An active life

I had a pretty tedious weekend at the historic building. I was the only staff to turn up on the Saturday, so I spent the time stuck behind the till, and doing my level best to avoid having to talk to anyone. Later on one of our staff turned up unexpected; one of the most negative people I have ever known. She makes the rest of us feel really miserable, and doesn't do my depression one bit of good. So I asked her to work upstairs, where I wouldn't have to see her.
A friend came to see me on Saturday, and stayed overnight. We had a lovely afternoon in the pouring rain, visiting two nearby seaside towns. After that we went to the pub for a bit, and ended the day watching an old film with our cheese and wine.
The plasterer came this morning to fix my bedroom wall. The work only took him a couple of hours. Last night I slept on a mattress in the spare room, and will stay there until the plaster has dried and been painted.
This morning hasn't been very nice. My support worker contacted me earlier to say that she had been signed off sick, so wouldn't be able to see me tomorrow. I feel really bad about it, as I know my problems must have contributed toward her illness. And then the landlord is coming on Thursday to inspect my flat, so I have had to cancel my counselling session. All these last-minute changes, and all the chaos really throw me off balance. I try so hard to plan my life carefully and in advance, so that I will be able to cope better. I sometimes wonder why I bother.

The last couple of days

Yesterday we had a busy day at the historic building, but it was thoroughly unenjoyable. The visitors were either po-faced or chavs, sometimes both. I was so fed up with it that I closed half an hour early.
I've been getting really stressed about the weekend. A friend is coming to visit me, and is staying overnight. Of course I am looking forward to seeing them, but I get really anxious because I'm not used to having someone else at home. I'm sure it will be fine, but I still feel really edgy. I woke up at four o'clock this morning having slept very badly.
The news was horrible last night, what with the increasing threat of war in the far east, and the inevitable conclusion of the terminally-ill boy story.
Another thing on my mind is that I've got the plasterer coming on Monday morning, to repair my damaged bedroom wall. That has been on my mind too, as I shall have to sleep on a mattress on the spare-room floor while the plaster dries. My bed is too heavy for me to move on my own. It's all upheaval.
Then yesterday I had a letter from the landlord, advising me of a flat inspection this coming Friday. I can't do it, as the historic building is open on Fridays. So I'm waiting for them to get back to me with a new appointment. Three disruptions in a week (and the news bulletins) are making my head feel very overcrowded.

This week

I've had a funny sort of week with more of the same old thing; my appalling mood and raised anxiety causing my stomach to go on strike again. Felt so tired yesterday and quite unwell. I slept very well last night, and feel a whole load better today. I have a visitor this weekend, so am busting a gut go get the flat looking pristine. Luckily the plasterer who was supposed to come tomorrow now isn't coming until Monday, so I shan't have to sleep on the living-room floor.
The news continues to get me down. There is wall-to-wall coverage of the terminally-ill baby. That is very sad for the parents, but their behaviour is getting on my nerves. They argue with the doctors at every step and turn. The poor doctors are trying their best, but the parents are always so obstructive. When someone is so close to death, there is not all that much the medical profession can do about it, except for making the patient as comfortable as possible. What is most annoying for me is that this is not a national news story. It's a private one for the family, but they have chosen to splatter it all over the media. I find myself wondering what important things are not being reported, because of the time given to this story. And then we follow the disgraceful activities of some of the most despicable and revolting political leaders in living memory. Yugh. No wonder I get so depressed.

Something different

I had a good meeting with my support worker yesterday afternoon. I need to get some paperwork together before we re-convene next week. I slept very early (around 9.30pm) but still feel tired and listless.
This morning I was in a delegation from the local museum, that went to visit a centre for people with brain injuries. First one of our people gave a very interesting (although rather too wordy) talk on local history. Afterwards I played some of the things I play at the historic building, followed by some old-time songs. They have asked me to play for their Christmas party, which, of course, I have agreed to. I'll take myself home in a minute or two. I really do need to lie down.

Social media

I am often astonished or dismayed by what I read on social media. I've just seen one story about poor little abandoned elephants that are in need of love and affection. What a load of shite. Elephants are elephants and think like elephants. They are not people and don't think like people. While I do find the mistreatment of animals utterly repugnant, I am much more worried about how people are treated. I wonder if the dear person who published this article voted for the present government, which tirelessly persecutes the weak and vulnerable in our society.
Then I read the ongoing news of the terminally ill baby, whose sufferings and the actions of whose parents make daily headlines. There have apparently been some very nasty goings-on by supporters of that cause, with horrible threats being received by medical staff and other patients' visitors. Sadly I am not all that surprised. The Pro-Life lot are on board, with their nasty Christian values.

