Tuesday, 10 September 2013


A few years back I dabbled in short story writing. This began after I was asked to write something specific for a person I knew at that time. Basically I was given a kernel of an idea, an experience someone had, an idea and so forth. Sorting through my files, a few of these short stories came to light. One in particular was different for me to attempt. It revolves around a witch by the name of Avril.
To be honest, I am reluctant to delete it. Possibly I may attempt to contact folk within the Pagan and see how they respond? Suggestions welcome!

Monday, 19 August 2013

Adult Dawn: Tempted

Adult Dawn: Tempted


Several years back, a time when I was going through a phase of turbulent upheaval, I began to write. Recently, like an itch that refuses to go away, I am tempted to dig out some of those early scribblings and revamp them. There is a short story, a longer piece of work and a third that I began with some encouragement from someone who was Pagan/Wicca. This was new territory for me, a blend of the mystic and actual factual history. It was a fascinating subject to be writing.  Mind, I am unsure if I have the notes and and early scripts of the third piece. That is the one I would like to begin again and I am quite tempted. There is a chance I can download the rough script from my old laptop. maybe, just maybe???

Monday, 20 February 2012


For quite a long period of time I have been suffering from increasingly painful feet. My GP referred me to a foot specialist. In turn he promptly passed me on to a podiatric surgeon. The interview was brief. Basically I required surgery, however, due to the fact that I live alone and was unable to arrange after care, I was refused surgery. There was an offer of cortisone injections. A stop gap really. My  GP and a senior consultant within the gender clinic where both unhappy with this outcome. Both agreed my hill walking was beneficial to me. Exactly what occurred I am unsure of. One thing I do know was that words where exchanged. The upshot of all this has seen me with another appointment with a surgeon for a second opinion. He was excellent, explaining exactly what was wrong with my feet and what corrective surgery entailed. Basically, I have arthritis in both feet. On one foot the bones around the big toe are totally fused. The other foot is heading the same way.Corrective surgery means some of the bone removed, plates and screws fitted and so forth. The surgeon is prepared to operate, on the proviso that someone collects me from the hospital. Fine, yes that is a problem but I shall try and sort something out.
There is one fly in the ointment, recently I have developed a tremor. There is a chance, according to the surgeon, it is the early stages of Parkinson's disease.Now I have to have to that checked out before surgery. That does worry me.
Addendum to the above.
 While away last week I lost a filling in my tooth and the tooth itself has broken down to the gum. Om my return I promptly registered with a dental surgery. Forms duly filled in, the receptionist asked if it was an emergency? Well, yes, I am in pain and need it sorted. The receptionist shuffled some papers and then told me I could have an appointment in a week's time and it  would cost me two hundred and forty pounds. Somewhat taken aback, I pointed out to her, that, as I had stated on the registration form, I am unemployed, registered disabled and receiving sickness benefit as well as a disability living allowance. Apparently none of that qualifies me for free dental treatment, odd?? Now I have had to complete a whole series of forms, send it of and wait for somewhere in the region of three weeks before I may receive treatment. Note, may receive, no guarantee on that! In the meantime I am living on a diet of paracetamol and codeine tablets. Probably overdosing on them, the boxes say not to be taken longer than three days???
What has happened to our national health service? It would seem that people come second to money, paperwork and quotas. It grieves me in some ways to see the way this country is heading. 'No money, living on a low income, sorry, you are only a second class person!' There is a two class system in this country, those who have and those who have not. Slowly but surely there grows a deep social divide and it beggars the question as to how far it may go?
The saga of my feet also continues. Yet again I am informed, by my GP this time, that surgery may not go ahead. Once more this is due to the fact I live on my own. For crying out loud, I could not fit another person in to my flat, even if I wanted to. Nine foot by eleven, three metres by four in new money. At least I am lined up for neurological tests for Parkinsons. From what I have been told that should happen somewhere in the region of three months.

