It's in the water, baby. It's in the pills that bring you down. It's in the water, baby. It's in your bag of golden brown.

We are fast approaching that time of the year.
Christmas bears too many scars, and feels tainted beyond repair. New years eve holds too many dark memories, the darkest almost swallowing me whole.

Christmas is a time that many people don't realize just how lucky they are. The homeless, the lonely, the dying, the people spending this time of year without their friends around, without their family near, feeling like they are unloved. Even unlovable. No matter how shit we think our lives feel, there's always someone, somewhere....probably not very far away, who would give anything to swap places. I read earlier that the reported number of homeless people sleeping on the street in London has risen over 40% in the last twelve months. That's not just horrifying, it's unacceptable in this day and age.

This time last year, my girlfriend was about to move in with me. Less than six months later, my rooms were empty, my trust was crushed, my heart was broken and I found myself alone once again. I had no furniture left in the house, save a bed, a fridge and a very old TV that had an off coloured picture which pulled at one side. I'm slowly building things back up. Slowly making the repairs. Slowly building my life back.
My ex-girlfriend grew out of her stalking phase a few months ago, and even though I'd really like to hear from her, or one of her family or friends, to say that she's doing ok. That she's managed to get herself off that shit she was on, and keep herself clean. In a way, I don't. Because I'm scared that I'm going to be disappointed.

I've had some really shit years, particularly lately. And I always find myself trying to focus, trying to stay positive, and think to myself that the next year will be better. Even just a small amount better, but better none-the-less.
I won't be sorry to see the arse end of this year. Good riddance 2012. You sucked big, fat, smelly donkey bollocks.

I'm gonna make a point of staying up and raising a glass at midnight, this year.

Silhouette of emptiness, wrapped up in thoughts of nothing less. My chest is pressed, as I attempt to cross this bridge you're building.

The last few days, I've been feeling like I've making an impressive dent in the progress of getting this house back in order.
Having rebuilt the kitchen from scratch, rebuilt walls, redecorated, new floors, lots of painting....downstairs is pretty much done. Bar a couple of small odd 'n' ends. I'm off work for a week now, so most of that will be finishing off redecorating the three bedrooms. Then I can sort out what furniture I'm short of. I've been picking bits and pieces up at an auction I've started to go to. It's all used stuff, some very well used, but there's certainly some bargains to be had. That will leave the bathroom to completely rebuild, sorting carpets for the hall, stairs and landings, then finally the top bedroom. It still sounds like a lot. And it doesn't finish there either. There's loads of other things that need fixing or replacing or whatever; I've got trees out the front that need removing or cutting right back. I've got some guttering issues, the garage door is fucked, there's fencing needs replacing, the garden is in need of a total overhaul and I'd like to paint the front of the house as well.
Blimey. And there was me just thinking I'd done so much already, when now I just feel deflated.
Shit.

I'm going down, I don't want to change. I'm going down, going down the drain.

Wow, loads of people that I used to read have just....stopped....blogging....

It's really sad.
All these lovely people who've shared things for me to read. And some who've paid visits here too.
It feels like friends breaking up.
It's pants.

So break yourself against my stones. And spit your pity in my soul. You never needed any help. You sold me out to save yourself.

I'm doing ok.
But I keep getting holes in the end of my socks.
I've gone through three pairs this week.

I'm beginning to feel a bit more like myself now.
Most of my paranoia has all but disappeared, since I stopped being stalked.

And I'm helping my folks out with their new bathroom next week.
It will so nice to give them something back, after all they've done for me.
I'll never repay the debt in full.

I'm not living, I'm just killing time. Your tiny hands, your crazy-kitten smile.

My court case is over.

