The rest of today

I'm doing well with that history stuff I've been writing. Today I've had a good number of people signing up to our news feeds.
I think it'll be time to leave the library shortly. I'm starting to feel a bit peckish and fancy making something nice for dinner. I don't know what though. I'll have to see what's worth getting when I'm in the supermarket. If I don't have any luck there then I'll fish something out of the freezer.
The rest of the evening should be fairly routine with a few dvds or a book or two. I fully expect the savages upstairs to behave like the bunch of cunts that they are. Well fuck 'em. They are moving out soon. I'll just ride it out while they get their money's worth.

Thinking

I've been and got the keyboard moved, and on the way back out I managed to dispose of the late futon's arms in the skip. I have been busy today, having written not one but three pieces for the historic building's social media page. Why was I born so clever?, I arsks meself.
I've got a couple of extra things on this week. First of all, in a couple of days I'm going to see a gardening group for people with mental health difficulties. I quite like the idea of it, but I'll have to tell them I won't be able to do anything too strenuous. Although I enjoy getting stuck in to the heavy stuff, I have to remember that I play now. I don't want my hands cut to shreds or too stiff and sore to play. Then after that I've got an appointment with workhouse no.2. I'm going to show them my music cv, which I think is going to be an entirely new experience for them.

Later on and that

I nearly forgot that I shall have to get that keyboard of mine moved before too long. It's all very boring.
Just now I went out for a fag and noticed all the very obese people plodding round with one or more sticks, or hurtling along the pavement in tractors. I often wonder what is the matter with this town.

News

The world is such a boring place. Nothing ever happens. There's no war, no poverty, no hunger, no suffering, no injustice. Well judging by the sort of stuff that makes the news, one could be forgiven for believing such things. Take one of today's earth-shattering headlines for instance, concerning two actresses who wore the same colour dresses to the same event. Is this item really of global significance? Is it, in fact, even news? Come on media. Stop reporting this sort of rubbish, and try to concentrate on telling us what is really happening in the world.

In the meanwhile

I had an appointment at workhouse no.1 and that was just routine. Afterwards I found that my appetite had come back, so I picked up something hot from the butchers, being on my guard for flocks of pigeons and marauding seagulls as I ate. Then it was back to the library, where I've just put together another article on social history. I'm really enjoying myself with it!

Yesterday lunchtime

A woman came into the historic building with a boy of about six or seven years old. I noticed the boy's eyes light up when he saw the old rooms. I heard one of the volunteers ask the woman about the kid, and heard that he'd 'had issues' at school, had been bullied and had now been excluded. They came over and listened to me playing, and the boy and I got chatting nineteen to the dozen. The woman was completely flabbergasted, because the boy apparently never talks to strangers. Anyway he wandered off into the next room and I asked the woman a question and, yes, he is autistic. What struck me immediately was how intelligent he obviously is. He told me he had taught himself to play some tunes on the guitar, and that he practices every day. He said he doesn't like to play it in front of people, but I told him I'd like to hear it, and that he must bring his guitar round when he's ready.
That kid is another sad statistic. One intelligent, autistic child, bullied by the other kids because they think he is strange, so the school expels him for being 'difficult' and 'a problem'. Look. If I can talk to that kid on his own level, and show a little bit of kindness and willingness to listen, why does the education system seem to find that so very difficult? The correct response by the school should have been to expel the rest of the class for being bullies. It's not fair.

Sleep

My sleep pattern seems to have changed over the past few days. Now I've been sleeping continuously for about eight hours a night, and waking up remembering dreams and feeling very tired.
It was very cold when I got up this morning and it's still cold now. That doesn't worry me in the least, because it's bright enough.

This morning

I was up at about half past six feeling very peckish, but I'd lost my appetite by the time I'd finished the fags and coffee. Then it was up to the library. On the way I stopped at the supermarket, and noticed that the 99p shop that closed last week has now reopened as a pound shop. That means that everything has gone up by one percent, but I don't mind that. Their stuff is at least one percent better.
Between the shop and the library I remembered that an old codger told me last night that the pub where I play is up for sale. Now that's the third time I've heard that rumour, so I suppose there must be something in it.

Them upstairs

They were horrible yesterday. The kid was running around screaming and shouting all morning, and it sounded like she was wearing safety boots. When I got back from the historic building it continued just the same. I had it while I was eating my dinner.
When I got home from the pub I had some cold leftovers. Meanwhile madam was having a major workout in her living-room. She can't even do that quietly. I wondered if she was counting the starts, or if she was imitating an armadillo. When I went to bed I could still hear the stupid mare howling and groaning. I can't even see the funny side of it. The woman is just totally annoying, and very distracting.

Yesterday

I had a much better day at the historic building, and parts of it were even enjoyable. The pub, though, was pretty tedious, and I stopped playing well before nine. It was smartarse night, the 'superior intelligence' bit and all that. This geezer drifted over to me and started talking inane claptrap about music. This time it was the fucking Planets, and I soon shot him down with a bit of simple musicology, which of course I aimed with devastating precision. Then I got the 'I went to public school' bit, and how a gentleman would never wear his tie with the knot I use for mine. I replied that I'm not a gentleman but I have good manners. His face registered that my point had hit home. I assured him too that I had no intention of learning new knots, as it's not important enough.
After I finished playing I took my time with the rest of the pint. Then the very loud music went on and my earplugs went in. Home soon afterwards.

The rest of today

It'll be time to make a move soon. The first thing I'll do when I get home is to change out of my suit. Unusually I shan't be having curry for dinner today. Later on it will be more of the usual.

One good word...

The historic building is gaining some international recognition! I remember a party of French students coming in last Summer, but I didn't know that they had written the following review:

très belle bâtisse,
jardin agréable,
belle visite et accueil chaleureux bilingue (français anglais ) en costumes sur fond de musique d époque.
Remerciements aux bénévoles qui nous ont guidés à travers l'histoire anglaise.

I'm really glad that they enjoyed their visit so much.I'm very glad that they enjoyed their visit so much.

In the meanwhile

I had a very uninspiring session at the historic building. It was like playing to a brick wall. Not only that but practically everybody who came in was remarkable for their ignorance. While I was playing two people came in talking loudly, then laughing loudly 'Ha ha ha That heater's original ain't it', so I stood up, walked over and turned it off in front of them, then sat down and resumed playing. That's the only way to deal with smartarse cunts like that. I did have someone ask me about lessons though.

In a minute

I need to get myself moving a bit earlier than usual. I've worked up a bit of an appetite, and I'm sure the cold weather has got something to do with that. So I'll take myself home for a bite to eat before I start shifting the keyboard. I hope I have a good day today. I feel very deflated when I don't.

Yawn

One of today's social media news feed highlights is that a television presenter is leaving his show. So fucking what. Does anyone really care? So he's leaving his job. Big deal. He's not going to a life of destitution. Does the general population have such shallow and boring lives that they need to have their heads filled with this sort of rubbish? It beggars belief.

Now

Two girls playing are computer games near me, and one of them is singing her head off. Well singing is the wrong word for it. I think caterwauling in a bore appropriate verb. It's bloody horrible and all out of tune. Her singing is flatter than a witches tit. Why can't the parents keep their offspring indoors when they are so bloody irritating. The earplugs are in now.

Later on

It's another beautiful day, bright but quite cold. I've got my usual routine of playing; lunchtime today and tomorrow and tomorrow night. I've been mulling over the pieces I'm going to play today. I've played the new Couperin when nobody is around, but today I'll try and play it when people are in.

Earlier on

The fags and coffee were just routine this morning. Another part of the routine involved ironing a shirt. I'm getting rather good at it now, although it does seem to take me a long time. I was deep in thought all the while, thinking of everything and nothing. It really does get very tiring.

Sleep

I dropped off very quickly and slept through to nearly six this morning. I woke up remembering bits of strange dreams. In one of them I was making enormous stacks of cds, rather like a house of cards. In another I was on the phone to North Wales. I did not recognise the voice of the person who answered. He told me he had just moved in as the previous occupant had died. I commented on the lovely garden and the view over the hills. In real life I didn't know the person I was calling very well, and know that they died just over a year ago. In real life I would never have contacted them.

Last night

I had some of Thursday's curry for dinner, and I must admit I found it more than usually boring. Afterwards I watched the last two parts of Wives and Daughters. I read a bit of a history of Greenwich. Rather I looked at the pictures, as all that stuff about Merrie England gets on my tits. Bed at twenty past nine.

And finally

The library is very busy now but not too noisy. This afternoon's social media includes a smiling baby elephant, a smiling puppy, two women in panties and bras an some stuff about politicians. Not exactly riveting and certainly not educational. I think I really will have to be off now.

A postscript

I forgot to say in my last post that letters are a cunt.

Unexpected

I thought I was going home for the afternoon. Not a bit of it. When I got there I found a letter demanding my immediate attention, so I went straight out again. One fifteen minute walk and a bus ride later I'm back again at the library. There is a lot to be said for living alone, but it isn't always easy. There's always something to be done, and only oneself to do it.

The rest of today

I'm starting to get really bored, so I'm going to take myself home now. I still feel tired but I'm sure I must have had enough sleep. It's probably my body clock being out, from where I've been sleeping at all different sorts of times. I suppose it's curry for dinner again, and then some dvds afterwards. If that lot upstairs start, I'll do what I sometimes do and imagine myself throwing hand grenades at them.

