Everybody was kung fu fighting

I’m finding myself in a rather passive place in my life at the moment, due to various outside forces. Nothing sinister, mind you. Basically, I’m having to address each day at a time, and take instructions about my comings and goings from other people. I still get to do my own hobby stuff, but I’m having to keep an open mind and schedule for if I’m required to be elsewhere. It’s not as frustrating as it sounds, but I do feel in a sort of limbo. The one positive aspect of this is that appointments etc. are forcing me out of the house, so I’m getting more fresh air and exercise. It’s always a bonus if these things happen in the morning, so that the world outside isn’t so hectic. Having to make your way around with a white cane is especially tricky when “smartphone zombies” get in your way. It’s amazing how many sighted people don’t take stock of their surroundings. I guess if you didn’t need to, you wouldn’t.

Yesterday, I went via the city centre to one of the more ethnic parts of town. It’s a very fun street, full of exotic cafes, restaurants and independent shops. It’s almost jarring when you’re walking along and you see a chain business there. They curiously stand out. I went to an Asian café for a relaxing drink, with the option of a bite to eat. I’m trying to phase out going to the pub due to my recent health issues, so nestling into the corner of a coffee shop seemed like the perfect alternative. I’m not feeling quite as spaced-out as I was, possibly due to my new medication, but I was still able to sit chilling for a couple of hours without feeling too self-conscious. I was counting on my recent lightheadedness to help me relax. It was, as mentioned previously, an odd little bonus of my recent diagnosis.

I did a search for cafes on that street before heading out, but I was still unsure whether I’d find any of them. Luckily I did, almost by accident, and went in for a seat. It was decorated more like a restaurant than a café but, due to their casual takeout service, they definitely seemed to be going for the coffee shop-vibe. I felt a little intimidated at first, as my night-blindness kicked in when I first walked in (as usual). Thankfully, the waitress approached me pretty much straight away and told me just to grab a seat and she’d be along shortly. I sat as close to the exit as possible, so I could street-watch (also so I could have a little more natural light). It was the waitresses first day on the job, so she was even more confused and nervous than I was which, in turn, conspired to increase my anxiety at my being in a new place. I really could have done with someone more experienced serving me, but we seemed to get there in the end. When she turned up to ask me what I wanted, I gave her my drinks order and she spent a few minutes jabbing at her ordering pad (quite what’s wrong with the old-fashioned pen and paper that has serviced waiters for hundreds of years is quite beyond me), making me obviously assume she was inputting my request. Afterwards, she looked up and asked me what I wanted again, which confused me. After a fumbled back and forth, she finally divulged that it was her first day, to which I rather too profusely exclaimed: “Ohhh!”, as if her admission had explained something that was hanging over the situation. It was a little insensitive of me but, like I said, I was rather nervous. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I had two coffees, a bottle of water and a spicy omelette. The waitress seemed to think it was strange me ordering the omelette, as the menu boasted it having four eggs in its recipe, but it was surprisingly light, and I had no trouble in finishing it. Even the owner of the café remarked on my ability to eat it all when I got up to pay. I became slightly self-conscious by both of these remarks. I suppose I do have a large appetite. It just seemed like they were implying, with a glance at my figure, that I didn’t need any more eggs in my diet. But that certainly wasn’t said explicitly. They were all extremely polite, and I think I’ll return next week. I’m assuming it’s a quality place, as it did get rather busy at one stage. It’s always encouraging when you find an ethnic restaurant where the likewise ethnic folk actually eat at in large numbers. Is that racist? It’s not meant to be.

After what turned out to be my lunch, I headed along the street to the Asian supermarket that I used to go to quite regularly. I’m not sure what made me stop. Perhaps a drop in my mobility a few years ago. I bought three bags of fresh chillies (they have a great assortment) and a pack of paprika powder, all of which came to less than £2. From a chain supermarket, the same basket of goods would come to around £5. I almost expected the checkout woman to admit that she’d made a mistake and recalculate. But she didn’t. Amazing. I will be back there too.

I made the mistake afterwards of waiting for a bus home next to the big indoor market in town. It’s a terrible place to stand in summer, as the buildings and concrete paving reflect the sun and heat back at you quite intensely. I should have made my way around to the bus station or just gotten a taxi. I have no idea why I didn’t. I guess I just forgot how horrible it was waiting there.

