I got speed, I got everything I need

So today  was round 2 with the shrink. Or with shrink 2.
This one is pretty intent on labelling me with Aspergers. Im a bit ambivalent there. I do show many of the aspie traits but dont show lots of others. It is also a  useless diagnosis as there is no treatment as such. On the other hand such a diagnosis may be useful with HR.
She was not on my wavelength at all. Kept saying the label would help me understand myself. Nonsense. I have the phenomenon so the name is meaningless. A cat remains a cat whether i have a name for it or not. I do wonder if the shrinks ever really listen to themselves. And if so how they keep a straight face.
I dont deny aspergers or another asd may be part of the story but its only controbutory imho.
Ho hum. Normal for the territory.

Trust in me, just in meeeee...

I have trust issues.
This is something of an understatement of course. I do not really trust anyone at all.
It is difficult to explain how this works but I can trust some people to some extent in rigidly defined roles. If the encounter has rules in it and preferably a punitive framework for deviance from those rules then I can happily relate.
The more freeform the interaction the more I avoid it. So for example I can socialise with people at work over coffee. But I cannot go to a party or a pub with them. If I am forced to from the minute I walk in I will be looking for the route out.
Within my life I am habitually secretive. I never volunteer information. I also do not seek out comment from others about any aspect of my life or appearance and should such be proferred I make it plain that I do not want it, with varying degrees of politeness. I find people knowing what I am doing or where I am going very distressing. For a while I maintained a facebook page but it was basically like being raped every morning. I still have it but it is blank and maintained solely to police any mention of me and to force others to remove photos and mentions of me.
This makes living with me very hard. Mrsinky knows she is forbidden to put things about me on facebook. She puts her whole life there...its a problem. She cannot understand how I can talk to her mother for 20 mins and divulge no info. Its easy. I never volunteer information and if asked for some normally lie or tell a misleading truth.
Tonight mrsinky got thrown into my world of wierd. She let my parents kniw, by accident, that I had a tattoo done. I flipped. This meant I felt i couldnt talk to them anymore because I had no interest in any of the likely conversations and they would all end with me shouting.
To make matters worse I was due down tomorrow.
I know I have been unreasonable. But I need to control the threat that people pose and it is the only way I know.

We love Muffin...

Todays first recipe, possibly the only one, is for Strawberry and Banana Muffins.

You will need Ovwn to 180C

3 cups plain flour ( a cup is basically half an american pint, 8 flounces)
1tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of sode
pinch of salt
3/4 cup caster sugar
1 cup natural yoghurt ( I used home made)
4 oz melted butter
2 eggs
1 large banana, roughly chopped
a cup of strawberries, sliced on a mandoline.

combine the suger, yoghurt,butter and eggs.  mix well.  Add in the combined dry ingredients, then gently stir in the fruit. Spoon it into 12 large muffin cases.  Cook till done, which is about 25 mins.

they yum.  take care not to make the bananananana bits bigger than about 5 mil square otherwise mush

Chasing the dragon

OK so today dawned.
I tried to persuade it not to but it did so anyway.
Although I am nowhere near as afflicted as me good friend Percy sleep is the time when the evil pixie of EDS comes out to play. It's a bit like the E.L. Wisty sketch about old men coming into your room and throwing rubbish on you. In my specific case this rubbish is normally manifested as subluxed shoulder or knees.  I lie on my side, being unable to sleep on my back. This means one shoulder is compressed, and oer time slides sideways out of its socket.  eventually the pain becomes unbearable and I have to move, then whimper, then put it back in, turn over and start again.  Also because I am on my side the top knee is at a funny angle and so...you get the picture.
Last night was bad and I slept little.
However I have to say this morning, tho  rushed, I feltt ok.  The sedation from Mirtazapine was not so strong.  Also my mood was lifted because today was tattoo day...
I am a tattoo virign but frankly think they look awesome on the blokes in the gym.  So I booked with the lovely Terry Parish of Drawing Blood and had him stick an oriental dragon across me.  After consultation I had it draped across my shoulder.  I got him to make the claws look like they were digging in to my shoulder.  Why?  That dragon is how my nightly shoulder pain feels.
Anyway, here it is.  I will need another session to get it shaded in but I personally think it is lovely.  So there.
Terry was astonished at how well I sat.  He kept asking if I was OK.  To be honest I was nearly asleep.  It was so much less pain than I am used to.

One pill makes you taller....

Ok this is in haste as again i dash from place to place.
Last night i took my first mirtazapine.  i suspect this may not be a good mix with pregabalin.  Everybody says munchies but i am totally stoned.  I mean really.  I estimate I am at 3 spliffs stoned.

Anyhoo some catching up.  Yesterday was indeed a speed awareness course.  I got caught in January.  I had had a blazing row with mrsinky and then needed to deliverr foal and was running late.  I speeded.  i was caught .  Fair dos.
But I habitually drive below the speed limit.  I set my cruise control to 68 on the motorway.  I nag others to slow down.  So the course, which was aimed, in estuary english, at people who habittually speed was completely misplaced for me.
Ah well.

Also they need to distinguish between hazard and risk.  They asked us yo list potential hazards in 3 categories (mobile, stationary, environmental) then showed a 1 minute film and asked us to identify how many  hazards.  By 10 seconds I had passed 50 and stopped counting.  ther people came up with 6 or 7.   But those were risks, not hazards.  As a 20-year safety officer this matters....

anyway shrink tother day wass a gatekeeper- dished pills and gave me o to the IDT which i do on monday.  We progress.

Now I am going to put Jefferson Airplane on the stereo and prettend to be a tree

Dippidy doodah

A day of shrinks yesterday. Mirtazapine and pass the nutter.
Huge dip today.
Also have to do driving course this pm.
Fucksocks

I saw this morning mornings minion

Well, the GP I suppose counts.
It was one of those quick visits to get drugs and paperwork, but where i really need to talk more at another point but we both know we currently need other things, like the psych assessment, to happen first.  Normally my GP visits run like an episode of colombo, with me constantly turning round as i am nearly to the door, pulling a scrap of notepaper out of my pocket and saying "theres just one more thing ...".  Ask any doctor, the most important thing comes up last.  This time it was like something particularly pensive from Harold Pinter.  So much left unsaid.  He asked how i was and i said better, but its llike a skin on a rice pudding.  It is all there waiting for the skin to break.
I sometimes wonder if that is what I am supposed to be aiming at. Just forming a skin over the cess pit and being careful where I step.  Is that normality, just pushing down the misery?
I suppose some catchup is in order.  After Tagine day we managed to get the family together to do an outing to Jimmy's Farm where they were having a science day.  It was enjoyable enough for a small attraction event.  I met some people from Coventry Uni who were struggling a bit with a TLC setup and got chatting, much to foal and mrsinky's mortification.  One of the things about my calling is how multidisciplinary it is.  I am a renaissance horse in a way and so I can drop into a lot of science setups and banter quite well.  For some reason this never goes down well with the distaff side.  We had a day where we didnt shout and we didnt fall out.  And we met the worlds least convincing emu.

