My big day etc

For the past few weeks my life has been crowded with activity. In fact it has been too much activity for my liking. On top of that I am still feeling very run down with the anaemia, and am likely to continue the same until my folic acid levels are restored. On top of all this I have been going through one of those autism-related crises, where things from the past suddenly fall into place, and are continually on one's mind until they have been properly evaluated. And also on top of the lot I have overdosed on people. My work at the historic building brings me into contact with lots of people. I put on my mask, am very polite, and do lots of talking.
A couple of days ago I finally got round to composing and printing the programmes for my recital this coming Wednesday. I am also going to precede the recital with a talk on the political and artistic background to the pieces I am to play. I have spent this morning typing up my notes for the talk, and am very relieved that they are finally done.
I have decided that a major change is needed in my life. My initial thought was to give up the historic building altogether. The manager has lost all interest and leaves me to run the place with no support at all. That is not what I am there for. So after the recital, I am only going to be there twice a week. That way he will have no choice but to manage it (or go). So for me it will be a lot less of the people stuff and a lot more time to myself. The manager is fully aware of my issues around autism, but does not a single thing to help me. I have thought for some time now that he has turned out to be a bit of a cunt.

Autism stuff

My mood has been going down over the past week. There is no reason for it that I can think of. My life is infinitely better than it was two months ago. The only thing I can put it down to is that nasty combination of autism and anxiety with depressive disorder. The last bit seems to be a law unto itself, creeping up on me and talking hold whenever it wants. I am certainly satisfied with my lot and should be feeling happy now, but I don't. Apparently anxiety & depression behave differently for autistic people than for people at large. I don't know enough about it. I'm not a doctor. All I know is that it's a cunt, and I want it to go away.

Life and death

I arrived at the doctors' surgery this morning, full of trepidation about my appointment. I was fully expecting a (well-deserved) bollocking from the doctor over my not-too-healthy lifestyle. However that was not to be. What a change from the aggressive stance of my previous G.P. The doctor talked me through the treatments for anaemia and for high cholesterol levels. I started on the anaemia tablets yesterday, and since then I have felt considerably better in myself.
Yesterday afternoon I finally got round to digging the last part of the front garden. I've planted most of what I have dug, and will look for a few more plants later on. There is a quite substantial mound of garden waste by the front door. I'll try and bag it up over the weekend, and bung the dustmen some money for taking it.

In the garden

When I get up in the morning I always have my coffee and fags by the back-door window, so I can keep an eye out for what is going on in the garden. Any sign of the green parrots, seagulls, feral pigeons, crows or cats and I'm straight out there with the broom. They tend not to like it. The birds that I do feed are getting used to me now, so long as I am behind the kitchen window. The morning feeding ritual is really quite funny. To begin with, all the birds would fly away as soon as the back door opened. Now they just jump up onto the nearest branch as soon as the door opens, and they are back down within seconds of it closing. I expect that common wild birds must be quite boring to a lot of people, but I've really grown to enjoy them. They are now a permanent part of the garden that I've always wanted, but never had until now.
I had the blood tests this morning and made the nurse laugh when I came out with a joke from a Carry On film (Nothing to worry about. It's just a little prick). It seems that I have vitamin B12 deficiency, which may mean a lifetime of injections. I won't know that until I see the doctor later on this week. It would explain how I've been feeling; extreme tiredness, lack of energy, low mood, pins and needles). I can't wait to get it sorted out.