When my Barrister said to me, "When you're on the witness stand, sworn in under oath, you're on your own", I don't think I quite realised just how alone I would feel. It's just awful.
When we adjourned after I had given my evidence, we sat in one of the private consultation rooms, where my Barrister begun to tell me that in his opinion, based on his experience and from what the Judge had been asking me and making notes on, the case was going against me. His opinion was that the Judge was already siding with the other side.
Shit!
Just two hours into the hearing, with no evidence heard from the defendants yet, and already I was being advised to make an offer to the other side; an offer of 'Hands down'. Meaning I wanted to drop the case, and if they agreed, we would both just walk away gaining nothing, and bearing our own legal costs. So soon, I had to make a decision of whether to continue or not?! My Barrister expressed his concern at this early point that if I choose to continue, and it carries on the way he thinks it's already going, then I'd almost certainly lose the case and be liable to pay the defendant's legal costs, which he estimated at around ten thousand pounds. I was also advised that if I was to make such an offer, they weren't obliged to accept it, and if it were him on the defendant's side, he would see it as a weakness and he would advise his client to push on and go for broke.
Shit!
I decided to continue.
The defence were awful when they gave their evidence. I think she'd watched far too much Ally McBeal, because when she was being cross-examined, she didn't answer the direct question...instead she would answer in a round-a-bout way, as if she was giving the answer she thought she would show her in the best light. It didn't work. And it made her look like a fool. She was also caught out on some details, when she kept changing her mind, then saying she couldn't remember. The Judge was clearly bemused and shocked by some of the things he was hearing.
I felt much better at this point, although I was still noticeably nervous and shaking.
Following the defence evidence, the Judge then said a few more things, then made another adjournment. It was during this break that I was given another decision to make. By this time, most of the afternoon had been taken up with the defence evidence. Something that should have took a little longer than an hour, but ended up being well over three. And as time was getting on, it was looking more and more likely that the case wouldn't be fully heard by the end of the day. So, I was looking at a third day in court to hear this fucking case. A third day!
A third day would mean having to wait another....two or three months for a court date, in the meantime still having to pay my Solicitor for 'prep work'. And then there's another days cost for the Barrister and another day of court costs.
Back in one of the consultation rooms, my Barrister was advising me to make an offer to end the case. His opinion, was that if I continued, even though he felt the Judge was now on my side, the matter of damage and missing furniture hadn't been touched on yet, and he felt it was an extremely difficult task to convince the Judge that the Lettings Agency could be held accountable for this. It was his opinion, that the damage and furniture side of the case was looking highly un-winnable, and I should therefore put an offer to the other side. And then there was the issue of legal costs. By making an offer to the other side, I couldn't have asked for my costs to be reimbursed by them. And if I'd have continued, again, it was advised to me that as I was very unlikely to win the case in it's entirety, the amount that may have been awarded would fall under the 'Small Claims Court System', and therefore the other side would them be able to make a claim from me for extensive costs that would have been deemed unnecessary.
So, I made them an offer, which was basically about 15% of what I was suing them for in total. And there was nothing that I could say about any legal costs. If they accepted the offer, the case would be over and I would win a 'nominal' amount, but we would bare our own legal costs. In effect, that means it's cost me well over ten thousand pounds in legal costs to get 10% of that out of them.
What a complete waste of almost two years of my life.
Almost two years of stress and pressure, crippling legal bills and the inability to relax...and for what?

My Barrister kept telling me that by the other side accepting the offer, it meant that I'd won.
I don't feel like I've won anything.

This storm it came up strong. It shook the trees, and blew away our fear. I couldn't even hear.

I'm having a really difficult time at the moment.
But my camouflage is proving successful.
I'm finding it difficult to get a decent nights sleep, tossing and turning. Turning and tossing. I'm often drag myself out of bed, feeling like I've slept in a ditch.

Guilty. Guilty, Guilty.
I can't help feeling so terribly guilty.


On top of that, I've found out today that my case is finally being heard next week. There's no chance of it being adjourned again. This is it.
I'm shitting myself.

'Cos we've been through worse than this, before we could talk. The trick of it is, don't be afraid anymore.

When a relationship ends, it can fester into bitterness if you feel like you haven't got your side of the story out.
It's terribly frustrating. I know, I've been there.
She's coming over on Sunday, to collect some more things from the house. She's been asking me for ages for us to sit down and talk. It pisses me off that she wants to talk now, but when it mattered she did all she could to avoid it. But I see parts of her in me. I'm overcome with sadness when I can see it.

I'm worried that it will stir up too many emotions, things may get heated (and I really don't want that), and there's a chance we could end up losing our friendship. And I don't want that. She keeps saying that she's accepted what's happened. But I'm not so sure. I think she also thinks there might be a chance of us getting back together. I don't.
I'm wondering if this 'talk' might pose more questions than answers.
I'm wondering if this 'talk' might help her move on from all this mess.
I'm wondering if this 'talk' will just make me feel even more guilty than I already do.

