diagnosis, diagnosis... It's all I can think of. I've waited two years for the appointment and now I feel so impatient. I know it's no good thinking like this, but I can't help it. I know it won't come round any faster. I think that I'm going to feel very deflated and perhaps a bit odd once it's been done, so I'm going to do something very rare for me and have a drop of gin in reserve for afterwards.

News

I really shouldn't have read the news. I get upset by the terrible things that people do to one another. It's bad for my depression, but I have an innate yearning for knowledge. It's knowledge rather than belief or hearsay that I want. I feel hungry now but don't have an appetite for food. Oh well, supermarket now I suppose.

As things are

Homosexuals in this country now have full equality before the law, as is the case in the European Union. Rightly so. There are people who object, but that is of no consequence in the scheme of things. I have just read about a man who has been before the courts because he had disseminated some nasty hateful pamphlets. He was rightly convicted. The man's motivation appeared to be some of the nastier texts in the Old Testament. The man's head seems to be completely screwed up by it.
Meanwhile 'gay' people are routinely executed in another culture. I have also just read that one region of a 'moderate' country in this culture has just introduced religious laws. 'Gay' people there are given a flogging. How very benevolent, I don't think.
We hear frequently from the ignorant that 'gay' people are a threat to 'normal' people. The facts argue to the contrary. It is 'gay' people who are threatened by the 'normal' in society.

The rest of today

I'm about to take the bus to the supermarket. After that it will be an ordinary sort of evening; dinner, films, bed. I've got bubble and squeak to look forward to, made from yesterday's left-over vegetables. I'll look for something to go with it, as I don't fancy sausages again.

In the meanwhile

I played my bollocks orf at the historical building. People sat around saying how much they enjoyed it, but tips weren't forthcoming. I got a penny off a little kid though, and that was nice. Sold one cd. Afterwards I took the keyboard home, as the building will be closed tomorrow.
I feel beside myself with tiredness. I won't go home just yet, because I won't be going out again until tomorrow night.

Now

I feel very tired after last night, but must get myself to the historic building now. I want to change my cd display, and warm up before we open. I'll have a narner for breakfast when I get there.

More thinking...

On the bus I also started thinking about relationships. I've never had a 'normal' relationship. It's always been a case of 'pickups'. Notwithstanding my issues with physical contact, when I was young I wanted a relationship above all else. With hindsight I suppose I just wanted to try and be like 'normal' people. If anyone did show interest in me I felt very strange and froze. I could not understand why someone should want to know me.
My one long-term relationship was an unmitigated disaster. It cost me very dear, both in terms of my worldly goods and my mental health. From the beginning he was off shagging all and sundry, and fleecing me at the same time. I was belittled and crushed, both in private and in front of people. I spent nine years being ordered around and told what to do, because I thought I was supposed to. It was awful when I think about it, but I didn't realize it at the time. Sometimes people would have a quiet word with me about the way I was being treated, but I wouldn't listen. I thought they were just making trouble.
When the final separation came I was completely lost, confused, dazed, traumatised. It took me nearly twenty years to finally come to terms with the experience and let it go. Of course I still remember everything, but it's not so near now.
Something inside me still wants a relationship, but I know I could never cope with one.

Thinking...

On the bus I looked out of the window and my mind started wandering, as usual. My imminent diagnosis if foremost in my mind. That's such a big event for me, so I suppose it's only natural. I'm trying to think now, but it's very difficult with a loud baby grizzling nearby. People are very inconsiderate.
As I was about to continue, I thought about my life. My life has largely consisted of trying to hide my true self in public. I've had to do my best to try and suppress, to hide any traits and behaviours that others may have found strange. I've had to endure situations in which I've felt  painfully uncomfortable, and give the impression of being fine when I've been crying inside.
I made a decision on the bus that all this must stop, and now. From now on if I'm uncomfortable or upset, for example in busy or noisy situations, then I am going to take myself away from it. If I find a person too difficult then I will walk away. Some people may think I'm being antisocial. Well I'm not. I'm going to follow my natural instincts and try to make life more tolerable.

This morning

The day has started grey, damp and cool. I bussed home and priced some more cds for sale. Then it was a quick wash and brush-up and a change of clothes, before going to the library. I'm playing shortly, but apart from that I haven't got any plans.

Last night

I really enjoyed the whole evening. The meal was simple, satisfying and delicious, and was exactly the right sort of food for the weather we're having. The film was fun too. My friend looked exhausted the whole time, and still does this morning. Bed by eleven.
My bed was nice and comfortable but I slept very badly last night. I was awake and thinking several times.

The rest of the day

I took the bus from the meeting to the supermarket, and thence to my friend's. Dinner all nicely underway so we can eat at a leisurely pace once we're ready. We've got Heavens Above to look forward to later. It's a lovely parody of the workings of the Church of England. I've had some nice times this week.

The meeting

I was a bit miffed when I turned up and found that the county council weren't attending. It's my fault for misreading the original email. It was very interesting, although I don't expect for one minute that the council will act on our recommendations. I had to leave the room a few time where one woman did nothing but talk. I met some lovely people though.

A request

Yesterday's weather has continued into today. Nothing else to say about it. This morning someone I know socially told me about a friend of his, whose job it is to help autistic youngsters with the transition from school to university. The upshot is that the friend thinks I can help him and would like to be in touch with me.
Nothing brings me more satisfaction than being able to help other autistic people. I'd hate to think of anybody having a life like mine has been, when it should nowadays be unnecessary.

Now

There is an annoying mouthy tart in the library. Her voice is both loud and strident and she's having a 'conversation' with someone across the room. It's lucky that I need to leave now, for the fifteen mile bus trip and long walk to the meeting. Loud mouthy tarts are cunts.

A public nuisance

When I left home this morning I noticed that something was strange and different. The town seemed to be suffering a terrible infestation of midgets. It was appalling. I'm tall and have long legs, and everywhere I turned they kept getting under my feet. They seemed to all make a beeline for the space immediately in front of me. I felt as if I was walking round in shackles. They were just too close, the cunts.

A glimmer of light

I've been thinking for a long while that I'd like to play some (recorded) music, or to go for a walk. Every time I'd gone to do either of these things I got the horrors, so didn't manage to do anything. Yesterday I did play some music, not much and just the beginnings of a few pieces, before the feeling set in. That was a big step for me, and I liked what I heard.

