Don't Believe in Pickles

Well a lot's happened. And I'm going to skip all of it and progress to yesterday at about 6pm.

Mum yelled at me from downstairs that Pickle might be dead. Not waiting to hear the rest I plummeted downstairs to try to save my beloved niece. I reached the landing to find that she wasn't even here (I'd only just woke up from a nap and pickle had been here when I fell asleep). Elise had just called and said that Pickle had fallen down the stairs and that her neck was twisted. Panicked we searched for the car keys so that me and mum could go and lend assistance as soon as possible. Not finding them we soon gave up and set about walking up the hill.

I tried to force myself into the reality of the situation; that a baby couldn't survive a broken neck and that my 'ickle pickle, whom I had only taken shopping that morning to buy a new sippy cup, was dead. That we'd arrive to find a mother in morning, a child crying and an infant lying still and silent.

Half way up the hill is where the pavement of the hill meets the foot path that leads almost directly to their house. We just made to climb it (while skipping parts of the winding path) when a car tooted, urgently behind us. It was Elise, Stav and the kids. Pickle was strapped into her chair and, aside from a few tears that were nearly dry, she was smiling and happy. I kissed her cheek and moved back so mum could do the same and broke down and cried.

Apparently it was not her neck that was twisted into the wrong angle but her leg. And even that seemed to be fine.

Mum and I squeezed into the back, which wasn't comfortable as we're both rather large people and I was wedged in between mum and a baby seat and Bink was on my lap. Bink cheerfully told the tale of what had happened; that his little sister had fallen down the stairs "very fast" and had cried. They didn't take us home (which, at that point, would have been less than an minute away. I assumed they were giving us a lift because of mum's walking disability). It turned out that we were heading to hospital of the next town. I'm still not exactly sure why.

I could barely look at Pickle. She was wearing a white kind of furry coat and a pink summer dress and the sun glistened in her Blond ringlets and her eyes were bluer than they normally seemed (as, for a while, they've been becoming less and less blue). She seemed absolutely perfect.

I broke down into crying again. Both Bink and Pickle found this very funny, particularly Bink (I don't know if pickle was laughing because her brother was or because of the way my face seemed to contorting itself in a way beyond my control or both).

The thing is... I couldn't believe it was real. I had become convinced they my Pickle was dead, killed by negligence.

I don't know what's real and what's not. Was she alive, as my senses told me? Or was my mind creating a situation that I could cope with so that I didn't have to live with the alternative? A hysterical mother, coupled with a bad line would be hard enough to understand and "leg" could easily sound like "neck". But this was something I'd already considered and that could be the fantasy my mind had chosen to enact for me. The people around me were talking and discussing the situation as it 'seemed' but even their words could have been my imagination. Maybe what heard bore no similarity to what was really said, maybe we all sat in silence for the entire journey.

Maybe the whole trip was a lie, maybe we arrived at Elise's house to find police and an ambulance and her little body was taken away.

When we got their Elise didn't want to wait for the elevator and took pickle down the stairs (but this, too, could have been something I made up as I discovered the other day that pickle doesn't like lifts and cries when the doors shut. Apparently she's a little claustrophobic). Stav was parking the car so it was just me, Mum and Bink going down the lift and I told mum what was going through my head).

We went to the ward for children's minor injuries. There was a room with lots of toys at which pickle was particularly excited. She ran in and out with some new, interesting toy she'd found and handed them all to me before running back in to see what else she could find.

I couldn't bear it.

I couldn't face the possibility that the illusion might be shattered at any moment and that I'd have to face a bitter reality.

I went out and lay on the car's bonnet until Stav came out to get something and then continued to lay there until everybody was ready to leave. Mum sat in the front, this time, and Elise sat in the back with me, which was slightly more comfortable. (Well, not for Elise, but I didn't really give a damn about how she felt).

Elise and Stav argued a lot on the way whom, assigning blame for the fall to oneanother; Stav shouting and her for not being attentive enough; that just letting your eyes off a child of that age for a moment (which she had; she was moving laundry from one room to another) was a moment too long. She, in turn, shouted at him for not putting up the baby gates which were strewn across their house and yard (several of which are largely used for keeping their dogs from fucking). Of course the were both right and should both have something bad happen to them. (I'd quite like to be the one to perform said badness). This made him exceedingly angry and he continued to shout and I tried to tune them out. My interest was rekindled when Elise took her turn to rebuke him by telling her about police procedures and how, if anything serious had happened, the police would take the time to question the neighbours about the family and how Stavross constantly shouts and is abusive to both her and the children. He was quieter after this, but according to mum he was still steaming in his shell for the rest of the trip.

As we re-entered the town boundaries we nearly passed their old car, one they were still trying to sell. (A horrible little convertible). It was on a grassy corner on the drive-way to an industrial estate where I'm quite certain parking isn't allowed. Stavross pulled up here and got out, took Bink off my lap and went to the other car.