That has to count as a win.

Also one of the lds at the gym apologised for mr blondee twats behaviour.

However other things lurk on the horizon.  Old fans will be aware that my typing is often a little random.  This was something \i always blamed on the opiates, which I was taking  a fair amount of.  However  I have not been taking the opiates for some while...and it is getting worse.  Others noticed previously it was always the same type of error- one spacce difference on the keyboard.  It is the same thing.  Typing like this on my laptop I can do most things, though errors pop up when i think i have touched a key but havent.  on my phone it is almost impossible.  My guitar playing...well its sometimes worse sometimes ok so cant really say.

I talked to the optician and she said its not me guv, so that leaves neurological.

the most pleasant option are things like vitamin B deficiency and also the old favourite eds which is linked to proprioceptive deficit.

the other options are....well hypochondriac.  I shall not google.  Or not again anyway :(

I am an old worry wart at times.

It is very frustrating though.  twitter is v difficult as it is.

I beg your pardon, I never ...

I like roses. There I havesaid it. Shoot me.
In .my front garden I have several of themgrowing away, and this time of years a buSy one for the rose grower as there is a lot of mucking, mulching trimming and
spraying to do. Fuck Organic. Greenfly are bastards and must die, preferably taking black spot with them.
l have finished the front for now and So can settle down and relax for my Psyoh appt. On wednesday.
Today the GPextended my sick note and said in so manywords to play nicely with the shrink and not to break him.
l have more things later. But I wanted toshow you my roses waking up.

Guten Tagine

Yesterday was rough.
Mrsinky has been unwell and at home, so I stayed at home during the day instead of hiding in Costa or wherever. I made a start on the garden, a task I have long put off.
But to be honest my mod was up and down like a rabbits arse in mating season.  every time I stopped or some trigger came on the telly or whatever the tears would be running down my face.
So I kept at it and kept active and felt like shit.  eventually I wore myself out.
Today was better.  so far, anyway.
But one of  Mrsinky's friends is depressed so she is sleeping over tonight.  so I ma cooking.
Foal and I had meatballs tonight but as part of an attempt to educate her palate we did a moroccan meatball tagine.
I have used fresh lemons here but you can use the preserved ones.

You will need
12 beef meatballs
an onion, chopped
a can of chick peas
the rind and juice of a lemon
6 oz of chopped dried apricots
a chopped aubergine
2/3 pint of chicken stock
3tsp harissa paste
olive oil

first of all i cal anathema on the inventors of soft dried fruit or ready to eat dried fruit.  not only is it way too soft to be an enjoyable eat it is filling the shelves with uncookable ingredients.  enough.

fry the onion hard in olive oil till the edges blacken.  then fry the meatballs in with the onions till they too brown.  add the harissa paste, then  fry a minute then the stock.  use a potato peeler to cut long strips of lemon zest, then add them and the juice.  add the other ingredients.   put a lid on and cook t 140 for an hour.
serve with flatbreads.
Foal says: It was nice but aubergines are bleeeeh

Personally it was one of the best I have done.  lovely.

Also pictured are my derby scones.  every time i go to the kitchen i get requests for these.  So here goes...
oven to 170C

1lb SR flour
2 tsp baking powder
4 oz melted butter
1 egg
5 oz caster sugar
5oz currants
1 large pot buttermilk
milk and demarara sugar for topping


put dry ingredients in a bowl.  work in the butter until breadcrumbs ( ok you could do the traditional breadcrumb thing but my hands wont and this works.  Comes from eliza acton)
add the egg, then the buttermilk to get a soft dough.  flour a surface, tip out ontoo it, flour the top then work lightly.  pat it down to about n inch thick then cut it out, reshaping and patting as necessary.
decorate the tops by painting with milk then tipping on a thick layer of dm. sugar.  this must be thick enough so the top does not wet.
cook for about 15 mins until brown and firm.

So thats tonights first bake.  I am doing laundry too.  but i will be doing more thought avoidance laer.

Jumble sale

So on to tonights last bake unless I get another dip.
Jumbles.
Ive seen a lot of recipes for these which involve a lot of steps. But Eliza Acton laughs at such stuff. These really are good but two tips...first if you have never used siliconised baking parchment believe in it now. These things cling on like a limpet up a whales arse.
Secondly lemon...use a big one.

Ok 4oz sugar
4oz sr flour
11/2 oz melted butter.
A lemon
one small egg

Oven to 130c

Grate the lemon zest into the sugar then rub sugar over the grater to get the oil.
Add the flour. Stir in the egg and the butter to get a stiff paste.
Put spoonfuls on a baking sheet spread well out. Bake slowly. Flavour developes over time. Takes about 30 mins. They should be hard to the touch all over.
Let them cool slightly before detraying and cooling on a rack.

Same little shit diffrrent day

You remember Mr Blonde Twat who thinks disabled people shouldnt use gyms?
Well he parked in the disabled spaces again today.
So that intervention worked!

Currant affairs

Todays first bakes include crunchies which are a Mrs Beeton receipt...
4oz butter
4 1/2 oz oats
3oz Demara sugar
Oven 190

Line a 7 in by 10 in tin. Thats just under a willylength and just over a willylength if you havent a ruler to hand. YWMV.
I would suggest baking parchment with much butter.
Melt the butter. Tip in the other stuff. Mix.
Press it into the tin pushing it down.
Cook 15 mins till uniformly suntanned.
Cut into bars with a flat blade. Then let cool completely before turning out.
Foal says: they are very tasty. Half flapjack half biscuit loveliness.

Also pictured currant buns old school style.

This is a standard white loaf but with 6 tbs sugar a bunch of currants and a little extra fluid.

Foal says: mmmf mmmf mmmf yummy mmmf nom

In a line that never ends.. .

I woke this mornin with ahek of a headache. also I hae to cope with a parental visit for which I do not really have the energy. So after the foal delivery run l came straight to David Lloyd to work out and Sauna. Also partly to try not to let my encounter with Mr. Blonde Twat Scare me away from using the place. Because it would. Although I must say the management response has been very good they are let down by a corporate image which does not admit we cripples exist.
So first of all L am sitting down eating their porridge (which would get a 7/10 from EPD I think) and overhearing a lady holdng Court to her adoring friends.
What she was spouting was pure Shite from beginning to end.
Her promise was that it was harder to prepare healthy food than unhealthy food. That got me listening due to Its divergence from culinary reality. She actually said it was harder to prepare a salad than a roast dinner.
Now leaving aside the false equivalence of healthy = Salad this is Just Bollocks so I was keen to hear more of her world.
What followed was pure woo. Organic food, fear of pesticide, fear of GM. The feverish washing of all veg. except cabbage and brocolli , All Apples Must Be Peeled!
But Tesco ready meals were fine.
I despair at times. This is a product of Thatcher axing Home. Ec., The Daily Mail and the Paleo Woo here, plus scientific illiteracy.
Serious problem. Why can't the English teach their children how to think ? Or cook?