This morning

Everything was in slow motion first thing. I was deep in thought with the fags and coffee. Then I started thinking about my day. I have a three-hour meeting to attend this afternoon. I have read the document several times that is to be discussed, but I can't remember a single thing it said. Never mind. I'm going there to tell them straight.
After that is the nice part of my day, when I go to my best friend's. This is my second visit this week. I'm sure I won't be overstaying my welcome, but of course it does occur to me. Earlier on I assembled and packed some things for our dinner, then went to the supermarket to get the last bits.

Sleep

I turned in suffering from the vapours, no doubt caused by having guzzled a bottle of the most deplorable wine I've ever tasted. I was out like a light and woke up suddenly well before five, which was much earlier than I wanted. I lay awake for ages, dropped off, then woke up at a quarter past seven. My bed looked like the aftermath of the Battle of Balaclava, and I felt bedraggled and tired. I must have moved around a lot during the night.

Last night

I thoroughly enjoyed a meal I used to enjoy as a student; bangers, beans and potato croquettes. Afterwards I watched three early Hitchcock films; Rich And Strange, Number Seventeen and Blackmail. Very stylish and very engaging, in fact so much more so than those later Hollywood efforts after the man had become a caricature of himself.
The English is beautiful, and everyone from the head of Scotland Yard to the vagrant have the most wonderfully manicured diction. Such things as Eau deer. Hwear is may Ded? The vagrant occasionally lapses into cockney with such things as Get awf me, yer rotten great bully. Bed at half past ten.

Now

I've had quite enough of the library environment for one day, so it's off very shortly to the supermarket. Then it's home, dinner, dvds and bed, in other words a very ordinary sort of day.

Bad language

The Queen's English (well actually she's of German lineage). Some of its mis-usages do make me giggle. I remember one woman pronouncing tribunal as tribuneral. I love the creeping apostrophe and its general misuse, for example chip's instead of chips.  The latest one I keep seeing is hilarious; St Pancreas instead of St Pancras! I wonder of other languages are also subjected to such mistreatment, or whether it is a uniquely British phenomenon.

A funny old world

Well it's not all that funny most of the time, not in the meaning of 'amusing'. I do find it funny in the sense of 'peculiar' though.
I seem to have become a magnet for various people with learning difficulties who use the library. They often drift over to me, either beaming with excitement about something or throwing a strop. It can be very distracting, but I don't mind it most of the time. It's nice to think they feel comfortable enough to talk to me.
And then there's an online friend (whom I've never met) who is autistic and with a family, very intelligent, but rapidly going downhill with multiple sclerosis. That is such an awful thought, considering the person is a good bit younger than I am. At least I haven't got that to contend with.

My inner world

My life has been quite tumultuous of late. It hasn't quite been chaotic, but it could very easily have become so. Last week was quite a struggle as I pondered, assimilated and tried to process all my recent experiences. I'm still a bit up and down now, but my preoccupation with my forthcoming appointment is probably driving that. I think tonight will have to be a 'let's get pissed' night.

A moment ago

I did my bits in the High Street. The post office was grim, especially the queue. It reminded me of the above painting: Applicants For Admission To The Casual Ward (after 1908) by Sir Luke Fildes. Depressing.

Shortly

I need a break from the computer, so I'll wander off to the High Street. First point of call is the post office, as I've got something I want to send. Then it'll be the butchers for something hot to eat, and some of their nice sausages for dinner. I'll probably have a nosey in the charity shop while I'm out.

Just now

I went outside for a fag, and it weren't half parky. I was deep in thought when suddenly I felt a burning sensation on me right arm, where a burning bit of bacca dropped orf me fag. The arms of this poor jumper are covered in fag burns, so I suppose it'll have to go.
I thought about Halloween. It's not something I've ever been interested in, but I'm playing at the historic house that night for an event. I've got to look evil, so I'm going disguised as a ghoul. I'd probably look much more terrifying by going just as I am, when I think about it.

A busy day

Having seen my best friend the other day, I have another treat to look forward to when I go there again tomorrow. I'm going to cook, but I use the word 'cook' very loosely. I'm taking a suet pudding that was made at the butchers, so all I have to do is steam it. I'll need to peel, wash and cut some vegetables prior to steaming them. All in all it's not exactly forced labour, is it?
Before that I'm going to a meeting with the autism people and the regional authority, about the latter's strategy for helping adults with autism. I've got a couple of things I'd like to say to them, I can tell you. I shall resist the urge to tell them what a bunch of cunts they've been, the shabby lot. I promise to be on my best behaviour (possibly).

A matter of conscience

Religion is evil, and I'm sick and tired of people making apologies and excuses for it. There is one religion, for example, that would kill me if that were within its power. It is the controlling power in those countries where it is prevalent. In those countries human rights are an unknown concept. In those countries people are treated with the utmost savagery. If one criticises the government then one also criticises god, so one is therefore executed as a heretic. Reader, if you can imagine your most terrifying nightmare and multiply the terror a million fold, then that is what life is like in that culture for anyone who doesn't conform with it. Some of those countries are described as 'moderate'. They are not. The only difference is that they don't execute people for quite so many 'crimes'. That religion has the effrontery, the arrogance to describe itself as the religion of peace and good.
Then we have religion in our own country, which has by now lost the iron grip it once had on people's lives. It is seen as benevolent, philanthropic and wise. What a load of bollocks. It still believes in those same Old Testament texts that are behind the wanton barbarity of the other religion. It's all hypocrisy, even a lie, yet some people don't seem able to see through the delusion.

While I was in...

First I heard movement in the flat upstairs. Then I heard the stampeding noise, only quieter than usual. Then I heard her making that noise that's like an elephant trumpeting. AAAAAAAAAAGH.
Have the cunts moved back in, or was I hallucinating? That put me on edge. I hope I was imagining it. I fear I wasn't.

Thoughts

I was restless when I went to bed, and it took me a while to settle down. I could hear a faint dripping noise outside, which distracted me terribly. Also I was deep in thought about my big day on Thursday. I seem to be counting down the minutes until my appointment. It's all a waiting game. First of all there is the wait for the appointment, and then I expect there will be another wait for the diagnosis. And I feel so impatient. Last week's feeling of relief and even excitement has now turned nasty, and is constantly scouring my brain. I can't wait until it's all over and done with.

Last night

I defrosted a curry for dinner and didn't enjoy it, so ate very little. I had a couple of cheese rolls and some biscuits during the course of the evening. I watched three feature-length episodes of Sherlock Holmes before turning in at just before midnight.

The weather

There is only one word to describe today's weather; miserable. It's dark, cold and drizzly. One really notices the cold and damp in the historic building, and it's more difficult to play there when the weather is like this. My hands are like blocks of ice within minutes of starting.