Social media

Today's 'highlight' (or rather lowlight) is a video of a paralysed dog. Of course it's upsetting to see the poor thing struggling around, but is it really the most important? I, for one, am much more concerned with things like Sharia Law.

Again

I had another urge to write on social history. This time I reached rock bottom and wrote about lavatory arrangements in the Early Modern Period. That should get a few hits from those with a scatological turn of mind, or those with a juvenile interest in all such things.

In the meanwhile

I've just got back from the workhouse and it was well worth going. Last October the psychologist who diagnosed my autism recommended CBT, with the stipulation that it should be given by someone with experience of dealing with autism. My doctor has been dragging his feet since then, with the result that I'm still waiting for treatment. Well the people who provide this service were at the thing I've just been to. They let me refer myself, and I will hear from them very shortly. Now that is a good result!

A moment ago

Try as I might I just could not resist the urge. I fought it and fought it, but in the end I just couldn't fight it anymore, so I wrote another item about a social history topic. I've included three pictures, two of which are in colour, so I'm hoping that might attract a reader or two.

A man of letters

After the dizzying number of recent 'hits' on the historic building's social media page, the number has tailed off considerably. I think I know what has happened. My posts are far too intelligent for the average reader, even though I've made them so simple that the average seven-year-old should be able to get the hang of them. Duh. They seem to get more hits when there's a pretty picture (a bit like your average tabloid), so I'm going to include pictures from now on.

Later on

It's a beautiful day, bright and sunny bit freezing cold. It's so much nicer than that horrible drizzly stuff, and the terrible dull-grey daylight that goes with it. In a short while I have to go to something at Workhouse no.1. I don't mind it this time, because I think it might be beneficial to me. It's such a huge relief that they are finally letting me use my hard-earned qualifications properly, and not trying to push me into the terrible stuff I used to do.

This morning

I enjoyed my fags and coffee this morning, and couldn't help noticing how comfortable I was. I'm so glad that the wretched futon is gone. My flat doesn't feel or look like my old place in London anymore. I hated the place in London, and now there's nothing to remind me of it.

Sleep

I was out like a light and slept through to ten past five without waking up during the night. I didn't want to open my eyes and lay there daydreaming until nearly seven. As I woke up I remembered dreaming about my ex. I caught him going round bad-mouthing me. A friend of his was in the dream too. That person kept coming to me for tea and sympathy, and then going to my ex and repeating everything that had been said. It was horrible and very realistic. Just like it was in real life. I ain't half known some cunts in my time.

Last night

I felt pretty exhausted when I got home, so started cooking early. I had wanted to make something nice for dinner but didn't have the energy to think, so I had another curry for a change. I finished eating well before five. Afterwards I sat back comfortably to watch Margaret Rutherford in Murder She Said, but had to stop it at about twenty past six. The herd of children upstairs were deafening, stampeding around shouting and screaming. That went on continuously until after seven o'clock. It wasn't just horrible. It's more like psychological torture. I can't wait for those bastards to move out. After a while I watched the end of the film and turned in at eight.

The rest of today

I've finished writing another one of my social history things. I think I must be getting clever at long last. Just now I heard some people telling someone off for using what I suppose was a naughty website.
This evening I'm going to be the same boring tit as usual, dvds etc.

Soon

I feel ravenously hungry, I suppose from getting up so early. I've just been outside for a fag and noticed what a lovely afternoon it is; bright and watery sunshine, mild but with a bit of a chill breeze. I think I'll take myself home early via the supermarket. Let's see if they've got something nice for dinner.

Thinking

I hadn't seen my nan for almost twenty years when she died. It's such a shame that I wasn't invited to her funeral though. I could have done with a nice day out.

Rattling bones

My cousin has been doing a bit of digging about my Nan's pre-war status, and has sent me a copy of the 1939 electoral register (which I've already seen). The thing is that data was collected in 1939, so my info is more up-to-date. She's seeing her mum tonight and is not going to tell her anything about what I've told her, but she is going to do some fishing. My nan was a favourite aunt of my cousin's, so I don't suppose she'd be none too happy when my info proves to be right.

In the meanwhile

The furniture turned up on time, and nice and early for me. The delivery men were really helpful too. I must say I'm really pleased with the things. My suits now hang comfortably in a wardrobe that is big enough to hold them. The sofa is narrower than the futon, which is a bonus, and very comfortable. It's like another birthday!

News

Well speak of the devil! I've just had a call from the delivery driver to say he'll be with me in half an hour. That's brilliant! It means I won't have to sit around all afternoon, wondering what time he's going to come.

Shortly

I'm going to go home in a minute. I know I'm still much too early for my delivery, but I can't settle down. I'll find something to do when I get back. I think the people upstairs will be out. They were a bit noisier last night, but nothing like as bad as the stuff I've had to put up with.

Just now

I've just had another busy hour. First of all I contacted a collection of historic keyboard instruments to enquire about becoming a curator. That would be a fantastic job for me, as the curators play the instruments to demonstrate them. Afterwards I just wrote about another social history topic for the historic building's social media page. My brain is feeling very productive today, although accompanied by the strange sort of tiredness one gets from getting up too early. And of course I'm still really excited about the furniture.

Something different!

There has been a power cut at the library this morning, which has left the building with emergency lighting. There is no light in the loo, but I desperately needed to go. Then I sussed it. I had my lighter in one hand and took aim with the other. Who else would have thought up that one?!!!

Later on

I'm starting to feel excited about my new furniture, and I think that may be why I woke up so early this morning. Delivery is expected this afternoon, so I'll need to be home at lunchtime in case (or in the hope that) it arrives early. Apart from that I've got a quiet day.

Earlier on

I was quick with the fags and coffee. While I was having them I cut the futon, pulled out the stuffing and packed it up in black rubbish bags. I filled twelve of them altogether, and took them down to the rubbish skips. That was a good bit of thinking. I had been worrying about what to do with it. Then I set about dismantling the frame. I managed to undo most of it, but some of the bolts on one side were off-thread, so I used brute force to push the two halves together. I'm really pleased with myself for having managed to do it. It's something I wouldn't usually feel confident enough to tackle. After that I hoovered round before coming up to the library. Phew! I've had a bit of a busy morning.

Sleep

I think I slept through to twenty past four this morning. I woke up from a really strange dream. I was in the front garden of a detached house. I didn't recognise it and I knew I shouldn't have been there. A car pulled up and two people got out. One of them had a rifle and shot the ground in front of me. At one point we were all inside the house and the two of them were planning various 'jobs'. I was involved in all of them, against my will. I remember another bit where we were all on the run. We were on a train, and the other two people ran off, leaving me to take the blame. That's all I remember.

Last night

When I got home I emptied the wardrobe and moved it into the spare room. I am pleased that there is room for both it and a chest of drawers, and enough room to make up a bed if anyone stays. After a thoroughly enjoyable dinner I sat down to watch some dvds. What a change to be able to watch a film without it grinding to a halt every so often. Bed at half past eight.

The rest of today

When I go home I'm going to empty my wardrobe and try to move it into the spare bedroom, so that there will be space for the new one. The futon will not be quite so easy, as I'll have to dismantle it in the morning. It's cushion thing is very heavy, so I might just have to push it out of the way for now. I've digressed. Afterwards I'll cook something nice (I hope) for dinner, and then spend the rest of the evening as I usually do.

News

There is a strange headline today, about a dog. It was out of control and running down a motorway, and was deliberately run over by the police. Of course the police did the right thing. What else should they have done? Waited for it to cause multiple car crashes? Of course the newspapers are spouting hysterical claptrap. They are after the officers' blood. We Britons are of course a nation of dog lovers, aren't we? No we're not, at least not all of us, and the whole notion is a load of bollocks. I wish the hypocrites who love canines would transfer their affections to the underclass instead. The world might be a better place then. But no, they would rather feed their pets than help a homeless person. Dog lovers are cunts, and I bet they vote conservative. And I bet they are Christians.

A moment ago

I went back up the High Street to have a look in the furniture shop. I found the sofa I like, and it comes complete with an armchair. That's a bonus! I found a nice double wardrobe too, and I'm to expect delivery tomorrow afternoon. What a lovely thing to happen on what is usually a singularly dull day for me.

Now

It has been lovely and quiet all morning in the library (and I hope I'm not speaking too soon). Not a cunt to be seen!
Earlier on I sent my cousin my latest findings on my dad's mum. She doesn't know anything but she's going to ask her mum, who is nearly 100 years old and still has all her marbles. Just after that I did some more work on my academic cv. I don't think it will be long before I start using it.

In the meanwhile

I went for a walk down the High Street and had a light lunch from the butchers. I know I shouldn't have done it but I also got a second-hand dvd player. The other one is being so temperamental lately that I'm going to chuck it out before it explodes or something.

A bombshell

I have awful memories of my dad's mother. She was cold. She was disinterested in me. I could never live up to her favourite grandchildren, my cousins. And it was always rubbed in. She was a funny old sod and very Victorian in her outlook, although Queen Victoria had died a long time before my Nan was born.

I've been back at the family history, and have found an index to a census that was taken on the eve of war in 1939. She is listed under her second husband's surname, with my own surname in brackets after it. So it appears that she and my grandad had separated a year after my dad was born. I don't think my grandad's family knew anything about it. Grandad was killed in 1943 and I know my nan was in contact with his father until he died. So she didn't shack up with her second husband after my grandad died. She was already living with him before the war. What a trollop.