This whole journey was undertaken with very little physical exertion, which has been one of the bonuses of losing weight this year. Before, just walking down to the bus stop around the corner from my home would render me on the verge of a heart attack, but now I can go anywhere without having to plan for shortcuts and sit-downs. It’s really boosting my confidence. The only remaining issue is, of course, my visual impairment, which will forever make things difficult. I guess I don’t need to explain why.

As I got home after the bus ride, I noticed a cooker had been added to the furniture dumped outside by whoever is emptying their flat. I initially assumed it was my neighbour downstairs - “Karaoke Girl” - as she has family over, who I thought were here to help her with taking down the interior of the property. It suddenly dawned on me last night that the two things may very well be a coincidence, and that it may not be her stuff that’s being abandoned for the council to collect. I really hope it is her moving, as her loud music-listening sessions have become intolerable, especially since it’s summer and all our windows are open. There’s still a chance it is her, but I’m trying to keep an open mind about it. Anyway, her replacement could be even worse, you never know. At least my antisocial neighbours are giving me an extra excuse to bugger off out the house for a few hours.

I’m going through a classic movie phase at the moment, of which I have an abundance in my video collection. I’m finding them nice to watch in bed at night before I settle down to sleep. I’ve gone off sitcoms slightly, but I’m sure that desire will return soon enough. This week, I’m checking out some of the films in my David Lean boxset. The collection comprises his earlier, pre-epic, works, which are a lot of fun. I’m sure I’ll manage to sit through the entirety of the tiresome Ryan’s Daughter one day. I’ve not managed it yet though. Last night, I watched Blithe Spirit. I have seen it before, but was put off by its plot running contrary to my expectations. For whatever reason, I believed it would be a quaint fairy tale about the ghost of an old woman - Margaret Rutherford - living in a family’s house. A light and frothy Beetlejuice, you might say. It turned out that that’s not what it’s about at all, instead it’s a dryly witty and camp situation comedy about fidelity and martinis. Yes, there is a ghost, but it’s not Rutherford. She is great, though. She plays an eccentric (is there any other kind?) medium. Since I was prepared for something other than my original expectations this time, I enjoyed it far more. In fact, I may even use my next Audible credit on a set of dramatisations of a selection of Noel Coward plays, since he was the writer of Blithe Spirit.

So, yes, I think that’s just about all for now. I’m sure I’ll update you with more ramblings soon enough.

Do stay in touch, darlings!

Toodles!
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HEALTH UPDATE

So, you’ve decided to stay for the long haul. Jolly good show, old bean!

I went for my appointment with the nurse at my GP surgery on Wednesday. She was very friendly and seemed a little wet behind the ears which, unlike the café incident above, actually served to calm me down. She took three vials of blood for yet more diabetes tests (I forget what they were for exactly) and gave me a blood self-testing kit. The kit is very simple to use, but the major downside is that I have to stab myself in the finger twice a day for a month to draw blood. This morning, it took me three attempts before the machine would accept my sample. It was a bloodbath. Semen has blood in it, so wouldn’t it be easier if I just wanked over it? Oh, who knows. Any old excuse, huh?

To make the above process slightly easier, the nurse gave me a bag of automatic stabbers, which takes the self-harm aspect of the grisly task out of the equation. I am incredibly squeamish, and doubt I’d have been able to cut myself with a blade knowingly. These little devices simply require the quick push of a button from the user, and a blade pops in and out automatically. Then out comes the old red stuff! It’s genius. Still fucking hurts though.

I’m having to keep these blood test results on my laptop, as the diary booklet she gave me is far too small for me to use (what with my visual impairment). I’ll transpose the data over to a large sheet of paper using a marker pen when I have to hand them into the doctor.

Sorted.

I’m adjusting quite well to avoiding sugary food and drinks since my diagnosis as, even though I do enjoy them, I am generally known for not having a particularly sweet tooth. I much prefer savoury snacks. It is tricky when I’m out and about, as my instinct is just to grab a generic bottle of pop from the fridge section of wherever I am, but now I’m having to aim for the plain water section. Again, this is more about breaking old habits, rather than having a craving for something sugary.