Recently

We had more visitors at the historic building than I had anticipated. The first few lots of visitors were no more interested in the building than they were in my playing. Then a couple came in who were interested in both, and I managed a decent sale. Then a catholic priest came in. I had been tipped off that we may do some carols jointly with him. We got nattering and he is obviously fond of Latin, so I gave him a recording of some music in Latin. It's the relatively little-known oratorio Apollo et Hyacinthus by Mozart. I hope he'll enjoy it. It's all about two blokes who fall in love with each other.

Now

I'm still feeling the effects of the booze, but luckily for me I don't have a hangover. I don't really fancy playing today. I could do with a day off, but I need to try and sell something. Oh well, here goes.

Yesterday

I had such a lovely day, and certainly didn't go either hungry or thirsty. The change of scenery gave me a chance to think, and I did a lot of thinking. Yesterday was a day for thinking rather than talking. I've noticed that I'm starting to get my sense of humour back. Something is definitely moving round inside me.

Since yesterday

I turned in at about midnight and the drink helped me to sleep soundly. I turned over a couple of times during the night and heard rain. It's still drizzling now, dark, breezy and cold.
I got a lift back this morning. After taking my tablets, washing and changing, I brought myself to the library. I need to leave in a minute to move my keyboard to the historic building. I don't suppose we'll have many visitors today, what with the weather, but I hope I'm wrong.

News

The poor old Queen. I do feel sorry for her. I feel she is eminently wise, full of common sense and very diplomatic. She is exactly the sort of person I would be happy to know. However I do not agree with the system of privilege, by which she is just as bound as the rest of us are.
I feel sorry for her because she has had to do her job and entertain the head of state of China. China is one of the most brutal and repressive dictatorships in the world. People are executed in large numbers, some of whose organs find their way onto the lucrative transplant market. Dissent is not allowed. Full stop. Etc.
It's a national disgrace that the poor woman not only had to suffer this person' presence during a banquet, but had to tow the government line at the same time. Her Majesty deserves better than that.
As for the government, shame on it when it counts Saudi Arabia and China amongst its friends. Shame.

Lastly

I went out just now for my penultimate fag of the day, and started thinking about the owl that had flown past not so very long ago. I started thinking about language. Should I have thought 'It flew down the alley', or 'It flew by the garden fence', or 'It flew alongside the garden fence'?
Alongside. That's a funny word. Does it signify something which is the opposite of a short side? I know that in nautical jargon, alongside means pulling up along the length of a vessel. Unfortunately the word has been adopted by the London Underground, with the most ludicrous results. 'The trein stendin alongside pletform three..' and so on. How bloody ridiculous. Trains (to my knowledge) were always 'on' platforms, not 'alongside' them. Ain't it bleedin' silly. People do put on airs and graces. It's high time we got back to speaking English as she is spoke, rather than aspiring to a misplaced loftiness of vocabulary, so out of keeping with its social context. There is no need to speak to the travelling public as if it were Lloyd's Register Of Shipping.

Sundry thoughts

I've just been out into the cold, starry night to enjoy a fag. I was delighted when my concentration was disrupted by the sight of an owl flying past. I love owls and all birds of prey. Owls have become associated with superstition, creatures of the night, and with Gothick horror stories and films. They are beautiful birds that prey on vermin, so I really don't understand why they have been given such a sinister reputation.
I don't manage very well with the ordinary things in life. In that sense I may be considered stupid. I have, however, a huge intellect which is recognised by anyone I have met who is intellectual. I don't know how to use that intellect to my advantage, which may also be considered stupid. I am, though, seeking that help which will enable me to live a more satisfactory and fulfilling life. Is there a glimmer of intelligence trying to shine through, I ask myself?

Wildlife on one

I've just read a report that suggests dogs may have originated in Central Asia about 15,000 years ago. That may be older than the Earth, according to some (groundless) theories. I don't like dogs one bit, and am so glad that they don't come from round here.

A little night music

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tNS2VOsMOaU

I love Carnatic music. This is Srikantha Niyeda by Thyagaraja. It always cheers me up. I neither know nor care what the words mean. In fact I'd rather not know, because they will necessarily be of a religious nature. Nonetheless the song is beautiful.
The inner self is still in turmoil. Things shifting round, things being expunged. Trying to come to terms with things.
I don't know what the performance is like, but I hope you will enjoy it.

Late in the day

After two glasses of bubbly, I'm currently in the process of guzzling a bottle of cider. Then there's the vino to look forward to later on. I've had such a lovely day, and it seems so odd that I've done so little. It's queer having access to the internet all day too. I've had the very best of friends around. This is the sort of day that makes me feel very contented.

Now

The temper is wearing off now. Nice glass of wine to hand. Calm down you daft bugger, I tell myself. Enjoy the day. Enjoy the people who love you and who you love, and cherish the thought of them. They don't know how much their support has helped me to overcome. They may not even realise quite how much I have overcome, but I would rather they didn't necessarily know that. Sod the rest.

A thought

It must be so hard to lecture the world on morality without sounding sanctimonious. I do not yet know of anyone who has managed to achieve it.
A particularly atrocious and virulent government comes to mind, which was strongly allied to the established church and its beliefs, and correspondingly hateful in its politics. They campaigned on a 'family values' ticket, and in due course they were toppled one by one for doing the very things they said they were against. That was no surprise. People must be people. This is exactly the sort of hypocrisy, born of bronze age make-believe, that I find so deceitful. If I want to consult ancient words of wisdom, then I would look no further than Aesop. His words are wise, moral, and above all kind. He does not seek to judge, either on his own behalf or on behalf of an imaginary and invisible being.

The rest of the day

I'm being disgustingly lazy today. It really is a sin. I ought to be thoroughly ashamed of myself, but can't find it in my heart on this occasion. After a lovely nice glass of wine I'm going to sit back again and do nothing in particular. No plans really, and I don't particularly want any. Sorted.

Inspiration from above

I see that the village church is to hold a sale to raise funds. I've had a marvellous idea. They could hold a roof slate bazaar, use some of the takings to re-roof the place, and then pocket the rest. I'm wondering whether to write to the pack of vultures with my suggestion.

Today

It's a lovely day, and such a welcome change. It's warm, sunny and bright, and I've been in the garden watching sparrows and goldfinches. I heard some dogs too, but we don't like 'em. They are a pest.