I wish I'd known before what I know now. I could almost have respected her, if it weren't for the fact that she was so ashamed of me when I 'came out' as a teenager. I would have laughed in her face. It sounds like she was a bit of a slut. In my experience people who give out Victorian mentality usually do have things to hide.

Soon

I've just had the news that I'm getting a bigger wardrobe and a proper sofa! The wardrobe will be fantastic. I won''t have to force my clothes inside any more. And a real sofa! It's been decades since I had one of my own. Futons are very practical, but they aren't the most comfortable. Perhaps my poor old bones won't ache so much anymore.

Them upstairs

They were very quiet indeed last night. They were in alright. I could hear them. I don't trust them. I bet they are up to something.

Sleep and that

I settled down listening to gamba pieces by Marais and fell asleep very quickly. I don't remember waking up during the night, and woke up just after five this morning. I didn't have the energy to move, and lay there with my eyes shut for a couple of hours.
I got up to a bright but bitterly cold morning. All the cars outside were covered in a thick layer of frost. The fags and coffee were routine. Now I'm at the library as usual.

Last night

I had a nice light dinner of cheese, salami and pickles. It made such a change from what I usually have. Afterwards I started watching Wives And Daughters again, but the DVD player behaved very oddly, so I only watched the first installment. Bed at around nine.

A question

Is the general population getting even fatter or am I wasting away? I certainly don't think it's the latter, but I can't help noticing the vastness and globular aspect of so many people that I see in passing. If things carry on like this, there will soon come a point where there won't be enough ground space for everyone to be able to stand on. This is a matter of great concern. I'd like to know what the government proposes to do about it. I hope it has a policy in place.

Thinking again

I've been mulling over the pub I played at last Christmas. I know he wants me to go back, and so do I. What has put me off is that it is now patronised a number of people from the establishment I once played at. I don't feel at all comfortable about it. I don't really want to see them. I've always taken the view that when you've left somewhere, then you've left it and don't go back. The same thing applies to people. I'll have to think about what I should do.

Alarm

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erMO3m0oLvs

This is a cunt alert. Three of the older scrotes are ensconced in the corner, playing what they call 'music' very loud. I wish they'd have the occasional wash. They could look remotely acceptable then.

Since earlier

I got a few things for dinner, and then realised how full I am from the stuff I'd eaten at lunchtime. I'll just have a snack tonight if I fancy it. The things I bought can go into the freezer.
I put the washing machine on and lay down on the sofa. I must have been tired, cos I slept for over an hour. It's so out of character for me to sleep during the daytime. I generally can't, unless I feel unwell. I wonder if my body is trying to make up for all the sleep I don't get at nights.

The rest of today

It's been lovely and quiet in the library today, but it's about time I left. I'm starting to get square eyes from looking at the computer. Nothing to report really. Shops and then home.

More thoughts

The people upstairs were spookily quiet again last night. They were in alright, but there was none of the usual stuff. I wonder if that means I'll be for it tonight.
I'm bored of the computer so I'll probably take myself along to the foreign supermarket in a minute. I could do with the bus ride, although it's only a stop or two.
The weather has improved now, and I can see some sunshine coming through the window.

Now

I hears this annoyin, babblin noise in me left ear 'ole, an when I turns round, blimey,  you should of seen it. Ugly big great lump. Blimey it's 'orrable.

In the meanwhile

I took the things into the charity shop as planned. Afterwards I decided I didn't fancy a hamburger after all, so I walked up to the butchers. Where else can you buy three huge cooked chicken portion and some potato things for just over two quid? There was so much that I'll have to finish it later. I do feel better for having eaten though. It's quite cold today and very overcast. With a bit of luck it might brighten up later.

Shortly

Recently I bought some really lovely clothes from the charity shop. When I went to wear them, I was very disappointed to discover that they were a bit too small. I'm going to take them round to my friend's shop so that she can sell them. I haven't eaten much over the past couple of days, and am starting to feel very hungry. While I'm out I think I'll take myself to one of the hamburger joints.

Social media

There is a great selection of garbage in the news feeds. Of course there is football. Of course there is the usual drivel about famous people leaving their boyfriends or girlfriends. Today we are regaled with an item about Hitler's supposed genital abnormalities. That's not even news. There was a song about it during the Second World War.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dM7pJGusyJg

Thoughts

I've just remembered something I watched on Saturday night. It was a documentary about the Giant Squid, and part of a series published by one of the tabloids. Apparently no-one has ever seen a live one, so they showed footage of ordinary squids instead. There was lots of sensational and emotive language, plus the odd scientific word or two. It was obviously aimed at families with a combined mental age of two. It was hilarious. I must watch it again.
Just before I nodded off yesterday evening I heard a loud thud on my ceiling, followed by even louder wailing and screaming from upstairs. That did cheer me up. The little sod had fallen over.

This morning

I still felt washed up when I had the fags and coffee, but the queaziness has disappeared. I don't feel great now, but I do feel better than I did yesterday. I'm wondering if the tiredness bight have something to do with the higher dose of medicine that started last week. Now I'm at the library as usual.

Sleep

I had a long period of being awake, but apart from that I slept through to seven this morning. I got up remembering a dream. The place was familiar to me in my dream, but completely unknown in real life. It involved a car park, an ice cream shop, various local people who I don't want to see, and one person from uni who I also don't want to see. The dream was very uncomfortable and frenetic, but that's all I remember.

Yesterday

When I got home from the library, I lay down on the sofa and slept for an hour or so. Then I cooked dinner but didn't want it, so I went straight to the exhibition of paintings. About five minutes later the mayor turned up in full regalia so I left. I'm not going to have any sort of association with a blackshirt. Then I went down the pub. It was quiet and I knew the people who were there. The music wasn't quiet though, and I felt that I was being subjected to a violent onslaught. Then it was home for dinner. I still didn't fancy it and ate very little. I started to watch Doctor Syn but felt very tired, so I went to bed at half past eight.

The rest of today

I'm starting to feel a bit peckish now, which is a good sign. It's off to the supermarket now to get something for dinner, then home. I'll lie down on the sofa for a bit before my evening gets busy. Later on it'll all be just the same as usual.

In the meanwhile

I walked down the High Street from the library and bumped into two (separate) people I know. After that I moved the keyboard, so that's over and done with for now. The drizzle has eased off considerably, but it's still very gloomy with that horrible, oppressive grey daylight.

Thinking

I'm definitely not 100%, figuratively speaking. I'm getting tired of the computer and the ambient noise is starting to give me the hump. I really would like to go to bed, but I know that will be a disaster sooner or later. As usual social media is full of the usual mix of football, celebrities, films and other miscellaneous shite. I think I shall brave the drizzle and go for a walk before too long.

Later on

I've got a very ordinary sort of Monday afternoon ahead of me. First of all it's the grand 'collecting of the keyboard' ceremony this afternoon. I don't fancy any dinner, but I'm hoping that might change by this evening. Then I'm going to see an exhibition of paintings by amateur artists, one of whom I know and who invited me. I won't stay too long though. I've got a very limited attention span when it comes to paintings. I either like 'em or I don't. After that I shall be orf to the pub, to have the pint that a customer put aside for me last night. It'll be a change, and it'll get me out of the flat for a bit.

Sleep

After a bit of quite deft footwork, I've managed to set myself up at one of the 'quiet' computers, which has only just become available. So instead of the scum, all I have to listen to now is a couple of babbling women.
Sleep wasn't ideal last night. I remember being awake for two prolonged periods, and deep in thought with my joints aching, but I did eventually get back to sleep again. Up at half past five.

This morning

I still don't feel brilliant, and still decidedly nauseous. I took my time with the coffee and fags, but didn't fancy the toast that I'd promised myself when I woke up. The workhouse appointment went very well indeed. Now I shall only be applying for jobs that suit my qualifications. No more potato-picking 'opportunities'! No more warehouse jobs!! No more hiding my qualifications so I can get into a terrible job that I really don't want!!!!! In short, it was a success.

Now

The fuckwits have started to arrive at the library. Cunts.

Last night

I went to the pub early, still feeling pretty dreadful. I stood in the doorway and heard a woman say to someone 'Oh, isn't the keyboard man here?', to which I replied 'Yep. He's lurking in the doorway!'
So that little group were pleased to see me, and had me playing classical stuff. Then another group of people turned up for the 'Muvver Brahn' stuff, so we had a nice song. I head to step in when things got a little prickly; one group was pulling faces at the other, as they wanted different things. I told them that I would play a mixture of the two, and that's what I did. The night finished with a party of French students playing Piaf songs, which was lovely. Home and straight to bed at twenty past ten.

Yesterday

I felt quite ill when I got up. Initially I thought I'd had a fit during the night, but as I came round I realized that I hadn't. There was none of the 'waking up and falling asleep' thing. My joints hurt. My head ached. I had a runny nose. I felt queasy. I had no appetite. I did have egg and bacon for breakfast in the hope that it would pick me up, but it didn't.
I had another bad day at the historic building, with nearly all the visitors being at least three times as tight as a duck's arse. Afterwards I got my keyboard home and went to bed. Shortly after I lay down the fucking kids upstairs started making a noise and that woke me up. I lay in bed for a couple of hours and then got up to make dinner. I soon realized that I really didn't want anything to eat so I went without.