Having to deal with my diabetes diagnosis is proving to be somewhat trickier due to a friend being away a lot at the moment. Our regular chats have helped me keep my mind off things over the years and boosted my mood and confidence in general. However, their absence at such an unexpectedly emotion time for me is proving to be something that requires adjustment. Perhaps it’s a sign that I just need to make more friends and get out more, which is no bad thing. Still, it’s all been rather trying.

Anyway, that’s all for now.

Thanks for reading!

Mischief below

Hello! I don’t have a great deal to update you with, but I shall endeavour to pad out my goings on with a generous infusion of incoherent wittering nonetheless. Health updates will come after my final send-off, as optional reading material.

I’m currently trying to work out what’s going on downstairs with my neighbour - “Karaoke Girl”. As mentioned in my previous post, her mother and younger siblings are spending the week down there in her one bedroom flat, making as much noise as you can imagine. One of two things seem to be happening: either Karaoke Girl is moving out, and her mother is there to help her empty the flat, or she’s doing some interior decorating and is, alarmingly, here to stay. The evidence I have is that they’ve dumped a lot of furniture downstairs by the wheelie bins, including a sofa, but I haven’t heard any replacement stuff arrive. It would seem strange for one to stay in a person’s home if they’re removing all their furniture (where would you end up sitting and sleeping?), which is why I fear she is simply upgrading her interior. However, I overheard her male partner referring to Karaoke Girl’s mother as “my in-laws”, so perhaps she’s just gotten married and is about to move into a bigger property with her new husband. Oh how I hope this is the case.

Another annoyance is that her siblings misbehave a lot, and their mother’s style of disciplining is to just swear and shout at them. I’ve literally just heard her threaten to “break [their] fucking head”. Charming. This, of course, has no effect whatsoever, so the infantile noisemaking is pretty much constant. I really , really, really cannot wait till they all bugger off for good.

In other news, I tried popping out to the pub yesterday, just to see whether I’d enjoy the experience now that I’m a little more relaxed. Before, I was finding my temper quite short, mainly due to not knowing what was wrong with my body. I was quite frustrated at life in general. Generally, I found myself more chilled yesterday, and didn’t feel the need to drink heavily; however, I did end up barfing it all back up after getting home. I usually don’t vomit when I drink unless I’ve ODd on spirits, so this was quite unlike me. When I was sat at the bus stop before arriving at the pub, I did think to myself: “You know what? I would really be quite happy just sitting in a quiet coffee shop, drinking tea and staring out the window for hours”. I think this will be the plan from now on. Methinks my pubbing days are over.

I’m still soldiering on with the two weighty audiobooks I’m currently listening to: Swann’s Way and Les Misérables. The latter is very entertaining, and I’m finding Victor Hugo’s liberal sensibilities and subversive humour very much akin to that of James Joyce, whom I adore. I only wish somebody had warned me that the main protagonist doesn’t turn up until fourteen chapters in, before which we get a bunch of information about the bishop of a small town who ends up serving only a very minor role in the overall story. I was very confused at first, and legitimately thought I was listening to the wrong book. Even though Hugo digresses somewhat, it all still rolls along at a good pace. Alternately, Swann’s Way is incredibly ponderous, as Marcel Proust often spends the equivalent of an entire chapter (the book is liberally divided into three or so parts, rather than having short chapter breaks) describing inconsequential objects or events, such as a church steeple or his housekeeper’s routine. Nothing of note really happens. It is, however, very amiable, incredibly French and uninhibitedly gay. It’s quite wonderful, basically.

I’ve just been researching which film adaptation of Les Misérables to invest in, although I’m not sure whether to wait until I’ve finished reading the book first. It’s a very long book, so there’s a real chance I may never finish it. The versions I’ve settled on are the 1934 French film and the 1998 Liam Neeson-starring one. The former is supposed to be the best adaptation out of the many, however I do remember quite enjoying a few scenes in the 1998 one when I caught it on television many years ago. Maybe I’ll purchase both.