I have torn everyone who reached out for me.

Oh here we go.  The argument with mr bigot earlier made me angry. I knew I was going to crash and I have.  I am now down and panicky.  babysitting foal.

so I made shot cross buns.

Which meant I had pastry left over.  So i invented the marzipiscuit.. 

Take pastry.  work into it loads of ground almonds and moisten it with golden syrup.  surprising how much syrup and almonds it takes.

roll out into a sausage, cut rings off.  put them on a baking tray then dib holes in them and fill with apple jelly. bake at 200c till done.

then have a panic attack.

Oh and did I mention my left hip and right shoulder have subluxed 5 times each today? 

Fuckit

Sad Zebra of the Day

Then I curse you, in the name of all nature. You are a twisted abhorrence.

Today sucked.

There are many causes of it sucking but one more than any other.
I had an ablism incident at David Lloyd Ipswich.

You may remember that I had problems here before with people parking like complete arses and the effete management doing nowt?  Well to be fair the new manager in place there has put cones down and actually done something about it.  Kudos. When I was ranting to him I explained that part of the issue was that people did not believe that disabled people use the facilities, despite daytime being all about the crips.  I said we needed an education campaign.  Something showing how inclusive David Lloyd can be.  Something affirming that disabled people are members like any others.

He said that had to come from above.  Well David Lloyd lts see some action.  Here is why.

Today I went to David Lloyd Ipswich in order to do my physio exercises, as discussed here.  I parked in the disabled spaces as normal and then fiddled a bit with the radio which is a bit wonky.  As I was doing so a car, pictured, pulled up next to me. Containing the gentleman pictured.  Picture taken in a public place, actually he even posed for it.

I asked him if he held a blue badge as he was parked in a disabled space.

His answer was that no he  had not.  But it was a gym.

I said disabled people use the gym.

His answer was that if they needed to park that close to the door they cant and shouldn't use the gym. That there was too much provision for them and it wasn't necessary because as he said, disabled people shouldn't use the gym.

I was appalled at such naked bigotry and, well, hate speech.

I reported this to the duty manager and she tried to get him to move his car.  and failed.  But a note has been made on his account.

But the point here is twofold.  Firstly this illustrates the ablism at places like this.  The idea that the disabled cannot use the space despite the fact they use it often.  This is largely because in all promotional literature David Lloyd is portrayed only by fit and able people.  The disabled are not good enough for their image.  Come on David Lloyd pull your socks up.

Secondly if this exchange had been about, say, black people instead of disabled people he would be banned, I suspect.  This hate speech is not acceptable.

I am calling on David Lloyd to take a lead here.  Lets have some representation of your daytime clientèle.  We are older, less fit and  less abled.  But we get a great deal from using the facilities for which we pay and should expect more from you.

A little more than kin, and less than kind...

The BBC has decided to run a propaganda piece by the RPS (the body which is basically a trade union/ promotional society for pharmacists.  In the pay of Big Locket) where that noble body has convinced some twonk in dah gubmint that they can be doctors.  Sort of.  A bit.
Or at least play doctors.
Frankly I would be happier by far if they were simply proposing the widespread fondling of consenting patients on pleasure bent because what they are proposing is at best massively misguided and at worst disastrous.
I should point out that I spent 7 years teaching pharmacists at one of the oldest schools of pharmacy in the UK.  This experience has left me with several legacies amongst which are the habit of checking any prescription over myself before I sign for it, white hair, a new appreciation of what a completely closed shop can do for the rigour of a profession, the ability to get prescriptions quickly from locum pharmacists I once taught and absolutely zero respect for the abilities of the average pharmacist.
I say the average pharmacist because there are good ones who know a lot.  But I almost guarantee you will not meet them because they work for hospitals or drug companies, mainly the latter.
The people you meet...well lets be honest you probably don't meet them either.  Most dispensaries are so ill staffed that they employ dispensing assistants almost exclusively with an actual pharmacist simply ticking boxes to ensure minimum compliance with law.  This in itself is an accident waiting to happen.  My habits have saved me from several near fatal drug overdoses that I would not have caught had I not checked carefully. Of course this situation arose from market forces.  Let me take you through a bit of history.
The RPS and its predecessor the PSGB were a trade union that had aspirations towards being a learned society or royal college.  However a big problem there was that they were desperate that they maintain both the advocacy and registration roles.  Think about that, they wanted to be the pressure group AND the regulator.  Only in 2010 did they finally spit the dummy and let the regulation go.  So now they are simply a lobbying group.   Its like Greenpeace.  Or Friends Of The Support Stocking.
Anyhoo the society regulated and approved the university courses.  And set limits on how many students per year could be taught.  This was simply in order to keep wages high.  However the pharmacy corps got round this via dispensing assistants.....So now we have a glut of pharmacists.  Or as the article says, an army.
An army of pharmacists is about as effective as a platoon of peace-keeping koalas.
Here is the problem.  Pharmacists like to think they are health care professionals.  They are not.  They have the same relationship to health care professionals as those nameless characters who sit in the background of the Queen Vic do to Dot Cotton.  They have less of a role than Wellard.
The average pharmacist could be seamlessly replaced by a vending machine.  In fact if we went over to a vending machine and barcode system I suspect fewer mistakes would be made.  Far frm being healthcare workers they are simply people who run a corner shop and can count semi-accurately to 28.
The intake to pharmacy courses is made up almost universally of 1) heirs of corner shop pharmacists learning the family trade and 2) people who failed to get the grades for med school but want a steady job with good pay.  I don't have much argument with the latter to be fair as long as they do not put on airs.
My time in the Pharmacy School was spent almost completely insisting that the science content not be taken out.  The Guild of Apothecaries (RPS) seemed to regard the scientific bases for the treatments to be irrelevant and inconvenient.  Presumably because so many of them sell homeopathic products and other witchcraft.  They would also insist that since workers in their shops (most were working corner-shop pharmacists) would have no access to things like PPE students in our practicals should not wear goggles, and take no biohazard precautions on phlebotomy...
And these are the people who will save the NHS.
Dont get me wrong, a triage system would be a good idea.  But this is misguided nonsense promoted by the Guild of Apothecaries to dignify their frantic attempts to gain access to the medical profession, despite not having the grades to do so.