Saturday night

I started watching Nicholas Nickleby but started to feel very tired and achey, so I had an early night. I slept very badly. I had already been awake for some time when I checked the clock at two. I was still awake at half past five. I did nod off again and finally woke up at half past seven.
While I was awake I was exhausted by the constant bombardment of thought after thought after thought, all flying at me with lightening speed. Then I had a flash of wisdom and realized what was bothering me. It was that health report. I got up and read it, and realized that it included none of the things that I told the nurse about my mental health. Such omissions amount to a gross mis-representation of what actually took place. The report fails to mention any of the reasons for my being there. I am going to appeal against the report, and to lodge a formal protest about its contents (or lack of them).

National politics

Yes. I remember how vile this particular lot were last time round.

Intolerance

I like this. I have a bit of a short fuse with the suchlike. The trouble is that the above nouns, when used adjectivally, could describe 90% of the general population. It could explain why I was born so popular (?)

Dry wit

This made me chuckle in a macabre sort of way. You can tell it is dated, as ATOS no longer does this stuff. Government policy has not become any more forgiving though. I expect there must be some sort of biblical precedent for this.

Tonight

When I get home I'll have the toast that I didn't fancy this morning, and then decide what I'm having for dinner. Afterwards it'll be an ordinary evening. I don't feel as rough as I did first thing, and certainly much nicer than I did last night. I think the long sleep must have done me good.

Earlier on

Today was pretty dire. I think it must have been a bellends' day trip, judging by the specimens who came through the door. They hardly put anything in the house's collection point. Some people are really mean. After I finished playing I walked through the drizzle up to the library.

A message

I have something I would like to say to the religious community, and it applies to believers of all religions. I will defend your right to worship exactly as you believe, but please leave your religion and your religious beliefs at home. I don't want to know about them, and I certainly don't want to see them. And you have no right to wave them around in public.

This weekend

It is lovely and quiet at the library. The little scrotes aren't here. They have all been put down with a bit of luck. I need to go and sort out my keyboard shortly. I'm playing shortly and tomorrow lunchtime, and tomorrow night at the pub. I hope this weekend will be as good as last weekend. I mustn't be up too late tomorrow though. I've got an early appointment on Monday.

More thinking

The medical report came through yesterday. Do I laugh or cry? It noted that I can sit in a chair for 40 minutes and that I can walk ten paces among other things. That really was a masterpiece of deduction. It noted that I had full mobility. What it did not note, however, that I can do none of these things and am completely immobile for a while immediately following a fit. What it also did not note was anything I told the person about the anxiety/depression and about the issues I face in daily life and the issues I have with people. It's not the woman's fault. She's just obeying the orders given her by a very cynical government. The government is a cunt.

First thing today

I got up feeling quite rough. I took my time with the fags and coffee, and got thinking about charity. I thought of Christian charity, where one makes sure that one is seen to be doing good, in order to secure a place in the next world. I thought of organised charity, where a good deal of the money that been collected from the public disappears down the gullets of the organisers at lavish functions. I thought of those organisers who might hope to get a title or national award for their services to charity. I think of those same people who may earn a fat salary from the charity they represent. I think of charity in the Eighteenth Century where people gave alms willingly to the destitute, partly for religious reasons and partly because they believed it the right thing to do. Sod charity. I have much more respect for those people who do things for others because they want to, and who do not feel the need to be seen to be doing good. I love those spontaneous acts of kindness and generosity. I love too the idea of the person who has very little but has no hesitation in sharing what he has. It is my belief that even one small act of kindness makes the world a much better place.

Last night

I got home feeling quite odd and very tired, so I had an early dinner. It was over and done with by half past six so I flopped down on the sofa for a rest. I struggled to keep my eyes open and turned in just after half past seven. Then the nasty things upstairs sojourned to the bedroom, running around and banging things. That was me wide awake. I wanted the little one to fall down, cos I like the noise it makes.
Eventually I fell asleep but was awake for a while around one o'clock. I woke up finally at around six this morning. My sleep was restless. I remember dreaming a lot, but I don't remember anything about it.

Noise pollution

I've had the earplugs in all day. I'm not sure they really help much. All they do is to muffle the sounds, although the noise itself doesn't seem much quieter.

The rest of today

For the past few days I've been feeling as if I'm about to get a cold. My breath is hot, my hands are cold, I'm sneezing, coughing and splttering. So what. It's not the end of the world, although I want to try and have a rest once I get home. I'll have to get the dinner on first or it won't get done. Then when the washing machine finishes, I'll need to hang the washing up. I hate it when it doesn't smell fresh. Later on it will be the usual sort of evening. I only hope I'll get a bit of peace. I really am sick and tired of those cunts upstairs. I can't wait for them to move out in about six weeks time. That is going to drag.

A good story

I really love Charles Dickens' stories. I've never read one cos I don't have the imagination to visualise novels. I really can't do fiction. I can never remember what's going on. The acted versions are really enjoyable though. I enjoyed Nicholas Nickleby last night. So many of Dickens' stories seem to involve a Victorian stereotype, that of a very poor, weak and innocent child, whose health is poor and who always dies (for example Smike in last night's story and Little Nell in The Old Curiosity Shop). The various strands of the story all come together in the final chapter of the story. The bad always get their come-uppance and the good go on to good fortune. That is because it is fiction. I particularly liked the evil uncle Ralph (pronounced Ralf, not Raif) Nickleby, who hangs himself at the end of the story. That was a brilliant bit of acting. I don't think I've ever seen anyone deader.

Shortly ago

The county council's file server crashed putting all the library's computers out of action, so I decided to go home. While I was there I defrosted some meatballs for dinner and got the laundry on. Then I did a bit of practice for a change; this time it was three pieces from Couperin's 6th Ordre (Les Moissoneurs, La Gazouillement and Les Baricades Misterieuses). Then it was back to the library. The computers are back on so those evil, horrible kids are back. They were rude to me when I asked them to be a bit quieter so I told the librarian, who has just seen them off the premises. Apparently they were told to leave yesterday too. They are like animals and I bet their parents are too.

Social media

You don't half see some rubbish. Today it's dear, fluffy little pets and a morbidly obese woman who gave birth to a morbidly obese baby. Gross. Yugh. And then, of course, there's the football.

Thoughts

I've just been out for a fag, and noticed that it's a good bit warmer now than it was earlier. In front of me two women on tractors were deep in conversation and completely blocking the pavement. My mind started wandering until i felt a burning sensation on my left arm. Yep. It was another fag burn. I never notice it until my arm starts to singe. My left sleeve is full of holes.

In the meanwhile

I've just been for a walk round the corner and had bun for lunch. Back at the library and the annoying little cunts are still here. One little girl is stupidly fat, and that's on top of being downright horrible. If only I had some hand grenades. That would give them something to shout about.

Now

Cunt alert in the library. Those frightful objects deserve a good slap And so do their parents. How dare they bring the little angels up to be so rude and badly-behaved. Shame on them.

Mass communication

I've been having a lot of fun on the historic building's social media page, looking at different aspects of life in the Early Modern Period. I'm particularly enjoying contrasting the lot of the poor with the lives of the rich. Until now the building had only been interested in the lifestyle of the rich inmates who once lived there. Stuff and nonsense. Let's start putting it all into context and have some real history.

Just now

The meeting went very well, and I feel much calmer about Monday. I'm doing better with my academic CV than I thought, and will soon be able to start applying for jobs which are suitable for my qualifications and abilities. Still a bit of a headache though.

Since bedtime

I was in a very strange, agitated, sad mood when I went to bed. I was awake for a very long time either side of three o'clock. Up with the seven o'clock alarm, tired, headachey and numb. Coffee and fags were routine, and the buttered toast was dull. Then up to the library. I'm just about to go and see the man who is coming with me on Monday morning.

Yesterday evening

I went home in an even stranger mood than the one I'd woken up with. I was too bored to think about eating so I cooked another curry for a change, and made parathas from some of the dough that I'd frozen. Afterwards I watched all the episodes of a TV adaptation of Nicholas Nickleby, and I must say it was very good. I had to stop watching it for about three quarters of an hour when the noise from upstairs became too unbearable. Bed at something past eleven.

Now

Good morning world! It's bright and sunny with blue skies, but cold. I'm back online again.

Thoughts...

I do not believe in religion. I do not believe in pseudo-religion. There is nothing more than what is here. There is no afterlife. There are no supernatural beings whether deities or not. I do not believe in Karma. The wicked don't suffer any more than the good. In fact it is probably the good people in the world who suffer most because they have a conscience. The rich and powerful have no need for a conscience. They do the things they do without a single scruple, and they have religion to reassure them that what they are doing is quite right. We seem to live in a world built on injustice and hypocrisy.

Now

Lovely kids near me in the library, about ten years old, saying 'fuck' every third word and shouting at a computer game. The mother takes no notice. Is there something wrong with me for noticing, or is this sort of behaviour considered acceptable nowadays?

Today

I have my every-other-Thursday appointment at lunchtime. Just now I heard from my man, and he will come with me to my appointment on Monday. The weather is chilly and wet, with that horrible dark daylight.

The pictures

I have changed my profile pictures to one of the Greenwich Union Workhouse and one of some old ladies at mealtime in the Camden Union Workhouse. These pictures reflect the true state of things as they are.