My ex-girlfriend has been messaging me on Facebook and posting links on my timeline quite a bit this week. She often does it during the day, so I’m wondering whether she’s on long-term sick from work yet again. I’m avoiding any talk of local events and whathaveyou so as not to encourage talk of a meeting, as I feel those days are done. I told her over Christmas that I was fed up with her behaviour and wanted no more to do with her, but she somehow managed to stick around. Who knows what will end up happening. It’s an unknown quantity that slightly unsettles me. Oh well.

I’ve noticed I’ve started playing guitar a little more this week. While I was waiting for medical results etc. and getting rather anxious, I had pretty much stopped playing altogether. But that seems to have been only temporary. I’ve even started practicing in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep. I feel like I haven’t done that for ages. I do enjoy being creative, so it concerned me greatly when I lost my passion for doing, well, anything. Let’s take things slow and see if I can keep up my productivity. To what end? Who knows.

Now that I’m done with Will & Grace, I’ve started back up with the Frasier boxset. I wasn’t enjoying it at first, but the series really does pick up around the last disc of the first season (episodes 19-24, I believe). I don’t know what changed. Perhaps they employed some better comedy writers, or the actors simply settled into their characters a little more. But, yes, if you’re a first-time viewer, do persevere for those first few discs. It all starts off a little creaky.

Well, anyway, I think that’s enough for now. I do hope you’ve enjoyed yourselves.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!
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HEALTH UPDATE

I’ve just started taking my diabetes medication as of Saturday. I will end up having to take four a day, but my doctor started me on just the one, as the side effects are quite severe. Today is when I up the dosage to two, so I’m curious to see how that will make me feel. The main things I’ve noticed so far are nausea and headaches, neither of which are that extreme, so I’m coping.

One symptom of the illness is light-headedness which, oddly enough, I’m quite liking. I’ve suffered from clinical depression since around the time I hit puberty, so being spaced-out most of the time and generally not caring about stuff is like taking a holiday. The downside to this is that I struggle to concentrate on things and don’t seem bothered about working on my fiction writing, but there’s a very real possibility that this won’t make much of a difference. I was one of life’s great procrastinators before I came down with diabetes anyway, so hey-ho.

Well, all that’s left to say is that I’ve got that nurses appointment tomorrow, where she’ll be coaching me on living with this condition, so that’ll be interesting/upsetting. I shall report back.

Thanks for reading.

Nesting instinct

Good evening! Here is a summary of my general goings on for your weekend perusal. I’ve not included any health updates in the main body of text (nor will I in future posts), instead placing them after my usual send-off, making it more of an optional thing for you to read. I feel it necessary to get said stuff off my chest for my own sanity but, as mentioned in my previous post, I’m aware that the subject matter may not be particularly fun for people to read.

Anyway… onwards!

I’m not sure what the exact temperature is, but I think it’s safe to say that it’s pretty bloody fucking hot. It’s like when I was out playing as a kid and didn’t have a watch on but, by the general dimming of the light, knew that I was out way past my bedtime and should probably expect a telling off. I don’t need to know the precise centigrade. I get it. It’s a hot one.

I’m amazed I got through the night actually, as there was definitely a point where I thought to myself: “I’m never gonna be able to sleep in this!”. I did though. Somehow. I only wish I remembered how I did it. Giving up on trying probably helped. I usually have to trick myself into unconsciousness anyway.

I did try ordering an electric fan from the supermarket (to be delivered with my usual weekly grocery order), but it didn’t arrive. I’m guessing there was a rush on them at the supermarket. It was a bit of a long shot, and I think I would have actually been more surprised if it had turned up. Oh well, I’m managing to survive with the torn-off sheet of cardboard that I’m wafting myself with. Fancy, huh?

In bed, before the promise of sleep looms, I’m currently delving into the fifth season of Will & Grace. Usually, I stop at the end of the fourth season, but I thought I’d push the boat out and see if anything after that is watchable. The two titular characters falling out on the first disc is very upsetting, which I think is why I usually avoid it. But, after that (where Will becomes truly loathsome), things do pick up. In fact, there are a surprising amount of memorable comedy moments to enjoy in Season 5, which I’d totally forgotten about. One of the key problems, though, is that it’s brimming-over with celebrity cameos. It gets to the point where every episode has someone famous making a guest appearance. It’s quite exhausting. You start to pine for a simple storyline. A “bottle episode”, even. But some of the cameos are actually really fun, in particular Elton John as the head of the “gay mafia” and Gene Wilder as Will’s new day-to-day boss (Gregory Hines’ replacement). But, yeah, after a while, it all starts to get a bit much, but I think I’ll permanently add the fifth season to my watching experience. Four was too few.