When you gonna make up your mind? When you gonna love you, as much as I do? When you gonna make up your mind? 'Cos things are gonna change, so fast.

Whilst I love being in a relationship....who doesn't? I really do love being on my own.
I never seem to feel a sense of loneliness, despite being alone. Although I have Marley, the plant that seems to be a true survivor, and the two cats. The house never feels empty. And it's never peaceful. Ninety nine percent of the time, there's music playing somewhere.

Whilst I love being able to eat what I like, when I like, playing whatever music I want, at whatever volume, whilst I love being able to not have to consider somebody else when I flick around on the remote, whilst I love being able to go out where I want, when I want and with who I want without having to think about someone else's feelings, whilst I love not having to consult anybody else's schedule in case of a clash, whilst I love not feeling guilty about buying far too many Chocolate Hobnobs, whilst I love being able to watch movies in bed, instead of reading a book, whilst I love not having to clean up somebody else's mess....
I do really miss waking up next to somebody else's skin.

I'll stop all those habits. The ones that made you sigh. I promise I'll do everything right, so please don't let me hear you say goodbye. Gone way past the point of realising this mess. Your name on my lips, lingers through sadness.

I'm not quite sure where I go from here.
Well, I am actually.
I just need a little gathering, and reflection, and peace.




emas eht eb reve dluow gnihton, em ot deil yltnatalb dah uoy derevocsid I nehw.

I remember how it used to be. Now it's all just changed, and I'm cold in the grave. It's like I won't ever be the same, no. Now I'm alone.

She changed.
I saw it, as I gradually opened my eyes.
She threw the chance I gave her right back at my face, with malice and spite.
All those promises broken.
All that trust destroyed.

I gave all the support I could to my girlfriend. All the support she would allow me to give, when she wasn't shunning me, making excuses, spitting lies.... She made a choice, and as a consequence of that, I asked her to leave. The leave marked the beginning of the end.

I feel empty. And lost. Scared. And scarred.
Guilty.

In her communications, she leaped from one emotion to the opposite. She's finally admitted her problem, been on a fast-track rehab, whilst at the same time sent me some of the nastiest and cutting messages. For which, she's apologised, many times. Blaming the 'shit' and her fluctuations in moods. And then she's sent me the most thoughtful and touching messages.

I've spent a lot of time researching heroin addiction, in particular stories posted by users and their partners. There were no happy endings there that I saw. Many relapses. Many cries for help. Much talk of partners becoming a victim themselves to the drug.

My ex girlfriend taught me something during the healing process of our break-up. We had both gone through our own stories of shit. But she was stronger, and that helped her realise that being with me was just dragging her backwards. And when you've already been through enough shit, why allow it to happen again? By making the decision to save herself, she was actually saving us both.

I need sunshine, I need angels. I need something good.

My case was heard in court today.
Basically, it's been adjourned because the Judge ruled that my case had not been stated clearly enough. "Clear as mud", he said. Followed by 40 minutes of legal jargon that went right over my head, but my Barrister appeared to understand.
So, it's still ongoing.
Fuck it.
I thought it would be over one way or another, today.

That aside, I'm coming to the conclusion that there's something drastically wrong with me, because it's looking like I'm gonna be single again soon.
Fuckitttttttttttt.

But when you walked out that door, a piece of me died. Told you I wanted more, that's not what I had in mind. Just want it like before.

Ohhhh mannnnn.
What have you done!

You're like a kitten with a ball of wool. And it's doing me in, doing me in, doing me in....

Two things....

One: For fucks sake!

Two: I have my court date. The fourteenth of February. Valentines day. For fucks sake! Again!

I've been waiting for you, it's been so long. I knew just what I would do, when I heard your song.

This year, I shall be raising a glass of vino to the people we lost this year and taking a minute or two to think about the people less fortunate than ourselves.

Something mahoosive is happening tomorrow.
Merry Christmas x

Eighty Six Charlie, he came back. Said he'd been thinking it over. Says he's had a change of heart . He thinks he's made a grave mistake.

And just when I'm about to get all wrapped up in my own self-pity, wondering why things in my life are so complicated and tough, so barren and bare....something happens to slap me in the face and wake me up to all the other people's crap in the world.
And once again, I'm feeling lucky. In a way.