So the one legged jockey said..

It has been something of a day. When I woke I thought today had only Foal ferrying, taking Mr Hutt (shall we call him Salacious Crumb? He is actually rather nice) to the gp for a blood test and a bout of physio. Although i say physio what i mean is 2hrs of heavy gym work followed by a swim. This is needed to keep my eds under control. Or its the only weapon I have.
As Percy has pointed out specialists tell us zebrahim that we must be the fittest people we know. The problem is that to my boss and mrsinky and everyone else it looks like I am going to do something pleasant.
Let me address that for a bit. As Yukio Mishima once pointed out weight training is a form of meditation. Of course he was as mad as a benzedrine otter with a stoat up its bum but the point remains. So yes at its best it is...contemplative.
But with eds you have to concentrate soooo hard. Because a slight loss of form can send you to hospital. And of course everything you are doing is painful. Only the degree of pain guides your form.
So every day I am meant to do 2 hrs of painful stuff that is desperately important but which everyone else views as a luxury or a hobby.
After dropping off foal at the learnatorium  I hot a call from Salacious saying he didnt need a lift. Result i thought. I shall buy new trainers at the discount store (pure class me) then go to David Lloyd and meditate.
Painfully.
Then the phone rang. Igor reporting and needing virtual fish heads.
Then the email went. Boss needs two reports today.
Then the skype went...
I spent all day working. Then had to rush to get foal. Luckily today I still havent crashed. If this had been Friday I would have ended in a and e.
So no physio.
This happens a lot. The damage is invisible but I am laying down wages of pain and immobility.

In good news cmht have contacted me. I now have a contact no for emergencies.
And an appointment with a nazgul to get treatment strategies on the 25th.

Tomorrow I have no appointments after foaldrop. Lets see how that one goes..eh?

Is this thing on?

Incidentally first one to get the hidden refrrences often in the blog post title gets a free whinny

The clang of the oven door...

I mentioned a brief aberrance which created the worlds first curry bread? Well I tried again. And oh boy is it good.
This is Acton Gingerbread from Eliza Actons excellent tome. So Victorian stuff.
Before proceeding I warn you you need to make friends with one of Ken Woods marvellous children. Your arm will fall off if you dont use a mixer and the hand held ones will burn out...
This recipe makes one standard loaf tin and a tray of 12 cupcakes.  Or one fuckoffgreat slab.

4 eggs
A pound and a quarter of black treacle. Thats one and a bit little cans.
6oz soft brown sugar
4oz butter liquid but not hot.
A pound of S R flour
An ounce of ground ginger
2tsps carraway. I like the whole seeds i  the cake but you can use ground.
2 dessertspoons baking powder

First line your tin. Even the non stick ones. I made that mistake on my buns as i have excellent non stick pans which dont even need greasing....wrong. This stuff could be used to mend cracks in aircraft. It sticks like spunk to a blue dress. Use siliconised baking parchment whilst trying not to know its basically greaseproof paper dipped in sexual lubricant.
So tins lined off we go. Iven to 140c and make sure you leave room for the loaf to rise. Have everything weighed and ready. This is an active one.
Beat the eggs to a froth. As stiff as it will go fnarr. Just like doing a swiss roll so this is technically a genoese method. Once your mix is fully engorged start dribbling in treacle in a slow stream trying not to just lick the delicious yum from the tin. The mix should keep its volume. If it starts to fall slow down and beat it more. Once all that is in add the sugar making sure no lumps. Then the butter in a slow stream. Then the dry ingredients. Keep beating but at a slower pace. Once all are combined pour into tins. You need it 2/3 full.
Bash into oven. You need to cook by eye and feel. You will see it rise alarmingly and dome up.  Then it will fall to a flatter top. Once this happens start feeling. Touch the bread lightly at the edge and the middle. It should spring back and feel the same in both places.
This takes about 70 mins for the loaf and 25 for buns. Do not just time it.
Allow to cool in tin and turn it out. I iced it. If tge top crust is too firm for you brush with whiskey when warm and cover.
How is it? Fucking amazing. Easily my favourite non parkin gingerbread.

Where is a Sarlac when you need one?

So the weekend was packed with stuff. Today I am in labile phase which is netter but its like the skin on porridge. All it takes is a little stir...
But make posts while the cognitive functions shine. Its at times like this I get glimpses of how my bipolar friends may feel. Thing is zebras twnd to be autonomically wierd. We sweat oddly. Our hearts beat wierdly. And we have a strange relationship with adrenaline.
Zebras use adrenaline to get things done ime. You know how you are meant to pace yourself and stop for a break and work steadily? I whinny with contempt. For a zebra the endorphins released by frenzied activity allows us to continue. We do things in long frenzied bursts. If we atart a job we carry on till it is finished even if that is 6am. With Chumbawumba on the ipod.
Why? Partly a noted difficulty with adrenaline processing. Partly we know what happens when we stop.
Back to the weekend...Saturday was rough. I was weeping in public depressed and Foal  had a trumpet concert. Normally mrsinky has a lie in but because concert she came along. But getting her out of bed was hell. She has borderline ME. Diagnosed properly but not truly disabling. So her bed gravity was high.
Then we had a row in the carpark with a yank twat. When we arrived all parking was messed up by someone parking avross the bays. Were forced to follow suit. When we left for an errand while Foal rehearsed all the other cars had gone leaving us looking like fools....cue shouting...which left me wrecked. I cannot do conflict.
Foal did well in concert but they had a photographer going and afterwards I had to go up and explain they must delete all photos of foal as we had not given any permission and never would.
Also the music school director annoyed me. His whole opening was focussed on pushing music as a career. I would rather Foal became a prostitute than a musician as it is steadier work with better pay and fewer drugs.
So having drunk myself to sleep on friday after errands i zizzed out hoping not to wake. Happy Steak and Blowjob Day
So then to yesterday. We were at a loss as to what to do with the Hutt as she normally defaults to wanting a huge meal and row in a restaurant but we couldnt face it. So I said how about afternoon tea?
The photo shows the fare. Two types of sausage rolls...note for people who buy frozen sausage rolls to bake...9 yo Foal made these. Cheese scones. Cheese straws. Derby scones. Gingerbread.
So I made all that then sat down. I couldnt straighten up again until I had been for a gym physio session.
I had salad with mine to avoid dumping syndrome.
So after a 2 30 tea it took 5 hrs to get the Hutt off my sofa. Even packing school bags itoning clothes hoovering round her and feeding foal her evening meal didnt drop a hint. Unfortunately no sarlac pits in suffolk.
Anyhoo eventually she went. I went to gym. Then came back and wrote a 1000 word press release.
Am still riding the adrenaline.
Eventually gonna crash...