I think my downstairs neighbour, whom I’ve come to nickname “Karaoke Girl” due to her drunken, late-night singalong sessions with friends, has her mother visiting. Possibly even staying under the same roof. As it turns out, her mother is louder, stupider and even more inconsiderate than she is, so you can imagine how much fun I’m having this week. It’s actually quite amazing how unpleasant she is. I think Karaoke Girl must have a much younger brother and sister who’re also staying, as there’s suddenly a lot of noise from kids down there. I believe the sister's name is "Miley", which says it all really. I’m not too sure how so many people are able to fit into a one bedroom flat for more than a brief visit, but they seem to be managing it. I think they’ve turned their balcony into a temporary living room, so sometimes I don’t bother with the television. Their scally cackling is entertaining enough.

Speaking of balconies, I finally got my arse into gear and ordered that small patio set to place out on mine. I’ve lived here eight years and have only unlocked the balcony door two or three times. Once the set arrived, I was very relieved to find that I didn’t need to assemble anything. It’s a folding set, so it all fit into its delivery box in one piece. Well, three pieces, as there’s a table and two chairs, but you know what I mean. The plan is to sit out there very early when I have my morning coffee. Any time after that will be when passersby will start to show an interest and possibly verbally abuse me. Especially teenagers and immature adults. So, fingers crossed I can keep to a sensible sleep pattern that will allow me to make use of my new kit.

Right, I think that’s all for now. I best go sort some food out. I’m a growing lad, after all.

Hope you all have a nice weekend. Do let me know what you’re up to.

Toodles!

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HEALTH UPDATE

So, yes, here we are with a few updates regarding my recent diabetes diagnosis.

My doctor just rang to discuss the results of the blood test I had retaken yesterday. This retake was just to confirm 100% that I have it, and that no mix-ups took place at the clinic. I do have it, and it’s Type 2. This means I just need to take some oral medication and try to lower my sugar intake, rather than having to inject myself with insulin every day (which is what you have to do with Type 1). It’s obviously still bad, but it appears, so far, to be the lesser of two evils.

I’ve now got an appointment with a nurse next week, who will train me on managing this medical condition. I’ll be given a machine to monitor my blood sugar levels, which will be interesting/a pain in the arse, plus I think I’ll be having more blood tests, which will be painful.

I asked the doctor over the phone whether I’d be able to drink alcohol with diabetes, to which the doctor said “yes”. However, while it’s still quite new and I’m learning how to cope, he recommended just taking a break from it for a while. I’m sure I’ll manage, as I had stopped enjoying boozing anyway. Or at least going out to have a drink. I may still just stay in and get drunk while watching bad movies. It’s fine.

That’s all for now, I’ll update you with more as it crops up.

Thanks for reading!

The phone call I didn't want

Just some updates for your discrete pleasure.

I went to see the nurse for that blood test this morning. It was rather uneventful, apart from the pain. It’s always nice being out and about first thing. I’m a real morning person. Afterwards, I went into town, which turned out to be a bad idea. Even though it was lunchtime on a weekday, the council or somebody had shut off the main streets in the city centre for some sort of cycle race. They usually do that stuff on weekends, so I was taken rather by surprise. I found myself wishing I’d just gone straight back home. Oh well, at least a bunch of spandex-clad nitwits have proven they can turn their legs around really fast. Good for them.

While in town, I had a quick sandwich from my new favourite sandwich shop near the city hall. I had a chicken, ham, mayo and salad sandwich. Standard size. The big ones are really big.

Because the taxis had vanished from town due to the race, I lugged myself down to the bus station and caught a boiling hot bus home. When I finally got in, I had another shower and chilled on the sofa listening to an audiobook.