The poorhouse

Contrary to popular opinion I was born, not found. In fact I first saw light in St Alphege's Hospital in Greenwich, formerly the Greenwich Union Workhouse Infirmary. It had a good reputation in my day, and I have been told that it always smelled of the boiled cabbage that was served for dinner most days.

Several of my forbears who were ill went there to die, when it was a workhouse. They went reluctantly and at the last moment, for they were terrified of the place. It had a terrible reputation for cruelty. 

The institution had a chaplain. What did he do to improve the lot of the poor inmates? Fuck all. That's what he did. The church believed that the poor were poor because they lacked morality, therefore it was their own fault. It was god's will (which translates as 'because I am righteous I will it too). Thank you again, religion, for being such a force for good in the world. Hypocrites.

Here endeth the third lesson.

Taking stock

I'm coming out of a very trying time. After being almost crippled with depression for the past year, I have reached the point where, after desperately struggling to break out of it, I feel I am well and truly winning the battle. I'm hoping that next week's appointment will be the icing on the cake.

So far

I was only semi-conscious with the fags and coffee. Having defrosted some bread I couldn't face any toast so went without. Then to the library.
Being away from my usual places is a real tonic. It's nice to have somewhere to think, without being surrounded by all the things that remind me of me.

Now

I had a surprise call from my best friend, so am happily away from home for the day. Having a few moments to myself gave me the opportunity to expound on what a cunt religion is. That's got something orf me chest fer nah.
Here endeth the second lesson.

Let us pray

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDortyyp228

What is religion? Nothing more than blind belief. It instills guilt and shame into people from the time they are indoctrinated into us. It separates people one from another. It teaches that some people are inferior, or less worthy than others. It preaches prejudice. The most outrageous claims may be stated, on the basis that some invisible and omniscient being is reported as having said it.
All this logically tends to hypocrisy. Religion teaches that certain people should be castigated or punished because god said so. What sheer and utter crap. What it actually teaches is that because god doesn't like something, then 'good people' shouldn't like it either. The net result is that it allows people to absolve themselves from responsibility for their actions, because in effect they are doing what they have been told to do. This was the argument used by some concentration camp guards when called to account for their actions.
Christianity is based on nothing more than various seventeenth-century translations of Bronze Age superstitions. Contrary to what its apologists claim, it does no good. It lies, it deludes, it ignores facts. It is full of contradictions. According to some of its writings, a large proportion of the planet should already have been smitten for such sins as eating shellfish, companion planting, or the wearing of polyester cotton clothing. Of course, I have been told, one cannot pick and choose from the scriptures. One either accepts all of it or is a hypocrite. Yes. I agree entirely.
Religion is associated with persecution and cruelty. In the Middle East this is still very much evident, and is very similar to the situation in Europe not so many centuries ago. Yes, we too had religious police. Yes, there were various persecutions in this country of Jews, witches, heretics etc (by which women, the mentally ill, the disabled, homosexuals and free thinkers were indiscriminately put to death).
The church is reactionary and naturally associates itself with the comfortably-off classes. It felt no guilt over its role in oppressing the poor. It taught working folk that it was sinful to complain about one's 'station in life'. It was god's will.
Religion lies. It says it teaches love and peace when it patently does not.
If you are hateful, bigoted, delusional, unwilling to think freely and without a conscience, then religion is just the thing for you.
Here endeth the first lesson.

Sleep

I had a cunt of a night. Wide awake at half past twelve, thinking it was time to get up. Horrible dreams of a recurring sort; the town where I grew up, people, motion, missed connections and menace. I woke up at half past five feeling completely shattered.

Munch: The Scream

After a couple of good nights, last night was a very difficult one. I went to bed with my brain in full swing, going over and over all the deep thinking I had done during the day. My body was restless and agitated, and the feeling was strange, something like this:

I am wondering about this picture. What does it represent? Is it a person about to scream but as yet silent? Is it really a person screaming? Can it be that the person is so terrified that the scream is silent or barely inaudible? The other possibility, of course, is that it is none of these. It could just be the artist's imagination of any of these things. In any case there is some sort of invisible barrier between ourselves and the subject of the painting.
The colours are strident and harsh. That world looks cold and unforgiving. The characters in the background seem entirely unaware of the person who faces us. He fails to communicate with them and there is no eye contact between them. The line of the picture is clear, but the composition fluid. There is rigid order somewhere in the confusion.
I know exactly what I am describing. It is my world.

Last night

I thoroughly enjoyed the suet pudding I had for dinner. Afterwards I put on more of the Sherlock Holmes dvds but didn't really watch them. In fact they got on my nerves. Bed at twenty past ten.

An afterthought

I'm really pleased with my hair, or rather the lack of it. I've just remembered how my session at the barber's went. The man asked me 'How short do you want it?', to which I replied 'Short enough to be able to head-butt some of the annoying people in the supermarket. Could you make me look like a thug?'. He then asked me if I'd like him to make any gashes!! Well, you gotter larf!!!

Tonight

We've had some remarkably dreary weather today; cold, clammy, horrid light-grey skies and the constant threat of rain. I really don't fancy being out in that. I'm looking forward to the meat pudden. It's exactly the right sort of food for the weather. Then I suppose it'll be more Sherlock Holmes and bed.

Since earlier

After moving the keyboard it was time for a quick wend to the shops. I'm so pleased with the jacket and trousers I picked up at a charity shop for the grand sum of three quid. Daylight bleedin robbery if yer arsks me. (ha!!!) The jacket is what we used to call French Blue and the trousers are light blue. It'll look nice for when I play.
Then I had the counseling session. This week it was really exhausting and I did struggle, but I feel I am really starting to benefit from it. I am only allowed three more sessions under this referral, but the lady told me I can ask my doctor to re-refer me for a further course of sessions. I will certainly need more time, particularly as my ASD diagnosis is just around the corner.

More thinking

I'm getting a bit ratty with the thought that I will need to get my keyboard in a minute. The thing is getting a right cunt to carry, where it's so heavy, but I don't mind moving it nearly as much as I did. I'm starting to feel a bit more focused now that my appointment is in sight. I'm also starting to feel that my music is being appreciated more. Also the ghosts that were always around me have started to lose their menace. They are still there alright, but not quite so close by.

In the meanwhile

I went from the library to the High Street, where I bought some electricity, a couple of suet puddens and a hot pasty for my lunch. Afterwards to the barbers, so that's over and done with.
Then I went home, where I found a slip from the Post Office, saying I needed to collect something with a charge of £2 for unpaid postage (and admin fee).
I don't like sudden. Once I had collected myself I went straight to the sorting office and collected my letter. It was from the workhouse advising me of my next appointment, and they had not put a stamp on the envelope. I think that is pretty disgraceful, but then I'm such an unreasonable person. I'm feeling quite sad about it, particularly as my last visit there left me feeling so uncomfortable.