Them upstairs

They must have been out because the racket started at twenty-five past eight. The nasty objects were still running around at a quarter past nine.
This morning I enjoyed the fags and coffee to the accompaniment of madam undergoing her MOT, followed shortly afterwards by the offspring running around overexcited.

Sleep

I went to bed quite agitated. I nodded off eventually, but had a very restless night. Up at half past seven with a headache.

Last night

When I got home for the last time I didn't have much of an appetite. I didn't cook anything, but bunged the remains of the previous day's meal into the microwave. Afterwards I watched both dvds of a television adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskill's Wives And Daughters. It was very well done but I didn't take too much notice of it. I was more interested in the 1830s period stuff. Bed at something past eleven.

Now

I will try and feel more cheerful. After all I am only a statistic. If other statistics manage to survive, then why shouldn't I be able to? I want to thank everybody who voted for this administration from the bottom of my heart.

A pipe dream

I wish the Government would compel the very richest people to pay their fair share of taxes. I wish the Government would stop demonising and persecuting the disabled. I wish the government would be less cynical; the number of unemployed people has fallen but why? I think I know; part time work, low-paid jobs, zero hour contracts, and cutting people off benefits, leaving them destitute and unemployed. Well done Government. You deserve the Mother Theresa of Calcutta prize for compassion.

Sudden

I thought I had finished at the library, however the phone call meant that I had to come back to send an email. Some questions:
Why do people insist on phoning me when I struggle with phones? Why don't our government services have the facility to send a text message or an email?
I answered the phone call because I somehow felt I had to. It's a good thing I did, or else I wouldn't have any income. I didn't want to answer it though, even more so as I was standing in the street. The experience has left me feeling a bit odd.

Not so good news

My phone rang when I was on the way home. I hate the fucking thing, however I answered. It was someone from the office saying that the woman who interviewed me recently has made the decision that I am completely well. Great. I'm quite an expert at looking calm when I don't feel calm. I speak lucidly and intelligently, but can't get across how I really feel. So it's back to the sausage machine. We live in callous times. I certainly feel different now from how I felt a short while ago. I've been in touch with the person who is helping me with the academic stuff, in the hope that he will be able to come to the interview on Monday morning. I often wish that I had below average intelligence. Perhaps things wouldn't matter so much then.

The rest of today

I'll be making my way home very shortly. Dinner will be nice and easy and I have some curry left from yesterday. I'll probably make a potato something and some parathas. I have a few new (rather second-hand) dvds to watch, depending on the savages upstairs. They are a cunt.

A nuisance

There is only one lavatory in the library, an it is only by luck or chance that one gets the opportunity to use it. It always seems to be engaged. Do you realise that many old people go into it and never come out again. I wonder what happens to them. It is more of an inconvenience than a convenience.

Good news

Let me tell you now what I've had on my mind. A few weeks ago on the way to the historic building where I play, I was handed a huge fine for an alleged littering offence. I did not know that what I had done was wrong. Of course the thing I knew was wrong I didn't do. The officer took no notice of my explanation, saying that if I disagreed with the fine then I can contest it in court. The officer should have made allowance for my autism. I cannot be expected to read between the lines. I am unable to do so. I found the situation completely overwhelming and was unable to complete my shift that morning. I've also been worried sick about it ever since. I told my social worker about it. He has some legal knowledge and said he thought the fine was illegal. The man has pursued this vigourously in writing on my behalf, with the result that the council has written to me saying that the fine should not have been issued, and that it had been withdrawn. I now realise too that what I had experienced was in fact direct discrimination, and if the case had gone to court, the officer's behaviour would have shown the council in a very bad light. I am so relieved that this business is over and done with at last.

In thought

The general cacophony in the background reminded me of this quote:

Meanwhile, on the subject of old queens, one has been engaged to play for a party of nasty objects to celebrate Brenda's special day.

More

I'm starting to get obsessed with the local history stuff. I suppose that might be considered an advantage of having an autistic brain. However. I've just written my third article of the day and all three are going down a treat. I want to write some more, but I'll keep it until tomorrow. My next two writings will be on medicine and on gardening in the Early Modern Age. That'll be fun!

Man of letters

All this social media stuff is going to my head. Do you know I'm getting a couple of thousand hits per week! I'd almost forgotten how well I can write. I must keep it up!

Now

I've been out for a fag, and noticed what a beautiful day it is; sunny and warm with cumulus (or fluffy white, to the likes of you and me) clouds. I'm still thinking about last night and how lovely it was. I'm still angry about the other thing though, and am pleased that I ripped that character's ears off for him. Bloody moron. I hope he'll never talk to me again. Cunt.

Sleep

When I got home I put on a film but then realised I was too tired to watch it. After a couple of fags I turned in at half past eleven, listening to gamba music by Marais and Sainte-Colombe. The next thing I remember is being awake for a long with my eyes closed, trying to get back to sleep. I couldn't so I got up. It was twenty to six.
I was deep in thought over the fags and coffee and had a brainwave. Why not use your knowledge of social history? I asked myself, in connection with the historic building's social media page. This morning I wrote two pieces on the town and its people in the early modern period. They are very general pieces rather than scholarly ones. I don't want to baffle the reader with anything too complicated. Besides I won't have to worry about such things as copyright and intellectual property. Let's see how they go down.

Last night

I cooked another sort of curry and enjoyed it. I soon got tired of the background (rather, overhead) noise so went down the pub for a cider. It was nearly empty, which suited me down to the ground. As I looked out of the window I saw two of my family walking past, so I collared them and they came in. We had a lovely couple of hours. After they left the village idiot started talking to me, saying that so-and-so 'suffers from Asperger's'. I hit the roof. People don't suffer from it. It's not like measles or leprosy. Apart from that, the person he refers to isn't, in my opinion, autistic. The person to whom he referred is a devious, manipulative, lying little cunt, who uses his alleged autism as a shield to prevent him being pinned down on anything, and to prevent him from making commitments and from being challenged. It's a fucking smokescreen. I really enjoyed my evening but I'm still feeling incensed about the end of it.

The rest of today

Our local pound shop is closing down, and I understand it will reopen under new ownership at some future time. I need a couple of bits so I'll get a bust to the shopping precinct where they have a couple of very large pound shops. When I got home I'll need to decide what I'm having for dinner. After that it'll just be an ordinary evening.

In the meanwhile

I went to the High Street and had another one of those pizza-type things, which I again found very enjoyable and satisfying. Then it was on to my friends'. Had a coffee, a couple of fags and a nice natter. I was shown a lovely portrait of a person they understood to be Pepys, but I'm afraid I had to shatter their illusion. The gentleman in the portrait was in mid-Eighteenth Century costume. It was a lovely portrait all the same. Then we looked at some old maps of the St Katherine's Docks area of London. That was interesting for me. I had ancestors living there who had to move out when the houses were demolished, in order to make way for the docks. Then several of his family turned up, so I decided it was time to leave.
The horizon was bright and hazy when I woke up this morning, and very shortly afterwards a freezing cold fog blew in off the sea. It didn't linger very long though. Most of today it has been bright, sunny and quite warm.

Soon

I need a break from the computer so I'll have a wander round the High Street. Afterwards I'll go and see my (very embarrassed about last night) friends, as they return home tomorrow so I shan't see them for a while. There is a volunteers' meeting this afternoon, but I've already sent a message to say that I won't be going. I don't feel like it, so that's that.

Reported speech

I had a fantastic weekend in the music department. Here is what one visitor to the historic building said about their visit last Sunday:

Stumbled upon this Historic Gem which had been beautifully kept. The staff were very friendly and informative we both learnt so much! Will definitely return again to hopefully see the garden landscaped which is reliant on donations. The live musician was a lovely touch and really gave our visit a fitting ambiance.

A couple of things

I've checked the historic building's social media page. A fortnight ago the posts were reaching about fifteen to twenty recipients per week, with a handful of 'hits'. This week we have reached nearly 2100 people and had nearly 230 'hits'. I'm really in my element too, what with the social history. I'm evidently producing exactly the sort of articles that people want to read.
When I play on Sunday nights I often see an alcoholic gentleman walking around. Some people tolerate him. Others treat him as a nuisance. Others are kind to him. Whenever I see him I go and talk to him, and will give him a fag if I have enough tobacco. I can't always understand what he is saying, as his speech becomes quite incoherent when he's had a drop. He always shakes my hand, and he is invariably freezing cold although he says he doesn't feel it. He calls me 'the organist' and confuses me with someone who was a big name here about twenty years ago. I am conscious of his underlying mental health problems, and I can't find it in my heart to turn him away. There is enough nastiness in the world as it is, without me adding to it.

Since last night

I was out cold all night. I didn't sleep soundly though, as my bedding was mostly on the floor when I woke up at half past seven. I came round eventually with the fags and coffee, duffing myself up about having a drink, but I'm over that now. I still feel slightly uncomfortable, but I must learn to allow myself to have some enjoyment without feeling guilty afterwards.