Saturday, 5 February 2011


It has been a long while since I last posted on here; as of late things have taken a downward turn. The last time I managed to get away was more than six months ago. That has taken its toll, mentally as well as physically. Over the last couple of years I have had a persistent bladder problem, the prognosis is an over active or dysfunctional bladder. The last year has been bad, camping in the Cairngorms last winter I had to bail out after a really bad night with this problem; by morning I was suffering from hypothermia and frostbite. After yet another hospital appointment and another minor operation I had hoped the problem was resolved. This was not the case; things have worsened to the point where I now spend most of my time in the flat. Last week, I went to view a flat out of London, a nice flat, in sheltered housing. Unfortunately the people living there where so insular and inward looking it was unbelievable; I walked away, saddened by the attitude shown.
Fine, this may seem trivial compared to what some people have to put up with.However, I am reaching an all time low. Looking at things as they stand, I am single, am not in form of relationship nor am likely to to begin one. \Life becomes lonesome asI get older and considering  all in all, what am I contributing to society? The short answer is, nothing, I do not socialise and considering things I really question what difference it would make if I decided to quietly bow out while still ahead? Does that sound cold blooded? Consider for a moment the wider picture, society, (a society I may add, where in many respects I am an outsider, a misfit,) is now supporting me, I am no longer contributing. In ancient civilizations old folk work often relieve their society of the burden of keeping them by walking away and quietly dying; doing so with grace and dignity. Maybe that sort of time has come.  It weighs heavy on my mind and I ponder it over on a regular basis. Certainly it would be weeks, even months before anyone would realise I was not around and it would be so easy to just disappear..

Sunday, 4 July 2010


After the latest budget plus all the proposed spending cuts, I feel a growing sense of anxiety. It raises the question of what I am doing in a society I am not really a part. There is that sense of standing on the outside looking in but not being able to participate. It is highly improbable that I will ever return to work for a variety of reasons; this means in turn I am not even contributing to society. Gradually I am begining to feel that I am caged, more and more restricted in what I am able to do. It beggars the question, what if I where to say enough is enough and quietly stand aside, bowing out with a degree of dignity? That is not a negative thing, it is more a case of practicality, of ceasing to be a burden to others. There is little room for folk in my position and I am fortunate with no family or next of kin. It may be a case of just tying up the loose ends and saying enough.

Saturday, 16 May 2009


Someone recently commented to me that I relate better to inanimate things than to people. In many respects this is probably true. There is a feeling of detachment from people; people tend to worry me. That is not really related to recent major changes in my life; although certain aspects may in some ways contribute. With me matters go much further back in my history, it is part and parcel of the emotional baggage that unfortunately dogs my footsteps. Everyone carries a certain amount of that in their lives, good things and bad. Often we see, hear or experience something in our daily lives that triggers off a memory of a previous experience, of something that has happened previously. Our formative years, the early days of our lives are the ones that shape us as we grow and mature. Growing up outside of a family context does mean that I view things differently. Aspects of institutionalism still remain. Words like love and kinship are just that, words; they are alien to me, not a part of my vocabulary. Strict institutional upbringing has warped my personal view of the world. There is that sense of belonging that is a characteristic human trait; we need to belong, when that is missing it can leave a person feeling disjointed, apart, alienated and separated from society. As I have grown older so I have become a better actor and to some degree learned to mask my feelings and emotions. Underneath the surface though seethes an undercurrent of anger and bitterness; those things do not go away. Also, I have grown highly cynical and somewhat distrustful. Although not seriously prone to panic attacks, I do find when in crowded places and situations that I have to get out; there is a feeling akin to almost panic, uptight, hot, sweaty, my reaction is to beat a retreat. Situations like that can make travelling difficult. The tube is a nightmare and buses sometimes can be as bad. On some of the night runs to Scotland I have got off the coach feeling quite ill, partly due to the fact that I have spent the night uptight through having to sit next to someone I feel uncomfortable being so close to. Although I baulk at the reality of it the truth is that is how the rest of my life will probably be out of sync and one step removed from people.