On reflection

I've had quite an interesting few years, to put it mildly. Three of my worst years ever have given way to one of my best. I must be quite indestructable to have got through what I have, but here I am, rearing to go. It has taken its toll though. I have aged noticeably over the period, and I feel generally tireder.
Because of the tablets I have to take, I am supposed to have a yearly blood test to make sure they are not doing any damage. I haven't had one for years. My previous doctor was an unmitigated disaster. My new doctor, however, is really on the case. She must have been through my records, as she called me in to have the said blood tests. Apparently they didn't look right, so I had to go in for a second lot of tests last week. I wasn't expecting the results until this week, but they rang me back that same afternoon, as the doctor said she was concerned. I am going in for another lot tomorrow morning and will see the doctor later this week. I am not at all worried, but I may well get an explanation as to why I have been feeling so run-down (actually I have been feeling pretty dreadful) for such a long time. You get to a certain age when you wonder what is going to drop off next (!!!)
I have kept myself busy at home, and have nearly finished sorting out the front garden. It is going to look lovely in the summer. Meanwhile I have decided to reduce the number of days I work at the historic building. Thew manager comes in for a few hours at the weekend, but otherwise I am left to get on with running the place. I feel that I have been used very badly. Apart from that I am very unhappy with the manager's general conduct. If the man wants to be the manager, then he had better start managing. I am too tired to carry any passengers.

The autistic gardener

Last week I dismantled and moved the previous tenant's playground and left it in the front garden. The local tinkers took no interest. I'd rather hoped they would take the scrap metal and get something for it. Luckily on Saturday the landlord drove down in his van, so I got him to take most of it. It was dark, cold and pissing down with rain when he came, and we missed a few things where we couldn't see them. I caught the dustmen this morning, and they were glad to take the remaining items for a small donation. Great! Now my front garden is clear.
This morning I did what I wanted to do on my first Sunday off (if I'd been able to take it, and took myself to the garden centre. When I got back home I got to work and cleared half of the overgrown wilderness that is my front garden, and planted it out with roses. Well, it is a start, and I am really glad I did it.

Unexpected

Last week I had a few things that didn't go as they should have done. First of all there was the appointment at the shrink's. Although it worked out well in the end, I hadn't been told what the appointment was about, so turned up very apprehensive and not knowing what to expect. I| did have (very polite but honest) words with the man about it. That sort of arrangement is one of the worst things you can do to someone with autism.
Then on Saturday my hopes of a Sunday off were dashed. Early on one of the people who works there contacted me to say they weren't well enough to come in over the weekend. Then I heard the irritating cunt wasn't well with something, and we weren't sure if he'd be in on the Sunday. So that was that. The next day I went in as usual. The person who had caused me to stop doing Sundays turned up, so I didn't hang about. I left an hour and as half early.
The landlord turned up on Saturday night to collect his post, so I thought. What he didn't tell me was that he'd be doing some odd jobs too. Of course the things needed doing, but I was really hacked off about it. Why couldn't he have told me first? Then I wouldn't have had to stop cooking and end up eating two hours later than usual.
All these events have ground me down a bit, and my mood has been taking a nose-dive since my appointment with the shrink. People really do get on my nerves.

Deep in thought

Blimey, it wasn't half cold yesterday!! I turned up at the historic building a bit later than usual (but still quite early), and was surprised when the manager turned up. You see he doesn't usually come in on Fridays, so I knew why he'd come in. He asked me why I had decided not to work on Sundays. I explained very calmly and unemotionally (which was not easy, and I particularly concentrated on avoiding the phrase 'irritating cunt' (I must buy him a tube of Vagisil one of these days)). So from now on, I will do nicer and more constructive things of a Sunday. The weather deteriorated early on. As we had no visitors and the streets were deserted, I closed the building after an hour.
I had a good night's sleep, the first in a while, ands woke up deep in thought. It was all about democracy, and our national and international leaders. People really have been let down very badly. Capitalism runs unchecked. Peace does not prevail in the world. Some leaders, by their words and actions, not only damage their countries' reputations, but stoke up international hostility at the same time. In this country public services are chronically underfunded. Then those services are vilified for failing to perform, before being sold off piecemeal to the government's donors (some of whom pay no tax in this country). Although people deserve much better, in the end it is their own fault for electing the parties that are doing so much damage. That is the danger of democracy. People are allowed to vote for things when they don't understand what they are voting for.
The landlord is coming this afternoon to collect his mail. There are a few things I need to point out to him, things that aren't working as they should.

Out with the old...