Thinking

My last workhouse visit has been playing on my mind. I had to discuss my health issues, and the man obviously had no idea of what I was talking about. He said a few things which I found odd at the time. The more I think about it, what he said was quite inappropriate, even nasty. I'm not sure if I've understood properly, so I'll discuss it with my lady this afternoon. I think I am right though, so I want to find out what I can do about it.

More autism stuff

I'm trying to unravel another of those knots in my brain. I've been thinking about my relationships, or rather my lack of them.
While I used to have very strong sexual attraction to some people, I've never really enjoyed physical contact. Any contact I did have was never too intimate. Well it was intimate, but not too intimate. I used to think I was a prude, but actually I'm not. Prudes don't like the things I used to like. The more I think about it, I am coming to the conclusion that this great difficulty of mine is nothing more than autism. Of course at that time the idea had never crossed my mind.
Another thing, when I think back, is that it was faces and intellect that have always attracted me. I hadn't a fucking clue how to start a conversation, so wouldn't say anything unless I was spoken to. I certainly couldn't do small talk then, any more than I can now. I couldn't talk about my feelings either cos I don't think I understood them. I'm only starting to understand that side of things now.
No wonder I've never been able to get relationships off the ground. Talking to me must have been like talking to an encyclopaedia.
I had great difficulty maintaining eye contact too. I used to feel terrified when I caught someone's eye, and would always look slightly away from the person. People must have thought I was a head case. Perhaps I am. Who knows?
I feel very sad when I look back. Because of the great handicap caused by my almost complete inability to interact with people, the only experiences I've had with people have been of the casual sort. For a seventeen year old it can be quite exciting, but the thrill soon wears off.
I have gone through life feeling desperately lonely on account of my inability to bond with people. Now that I'm older I don't feel like that anymore. What little wisdom I've obtained tells me that that sort of close relationship is completely impossible for me. I simply could not cope with having someone so near all the time, and I daresay they wouldn't be able to cope with me either.
I don't want anyone to think for one moment that my generally chased life results from any feelings of purity. It doesn't. Oh if only things had been different. What a cunt.

Today

I got up at about half past seven and took my time with the fags and coffee. I've got a bit of a hangover from the four pints of sheep-dip I got through last night.
I want to get my hair cut today. I hate going to the barbers. I think it's probably an autistic thing; the proximity, the contact, the being in front of people stuff. One or two deep breaths, best foot forward and all that should get me through the door.
I'm going to treat myself to one of the local butcher's lovely suet puddens for dinner. It's that sort of weather.
I've got my appointment with the counselor this afternoon.

My usual Sunday activities

The harpsichording was a great success. I was pleased with the cd sales and had an extra trip to the supermarket. I didn't fancy eating when dinnertime came round, but ate some more of Saturday's pasta. Boring.
I went to the pub early so I could have half a pint for medicinal purposes. It's a shame my favourite barman was off. That put me on edge. I went home, brought my stuff down and set up. I was mortified when the keyboard wouldn't start up. The long and short of it was that the previous band's kit had overloaded the socket and blown something. Nihil desperandum. I set up out the back instead. That was very cramped indeed and I was sat immediately in front of an open fire. That was so uncomfortable but I just got on with it.
I started playing to an almost empty pub. Shortly after I started two locals who I don't know came4 in for a quick pint on the way home. They were soon singing their little heads orf, and stayed for three hours. They had more than I pint, I can tell you. In fact they had more than a few. Then a group of visitors turned up and joined in. It turned out to be a good night.
While I was playing someone I know joined in on the Hammond organ in the corner, and continued for a couple of hours. Those things sound terrible but it was all good fun. I gave him something out of my cd money for his efforts.
After I finished playing I got nattering to two of the visitors, ands they knew all the places in Spain that I have visited. That was nice.
I got through three pints of cider and took a fourth home with me. I must say it was some of the most atrocious stuff I've ever tasted but it was strong. That was all that really mattered. When I got back I watched two Laurel and Hardy films; One Good Turn and Thicker Than Water. I almost finished the pasta and turned in around half past midnight.

The rest of Saturday

When I got home I made a meatball sauce to go with pasta. I rather enjoyed it. I spent the evening watching more of the Herlock Sholmes mysteries before turning in around ten.

Thinking again

I'm still thinking about the diagnosis stuff, but all the frustration and the feeling of being ignored and not mattering have gone. It's full steam ahead for me now. There's no going back.
The workhouse are definitely trying to push me into places where I don't want to be. The man is definitely put out that the mental health team are helping me with the employment stuff. The fact is that they understand not only my qualifications but how my mind works. The workhouse man definitely does want to help me, but it's patently obvious from the things he said that he understands neither. I'll have to ask my people about it.
I'm also thinking about the sea today. I could see from the library window that it has cut up rough. I love the sea in all its moods, but the mind-blowing quantity of water under the surface terrifies me when I think about it.
I'll be seeing my best friend at least once this week, which will be lovely. I wonder what back-breaking toil he has lined up for me!!!

Later on

I'll drop in to the supermarket and then I'll go straight home. It'll be the same routine as normal, but this time with a drop of cider so I can celebrate properly. I fancy cooking pasta tonight.

In the meanwhile

I had a nice session at the historic building. Some of the visitors were very appreciative, but this didn't translate into tips. I did, however, manage to flog a couple of cds which is just as nice. I'm glad that some people like Rameau. I thought I was the only one round here who did.
I learned that I was the one who fucked up about the favour. Our arrangement was for Thursday and not Friday. Bloody idiot I am.

A musical interlude

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dT-gMgb2hqI

I've just referred to La Morangis ou La Plissay by Forqueray. I wasn't thinking straight just now. I'd like you to hear it, so have attached a link. I don't like most music, but what I do like I know and understand in great detail. This sort of music really makes me tick. I can feel it in my upper arms and face when I play it.

Shortly

It'll soon be time for me to wend my weary way to the historic building. First thing I want to change the display of cds. I really hope I manage to sell some today. Afterwards I'll get myself warmed up. Lately I've been re-visiting La Morangis ou La Plissay by Forqueray. It's a wonderfully expressive piece, a bugger to play, and one that I played for my performance diploma. By the way Morangis is a southern suburb of Paris, but I don't know what Plissay refers to.
I hope we get plenty of my sort of visitors today, rather than the miseryguts we've seen too many of lately.