Last night

The people upstairs had started getting to me by the time I finished my dinner, so I took myself to the pub quite early and enjoyed a pint. When I got there several people called me over for a chat. That's brilliant. It means I now have my own circle of acquaintances. We had all agreed to meet up at seven, but at ten to seven one of the couple who are down on holiday came to tell me that they would be a bit late. That rattled me a bit but I was pleased that they had let me know. Then at a quarter past seven my friends still hadn't arrived, so I went round and knocked on their door. They had forgotten that their family was coming round to dinner. Never mind. They are shockers. I suppose that one advantage of autism is that one has to plan one's life very carefully and in advance, so that this sort of thing doesn't happen. Anyway the other people arrived at about half past and we had a lovely night. I felt completely comfortable with them, and we are staying in touch. I got home feeling decidedly drunk, ate a whole (frozen) cheesecake, had a glass of wine and went to bed at half past eleven.
.

A definition

The average shopper.

A horror story

I went and moved my keyboard and noticed how cold and windy it had got. It really was blowing up nasty. Just as I set out afterwards for the foreign supermarket a hailstorm started. The hail was very small and fine, not like those golf-ball sized things that are so dangerous, but I did get quite wet. There were a few things I needed but couldn't find, so I set out again for the pound shop. Then I went to the supermarket next door. It was grim. People plodding around aimlessly and pushing trolleys by leaning on them with their forearms. I just find that so slovenly and lazy. I picked up a bargain or two and then went to the self-service checkout. Two morons who were in front of me completely ignored (or were oblivious to) the two positions that had become free, and had to be prompted by the cashier to move. One woman stood with her back to the scanning machine looking for her children, who were running about all over the place. Other shoppers looked with a vacant expression of bewilderment at the machines that they were supposed to be operating. By this point I was at the front of the queue and it took ages, ages, for people to stop dithering and faffing around, and to remove themselves from the area. Eventually I managed to get to a position and completed my purchase in a matter of seconds. As I was trying to get out a woman with a trolley drifted in front of me like a bank of fog and promptly ground to a halt. I scowled and glared at her, and at some screaming brats, and their mother and another idiot who walked towards me, then turned his head sideways and continued to walk towards me. I know I have mental health issues, but nobody, nobody can turn round to me and say that those people are alright in the nut. They are a complete bunch of imbecilic wankers. People like that make shopping so upsetting and exhausting for me.

Branching out

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7C4yBdPaW8

It seems silly to think of all the Irish tunes I learned last week going to waste, so I've started to include some of them in my pub kneesups. This one has been going round and round in my head.

Modern technology

Oh, the joys of the internet. Just now I searched for old maps of the town where I live, you see I'm looking for one that shows the historic building where I play. When I did the search there were a couple of old maps, but not the ones I'm looking for. Most of the maps, however, had nothing to do with here. Places like Shoreditch workhouse, for example. Perhaps I'm just being stupid, but I don't see any connection between Shoreditch workhouse and the seaside. Duh.

The rest of today

I shall have to get my keyboard home before too long. I'm not feeling so down about it as I usually do. It's surprising what a difference one evening can make. Afterwards it'll be a trip to the supermarket for a few bits and pieces before dinner, then it'll be on to the pub.
The people upstairs are being much noisier than they have been, and you can't tell me that's not deliberate. I'm just biding my time. It is only a matter of weeks before the people who aren't cunts move out.

Now

I did buy some new earplugs while I was out shortly ago. I'm glad I did. It's half term. They are noisy cunts. The earplugs don't cut out the noise as much as I would like, but they do take the edge off it slightly.

In the meanwhile

I walked round to the butchers and had one of their nice pizza things, made out of half a toasted roll, a bit of tomato sauce, some leftover cooked sausage and a load of cheese. It sounds a funny combination but tastes lovely, and is very satisfying. It's freeeeezing cold today and very dull. I bet we have some rain later. On the social media page that I now run, I note that 206% more people subscribe to our page than before I took it over, and that 1973% more people are actually reading what we publish. Looking good!

This morning

I don't remember anything at all about the night, except for turning over once. I got up rather woozy but not unduly so, and took my time with the fags and coffee. My mood is much nicer today. I'm still full of yesterday. I nearly forgot to mention that the historic building where I play has been nominated for a prestigious award, so we volunteers are really happy about it. I also forgot to mention something that the ex-bar staff told me. He said in the course of nattering that I had a fantastic reputation at the boozer, and that all the staff like it when I play there. Ouch. My autistic brain does worry. I often get so confused about whether people do like what I do, or whether they are just being nice. Yesterday though I was in no doubt whatsoever.

Yesterday

I had a fantastic day. Lots of visitors came to the historic building, and I had some very interesting conversations about such things as Sixteenth Century performance practice, and the evolution of wind orchestration in the Classical Period. On top of that I sold some CDs.
After I finished playing I went straight round the supermarket and got all the things I need to make a proper bolognese sauce. Dinner was consequently a pleasure rather than a bore. After dinner I wore the green suit and tie, but this time with a white shirt rather than a green one.
My friends duly arrived at the pub nice and early. It was one of those nights when my playing went down a treat. A couple of holidaymakers from London came in for a quick pint and stayed for three hours. I did finish playing at nine, as I was feeling very tired, but the man offered me money to continue playing. Of course I refused but accepted a pint, and played until ten. I enjoyed myself nattering with one of the ex-bar staff (my friends had left by then), until the people who had arrived late last Sunday arrived again at about the same time. So there was I back at the keyboard until nearly one in the morning. One of the people who came back owns a shop/gallery thing, and he has asked me to play there next month.
When I got home I ate the bit of food I had put aside, and then I went straight to bed. What a good night! Oh I forgot to mention that the couple from London, my friends and I are all meeting up for a pint this evening.

Now

I'm getting a bit late now so I really must wrench myself away from the computer. It's a shame really. I could quite happily stay here all day. It has just this minute started pouring with rain. I shall have to go straight to the historic building, and get myself cleaned up when I go home afterwards.

Memory lane

Let me tell you a story about when I lived in London. One day I was going to visit friends who lived a long way off, and whom I'd never visited before. I wrote down the directions for how to get there, and arranged to leave work at lunchtime so that I'd have plenty of time to get there. So far so good.
I got to the station, bought my ticket and boarded the train. It was an express and got there in next to no time. In fact I arrived much too early, so I followed my written instructions so that I would know how to get to my friends. I followed the instructions but was shocked to arrive at the ring road, and not at the little roundabout I had been expecting. I panicked so asked all and sundry how to get to the street I wanted but nobody had heard of it. I returned to the railway station feeling very confused. I asked a taxi driver to help me. He too said that he had never heard of the street and I gave him a telling off. I waited and waited until I eventually heard from my friends. Do you know what happened? I had gone to Basingstoke believing that they lived there. They didn't. They lived in Aldershot. So after another complicated train journey I eventually arrived there late at night. Who else could have done that, I ask myself.

Today

I've got a long day ahead of me and I'm already feeling tired. I shall just have to pace myself. I don't know what I'm having for dinner yet. I can't think of it. Some friends of mine are back in town and are coming to see me at the pub later. That will make it much easier for me. It always boosts my confidence when I see someone I like there.

Now

Here I am with my coffee and, unusually for a Sunday morning, I'm at a computer. I'm thinking about this morning. In a moment I'll do the little bit of washing up from last night. After that I'll roll a few fags and make my way to the bus stop to go home. I'm playing in a few hours but I'm not in the least bit bothered. If I arrive too late then I shall just have to play as I am. On the other hand if I arrive in good time then I shall wear a suit. I like to dress smartly when I play.

Since last night

I was very comfortable in bed, but my sleep was full of dreams and tiring as usual. It's still very dull outside and chilly, but at least the rain has stopped for now. I've had another look at the historic building's social media page, and our readership has now increased by 7400% in the last fortnight. I'm glad that people like what I show them.

Modern times

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjyXSA8AeBM

I suppose things will never change. Tragic.

And finally

I've had a lovely time chatting online with an autistic friend in the States whom I've become very fond of. We don't often get a chance to chat properly. My computer time at the library can be quite limited, so I end up having to prioritise my time at the keyboard. It's not that I find my friend unimportant, but don't forget there is a five hour time difference between here and there, and by the time she's online it's more or less time for me to pack up and go home. So a big thank you to my best friend, for giving me the opportunity to be able to talk properly and feel relaxed at the same time x. I've had a lovely, lovely evening, and not a cunt in sight. I think of the proverb 'Children should be seen and not heard' and want to change it to 'Cunts should be neither seen nor heard'. Amen.

A question

I know the world is full of cunts. My neighbours are cunts. I can be a cunt sometimes, but my question is this:
Is one allowed to refer to one's national leaders as a pack of cunts, when that is the most appropriate word to say what one means, or is that considered rude?

Spot the difference

Has anyone ever noticed the similarity of Margaret Rutherford to Jon Pertwee? These are two of my favourite actors of all time, so I'm certainly not mocking either of them. I do smile to myself though. They could almost be the same person.

Once upon a time

I've been having great fun looking at local history. I've been able to find some fascinating old photographs, which show life as it once was. It's not just people who have life stories. Streets, houses, the odd corner, a turning, they all have lives of their own and stories to tell. Oh the joys of the internet!

Since last time

I had a real blow-out dinner, just a few things but in abundance. The steak wasn't how I like it, much too red if you ask m,e, but it was nice enough.  There was too much so I didn't finish it. It won't go to waste though. I'll have it cold before I start playing tomorrow.
Apart from that I'm almost having a wail of a time. I find myself fully able to think lucidly. Although I've had a drop of wine I'm fully compos mentis, fully relaxed and uncluttered with unwanted intrusions. It's a little too quiet though, but for a different reason, but so much better than what I usually get. I'm having a bit of a chuckle to myself. I can imagine the people upstairs making right cunts of themselves this very minute, thinking that I am in and that they are annoying me. Ha!!!!