The last few days

When I got home on Friday afternoon, a very unwelcome letter was waiting for me. It was from the council's 'Landlord Liaison Officer', saying that they would do everything possible to help me stay in my flat. Whoever sent me that letter must be a complete idiot. My main aim is to get out of the place. All the noise makes it feel more like a prison than a home. I went in to their offices this morning, to tell them that they are not to involve my landlord. That would make a horrible situation even worse. And they also recorded that I do not want to stay where I am. That letter drove my anxiety level through the roof. I felt once or twice that I was about to have a fit. I didn't in the end, but spent the afternoon lying down in case I did.
I had a very busy weekend, but my mind wasn't on what I had to do, what with all the anxiety & depression stuff. I felt tired and unwell all weekend. I had two very busy sessions at the historic building. I did a few of my guided tours, mostly social history and very little about the architecture. I do find architectural details so tedious. The playing was a success, and I gave what amounted to a few concerts of harpsichord sonatas by Soler.
Then on Saturday evening I was booked to play for a wedding reception in the next town. The groom was nice, but the bride and her family were a bunch of chavs. Luckily they were nice and noisy, so I didn't have to worry too much about the playing. I played a piano reduction of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik (first three movements; I'm still working on the finale) with all the repeats to stretch it out a bit, Mendelssohn's Wedding March (from A Midsummer Night's Dream), some Chopin waltzes etc, the dreaded Moonlight Sonata, some Piaf songs and a few of the more tuneful old-time songs.  The groom said my playing was 'fantastic', although I doubt he heard a single note, what with all the noise.
When I got back home I went straight to the pub to buy my friend a pint for his birthday. And it is such a nice feeling to be able to do that.

A bit of levity.....

....or is it? This is my ideal state of things.

This morning

Yesterday teatime onward hasn't been very nice. Noise outside to begin with, lots of cars pulling up and waiting for ages with their engines running. Then the nomads downstairs joined in with the general cacophony, with one explosion after another, and all the horrible 'musical' bits of their computer game. Then from 9-11 pm someone over the road had a generator running intermittently. It was still running when I went to bed.
I got up at about half past six this morning feeling very battered. I am crowded out with over-thinking, and already have a headache, and pins and needles in my arms and legs. Then I got to the garden to do some work, only to find that there has been some more vandalism since yesterday afternoon. It really is depressing. It ain't always easy being autistic, you know. Autism can be a bit of a cunt.

Recently

I've just been away for a short break with friends. That was very enjoyable but quite exhausting. I'm not as young as I was! So this week it's back to normal. Well almost. I'm playing for a wedding reception on Saturday and haven't done anything about it. I haven't played a piano for about a year, I think, so I'm busting a gut trying to get my programme together. I've been doing my usual playing on top of that, and have had neither the time nor the energy to do anything in the garden that I'm working.
My mood isn't all that great. I came home from my break to the usual noise, with lots of the little girl screaming stuff at 6am on Tuesday morning. The TV news leaves me feeling depressed and angry. The BBC weather forecasts are just about as accurate as their news bulletins. It's pissing down with rain now, when this morning's forecast said that it would be a bit overcast. It's crap really, when you consider what these people are paid.

Since Friday

Although we had a good number of visitors over the weekend at the historic building, I felt generally bored and lacking in motivation. Although we are closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, I admitted a German family yesterday, and two Australians and a French family today. They all thoroughly enjoyed it. I do like to do my bit for the United Nations and for the European Union, despite what my compatriots voted for. I don't care what the new laws say. I will always feel myself to be European.
However there are certain European individuals I do not like one bit, and would gladly see them deported. I refer, of course, to my downstairs neighbours, the noisy cunts. Sunday was particularly awful. The opening of beer cans, ever louder and louder conversation at the open window, loud telly, loud music, little girl running round screaming out. I had all this from teatime until they had their dinner at about nine. Then I heard the man throw up violently. Then he threw up violently again. He must have chucked up five or six times by the time he reached (pardon the pun) his hallway door, and I found myself cheering quietly with each yack. Then it went all quiet. It was lovely. His wife should cook more often. The ensuing peace and quiet is such a tonic.
I steel feel very low, but not as anxious as I felt last week. I really must stop watching the news. It is all very depressing.

Generally...