Stoke place hotel #2

I remember you well
At the stoke place hotel
You were rapping so long and so sweet
The things that we said
On the unmade bed
As the moonlight illumined the sheet
Raising two fingers to colin the boss who repressed you with the Bradford Index
You smiled and we kissed and hey never mind. It really was mindblowing sex.

Help

I am so lost.
The centre of my life is gone.
All that lies before me is misery and death.
What hope is there when meaning is gone?
All that I had is dust and ashes.
St Jude your services are required...

Lying to children - when it becomes a problem...

According to the BBC many Primary School teachers are not confident in delivering Science. This is unsurprising really.  Illiteracy in science is a perennial problem amongst arts graduates, as has been noticed and argued about before.  I have to say I think Snow was off the mark in that most scientists I know have a love of literature or music or art or film....whereas total ignorance of or disbelief in science seems to be a badge of pride amongst the humanities studying crunchy muesli liberal classes.  Biased viewpoint naturally.
But I find in general that Foals schoolteachers have no more idea of what science is about than I have of the inner workings of Siva's lower colon.
I think many scientists are aware of, and irritated by the hijacking of terms that normally issues from the woo or pseudoscience movements.  Organic is one example that pisses me off.  I trained as an organic chemist originally, though it has been years since I did much of that.  Although anyone who was Diabetic or had Erectile Disfunction in the early naughties owes me and my Oompa Loompas a debt of gratitude.  But still the lunatic crackpots at the soil asociation, with their astrologically guided plantings, sympathetic magic and homeopathy have stolen the term Organic in order to make money from it.  In fact one of the more perniccious word-thefts is this sort of thing, where a science term is attached to a product in order to boost sales, regardless of the effect or the truth.  I can almost guarantee this is the case for any science term attached to a product...from the polyunsaturates in margarine, which it now appears have bugger all effect on health, through the probiotic yoghurts, which seem to have an effect but only really when shoved in the other end to the hair products that contain nutrients for your hair.
Think about that for a minute.  All those proteins and coenzymes and dna fragments for your hair to eat.  I find it a little alarming to be honest because hair is dead.  It is a dead husk emitted by your hair follicles.  You may as well liquefy baked beans and rub it into the dessicated corpus of Lady Thatcher and expect her to rise frothing from the grave demanding the right to buy burial plots.  It is well established that the undead eat either blood or brains so if you want zombie hair thats what to dunk your head in.  I have the idea for an Elizabeth Bathory range of shampoos...

There are more subtle ways to get terminology wrong and worryingly this is what seems to be happening at Key Stage 2.  One that caught my eye was a reference to reversible and irreversible change in the materials section.
This is the offending item.   You note that we are meant to say that melting chocolate is a reversible change?  Sounds plausible eh?  And probably due to the wrongheaded illiterate monkey who designed this curriculum it may be in context correct.
However the slight perturbation in the earths orbit you are feeling is due to the combined spin of Ludwig Boltzmann and J. Willard Gibbs spinning in their graves punctuated by my head hitting the table.  Because this is subtly and perniciously incorrect in a way that makes my job at degree level soooooo much harder and also subtly skews childrens view of the universe.  Put simply it ignores entropy.
Entropy is one of the laws of thermodynamics.  The second to be exact.  Which can be summed up as "give up guys you is doooooomed" .  Entropy sets limits on how efficient a process can be.  Entropy states that nothing is ever perfect, no process can happen without a loss of energy to chaos.  We know this is true.
You meet entropy in real life.  Think Mobile Phone.  Your battery lasts about 2 years doesnt it?  towards the end it doesnt hold a charge well, or doesnt charge at all.  Why?  well what is happening when you charge is electrical energy being turned into chemical potential energy.  And when you use the phone it goes the other way.  But each cycle some of that energy is lost to chaos, disrupting the chemistry of the phone.  Entropy at work.
The terms reversible and irreversible are already defined in thermodynamics.  It is technically possible to melt chocolate reversibly but that would be under circumstances where an infinitesimally small change of temperature would reverse the change.  In the real world this is practically impossible. And in fact this is the classical non-statistical definition.  In the Boltzmann world we live in now ( Boltzmann is a deity in thermodynamics) a reversible chocolate melt would mean that every particle down to the atomic size of chocolate would have to return to exactly the same position and energy it had at the start of the process.  In other words to the same microstate.  Given the number of microstates is effectively countably infinite, and the initial microstate is unitarilly finite the chances of that happening are almost the definition of zero...
I know this sounds like me being picky but other laws of thermodynamics are taught at this level.  Given that the second law is actually the most important one, the one that gives time a direction for fsm's sake, why not get it right, or at least give it a mention?
And while we are at it stop teaching the Rutherford and Bohr models of the atom for the love of all that is tealike!  They are outdated, incorrect and confusing.  They do not help teach anything useful and they make my life hellish.

The gentle rage of the compassionate man

A short eulogy for pterry.

Terry Pratchett was an author I came to sideways and with totally the wrong idea.  I ad been a Douglas Adams fan since hearing THHGTTG on Radio 4, and then I bought his novelisations.  I loved them.
Some time later I recall seeing pterry books and reading the terrible blurbs on the back which always compared him to Adams.  With a sense of outrage I read them...and fell in love.
I even remember what made me fall. I read a passage near the start of The Light Fantastic in which Rincewind explains that the little doors and windows in the toadstools make them inedible.  In your face, Enid Blyton.
After that...well I bought them all, read them all, loved them all.  The man who shone through that text was someone who had a deep love of humans and an innate sense of justice.  And boy did he know old ladies.  Granny Weatherwax was based on Mrs Berry my primary school teacher AFAICT.
Pterry knew academics.  He knew children.  He knew governesses.  and he knew humanity.
For me the Weatherwax sequence shone as the funniest.  Sam Vimes showed fatherhood at it's best.  But Small Gods showed humanity it's darkness in a mirror.  Didactylos was where pterry showed his knowledge of where the world could lead you, how deep the cynicism is that follows experience.  And Brutha was his answer.
Perry's campaigning for euthanasia was and is dear to my heart.  I pray that soon painless death will be a matter of choice not an impossible dream for those whose suffering is beyond endurance.

I have spread pterry books far and wide, leaving them with family members and friends, then buying new copies.  I secretly quote from them in papers and lectures.  When foal cannot sleep I pt them on Audible for her.

I will miss this man.

Whats..Uh, the deal?