When I moved into the new house, I inherited a whole load of miscellaneous junk that had been left by the previous tenant. Thew landlord, of course, said he would see to its removal. The landlord, of course, has done no such thing. The very sight of the stuff, cluttering up my back garden, was really getting on my nerves so, yesterday afternoon, I took the bull by the horns and decided to do something about it myself. I spent the whole afternoon dismantling swings, slides, climbing frames and other such monstrosities. It was such hard work, as the things had been put together very badly. They were twisted and buckles, and many of the bolts had rusted up. So, after a lot of brute exertion on my part, the stuff is all in pieces in the front garden. When the dustmen come next week, I will bung them a few quid to take it all away. I've had a terrible backache ever since, and am starting to walk like John Wayne. Meanwhile I had paid the local council to remove a particularly nasty armchair that had been sitting by the front door. This morning it cheered me up, despite the rain and chilly air, to see that it had been removed.
This morning I've got a spell at the historic building to look forward to. I will do my very best to avoid getting annoyed.

Peace of mind

At the historic building I have serious issues around one person. He doesn't stop droning on. It is like one continuous, monotonous sentence that starts as soon as he steps through the door, and doesn't finish until he leaves. He really does my head in, and has caused me to walk out on several occasions. Last Sunday it took our visitors fifteen minutes or longer to walk the five yards from the reception desk to the staircase. I know that because I could hear the boring cunt droning on and on to them. By the time the visitors finally made it upstairs, they were interested in neither my music nor the display of period costume in the next room. I got talking to the woman who is in charge of the costume, and we made a joint realisation; when that particular man is on duty, our visitors behave differently. Instead of taking their time, they are in and out very quickly. It was so bad that this time, the woman who does the costumes got up and walked out.
So yesterday I made two decisions I feel good about. Firstly I am not going to work any more Sundays. I have plenty of more constructive things I can spend my time doing. Secondly I am going to stand back a bit and not do so much there as I have been. I really feel I have been taken for granted, particularly when someone else who is supposed to be the manager, gets all the credit.

Life and Death

I have finally plucked up the courage to deal with something I had been ignoring for a very long time, and took myself to the doctors this morning. A lump, which had been getting larger over the years, turned out to be a cyst, and nothing more malevolent.
I am not frightened of death. It is just a logical and inevitable part of life. I am not frightened of cancer, so long as it isn't painful. What does bother me is the conversations I would have to have if the diagnosis were bad. It doesn't particularly matter to me whether I die. I am completely unemotional about it. What would matter, though, is how it would affect those few people I have become close to. I still don't know how I would deal with this situation when it is my turn.

30th January

January 30th is a date that is full of memories for me. The nice thoughts are to do with my dear friend Nina. Today would have been her 96th birthday,  had she lived. Of course people don't go on for ever (although our royal family seem to be going in that direction), and it would have been awful to see her deteriorate any further. Some of my fondest memories are of our little bus trips round London,  most of which terminated at Greenwich Park. We had such lovely times there, enjoying all the flowers and the views, having a bit of lunch and then going along the river. Greenwich doesn't seem quite the same since Nina died.
The horrible memories concern my Mother's second husband. It would have been his birthday today, too. I still haven't really come to terms with the sheer horror of the short time we lived under the same roof. Eighteen years after his death, I still feel physically and emotionally sick at even the memory of that person. His was the one death that I celebrated. I had put aside a sensationally good bottle of wine from a recent trip to Spain.  I cracked it open as soon as I found out the evil cunt had pegged it. I can still taste it now! I will spend today deep in thought, as I always do on 30th January.

The silver screen

Last night I watched the 1932 film Freaks for the first time. I've had the dvd for years, but had never managed to watch more than about ten minutes of it before needing to switch the thing off.  It had been banned for many years (no doubt due to the general shame and revulsion felt by 'normal' people towards those with serious physical and/or mental handicaps). Yesterday I think I actually understood the film at last. It wasn't the voyeuristic spectacle that I had originally understood it to be. The real monsters of the film were shown to be the 'normal' people, by account of their awful cruelty towards the 'freaks'. And I loved the ending.
Afterwards I watched another of my dvds for the first time. Waltz of the Toreadors was one of the most annoying films I have ever sat through. The tedious Brian Rix-type farce seemed to drag on interminably. Even Sellers' superb characterization wasn't enough to redeem it. I shan't be watching it ever again. I'll either give it to a charity shop (if I can be bothered), or just chuck it out.