The weather

It ain't half been wet! By the time I arrived at my destination yesterday afternoon, my clothes were completely saturated after walking through the drizzle. It rained again yesterday evening and during the night, and it looks like it's about to rain now. It's not quite as windy as yesterday.

Thinking...

Over the last few days I've noticed that a few 'friends' have been dropping off my facebook numbers. I don't mind that in the least, because none of those people are my real friends. They are just people I know socially. I'm really quite indifferent to it, but tending towards the happy side of indifference. The only people I really want to know are the people who really want to know me.
Of course since yesterday afternoon I've been thinking all the time about my forthcoming ASD diagnosis. It doesn't matter whether or not I am autistic. The outcome will not alter the person I am one way or the other. What I do expect though is an answer that will enable me to make some sort of sense of my life. I don't like interviews and am dreading this one, but looking forward to it at the same time.
At this present moment I believe myself to be autistic, but don't actually know whether I am autistic. Belief and knowledge. I'd much rather know something than not know it. If one knows something then that knowledge is based upon facts. Belief may be based on facts, as in my particular case, but isn't necessarily based on facts. Belief is nothing more than an assumption, something one feels to be right for whatever reason. Belief can even fly in the face of facts, for example the belief that the Earth is flat, or that it is only some few thousand years old. I don't want to believe anything. I want to know.

This morning

When I got up I defrosted some bread so I could have toast for breakfast. After the fags and coffee I got down to my usual round of early-morning sweated labour, but that put me off eating. I'll have toast for lunch once I've finished playing. Now I'm all aching arms, sore fingers and just a little bit tired, but not so tired as I have been of late.

Sleep

I had a better night last night, and I suppose the news I had received earlier on had something to do with it. I remember turning round only occasionally before waking up just before seven.

Again...

After dinner I watched some more of the Sherlock Holmes things without really taking anything in, and turned in at half past nine.
Earlier in the evening I had one of those mind-numbing experiences that occur in my life with alarmingly monotonous frequency. I had arranged to do a favour for someone, and to meet them at a designated place and time. Guess what? They didn't turn up. I swear that this sort of thing is going to drive me mad one of these days. I'm getting over it now, but last night I could have cried.

Later on

After a four-hour excursion I'm back in town. I'm going home in a minute. After I've hovered around, I'm going to celebrate my appointment with some home-made soup and a dumpling. Afterwards it'll be dvds and bed.

My journey

I bit the bullet, took the fifteen-mile bus trip, and hiked up to the offices of the people who are to conduct my ASD diagnosis. I'm glad I did. They gave me a cup of coffee, asked me the preliminary questions they would have asked on the phone (I explained that I find phones difficult), and have booked me in for an appointment in a fortnight. That is the best possible result, and such a relief. I have written to my MP to let him know, and pointed out that because of the timing, I don't think this is mere coincidence. My long, agonising wait is nearly over.

A question

Why on earth are people allowed to bring screaming kids into the library? Isn't there enough annoying bollocks in this place to deal with already, without people fucking adding to it? Cunts.

Moods

I'm still up and down, although there is still some up which is a good sign. Thinking and thinking all the time. I don't want to be on tenterhooks all over the weekend, when I'll be busy playing. I think I might well pop down to see the diagnosis people today. The weather isn't very nice, and it's a fifteen-mile bus trip followed by a lengthy walk. I might come away none the wiser, but I think I'll give it a go. The best outcome is that I'll get a date for my appointment, or that I'll be told that a date will be forthcoming. Let's see.

Communication

The phone call I am waiting for, to sort out an appointment for ASD diagnosis, still hasn't come. It's really bugging me now. Waiting and waiting around, always waiting. Everything seems to be going in slow motion with the process. I've decided that if I haven't heard from the people by Monday, then I'm going to turn up at their offices on Tuesday to try and get it sorted out. I'm getting really fed up with it all.
Yesterday afternoon, by the way, I was copied in on an email from my MP to someone or other, asking them to investigate the time I've had to wait. Of course I will thank the MP once I'm nearer to resolution, but the issue of waiting times remains so still needs to be looked at.

Home improvements

The carpets haven't smelled very nice ever since the shampoo started drying. Now I'm hoovering round every afternoon and morning, and am still picking up loads of muck. So it will continue for a while yet. I have every window open when I'm at home to let the fresh air in. It was fresh alright yesterday evening. In fact it was bloody cold, but wearing a scarf helped.

The weather

It started raining yesterday evening and carried on raining all night. It was still raining this morning, but has now stopped. It doesn't feel as cold as yesterday, but there is still a thick blanket of rain clouds.

Sleep

I remember turning over quite a lot, but don't think I stayed awake. I woke up some time between six and seven and got up just after seven. I woke up feeling as if I'd been dreaming, but I don't know what it was about.

Yesterday

The harpsichording wasn't a resounding success. The kids were too young to appreciate that sort of history, and were probably in a rush to get out of the building and do the things that kids of that age like to do. Some of them stood around and listened for a bit though.
After dinner I spent the evening watching some Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes dvds. I didn't really take much notice of them, but they kept my eyes occupied. Bed at half past ten.

The rest of today

I'll be off to the historic building very shortly, to get my cds on display and to warm up, so that I'm ready to play when the visitors arrive. Afterwards it'll be home, dinner, films and bed.

In the meanwhile

The workhouse took longer than expected. The man is very kind, although he has no concept of my intellectual capabilities. I shan't have to go there again until the end of next month. I wouldn't have to go there at all if I had my way, and I'll be speaking to my people about that very soon.
I rushed up to my next appointment, having warned the people that I would be a little bit late, and didn't get any answer when I rang the bell. That seems to be an all-too-regular occurrence in my life. It just won't do anymore.

Now

Blah blah blah. Mobiles and libraries don't go together. 'He said.....she said.... so I turned round and said....' and so on ad nauseam. Methinks it's time I left. I'm going to be half an hour early for my first appointment, but they may see me a bit earlier, with a bit of luck. Much more of this and my brain will give way.

Great expectations

I'm expecting to hear from the people who will undertake my diagnosis for ASD. I'm a bit jumpy, as the phone call could come at any time. On the other hand they may just write, given the information I sent them the other day. I fear the third possibility, that I won't hear from them at all.
The diagnosis has been weighing heavily on my mind for nearly two years. The feeling has been even more acute since I received the letter a couple of days ago. I just want it sorted out.