Social media and that

I continue to find interesting things to post on the historic building's social media page. Our statistics continue to improve. Our post reach nearly 500% more people than they did before I took over, and the number of people who actually read the material has gone up by 5600%. The historic building did exactly the right thing by getting an autistic person to manage the page. We autists are methodical and thorough, and we often see things in quite a different way from 'normal' people.
I'm sitting here thinking about the lovely dinner I'm going to have later on. I did well at the historic building so I'm having steak and mushrooms with jacket potatoes and a nice bottle of Cotes de Provence rose. I'm starting to slobber!

An afterthought

It's not just the house that is quiet. I am strongly aware of the absence of any noise of any description above my head, and that I can't hear the constant pounding of infantile feet upon my ceiling. I'm sure that evil little child must be racing around with clogs on. It is wonderful to be allowed to think in total peace, and not to have to be on edge, waiting for the moment that the racket starts. And it always does start sooner or later. I have said a few times lately that those neighbours of mine are less noisy. Well perhaps they are, but not by much. I've had a couple of people telling me that what I am reacting to is 'reasonable' noise, and I've been trying to convince myself of this. But the more I think about it the noise that I struggle to cope with is not at all reasonable. In fact it's totally inconsiderate noise, even antisocial noise. The noise that I have to put up with is anything but reasonable. Anyone who tries to tell me otherwise either does not understand what I am trying to describe, or else they are talking complete bollocks.

In the meanwhile

I had a good day at the historic building. After I had finished playing I took myself to the supermarket and got something nice for dinner. Then it was the bus ride to my best friend's, where I am now. The house seems so very strange and empty though. It ain't half dark outside, and I can hear that it is pouring with rain. And it's very chilly today too.

Soon

It's the boring bit of my day now, when I need to get the keyboard to the historic building. After I've finished playing I'll need to decide what I'm having for dinner, as I'll be eating at my best friend's in the country tonight. This will be a very unusual Saturday night for me, and completely un-pestered by cunts.

Since last night

I was wide awake at about a quarter past three and was still awake at twenty to six. I had a splitting headache and felt very angry, while at the same time feeling buoyant from my playing earlier on. I was bombarded with thoughts thick and fast. I eventually did nod off and woke up just after eight this morning. I remember dreaming that my dear sister in law had called me, but I don't remember any more.
My fags and coffee were accompanied my lots of memories of yesterday and the remains of the headache. I looked at a photo of the event and had a double-take. I notice that my autism always shows when I pose for a photograph. I know why though. It's because I go into a world of my own, just waiting for the thing to be over and done with. I am not at all comfortable about posing for photos.
I left home at a quarter past nine and saw my next-door neighbour downstairs, who told me that the cunts are moving out on 4th April. She knows this because the landlord had told her that the contract has already been given to the new tenants. This is the best news I've had in many a while. I'm so thrilled that I could do cartwheels for a tanner!!!

I'm under no illusion though. I bet they are going to be even more horrible than usual until they finally get out.

Last night

I treated myself to a nice bottle of Picpoul De Pinet and went home to a pork chop and bubble and squeak for dinner. On Friday night I'd deliberately cooked some extra cabbage for this purpose. Then I sat down to Carry On Cabby. It was not to be. The people upstairs (who, of course are not cunts) were being right cunts and making loads of noise. The little kid really gets to me. It's like a malevolent elf. I turned in in quite a temper at just before half past nine.

Yesterday

My booking was for two o'clock, so I got there an hour early to warm up. In the event the party didn't arrive until twenty past three. I suppose that after the crematorium  the people must have gone home to change, and must have needed time to compose themselves. I started playing as the first person came through the door and continued for a couple of hours, apart from a short break when the dead man's brother gave a talk. The ceilidh stuff went down particularly well. It had been hit or miss until Saturday morning, but by the afternoon I finally understood it. I played about ten reels back to back, with or without repeats, back to back in patchwork fashion, darting from one to the other at random. Some people did sing occasionally, but it wasn't that sort of do. Several people came up to me to say how much they had enjoyed my music. I've been getting messages online too. It was unfortunate that the electrics cut out early in the afternoon. Much of the function was by candlelight, but that didn't spoil anyone's enjoyment, if that is the right word.

The weekend

I have my usual busy schedule this weekend. I'm harpsichording Saturday and Sunday lunchtimes at three-and-a-half hours a shot. Then I'm at the pub for two hours or more on Sunday night. I'm going to have a different Saturday night though. My best friend is away for the weekend and has invited me to stay there, so I will. It does seem funny though. It won't be the same without them.

My day

It's a bit of an unusual one today. I'll go home before too long for a (late) cooked breakfast, so I can take my tablet. I want to do that early so that I can have a drink later on. After that I'll get meself togged up and go and visit the man in the shop who was out yesterday. Then it's a bus ride to the next town where I'm going to play. The people I'm playing for are apparently going to the venue straight from the crematorium. That's very unnerving for me as I don't know what to expect.

The historic building

As you know I now manage the social media page of the building where I play. The latest statistics are going through the roof! There is an increase of 360% in the number of people receiving our posts, and an increase of over 4000% in the number of people visiting our page since I took it over. I must be doing something right.

Sleep

It took me a while to settle down, in fact I heard the clock on the seafront strike ten. The next thing I remember is being wide awake, planning some toast, and getting my brain into gear for my gig. I checked the clock and it was three minutes past one. I was awake for I don't know how long, and slept through to half past six.
My sleep was very dream-ridden and therefore tiring. I remember one dream in which I was at the doctor's. I'd gone to him about the nosebleeds that I have from time to time, and my nose was bloody. The doctor was someone I don't know in real life, and seemed more like a witch-doctor than a doctor. There was a nurse with him, who kept asking me various questions. After each question the nurse would walk over to the doctors and the pair of them would mumble. I remember hearing the doctor asking the nurse what my answers meant, and what he should say to me. In the end he asked me about my bowels. The two of the mumbled again, after which he told me I had terminal cancer. I wasn't in the least bit bothered and replied "Oh, alright then". I woke up in quite a strange and uncomfortable mood.

Last night

I went through all the Irish pieces and still wasn't happy with them. I've decided to play the ceilidh tunes without any sort of accompaniment. They sound better that way. I enjoyed my dinner, and afterwards I watched Jassy. I do like a good melodrama, and I do like Margaret Lockwood too. Upstairs were very quiet, apart from some very noisy moments around dinnertime. Bed at ten past nine.

The rest of today

The time has come where I'm finding the computer boring, so I shall take myself home via the supermarket. I'm going to have another run-through of the pieces for tomorrow and then get on with dinner. My diet does tend to be rather monotonous, so I'm having duck for a change. The rest of the evening will be as normal, although I hope the little sod upstairs won't.

In the meanwhile

I went home had an enjoyable lunch of toast and peanut butter. I didn't forget to take my tablet this time. Afterwards I went to the shop as arranged, but the person I want to see is engaged and won't be back until tomorrow. I'll pop in then. Afterwards it was a saunter up the High Street, where I bought (would you believe it?) a pair of green trousers for a quid in the charity shop.
Then it was off to sign the bit of paper. Unfortunately (in one way) tomorrow morning's visit has been postponed but fortunately (in another way) because I'm playing in the afternoon. Those people are brilliant. They are currently harassing the council to get my fine waived. I'm lucky that the man has some legal knowledge, and I expect he's got the cunts running round in circles. Now I'm back at the library. Hay-ho.

Now

I have been doing quite a bit of work on social media for the historic building where I play. It is very satisfying to see that nearly 200% more people read the postings now, than used to before I started running the page. In a moment I'm going home for a short while. I'm in the mood for a couple of slices of toast. Also I mustn't forget to take my tablet, which is what I did yesterday. Afterwards I'm going to look in on one of the shopkeepers who said they enjoyed my stuff last Sunday. Then it will be the signing of the paper ceremony.

Other things

I've just made my first stab at writing a musicology CV. I don't know how much detail I should give, but it reads like an academic essay. It brought back some nice memories. I was so happy at Uni, and very distressed when it was all over, even more so after my Mum died during my last week there.
This afternoon I'm going to see the people I saw last Thursday. They are going to write to my doctor, to get him to sort out the therapy that I've asked him for twice, and both times been fobbed off. They need me to sign something that authorises them to write the letter. I  feel reassured to know that I am no longer facing this uphill battle all by myself. The same people are meeting me in the morning too, to take me to a local group. That group is for people who face issues of social isolation or exclusion, and they have a communal garden. The people already know that there will be times when I won't want to talk and will need to be left alone. At least I won't need to explain it again.

Just now

I went outside for a couple of fags and noticed what a lovely day it is, much milder and brighter than yesterday and no cold wind. I also noticed one of the council snoopers, who entrap people into dropping litter in order to get a commission and to raise revenue for a cash-strapped council. He had his beady eye on me, so I took great pleasure in holding out my first dog-end as I smoked my second fag. Then I held out both dog-ends, which I proceeded to put in the litter bin in the library concourse as usual. Over the past couple of days I've had people warning me about the snoopers. Two of them had been fined for disposing of their fag-ends down the drain. It says something about the council's publicity when people don't know that what they are doing is wrong. I think it's all deliberate. The council deliberately doesn't tell people about it so that it can coerce money out of the unsuspecting public. These are desperate measures.