In the doldrums

Last Friday I went with a deputation from the local museum, to give a presentation to the charity whose Christmas bash I played for. I had started to feel unwell during the course of the morning,  and ended up saying very little.
I haven't been well ever since. It is finally my turn for the cold/flu/virus thing, whatever it is. Well I'm still standing up, so I don't think it's the flu. I've taken some time off from the historic building to try and get better,  and that has left me at a bit of a loose end. I'm just not used to spending so much time sitting around. I've used some of the time constructively and ordered in some nice things for the house.
I had a terrible shock yesterday.  Guess what? After four cancelled appointments,  the glazier actually turned up at long last and replaced my broken window. The house now feels noticeably warmer than before. Also yesterday I finally bucked my ideas up and put together the posh, state of the art bird feeder that I was sent as a present. I must say I'm very pleased with it, unlike some of the smaller birds that seem to regard it with some suspicion.  The starlings are all over it, though,  so it won't be long before the others follow.
We've got some nasty weather today. Those horrible gales are back.

Lately

I've been feeling quite contented, which is highly unusual for me. I think that having both the washing machine and dishwasher plumbed in at last has done something to lift my mood. And I've got a posh new phone! Well it's not really new. It's second-hand, but new to me.
I've now got the date set for my history talk and recital. Now I know what I'm aiming for, and that gives me a proper timescale for what I need to achieve. And the museum are going to advertise it properly this time. Last time round I felt very let down by their lack of support, particularly since any proceeds will go to them. It was a shame too, because I played fantastically well (even if I say so myself, but I have never been one to boast).
Just now I did the rounds, paying bills in different banks etc. While I was in the post office, I noticed that two places ahead of me in the queue was the noisy cunt who used to be my downstairs neighbour. I gave him a blank but frosty glance and said nothing.
For the past few days I have been rather poorly with my stomach. I know it's probably because all the stress of the past however long has finally caught up with me. And I'm worn out. I realise that I desperately need a rest from my stupidly busy schedule.

People

Yesterday the glazier, who had already cancelled two previous appointments, was due to arrive. He didn't cancel this time. He just didn't turn up. I waited in from 8am to 5.40pm, so I'm feeling pretty livid about it. This morning I emailed the landlord to break the happy news. The glazier doesn't seem reputable if you ask me, and do not hold out any hope of ever seeing him. We autistic people have to be very careful that we know exactly what is happening, in the sense of making sure that our understanding of situations is the same as the other person's understanding. When things like this happen, the anxiety builds up to a pitch. It really is horrible.
So I've really got the hump this morning. Next stop is the historic building, where I need to take down the ghastly Christmas decorations and move some furniture about. I do get all the nice jobs, I don't think.

The new year

The dawning of the year 2018 was a non-event for me, as new years generally are. On new year's eve I watched a melodrama or two, and turned in nice and early.
On New Year's morning I had the idea to take myself to the historic building to do some practice for my forthcoming recital. There were no buses, so I took the five-mile scenic walk along the coast. The sea was silvery and calm, although it was still quite cold. The first four-fifths of the walk was very peaceful and enjoyable. The last mile, though, was infested with dogs and their owners, so was anything but peaceful. You should have seen the cretins shouting to their dogs, which on the whole didn't take the blindest bit of notice. Then there was the pointless barking fits. Then there was the spectacle of the dear little animals emptying their bowels all over the promenade. And then there was the bit where they run past you, almost touching you as they pass, and cutting in front of you at every few steps. I don't understand what is supposed to be enjoyable about the dog thing. If people want to go for walks, do they really need a dog just for that?
I had almost lost the will to go on by the time I reached the historic building. The desire to practice had already deserted me, so I went online instead and redesigned (and ordered) my business cards. The long walk, then, wasn't completely wasted.
Afterwards I made my way through the pouring rain to the railway station, and took the easy way home.