Today

I'm going to be very busy from lunchtime, with three appointments one after the other. Of course I'm looking forward to thev playing most of all, and I'm going to see if I can benefit from that. I'm going to put a load of French cds out, in the hope that some of the visiting French people might want to buy some.

This morning

I took my time with the fags and coffee. After a bath I hoovered around before going to the library. I've noticed that nowadays I seem to wake up wanting to make some toast, but always lose interest after a short while.
The weather isn't great today, with dark-grey skies, and the air chilly and damp. I don't mind the temperature and I don't particularly mind the damp, but dark skies do upset me.

The news

Two stories caught my attention this morning. The first is about a mother who is trying to prevent her son from being decapitated and crucified. The head of state of that country has denied her son the right to appeal. Its foreign minister has also said that other countries should not interfere in its internal affairs, when their representatives have raised the matter.
Meanwhile that same country's foreign minister has summoned another country's foreign minister, because of a forthcoming translation of a book which is offensive to the first country's religion.
Hypocrisy. The first country is signatory to the UN Convention on Human Rights, but is blatantly contravening it in the case of the first item. Hypocrisy. It also complains of meddling by other countries, when it is actively meddling in the affairs of the country where the book is to be published, in the case of the second item.
That's the problem with theocracies; while they actively persecute their opponents, they arrogantly proclaim that they are being victimised. But of course they are right, aren't they? After all their book says they are right, so they must be.

Sleep

I was back in bed, with the fumes of carpet dirt up my nostrils and on my chest. I woke up at midnight and stayed awake, but eventually fell asleep again. My dreams were many and very strange. Up at six.

Last night

After a simple meal I watched The Wrong Man, which was mediocre but watchable. Afterwards I put on Dial M For Murder and that got on my nerves, so I picked up Neil Zaslaw's The Classical Era, and read about the late Eighteenth Century culture and music of Spain and Sweden. Bed at ten.

Later on

The weather looks like it's deteriorating again, so I'm going to take myself home very shortly. Dinner is going to be simple, probably bangers n mash or something like that. I expect I'll watch something afterwards, but I don't know what I feel like. I feel a quite deflated after my shift at the historic building.

A musical interlude

I got soaked when I took my keyboard to the historic building. My clothes are still very wet now. We've just had the most disappointing day of the year, with not a single visitor, so we closed an hour early. You can't blame people. No-one in their right mind would want to go out unless they had to.

Now

Physically I feel very tired, but that seems to be my normal state nowadays. My thoughts fly out all over the place, while I maintain a demeanour of calmness. Now it's nose to the grindstone and into professional mode. I owe that to any visitors and to myself.

Shortly

I need to get myself home shortly to move my keyboard to the historic building. I don't trust the weather, so I'll tape it up in a couple of bin bags. Keyboard aside I don't want a soaking either. I hope the weather won't put people off visiting us.

The weather

It was windy all day yesterday, and there were some very strong gusts. It was dark all afternoon, so dark in fact that I had to put my lights on at five in the evening. It was very chilly too, and decidedly cold when the clouds cleared after nightfall. I put an extra blanket on my bed for the first time.
It's nasty again this morning and last night's rain has continued as showers.

Thoughts

I'm being buffeted around by very deep lows and soaring highs. Deep in thought the whole time. I feel like some light is trying to come into my life, and that I'm trying to get rid of things that weigh me down. I can't help feeling that at some point I'll come out of this better than when I went into it. At least that is what I really hope for.

This morning

Fags and coffee were over and done with within half an hour. I made some notes for something I sent just now to the man who is helping me with the work stuff. Afterwards I hoovered the bedroom and put everything back. It looks much nicer now.
I've got the terrible smell of dirty carpet water under my nose. I don't think I smell of it, or at least I hope I don't. I'm going to stop shampooing for a while and start again in a short while.

Sleep

I had another uncomfortable night on the sofa, and was awake for ages around three o'clock. Up at seven, aching.

Last night

I couldn't be bothered to cook so I had pasta again. This time I added a chili to the sauce for a bit of variety. I watched Two Way Stretch and I Confess. There was one lovely bit in the latter when a priest, who is suspected of murder, is asked to speculate on the identity of the murderer. He replied that he couldn't make a decision based on so little evidence. That statement could equally apply to his job. Bed at ten.

Stunned

I left the library with the hump and went to the supermarket. They had sold out of one of the items I'd gone to buy, so I had a nice uphill walk in the howling wind to the next nearest supermarket. When I got home I realized that, stewing in my own juices, I'd forgotten to pick up my tablets from the chemist.
A letter was waiting for me, from the people who are going to assess me for ASD. The letter was written by the consultant psychologist. I was shell-shocked. They wanted me to phone them, and for me to be accompanied by my parents or someone who knew me when I was a child. I wrote back with my phone number asking them to contact me, explaining my age, that I have no parent of either gender, that I am estranged from my family, and that I have nothing pertaining to my childhood. They also wanted some developmental history, which I can only assume they mean in an academic sense. I told them about the bullying, in case that's what they meant.
Now I wrote to my MP last week. Is the speedy receipt of this letter mere coincidence, or has the MP done something to expedite matters?
I'm thrilled to bits that I've heard from the people, but now I've started worrying too. On balance this is for me a marvellous occurrence, and a major event in my life.

The rest of today

I'm feeling unsettled, what with all the mental activity, so I'm going home via the supermarket. I'll put the washing machine on and try to have a nap. I don't know what I'm having for dinner today, but I'm sure I'll end up watching something later on.
By the way when I popped out earlier, I noticed a book in a charity shop window, with the name Unseen Archives. This is surely a misnomer. Of course the archives may have been unseen for a long time until they were published, at which time they would have already been seen by the publisher, the author, the proof-reader and everyone involved in the book's production. After that they would have been seen by at least one reader, and were therefore 'seen' rather than 'unseen'.

The weather

Last night was very windy with some strong gusts. I think I may have heard it raining, but I'm not quite sure. It's still windy today and the sea is rough, but it's fairly sunny and bright. I think it must be autumn.

Looking to the past

This is the old Greenwich Union Workhouse. It was a terrible place, and notorious for the cruelty of its staff. Quite a few of my ancestors went in on their feet and came out in a box.
Nowadays things are quite different, aren't they?
We have a health service which is overstretched and underfunded to such an extent that its services are not universally accessible. We have a government which oversees a system that tells terminally ill people that they are fit to work, and disallows them from claiming benefits. As in Victorian times we are governed by people who pander to the rich and the pious, at the same time demanding that the poor give more. Of course the people who are pandered to are complicit in supporting this system. Injustice and unfairness are injustice and unfairness, whatever the smug and self-satisfied call them, and however the same people justify them. For shame.