So this morning a miracle happened.  My G.P. , in common with many of his colleagues, has many ways of getting an appointment in a month but only one way of getting an appointment on the day- the 8.30 phone lottery.
This is cunningly timed to coincide with the school run.  Normally you spend 20 minutes on redial then get told there is none left.
Today I had my hands free on and told foal to dial.  We got through first time. Yay team Inky.
The GP was his normal harried self.  40 minutes overrun by 9.40 the poor bastard.  He listened.  He even had some follow up questions on things he had actually listened to on the last visit.
He referred me to the CMHT.
OK so thats how its supposed to go I think.  But it is easy to see how pitifully little that is.
At the moment my life is coming apart at the seams.  I either have lost or am losing everything that matters to me.  I have literally nothing left that I can count on.  What I have is melting like a chocolate butt plug.
I am sick of people thinking that they know what is good for me and deciding it for me.  That is not a comment on the readership here- you have been right about me needing to get help.  My reluctance is due to my firm belief that help is not really possible.  Help for this kind of thing is dependent on the idea that people change, and that the relationship between patient and therapist is built on trust and honesty.  Well to quote a character that was based on me, people do not change, and everybody lies.
But in other areas of my life people decide based on their own views what is good for me, or what would help me.  They never ever get it right.  And the actions they take based on those assumptions are killing me.
After the GP, and th curry cake, it was a sofa day.
And now it is an anxiety evening.  Foal is abed.  Mrsinky out at a work do.  I am restless.  Typing this is all I can do.  My stomach is turning over and over.  My joints ache.  I cant concentrate even on Buffy.
I dont know how much more of this I can take.

There was some good news for mrsinky today.  perhaps she can be happy.

Canst thou draw leviathan with a hook?

I know my brain is not working. Today was trialling another of Elizas recipes...this time for Acton Gingerbread. I added the wrong spice. Fark knows what it will taste like.
I got to the gp today and have a referral to cmht.
I await the quackery with bated breath.

Update...recipe v good. Not so good with cumin in it. Curry cake. Acquired taste.

Doing Badley

The village of Badley no longer exists.

I hasten to add this is not my fault. I didnt do it. No one seems sure what did.

But today i did a stroll up the walk to Badley hall or the half that remains. Pics below.
That was about a mile on the flat.
My legs are in hell mode.
Im not sure why I finally went there. I have driven past it many times.
I was trying to clear my head. It didnt work.
I feel I am doing everything  for the last time. My heart is broken.

Midnight on the firing line

It is difficult to explain today.

Essentially I spent the day on the sofa. I know that sounds luxurious and I suppose it is. But I am in shutdown.

My joints are bad. I foolishly tried to show foal how to stand on a skateboard. I fell off of course because of my eds even as a child I could never balance. I rolled properly but the shock destabilised my left hip and shoulder. It could be worse. For a zebra I am very lightly afflicted.

My depression is not lifting. It just changes. Today after no sleep and a row with mrsinky all i could do was slump.

I keep not calling the gp because it will get better.

Im not sure thats true.

A race through dark places

Little sleep.
No hope.
Cant do.

Macarons

Operation makemrsinkylovemeviafood continues apace.
She is out late at work. Again.
My head has Mr Brightside on looptape whenever I stop.
So I made pistachio macarons with homemade plum jam and chantilly filling.
Ok now ive stopped.

....Im Mr Brightside

Quadrupedal thing

Oh look

Some people make me want to fling dung...

There are, I am told, lovely people out there.
I suspect the reason I tend not to meet them is something to do with the circles I move in.

However my life is top full of fools of one description or another.  I made the mistake of ordering online items for foal.  This instantly got me into a deal of trouble because of course the delivery bloke came when I was out, being out a lot is the norm.  Because out is less killy.

They left one of those cheery notes:
We tried to deliver your parcel.  However you decided to have a life.  We are therefore holding your parcel hostage at the local Post Office. If you do not collect it within 14 days We will cut off it's fingers and post them to you one by one.

So this morning I went into Claydon Post Office.  I had the ransome note.with me.  So I go to the counter and present the note, along with my driving license which is the best picture ID I had with me. License or Licence, I can never remember...

Anyhoo my FuhrerAusweiss is Swiss.  I had to convert it becuse of residence.  My primary residence is in Switzerland although I maintain dual residency.  So I hand it over, it having my name and picture on it, and say the address is my swiss one but state the delivery address.

I then have the most surreal conversation.  The woman behind the counter says:
"What is this?"
It is, as it says on it, a Swiss driving licence, allowing me to drive and yodel in all Cantons and complying with European regulations
"Why haven't you changed it?"
It isnt out of date
" But you must change it to drive here"
No. Its complicated but unless I drive for more than 6 months at a stretch I pretty much don't, as long as my residency status remains
"Having an incorrect adress on a license is an offence.  I will have to report you.  its a £1000 fine"
The address is not incorrect.  It is my Swiss address. Report anything you like.  I will report you to the post office for being a jumped up little hitler.

This case is extreme but I realise my life is full of shit like this.  I have people telling me "what you need to do for joints is eat seaweed/climb mountains/shag a virgin/take orange juice anally/rub winstons foot."
I have people starting sentences with "you dont want x/y/z"

What the fuck makes people decide they know all about a subject?  I have had stewardesses tell me I shouldnt fly, gym instructors tell me I shouldnt do physio.....

I think the thing is a hangover of that thoroughly evil greek tag mens sana in corpore sano.
The greeks merely thought it an ideal to strive towards.  But people now look at it as if your corpore is not sano you are a cretin to be ordered around.

so fuck you, woman in claydon post office.  I hope your vile sweater snags in a franking machine and rips your tits off.

Porridge wars and droopy drawers

I am aware that at least one noble avian over on Bad Science has declared war on bad porridge.
Around here due to morning rush I have been guilty of using Oat So Simple sachets as a lazyporridge.
This inevitably means that we have loadsasachets gathering dust. Various flavours.
I am loathe to throw them away because starving wild slime moulds etc...so what to do?
COOOOOKKIIIIEEEES!!!!!
So I thought oat and raisin cookies.
So here goes...
3oz butter
3oz castr sugar
Big old dollop honey
1 egg
1tsp cinnamon
3 oz SR flour
2 sachets Oat So Simple. Pick a flavour.
4 oz raisins

Cream butter and sugar and honey. Add egg and cinnamon. Mix to a soft slop.
Add in all other ingredients. Stir.
Spoon onto tray but  leave room as they spread. Cook 185c 15 mins till browned.

How do they taste? Pretty good. The flavouring from the sachet does come through though so be warned.

