Yesterday and first thing this morning

I spent an hour or so at the library collecting more names and dates for the family tree. Afterwards I collected my keyboard from the pub and plugged in the data I had just collected.
After dinner I watched a Stewart Granger comedy with the strange title Woman Hater (1948). It was even more tedious than I had remembered. After that I watched three playlets from Noel Coward's Tonight at 8.30; Hands Across The Sea, Shadow Play and Ways and Means, the latter being the best of the three in my opinion. I turned in at twenty past ten.
I think I slept well, in that I don't remember waking up at all during the night. I got up at six this morning feeling quite miserable. I know I must have dreamed a lot, as I had lots of images and half-remembered ideas going round in my head when I woke up. The feeling has almost gone now.

Dahn the pub

I've just walked down to collect my keyboard, and was surprised at first to find the front door padlocked, when it should have opened an hour ago. My surprise vanished after I though about it, as the poor bar staff work such terribly long shifts.
This week the pub put out a visitors book. I read the comments yesterday, nearly all of which were by local residents. All said how lovely the staff were, and said the place was nice. One or two grumbled about the beer, and all the comments without exception were scathing about the landlord. That's a pity. I don't know why people feel the need to get so personal. That visitors book is not a good idea, and I think it'll have to go.
I'll pop back again later on for the keyboard.

Tonight

It's going to be a quiet one as usual, with pretty much (or probably exactly) the same things as I usually do. but that's fine. I can live with that sort of uncomplicated life.  I know I have my moods to contend with, but it's all relatively trouble free. At least the only botherations I get are the ones I give myself, and not those given me by others.

How am I?

The ribs haven't settled down completely, and I still get some discomfort during the night and first thing in the morning. I had a bit of a bumpy night last night. I turned over a lot, and had one episode of lying awake and thinking during the night. Apart from that I think I'm ok.

Peace and quiet

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n03g8nsaBro


Three of the most annoying regulars have turned up at the library. Skinny, short bearded gormless man, tall, fat gormless woman, and Mr daft-as-a-brush-with-vacant-expression. All three are loud and talk incessantly. They really ought to be banned from the library. I can still hear 'em clearly with the earplugs in. How are people supposed to be able to think? Grrrrrrr.

The living planet

I see lots of articles online, describing how pets can be beneficial to autistic people. I really dislike pets of any description. It's not only their unsavoury habits that I find off-putting. I don't like the way they get up close to one, and do all the slobbering and lovey-dovey stuff. They invariably have the most atrocious breaths, generally smelling of whatever they licked last. They are veritable holiday camps for vermin, and are disease-ridden. They are crafty and manipulative. I simply don't understand what is supposed to be so appealing about them. I think I must be the odd one out, as usual.

A lovely surprise

Someone made contact with me this morning. Once upon a time we were very close friends, that is until he moved to the other side of the world some quarter of a century ago. I have always found it hard to keep in contact with people, and I now understand that this tendency is extremely common among people with autism. It wasn't that I didn't think of him. In fact I think about him very often. It's just that I get so busy with my thoughts that I just don't get round to writing. I'm really very happy that he has made contact. He's one of the loveliest people I know. I will always remember the kindness and friendship he showed me, which at the time were a completely new experience for me.