I've been feeling increasingly down lately, and now realise I'm going through another period of depression. For a start the news leaves me feeling thoroughly miserable most days. Strangely though, depression does bring some benefits. For one thing my playing improves dramatically when I'm depressed. Today I practiced for about three hours, and am working simultaneously on seven sonatas by Scarlatti and seven more by Soler. Apart from the creativity brought by depression, the rest of it is a cunt.
I had a gruelling session of counselling at lunchtime, and I'm seeing my support worker a bit later on this afternoon. The weather has been very warm and stuffy today. However the storms the BBC expected this morning still haven't arrived. The BBC's weather forecasts are just about as reliable as their news broadcasts.

Yesterday

I spent some time cooking what as for me an extravagant meal. I didn't enjoy it and hardly ate any of it. Outside was very noisy all evening. The sound of static cars' engines played in counterpoint with the nomadic music from downstairs, punctuated every now and then by the little girl screaming and loud, unintelligible conversation. Downstairs quietened down by about 8.30pm, but the cars stayed noisy. I hate some bread once things had settled down, and did nothing in particular until I went to bed a couple of hours later. What a boring life I lead.

Hard times

Our country is short of money, we are told. Nothing for nurses. Nothing for teachers. Nothing for firemen or the police. The cupboard is bare. It is as if the country is waiting at the Workhouse gate.

Now just a minute. Tens of millions of pounds are being paid if transfer fees for individual footballers. Untold millions are paid out in sports' sponsorship. Tax loopholes for the wealthy are not being closed. The government gives MPs two huge pay rises per year. Brenda gets a huge pay rise, and is slipped a tidy packet to do up her main home. The national broadcaster pays its staff shockingly inflated wages. And the government has just outraged many by giving a billion-pound bung to a group of shady politicians, just so it can maintain its stranglehold on power.

You see we don't need any magic money trees. The supernatural doesn't even come into it. There is a huge amount of money that could be called upon, if the government were to get its priorities right. There is more than enough to go round.

Entertainment for the masses

The television in this country is dire. Daytime viewing consists largely of programmes on the following subjects: gardening, DIY, cookery, moving house, sport, auctions and bargain-hunting, talk shows and the occasional TV film. Around teatime the odd quiz show (full of the most uninspiring and pointless questions that the average three-year-old would not find too challenging) creeps in. Then we have evenings; soap operas, melodramas in installments, more cookery, news, slightly more serious (??) quizzes. There is the occasional film, usually of the most coma-inducing type. The TV is like some great cement mixer, churning round and round the same old drear ad infinitum.
Then there are the repeats, or as the broadcasters put it: 'another chance to see...'. I know some of the repeats word for word, where they have been shown so often. I often have to wait several days for something to be shown that I find even remotely engaging. Most evenings I find myself watching news channels, with the sound turned off, so I can occupy myself by improving my lip-reading skills. I wonder if the TV situation is the same in other countries. Or do we have a monopoly on it?

Over the weekend

I had a good Saturday at the historic building, but Sunday was mind-numbing. I was quite preoccupied yesterday, and my mood had deteriorated by teatime. After another restless night, my mood is pretty horrible today.
Earlier on I went and did a bit of planting in the garden that I'm working. I didn't feel like having people around me, so I sat there for a bit of peace and quiet and solitude. It was, however, not to be. I had quite a shock when I looked up and saw two of the people I least want to see; Last year, someone I worked with was sent to prison for murder. That was really awful. Well the two persons were his mother and her partner. I didn't know what to say, but I kept my cool and was civil as I was told all the latest, depressing updates. I'll tell the building's manager the next time I see him. I'm sure this has dome my mental health no end of good.
On the brighter side, I have two further concerts provisionally booked. One of them will be for the benefit of the local museum, and the other to raise funds for the local Labour Party. I couldn't handle the meetings and 'people stuff', but let's see if I can raise a few bob for them. I really want this government out. Cunts.

Since last time

I had a phenomenally busy day at the historic building. Yesterday morning before opening time, a group of 72 primary school children turned up unannounced. We let them in in four groups, so there were four music workshops and four tours. I was tired before we even opened!
Around lunchtime I was called over to the reception desk. The man behind the counter couldn't understand the woman who had come in. That was hardly surprising; she was Russian with hardly any English. So my very broken Russian came to the rescue again. I managed to sort out a visit for her twenty students and three colleagues for that afternoon. The visit went really well, and the kids gave me a loud cheer when I spoke to them in Russian. The tour was conducted in a mixture of broken English and broken Russian, but we managed to make ourselves understood.
Then it was home to dinner. I had been looking forward to it, but didn't enjoy the meal one bit. I think it was because I was so tired. I had a thoroughly miserable evening watching a news channel. Bed at half past ten.