About an hour ago, I was surprised to find a missed call from my GP surgery. They don’t usually get back to you so soon. As I waited for my doctor to call me back, it slowly dawned on me that getting a call about a blood test so soon after having it taken is never a good thing. In this case, it was exactly that.

Apparently, my blood sugar level is diabetic, so I’m going back first thing in the morning to retake the test. Just in case. My doctor won’t be there tomorrow, but a nurse will be running me through things, most likely while I say “ok” a lot in an ever fainter voice.

I’m feeling rather numb at the moment, as this is life-changing and threatening news.

I’m not quite sure what to do with myself.

Anyway, just thought I’d say something, as there’s nobody here to talk to.

I’ll keep you updated as things develop, but not too much. I know people talking a lot about their health problems isn’t all that entertaining. I mean, shit happens, right? I’ll try and keep things general, as usual.

Right, I best go and have a panic attack.

Toodles!

Patience, patients and OMG IT'S SO HOT

So we’re finally getting our looooong overdue summer. There was a brief spell earlier in the year, perhaps even unseasonable but, since then, it’s been pretty wet and windy. Now, in the last couple of days, the heat has returned with a vengeance. I was always more of an autumn/winter person until moving to the north of England. Thanks to the undulating nature of this vast city’s topography, extreme wintery conditions tend to shut the place down. Buses stop running and everything. Life is just harder. Down south, the extreme effects of winter never used to bother me. In fact, I don’t think I ever thought about them that much at all. I just liked the cold and got on with the odd patch of black ice. I loved the muted beauty of nature around that time of year, and being able to snuggle up for warmth. Now, up north, winter means anxiety about topping up my energy meters, will-or-won’t-I be able to get food in, and the council estate I live in looking even more desolate than usual. So, to bring us back to my point, while I do prefer the winter temperatures, I’m respecting the summer more, mainly due to how easy it all is. And cheaper. Much, much cheaper.

Yesterday was my long-awaited doctor’s appointment. As mentioned previously, pre-bookable appointments with my regular GP had a waiting time of over a month, and while I’m sure I could have seen another doctor in my surgery sooner, I really wanted to see my regular guy. He’s very gentle and easy to talk to. I just couldn’t imagine seeing someone else with such matters.

I found myself getting anxious in the waiting room beforehand, but not due to my ailments. Just environmental things. There was a mother with a toddler sat behind me, and the toddler would just randomly scream at the top of their voice. Some consistency would have been nice, but it was like they were doing it randomly just to unnerve me. There weren’t, of course, but that’s what it felt like. Also, the PA system seemed to be having problems, so I kept worrying that I’d missed my appointment due to damned technology. I had visions of them making me wait another month for an appointment. I think, in the end, the reception staff let the doctors and nurses know there was a problem, so they started coming out in person to call for patients.

Considering how upset and frightened I’ve been getting about whatever’s up with my body, my doctor was able to put me at ease. In my own headspace, I thought he’d be hitting a big emergency button on his desk and shuttling me off to the hospital against my will. But, of course, that didn’t happen. We had a nice, calm conversation and he made a quick examination. I’m going back on Wednesday to see the nurse so they can run blood tests for anything serious, while the doctor gave me antibiotics on the spot for my skin condition. I think he was quite surprised at how fast and casual I took my clothes off for him when he examined me. It’s not my first time. I’d whip them off on the bus if there was enough interest.

But, anyway, at least there’s a possible end to the condition that’s been rendering me in tears of agony over the past six months or so. It’s also been keeping me indoors more than I’d like and making me feel unclean and morbid. I think we could all do without that.

My doctor did seem a bit, I don’t know, concerned or sad that my decision to see him was almost a last resort. I did say that I’d been to the sexual health clinic at the hospital first and that, in my most extreme moments of pain, considered going to A&E, so that probably didn’t help. The surgery does seem to be shaking up their service of late, so maybe I’m not the only one to stay away. Even the receptionist seemed pleasant and chatty. I was very confused. Maybe they’ve replaced the old, stuck-in-their-ways administration that was putting patients off visiting. It wouldn’t surprise me at all. Never have a job for life, folks, it just twists you into something ugly.