Now on to part two. File the above under displacement activity.
Today has been good. Suicide monkey is frightened of foal. Its been quiet. Of course Mrsinky is now back so monkey is ooking in the background.
But as i  said in earlier posts body has not been good. A LOT of pain in wrists shoulders and feet.
My asthma is crazy. 3 attacks today. Im maxed on preventer and the ventolin has given me the shakes. The back neighbours have a bonfire going. This is not good.
But the worst news is myasthenia. This is new for me. It may be real or percieved. But a few times my legs have folded rising ftom a chair. I have been dizzy and weak and pre syncopic.
I know this is something that Bitey and others from the flange have all the time. But for me given all I did today was do  a stroll to some mounds with Nick (who was great but sexagenarian at least) setting the pace.
My golden holiday when a PhD student was hiking in the alps doing 40k per day. I suppose somehow I have always thought I might do it again.

Or not.

The beauty of those alpine meadows was breathtaking. I suppose those flowers will have to bloom in my memory.

The more I go on with this yhe more I feel my life is closing down. I am losing my self piece by piece. Dying by inches.
Fuck this shit.

Hoo goes there prt 2

I have to recommend Sutton Hoo if you havent been. Despite being pillaged by the British Museum they have a wondrful display.
We paid for a guided tour by the inestimable Nick Wright and I bored everyone else by being me at him. That ship was feckin huge photo 2 has ne at the stwrn and foal at the bow. Huge academofun.

In Foal's words:
It was awesome cause we had a guided tour who told us lots of interesting facts however there was one point when he went on and on but it was a very good day    espcially the tour.

Nom

And  now for cowinabun. Nom.

Hoo goes there pt 1

Guess where we are?

Lovely day in suffolk.
Bad day inside inkys body.
But Foal and I got here.
More latr.

This one time, at Band Camp...

This morning dawned.
I suppose it had to. Nobody asks days if they want to dawn. Its all pressure and expectation.
Needless to say no miraculous cure overnight. Mrsinky off for visit with friends leaving me with foal today. Foal has taken up trumpet and is doing v well (cue Mandy Rice Davies but she really is) but I loathe and abominate all brass instruments so this is a new hell for me. The last trumpet player I liked was Satchmo.
This morning was the Suffolk Youthicised musicorama school thing meaning I had to sit for 90 mins waiting whilst juvenile brass players farted down drainpipes.
I woke with a sinhs headache so this was not good. I took work along but could not concentrate. Mass transfer dynamics must wait.
Concentration is something i cannot currently do.
Breathing is another. Lungs are very twitchy. If I dont keep an eye on it airways close and i start accessory breathing which is fine till i walk or talk. Ran out of breath halfway thru an order in Pizza Slut.
I didnt rant about foals Parent Consultation Day. Partly because I am worried about her. Having a sick Dad and a stressed Mum and being cared for by a Tattooine moneylender is affecting her school work.
But I am angry about the process. You are given 15 minute slots. Child present. The teacher reads out the scores from her laptop. The teacher then suggests actions. Then a buzzer sounds and you move on.  Speed dating for edumaphiles.
Needless to say I booked a double slot. Foal absent. I spent 10 mins explaining in detail why this was such a bad idea and exactly where they could put the notion of the child to be present for all consultation frankly listen to the situation was completely ridiculous how on earth you're supposed to have an adult conversation and exchange meaningful ideas in the presence of a vulnerable audience is beyond me the whole thing was a massive pr exercise so they could say that they have consulted as that actually having let us say anything at all it was frankly disgusting. I don't know if this is due to the headmistress of the school or if it is a government initiative or if it is just for straight out of the ass of a pr person, however whatever it is it really really will not do. I think I have made this perfectly plane now I expect the teacher will be regretting for a long time the fact that I was off sick.
I suppose that I should not be mean to them they're trying to do a job badly. However i get very defensive I had an absolutely foul time in all of my schools i really don't want foal to have the same problem.
In other news when do you want to have the familiar in stable feeling that means i have to be very careful about moving around thats one reason why i am dictating this by voice i hope that i'm catching all of the errors .

Living with eds is complex i have little enough energy at the best of times. Having to spend an awful lot more energy simply watching where i put my feet, concentrating that i don't hyperextend my knees, being careful i don't pick something up too far, being careful i don't wave my hands and dislocate my wrist is something i just don't need.
Just imagine gentle reader that each time he went to the toilet you have to concentrate on how you held your c*** so that your hand did not hurt that is the position that i live in.

Good night and good luck.

Night thoughts

I am in a state. Gratuitous Simkn and Garfunkel....

I can hear the resonant warthog like snoring of the girl that I love
As she lies here beside me and farts in her sleep
And her arse in the moonlight glows like a conch shell
Cos shes twisted the covers down under her feet....

But I digress.
Suicide monkey is strong tonight. Ordinarily I would neck gin and tramadol but i have given one of thosd up not without cost. So I am sipping beer in the dark. My gastric surgery means booze hits me hard and fast.
The suicide monkey followed me into the pool at david lloyd today. I was doing some lengths to try and cut down the leukotrienes. Gentle exercise can help asthma a lot.
Stupid monkey was swimming alongside me telling me to inhale water. Sounds silly but its a pain.
Speakjng of pain my no sleep diet has left me very hurty. The hips and shoulders and wrists in particular.
Thumb also hurts.
And vision is deteriorating.
Monkey may have a point.

Oddly one can have too much of a bad thing

I think it is fair to say that I am at something of a low ebb. Mind you its not being made better by Starbucks literally this second playing "At Seventeen". I think they are trying to finish me off.
Last night Mrsinky was back late. This was not good for a number of reasons.

I had a day where I was forced to speak to The Hutt with whom I am arguing. I also had Boss emailing me 5 times for documents on a research contract. The ones that I had emailed to him in July. I got them by searching through sent items. I also had a somewhat stormy parent consultation visit at Foals school...more about which I may post later. And I had to cope with a visit from my dad who cannot ever just let things lie. I also had a massive project peer review to do and a contract research piece.
That's bosses idea of off sick.
On top of this I hot my first asthma attack in a year. A bad one. An on the floor wanting to die one.
People think asthma is wheezing. In fact the inflammation and airway tightening is accompanied by muchs formation. My asthma attacks are coughing fits.
Imagine you cough. Then cough again. And again.  Every time you vreathe in you cough. Your diaphragm hurts. A pressure builds in your head. All you can do is cough and suck decreasing volumes of air. Then cough. Then vomit because the coughing triggers a gag. Then cough.
Ventolin helps. But you have to breathe it in...
Well I am up to 3 attacks now in 24 hrs. I came into town today and forgot the inhaler. Luckily my time teaching pharmacists let me know the regs enough to get one from boots before it got too bad but i nearly had one here.
You can blame the cold I am just getting over, which often gives me twitchy lungs or stress. Whichever.
So last night I fell asleep waiting for mrsinky to get back. Woke crying around 2.30
Woke crying at 4.30
Woke crying at 5.30
Stayed awake crying watching 2012.
Then did the school run
Now hiding in Starbucks from the Suicide Monkey, his friend the despair squid and the asthma penguin.
And i cant straighten up or lift my arm above shoulder height.
You know it sounds odd, but there may cone a time when I get tired of yhis.

