And We’ll Stick Like Sick On The Stars.

Thursday.

As usual, I spoke to soon. Let’s just say, things have come to a head in my current living situation. I rang the emergency housing people. This is where it all goes wrong……..

I was informed that the closest emergency accommodation is in London and will cost me £30 a day. The current average waiting time to get a permanent property is around 2 years!! I have been waiting 1 year and 4 months already. The bottom line is, possibly 8 months in a bed sit, change Louis’ school,…………

I’m laying in bed. I don’t know what to do. All I wanted was to start again. To have a chance. It all seemed so easy on paper.

Later.

I just bought some cheese(the herbal kind!). It’s not relevant but I just wanted you to remember what a worthless piece of shit I am. Yay! Solved it with drugs.

Anyway, I went to my parents. What else do you do in these situations? Talked it through and obviously, agreed me and L-Bobs will go back there.

There is not a lot of moving forward these days. Just backwards.

All remaining work was cancelled for the rest of the week so I submitted my measly 2 day invoice, smoked and watched TV with Carter. I’ll have the weekend to start shuffling possessions back to my parents house.


Friday.

As you can imagine, with the help of our cheesy little friend, I had a solid sleep. I heard Louis getting ready to leave, shouted goodbye, I heard the door slam, then the phone rang.

Last night, my dad was going to bed. He turned the front room light out then decided he wasn’t sure if the door to the garden was locked. Walked back across the living room in the dark, tripped on the footstool and smashed his eye on the corner of the window seal. Being my dad, he decided to leave it until morning(groan! For fucks sake dad!).

20 minutes after the phone call I am driving my dad to A&E. Sorry, it’s not called that anymore. IT’S A WALK-IN CENTRE!

3 hours later I took him home again. Luckily, he had hit the bone, not the eye. We had an x-ray, etc…

It was 1pm by the time I got home.

Later.

Misery. Just unadulterated misery. That’s what I feel. I have no motivation to start packing up. There is always tomorrow.


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