This morning

I was quite sharpish with the fags and coffee, and enjoyed the coffee for a change. In my mind I went through the stuff I'm playing tomorrow. I can remember the tunes but can't remember the ceilidh things. They all sound the same to me. Because of the Irish theme I've decided to dress entirely in green; pastel green trousers and shirt, olive green jacket and emerald green tie. I expect I'm going to look like the jolly green giant, only I don't smile very much. Now I'm back at the library as usual.

Sleep

I slept soundly until ten past four, when I was woken up by the sound of a kiddie crying its eyes out. It wasn't the thing upstairs though. I was wide awake, but the same couldn't be said for my eyes or my brain. I was still awake two hours later, then kept nodding off and waking up until nearly eight o'clock. I got up feeling thoroughly miserable.

Yesterday

When I got home I found a letter inviting me to a compulsory 'event' at the workhouse in a fortnight's time. I practiced the pieces for tomorrow, had dinner and watched Alive And Kicking. I had to watch it in dribs and drabs. because that kid upstairs was being a right cunt. It was one temper tantrum after another. Screaming, wailing, shouting, stamping and bawling its fucking head off. That went on until a quarter past nine. I had completely lost interest in the film but was determined to watch it. Bed at twenty-five past nine.

Soon

I'm starting to get tired of the computer screen so I think I'm going to call it a day. Besides the library's only loo is out of action yet again, so that's another reason to get going. First I'll need to get to the supermarket. When I get home it'll be practice for Friday, and then more of the usual things. I wasn't planning on any excitement tonight.

About town

I've been having one of those times where people keep coming over to say hello, but I can't remember who they are. Of course I'm all politeness and try to look pleased to see them, but it's very puzzling.
Since I started playing I've been buying all sorts of smart clothes to wear when I'm on. I realised that I had so many things I no longer wear, so I had a big clearout. I took them to one of the charity shops where they buy clothes by weight, and got enough to buy a nice jacket and two shirts. My wardrobe is only small, so it will now be much more manageable.
Just now I walked round to the butchers for one of their nice hot sausage rolls. While I was eating it, I noticed how cold the weather is getting. We did have some ferocious gales on Monday night, but it has stayed much calmer since then.

Sleep and that

Yesterday I increased my medicine for the fits. That left me feeling quite tired all day. Consequently I slept quite soundly. I woke up at around four this morning but soon fell asleep again, and managed to sleep until half past seven. I was deep in thought with the fags and coffee. I realised, with hindsight, how dark my world had been, and how long it had been like that. I hope I am at last coming out of the latest, prolonged period of depression. This morning at the library, another autistic person came over to me and started talking. He talked and talked, then he talked some more. I didn't mind. He was so relieved that there was someone he could talk to. He is not yet diagnosed, just as I was for all those years. Nowadays I seem to have a penchant for attracting autistic people.

Yesterday

After the computers went down I thought I'd wait around at the library, in case they came back on again. In the event they didn't. I spent some time reading a very interesting book on local history. Then the local scum came in, and what with their antics and all the numerous conversations that were taking place, I found myself unable to continue reading so got up and left.
Afterwards I went to the supermarket and then home. I ran through the Irish stuff that I'm going to play on Friday. I did get bored so took wandered up to the charity shop. I couldn't believe my luck when I found a green jacket! That's exactly what is needed for the Irish do.
It was curry (again) for dinner, and then I watched Port Of Escape. I do like a good melodrama, particularly when Googie Withers is involved. Bed at twenty to nine.

An autistic awakening

On Monday night I slept quite soundly, but woke up in a blind panic at around half past five yesterday morning. I had forgotten that my rent is due this week, and thought I hadn't enough money in my account to pay it. (When I got to the cashpoint I saw that I had more than enough in my account to cover the cost). I didn't just worry over the fags and coffee. I was terrorised by the all the thoughts.

This is history repeating itself again. I had been preoccupied with a major cost that's coming up next month, and going through the budgeting over and over again in my mind. What had repeated itself was that I had been so preoccupied with it all, that I had completely forgotten about things that were nearer and just as important. I really must try and watch out for this, if I can.

Monday night

I wanted to post this yesterday, but the county libraries' main server crashed when I was halfway through writing it. The computers were out of action all day yesterday, so you can imagine my relief to find them working again when I got to the library this morning.
I enjoyed my dinner then sat back to watch a television adaptation of A Tale Of Two Cities. The people upstairs are still being quieter, although that little kid is really getting on my  nerves. Shouting, stamping, screaming, bawling, tantrums, stampeding around, and all in counterpoint with its mother's shouting. They want to get that kid a job down a mine, I can tell you. That would give it something to scream about. I had to keep stopping my film from time to time but those neighbours of mine really are getting better, or at least they are for the time being. At least the loud music has stopped. Bed at half past ten.

The rest of today

After a huge intake of salt, sugar, colourings, flavourings, preservatives and fat disguised as a hamburger, I'm feeling distinctly better than I did earlier on. I am now in charge of the social media site for the historic building where I play, so I've been having quite a bit of fun there, trying to get local people to engage with us. Tonight will be quite run-of-the-mill. I don't even know what I fancy for dinner yet. I'll make my mind up once I get to the supermarket. By the way the people upstairs are not a bunch of noisy cunts, are they?

In the meanwhile

I finally got my keyboard sorted out. Someone was in the pub who was there last night, and they came over to me to say what fun they'd had. YAY!! It has blown up very nasty now. On the way to the pub, and on the way home with my keyboard, I nearly got blown over a couple of times. We've had such a lot of windy weather this winter. I arrived home feeling quite bedraggled and out of breath, realising that I'd forgotten to buy some electricity. So here I am back at the library. I can sort out the electric on the way home.

Thinking

Today has all been a bit of a blur. I've just been outside for a smoke, and notice how strong the wind has got. It's bright and sunny though, so it could have been worse. I always feel a bit embarrassed after I've had a drink, which is silly of me. The only time that I can be a handful is when people get on my nerves or won't stop talking. Last night wasn't like that though. It was fun.

Since last night

When I went to bed I don't think I actually slept. It was probably more a case of conking out after all the cider I'd knocked back. Anyway I got up this morning feeling very drunk and the feeling still hasn't worn off. So after the fags and coffee it was back to the library as usual. I've got the weekly grind of collecting my keyboard this afternoon, bat that can wait for a bit.

Yesterday

My harpsichord session was alright, but not as successful as the Saturday one. Home afterwards and bangers n mash for dinner, then down to the pub. The evening wore on slowly. As it goes the people who were there were up for harpsichord music, so I played Scarlatti, Soler and Forqueray. I finished at nine and stayed for a pint or two. At elevenish a large group of people came i who wanted a song so I kicked off, finally finishing at gone one o'clock. Everybody wanted to be my friend, and by that time I was drunk enough to cope with it. Home at half past two and straight to bed.

Yesterday teatime

After I left the library, I wandered off down the High Street for a hamburger. I hadn't intended to eat anything before dinner but suddenly felt famished. Then I remembered that I had been awake since 5am. The queue in the hamburger joint was formed of some of the unhealthiest-looking people imaginable. Fat, greasy, pallid etc. Then a woman walked in with a small child. The poor thing was ball-shaped, moon-faced and covered in eczema. The woman sat it down at a table and stuck a screen in front of it. What unbelievably irresponsible behaviour from someone who is supposed to be a responsible adult. That poor kid doesn't stand much of a chance.

Thinking...

When I went outside for a fag just now, I was pleased to see that it has started to brighten up a bit. Then I started to think about our government. I can't help thinking what a callous lot they are. All these multi-millionaires who would have us believe they are the man in the street. If they can be successful, then so should everyone else be able to. That's a Victorian ethic, which the present administration uses as a justification for picking off the weakest and most vulnerable of us. Shame on them, and shame on anyone who voted for them. Shame.

Since yesterday

After dinner we had a bit of fun watching Fawlty Towers and Still Game. It turned ferociously windy during the course of yesterday evening, and was still blowing a gale when I went to bed at half past ten. I think I slept soundly, although my bedding was mostly on the floor when I woke up at seven this morning. I'm on the fags and coffee, as I shall need to make my way home soon. It's dark and rainy this morning. I do hope the rain stops, as I have to move my keyboard both this afternoon and this evening. Looking round my friend's garden, I see that the miniature daffodils I planted last year are now in flower.

Now

I'm having a lovely time away from the lovely neighbours, whom I'm not to refer to as cunts. They are not cunts really, they are just cunts. Cunts. The weather is being a bit of a cunt too. It's got very windy, but that's the sort of cunt I can live with. Dinner was lovely this evening. It wasn't necessary to send out for a takeaway. Lovely company too, over at my best friend's. A question. Why Am I told that I shouldn't use the word cunt, when cunt is exactly the right word for what I mean to say? It's all shallow Anglo-Saxon hypocrisy if yer arsts me. It's our national avoidance of the word cunt that made Britain great.

Earlier on

I got up feeling very tired and still feel tired now. The day started as usual with coffee and fags, and then on to the library. Later on it was time for me to move my keyboard to the historic building. I had a nice day with a couple of largish audiences, and some kiddies dancing to the music. When I got home afterwards I did a couple of preparations towards tonight's dinner.