The soup will go on....

After school foal had a trumpet lesson. So we had to rush home and whilst she was tooting away I had to prepare dinner. Tonight it was soup.
I should state that whilst I support and cherish foal I cannot stand brass instruments. Her choice of trumpet has sorely tried me. As for her teachers choice to get her to play Celine Dions most famous song...you know ...Near..Far...With a cat in your bra...I believe that my arse will grow on....
That was the final straw.
So tonight its Inkys patented 20 min Leek and Potato soup.
You will need 1 oz butter 3 leeks a large spud 2 stock cubes and a pack of ready meal mashed potato. Asda basics is fine. Creme fraiche to finish is optional.
I use a mandoline to slice the leeks but as long as the long oniony bastards end up in rings its fine. Heat the butter in your pan and soften the leeks. Tip on enough water to float them. Add stock cubes. Peel and finely dice mr spud. Throw in. Boil for 15 mins. Add pack of mash and stir in to thicken. Season  with sslt and pepper and add creme fraiche or yoghurt to finish.
I do a lot of soups. My favourite is a morrocan apricot and almond soup which takes 3 days. French onion is next fave at 6hrs. All of them got served with no comments. This one gets yummy noises and asks for seconds every time.
Ffs.

Biscadelia

A few may be wondering what of my work with eliza actons biscuits?
Well we progress mes petites we progress.
The first of tonights two recipes are my latest modification on threadneedle biscuits.
Elizas recipe was robust. It tasted ok but was very hard. Like a bath oliver with bones. But it tasted a bit like rich tea. I realised it came from an age when biscuits were expected to last for months as travelling food.
Soooo
New version. 1lb flour. Self raising. Add 1 extra tsp baking powder. 3oz butter 2tbs veg oil. Rub in well. Add 4oz sugar. Mix well. Add about 2/3 of a 410g can of evaporated milk . Enough to combine into a very stiff paste. Like hard pastry.
Beat the living feck out of it. Knead that baby. I use my trusty kenwood because handfail.  The dough will come togethrr.
Roll it out thin...about an eigth of an inch thick.
Cook in an oven at 140c until firm all over.
They are rather easier to eat and even more rich teaey.

And on a lighter note...exciting news from China

Here is one that many academics would recognise...

Once you have published a couple of times your name goes into a massive database of evil which does several things.  Firstly if you are researching SALTM then your Big Pharma shill cheques get activated.  Secondly there is peer review.

Most do not realise that peer review is something scientists do for free.  It isn't done by a Secret College of guardians it is done by workers in the field, in their imaginary spare time.  Well actually it is often done by the Igors of the workers in the field. Its dreadful, that ping in your inbox which means at least 4 hrs work just dropped in your lap.  If you are being honest and diligent that is.  And if you are not then blame yourself for the crappy reviews you get.  That video, by the way, is practically a documentary.

But on top of this is the requests for conferences.  Conferences are a bit like opiates.  being accepted for a talk is a warm, fluffy, addictive experience.  Iin my field, for example, one conference has a 90% failure rate on talk submissions.  Invited lectures are even better.  That goes on your CV.
But...last few years there has been a plague of invites from China.  They offer invited lectures in Qingdao or wherever.  They don't offer to defray expenses.

I got one this morning from someone with the delightful name Vantasy Wang.

I have never knwonw anyone who ever took them up on these invites.  I have also no idea if this is real or a scam.  If it is real I really wonder what is going on in China to give sooo many conferrences.

For many academics the Chinese conference invite is displacing the Nigerian royalty email as the spam du jour.

Hiding in plain sight

I am generating quite a bill at Costa.

In the mornings at the moment I get Foal ready for school then drop her off.  Apart from arguments as to wether I am allowed to play my guitar while she gets ready thats fine.  Normal flow of family life.  I guess I ought to store that whilst I have a family.

But then I have to be on my own.

I cannot do that.  I go to Costa, or the gym, or Tesco.  anywhere where I can't be jumped by the suicide monkey.  The suicide monkey is scared of Lattes you know.

I am trapped.  I cling to appointments as the next thing that stops me.  Cat kill self before haircut.  Cant kill self before parents evening.

After mrsinky gets home it gets worse.  Because then she is on duty not me and again the monkey lurks in the kitchen with the knives.

The monkey wakes me at 4.30 am.  The monkey rides in the car with me, so I avoid the main roads where he wants me to go faster. The monkey waits in the bathroom with the toilet cleaner.  The monkey lives in the tie rack in my cupboard.  He is a very inventive monkey.

The monkey only has to be lucky once.

Filigree Siberian Hamsters

Ok so I am having a bit of a wobble at the moment.

Yesterday, in fact the whole weekend was a nightmare of depression and violent emotion.  I wrote my first suicide note.  Lousy grammar.
When it came down to it the only thing holding me back was an inherent unwillingness to hurt others.  I had managed to get myself somewhere where I couldnt top myself without causing property damage.  Such are the tricks I am having to play on my mind at the moment to divert it from it's avowed mission.
To make matters even better my eyes are playing up.
But my attention has been drawn to a recent story about rats.

'Gerbils replace rats' as main cause of Black Death

What nonsense.

Black rats may not have been to blame for numerous outbreaks of the bubonic plague across Europe, a study suggests

Oh dear.

The problem is again one of scientific illiteracy.  Or headline mongering.  From the headline you would assume that the rat didnt spread the plague.  Of course it did.  Thre is a difference between the reservoir and the vector.
As far as I knew nobody much had thought the rat was the reservoir for plague for about 40 years.  certainly in 1976 William Mcneill wrote a whole book, Plagues and peoples, on the uncontroversial idea that it was a rodent resrvoir of some kind of marmot or prairie dog living in mongolia.  The rat was the vector.
So now we have simply a change of reservoir.  the vector remains the same.  the rat is as much to blame as it has been for 40 years.

The BBC should be ashamed of itself.  And start employing scientists to write science stories rather than the current wunch of ignoramuses.

De Profundis

I am alone in my car. I am parked with the engine running in a disabled space behind m and s.
I had to park because I had nowhere to go.
I chose to drive into town because it was less dangerous. The main roads all it takes is a twitch of the wheel and welcome death opens his arms.
Here its impossible to guarantee death and more disability is offputting enough.
I do not have a hosepipe for the exhaust. Ive seen co poisoning. No thanks.
I suppose pickiness in method is all I have left between me and death. That may be enough.
From tonights viewpoint I have lost my wife and daughter to an abusive bitter woman. I am done. Through. You win.
I loved you both
Remember that.