While picking up my antibiotics at the chemist afterwards, I noticed they had a products section labelled “Little Ones”. It was obviously stuff for babies and toddlers, but the phrase “little ones” bothered me. I feel you should always be plain-speaking when it comes to healthcare. No slang. Plus, people with whom English is not their first language may very well be confused by such a local phrase. Just say what it is. Don’t try to be “down with the people”. It’s like when a newsagents decide to actually call themselves “The Paper Shop”. No, call yourselves J. A. Roberts & Son’s Newspaper & Tobacconists. Not “The Dumbass Paper Shop”. Sigh. People, huh?

Oh, I finally watched the 1950 Bette Davis-starring All About Eve last night. This is one of those “films I really should have seen by now” affairs. I dunno, I’ve just never gotten around to it. I really had no expectations about it whatsoever. I didn’t even know what it was about, but I was drawn in immediately by the wonderfully biting opening narration by George Sanders. He’s an actor who I would have loved to have seen having an Awesome Posh British Guy face-off with Trevor Howard. I do believe his real life last words will be my own. The bitterness of them will forever warm my heart.

But anyway, yes, All About Eve was very entertaining, and I was surprised how evil the titular Eve got. The film is listed as a drama, but you could almost file it under “psychological thriller” too. The only thing that prevents that, I suppose, is that Eve never actually commits a crime, which is what usually makes a thriller. She’s just kind of a dick to people. The final moments of the film made for a gleefully satisfying comeuppance. Plus, let us not forget Bette Davis’ famed performance as an aging diva. Oh how I so related to her character. You will be hearing me quote her in future, I’m sure.

It was also one of those experiences that helped confirm my transgenderism. It was a very subtle thing, but I just couldn’t relate to the male characters in any way shape or form. I know I’m fluid, and generally fine with my male body (well, parts of it, at least), but the boorish stuffed-shirts that comprise the male contingent of the cast just seemed like aliens to me. I was all like “Who the hell would want to be like that?!”. Some would, I suppose. Perhaps my gender beachball was floating in the feminine area of the lagoon last night. Who’s to say.

My choice for dining while I watched the film was a Chinese takeaway. I did mention in my last post that I’m wanted to get out to restaurants more, which remains true, however my confidence is quite low at the moment, so I just need a little push to get out the door. I’m hoping last night’s ordering out will be one of the last. Until winter shuts me in, at least.

Anyway, I’ve kept you all for long enough. Don’t forget to pick up a gift bag on the way out, and do look after yourselves.

Toodles!

Art and adversity

It’s been a fairly quiet few days. My comings and goings are reluctantly being dictated by whatever the weather decides to do at any given moment. It’s been a very wet summer. Even today, we’re overcast and there’s a cold breeze in the air. I fear it may even rain soon. A big music festival is on in-and-around town, so I feel inclined to avoid that area. Shame really, as I do fancy getting out. Typical, huh?

I went out to the pub briefly on Friday, but that was rather uneventful. It was one of those situations where I forced myself out, thinking it might help my lethargy and mood. It didn’t. If anything, it just made me feel more tired and bitter. I’ve not felt in the mood to drink recently anyway, so that’s obviously making me change how I plan my activities. You can't ben an alcoholic layabout without the alcohol, after all. I’m sure I can find some way of entertaining myself.

At the risk of jinxing it, I have found myself sleeping a little better this week. Perhaps that’s the lack of booze. Who knows. Last night was a little tricky though, as everyone in the neighbourhood seemed to be having a party. I guess it could have been just one big party, but there seemed to be several layers to the drunken soundscape. I got up and crashed on the sofa after a while, as I was getting fed up of overhearing conversations in thick northern accents. I’ve lived here for ten years now, but I still struggle. It seemed to work though, as I woke up next to my laptop hours later with the sun up. I dutifully went back through to my bedroom for a bit before getting up properly. I definitely got my eight hours minimum.

Well, it’s Sunday, so the buses are crap and taxis may be hung up serving that damned music festival. I guess I could always go out for a walk. LOL. Or just order a takeaway later. I’m trying to think what cuisine I fancy. Chinese? Possibly. I’ll see how I feel around five o’clock-ish.