A telling remark

I'm still thinking about yesterday's counseling session. It was quite monumental, with all the things I managed to cover. During the session the lady suddenly said to me 'You're world is a very noisy one, isn't it?' Of course she is spot on. My life is totally dominated by sounds, and I told her about some of the physical sensations that noise can provoke in me. I either like music or I find it distressing and uncomfortable. Most music falls into the latter category. She told me afterwards that she had noticed me reacting to ambient noises. I was actually quite unaware of these reactions. Well nobody can turn round and say she ain't observant.

A busy week

Apart from my usual playing, I will be doing an extra session at the historic building on Thursday, for a private visit by a party of foreign students. Thursday lunchtime I need to go to the workhouse before going on to my normal appointment. The good news is for Friday; the meeting I'm going to is next Friday, not this. It's all go for me.

How am I?

My mind is still going like the clappers and thinking about the rollercoaster that has been the last fortnight. I feel shocking tired, with aching arms and sore fingers. Just now I went round to the butchers and had  a couple of fags on the way. I'm sure the hot sausage roll will put some life back into me.

Home improvements

You would not believe how much of the most revolting muck has come out of my bedroom carpet. Judging by what I find, some previous occupants must have either been more than commonly hirsute, or they kept animals; dogs, bears, wombats, something like that. I'm going to give it several more once-overs before I return to sleeping there. In fact I did it again this morning.

Quite a night

My bedroom still smelled strongly of carpet shampoo so I made a bed up on the sofa. It's not the most comfortable, in fact it's rather like lying on a slag heap, but I usually manage to sleep (eventually). I slept very badly. Many thoughts and memories went round and round with alarming ferocity, and the good thoughts scoured as much as the bad. I woke up many times before getting up at seven, feeling as if I'd been put to the rack.

Later on yesterday

After going home via the supermarket I made a sort of Bolognese sauce; well it had minced meat in it and tomatoes, but there the similarities end. After dinner I tried to settle down to The Naked Truth, but my brain was still in overdrive so I didn't finish it. That was that. I went down to the pub and had a pint. When I got home I watched two episodes of Attenborough's The Private Life Of Plants, and turned in at ten.

In the meanwhile

I collected the keyboard and then set to work. After moving everything I could from my bedroom into the spare room, I hoovered and shampooed my bedroom carpet. I couldn't believe how much muck was sucked up by the machine.
Then on to the counseling session and it was a productive one. I told her about the man I see about work, about my horrific experience last weekend and about the one just gone, which was lovely. I told her about my recurrent dreams (travel, missing connections, menace etc) and told her I thought it symbolized autism driving me, and to places I don't want to be. The lady told me she too believes I am autistic, so I felt comfortable about discussing issues around that (eg being affected physically by sounds). I also discussed a little diary of thoughts that I'd recorded last Thursday week.
At last I am getting the support I've always needed. My nephew asked me last Saturday how I'd managed to cope all these years. I gave a bland answer, but in truth I don't feel I really did cope at all. I just used to hide what I felt, which isn't the same thing. I think that this time I am going to come through feeling very strong and able to manage life a bit better. I want my life to be my own.

Now

It's time for me to be orf. The keyboard is heavy enough and it's getting to be a bit of a cunt, but it enables me to do things that I am good at and I enjoy. I do hope I have another day like yesterday, and soon.

Thinking

I still keep thinking about last night. I like the company I am thrown together with. It's all very friendly but comfortably so. I like being with people to whom I am not an oddity. I am taken seriously. The nice thing is that I don't have to worry about ulterior motives. I like a laugh and a joke, but I also like a little bit of intelligence now and then. And most of all I like it that I don't have to be on my guard. Ideal. Lovely. Wish I'd done it sooner.

In general

It has been decidedly chilly these past couple of days, although there was some sunshine yesterday. I've taken to wearing a scarf when I go out.
This evening I plan to make one of my nice pasta sauces, and to watch a film or two afterwards.

Indoors

I can't help thinking how quiet it is at home, ever since the people upstairs moved out. It's almost like being on holiday, and I'm finding it so much easier to settle down.
I've been at the carpets again. Next on the list is my bedroom. The bed is too big for me to move out, so I'll just shampoo under and around it. I think I'll get that done shortly, in between collecting my keyboard from the pub and going to the shrink.

Today

I was very woozy first thing so took the fags and coffee very slowly. I've been to see the man about getting a job. It was quite a change to be talking to someone who understood my mindset, and who had some concept of my qualifications. I feel very comfortable there and have complete trust in the advice I am being given.
I've got a counseling session this afternoon and have lots to talk about. There's so much, in fact, that it's going to take at least two more sessions to be able to tell her all the things I want to talk about.

Untying knots

Something changed in me last night. I was engulfed by kindness and acceptance. I did not feel that people were laughing at me, or that they were going to once I'd gone. I still feel good this morning, although there is the hangover.

Dahn the boozer

Last night was a revelation for me. I got to the pub early and got nattering to the barman. He had understood what had happened to me in the psychology department the previous Sunday, when I couldn't get my keyboard. As it goes his conversation showed a great deal of insight into how I think. He also said that he loves having me around, and what a nice atmosphere I create. I didn't react, but you could have knocked me down with a feather. What a kind thing to say.
Some people I know socially came by, who I hadn't seen for a while. I thought they were probably sick and tired of the things I play, but they weren't. They had come to hear me. Some people I know socially from a previous incarnation also came in, and that put me on edge. They haven't done anything to me, but they are good friends of some people who have. They didn't stay long. Then someone else came in who I used to know from before and that was a bonus. I don't mind him one bit.
Then three people came in who were celebrating one of their birthdays. They liked it when I played Happy Birthday To You. Then one of them enquired 'Can you play the Pathetique?' (Of course the slow movement). I duly obliged. In fact I was asked to play it four times. My protests provoked the required response in the form of a pint of cider. They sat around me while I played. The yound lady started crying, so I asked her if it really was so terrible. She replied that both the music and my person reminded her of her late granddad, and that her gran would really enjoy what I was doing. Later on she told me that her granddad was Donald Pleasence so we had quite a natter. He's one of my favourite actors, and I've got so many films of his on dvd. She also told me that she has quite a few film contacts and that she was going to put my name about. Let's see. I did say I'd make a video of my piano stuff for her nan.
Ifter I finished playing I stayed on and enjoyed my pint.