Earlier today, my ex-wife lost her step-dad. He was as close to a real dad to her and her sister as one could possibly get. She is from a very close family, so she's taking it hard, and she's so wrapped up in her mum's grief that she's probably not really had it properly sink in herself yet.
That's been terrible enough, but my kids have also lost their grandad. And it's been just awful....heartbreaking to see them trying to cope with the news.

Although we never really saw eye to eye, we got on with each other well enough to have shared the occasional evening together; several pints, a pool table and the two of us. He knows my biggest gripe with him was his drinking. Which, in time, developed into full blown alcoholism. We all thought the prognosis from his doctor would have been enough to scare the shit out of him, to show him a better way forward, to help him once and for all to see that he was slowly killing his body. It wasn't. When he was told he wouldn't survive a liver transplant operation, he knew....we all knew it was too late.
It was arranged that he spent the last of his days, weeks or months, however long, at home, with his family around him. And that's exactly how he spent his last breaths; with all of his loved ones by his bedside during his last few hours.
It's the way he wanted to die.
It's surely the way anybody would want to die.

RIP x

Are the details in the fabric? Are there things that make you panic? Are your thoughts results of static cling?

They pulled out at the last minute.
Seriously, fuck my life.

And in one little moment, it all implodes. This isn't everything you are. Breathe deeply in the silence, no sudden moves. This isn't everything you are.

Hearing at just after 9am on the day of completion that "something has slipped through the net" isn't the best kind of news.
It hasn't all fallen through. It's been delayed. By another week.
Yeah, no problem. Just unpack loads of essential day-to-day stuff, call all those companies up to reinstate services, beg with the removal company to hopefully reschedule for next week and not lose initial deposit paid, cancel the 'surprise' friends evening and hope people can still make it next week, etc etc.
Add to that, that neither of us can change the extra time off from our respective jobs, so if  it does happen next week, then it's going to be so much harder.
I should be used to shit like this.

You would call the garden rules out like commands. And we would all obey. But you'd stifle giddy laughter as you spoke. And puncture the pretend.

It feels very, very weird to think I have someone else moving in with me.
I don't feel precious about this house. My house. I'm not feeling guarded and protective about it. If anything, it's been a noose around my neck for many years now.
But I don't hate it. In fact, I love this place. It's a quiet road, I don't hear anything from the neighbours. In fact, the house adjoined to mine sold a good few months ago, and since then, there's been loads of workmen in banging, drilling, scraping, knocking and clumping around. So no connecting neighbours, which is good for the music....which is good for my soul.
It's convincingly roomy, with it's lovely loft-conversion, its open-plan ground floor and funky conservatory. The cats love it here, which is good news considering there's potentially another three joining them!
Yes, it's a great house.
And I really do feel completely comfortable thinking that there will be a time when I no longer think of it as my house. It would be our house.

I keep getting asked what happens when one of the 'house rules' gets broken.
How utter shit to think that I have any such 'house rules'.

All being well, it all kicks off tomorrow.

Will I turn my coat to the rain? I don't know. But I'm going somewhere I can warm my bones.

So, after Friday, I....I say I, but I mean me and the cats; Dexter and Dozy, will be joined by another person in the house. A real human being.

Totally scary.

After two weeks since the interview from hell, I've still heard nothing. The other guy who's also gone for the job hasn't heard anything either, nor has one other person we know got through to interviews.

Quite bizarre.

In the last four weeks, a few things have broken; the TV, my computer, the mouse a short time before that, the paper shredder, my mobile phone and the light switch in the garage. I've lost the installation disc for the wireless printer and I never installed it on this laptop, and of course I need to print stuff. Oh, and the fridge is making a peculiar sound. A sound that doesn't sound like a well working machine. It's a good job I haven't got a freezer or washing machine to konk out on me as well.

Slightly cursed at the moment.

And you should never cut your hair, 'cos I love the way you flick it off your shoulder.

It's your most defining moment.
It's where you want the initial focus. it's where you want the afterthought,
To linger.

Sweeping it away from your face.
It's where you want the very least focus, it's where you left your afterglow,
To falter.

It's obvious when you're rekindling that friendship.
With your confidence.
It's telling with your rags, your clips, your bands.
Growing your confidence.