I’m doing a little more audiobook listening and creative writing at the moment, which is filling me with a cautious sense of positivity. I’m leaning more towards wordy classical literature, so during the day I’m reading Marcel Proust’s Swann’s Way, and in bed I’ve just started on Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables. I’m still not sure whether I’m in the main body of text with the latter, or still just the preface. I’m keeping both possibilities open, so as not to get annoyed and confused. The reader of Les Misérables is outrageously French. In a fun way. Neville Jason reads Swann’s Way, who also does the reading for T. H. White’s The Once and Future King series. He’s always a joy to hear, but sadly passed away in 2015, which brings me great sadness. Apparently he appears in Ridley Scott’s The Duellists, so I might pop that on today and keep an ear out for his gentle voice.

Writing-wise, I’ve started on that romance I mentioned a few posts ago. I’ve decided to make it semi-autobiographical, since that was where the inspiration sprang from. I usually prefer writing from a third person perspective, but this time I’m going first. It’s very odd, plus there’s the temptation to ramble, especially if it’s sort-of about oneself. If it gets really bad, I suppose the rambling bits can be trimmed in editing. We shall see. Starting this new piece is also giving me the inspiration to dust off my other two long-form works so, with any luck, I’ll inch myself closer to some sort of completion. Stranger things have happened!

Anyway, I shan’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you’re all very busy people.

Do stay in touch.

Toodles!

Who said romance is dead

Hello! I just dropped in to throw out some random thoughts, as I’m feeling a bit all over the place this evening. I need to focus my brain and maybe put out some very minor emotional fires.

I went to the hospital today for the second of three hepatitis vaccinations. I’m not exactly sexually active at the moment, so there’s not a great deal of point, but I guess I just thought it’d be something to do. The nurse giving the vaccination was a bit ditzy. She checked my date of birth, but never confirmed my name or address. A bit worrying. Then she failed to give me a slip to take back to the reception to organise my final vaccination. Goodness knows what she injected me with. It hurt like hell, I must say. More than usual. I was expecting two injections actually, but she just gave me one. That made me worry even more.

At least I got out of there sort-of alive. I caught the bus back down into town and had a sandwich just off the high street. I’ve found a place that do very hearty sandwiches. I sat there for ages after eating, just trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of the day. I was almost catatonic. There’s a video of me dithering somewhere on my Twitter feed. I didn’t really fancy window-shopping, as that feels weird now without having someone else with me. I didn’t fancy the pub either, which isn’t like me at all. Usually I’m all like: “Well, there’s always the pub!”, but not today. I just ended up coming straight home. I sort of do fancy the pub now, but it’s a bit late for me. Perhaps I’ll go out tomorrow. I probably shouldn’t though, as I’ve been getting overly emotional when I’m really drunk. I don’t think I’m drinking any more than usual, but my reaction to it is just a bit more intense. I’ve been getting very melodramatic. Maybe I should just leave it for a while and go out for a sit down food lunch somewhere nice. There are so many restaurants I keep meaning to try out, including ones I’ve had deliver too me in the past and I’ve wondered how much better it would be fresh. Takeaways are pretty yucky. We shall see.

I’ve been watching the comedy-drama “Mum” this week, which a friend recommended to me. It’s think it’s now been cancelled after three seasons. I bought the DVDs, as I wasn’t in the mood to fiddle around with an on-demand service. It’s really, really funny, but also poignant and sad. I’m reacting more to the sad aspect of it. Not in a bad way, mind you. It’s just hitting a sombre nerve. I’ve nearly cried a few times now.

I deleted my Gaydar account this week. And the app. I’ve had the account since way before I even started going out with my ex, so that felt kinda sad. It was a website only originally, but now I think they’re focussing more on the hook-up app side of things. My reason for deleting it? Well, I guess, for me, these apps have never proven to be an effective way of meeting the right people. The final straw was being contacted by yet another guy with an angry bio where he ranted about “timewasters” and people without profile pics. Don’t put that stuff in your bio, it’ll just scare off the type of person you’re trying to attract. Sigh.

My romantic plans instead? Combination starter for two (but really for one), salt & pepper tofu, crispy shredded chilli chicken, egg fried rice, Singapore vermicelli, chips and a bottle of coke.

What you having?

Toodles!