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.