Elise took Pickle with her, deciding that she was taking her to a larger hospital for further checks as there have been so many cases of unnoticed child injuries in the press, this last couple of years ('Baby P' being the only example they could name, who had a broken spine that the doctors they took him to completely missed, somehow).

I wanted to be alone, so (after taking some painkillers for a headache brought on by travel sickness) I slipped unnoticed into a spare bedroom (one with no available beds, as it's recently become little more than mum's wardrobe, as she has an addiction to eBay she can't contain) where I lay on the floor between clothing wracks.

I lay there for an hour or 2 before anybody found me. Mum turned the light on and asked if I was ok and I told her I wanted to be alone, so she turned it off again and left.

At some point I fell asleep. I don't know what time it was. The painkillers must have knocked me out (the only ones I could find were memtid, which are something of an 'Overkill' for a travel sickness headache) because it was still quite early for me as I'd had a nap in the early afternoon and I was very uncomfortable.

I woke up with some parts of my body in cramp and others were numb. It was about 11.30. Mum and Jeff were already downstairs. Apparently I had a dinner in the oven. It was chips and a burger. Everything was still very unreal to me. I don't know what time Elise arrived but I hadn't quite finished eating at the time. Mum took the baby to bed and I took some milk up, after.

I still didn't want to face Pickle this morning. I realised why, later.

This morning, after feeding her and either before or after I bathed her, she was playing with a pot of sudocrem (cream for babies' bottoms) which I took off her, causing her to bump the back of her head on the table. And she cried, and cried hard and I couldn't bring myself to comfort her.

She got up and cried on her feet and asked to be picked up and leaned on the front of the sofa when I didn't and rubbed her tears away with little fists and came back to me and hugged my legs. I wanted to pick her up and give her all the love she wanted until the pain went away but I knew that if I did and the illusion shattered I'd fall twice as hard and might be irreparably broken when I landed. When I still couldn't pick her up she went to the sofa again and repeated and came back and hugged my legs. It was heart breaking.

I did pick her up this time but I couldn't hug her, which she clearly didn't understand. I took her up to her grandmother. I would have asked her to give pickle the love she needed but she'd stop crying. Apparently, after that long, just being held was enough, even if it wasn't particularly affectionate. I tried to explain to mum what my problem was but I couldn't. It's been very hard to explain to anybody.

I even went to the doctor to try and get referred to a therapist.

He said it was most likely brought on by stress and prescribed me something mild to take the edge off for a few days and said that if I still had the same problem after then that I should come back and he'd make the referral. (Actually I'm not sure if he said he'd definitely make the referral, but he did say that I should come back if the problem persisted).

We went shopping then. What was promised to be 'just a few things for dinner tonight' turned into things for dinner tomorrow, things for dinner tomorrow and things to be eaten over the course of the week. I had prevented mum from getting the deepest size of trolley and was forced to regret that with the amount of things she got.

On the way home we 'called in' to 'check' on pickle, who was promptly strapped into the baby seat. I still couldn't face her. I walked home.

That pretty much brings me up to speed. I've been home for hours but I get distracted easily while writing these things.

Prizes Withdrawn

I slept quite well although I was woken earlier than I would have liked in order to get Charles out of bed. In doing so I woke Dave up. (I'm not a morning person). He decided to wake Chug instead, so I went back to bed.

Tony has fallen out with us. He's refusing to come out and Mum and Jeff reckon it might be for good this time. (Yeah; right...)

Tony has said he'll babysit at Elise's place but Elise isn't willing to have him there. I understand where she's coming from, after all; I'm not willing to have him here. I would babysit myself but when I heard that tony was OK doing there I assumed that mum had already spoken with Elise and that she was OK with first. It's not OK for her to go sticking her nose where it doesn't belong, especially if that means inviting to Tony to watch Elise's children at a house that's not hers.

I've put my foot down. There is absolutely no reason why she can't have tony there. Well, there's the Stavros thing. (A few weeks ago he and the bitch had some kind of argument, she came here and he followed some time after to get his son. He was screaming his head off and the babies were scared so Tony held Dylan back where the scouse prick couldn't get him and he went screaming up the hill, still perfectly audible from here, shouting some pretty horrible things. Something similar happened a few days ago, only this time in the middle of the day and there were more people about at whom he could scream directly. I wish the retarded fucker would just go back to Liverpool so we can bomb the place). Stavros doesn't like Tony. Nobody likes either Stavros or Tony but Stav has, in the past, said he doesn't mind if Tony is there to babysit his children. And I'd quite like to see the results of that, to be frank.

So she might have a good reason, I just don't happen to think it's good enough. It seems that mum fails to see Elise's biggest problem with a scenario that involves having Tony at her place; it means that she'll have both children there and the self centered bitch can't handle that.

Mum has agreed to have Pickle for the day (which means that pickle is asleep in mum's bed and I'll have to take over the moment she wakes up).

Apathy in the UK

I guess this will be a short post.

I've been increasingly apathetic, of late. I couldn't tell you exactly why.

The weekend before last Mum and Chug were sick with something. I don't know if it was a flu or what. Last weekend Mum was looking better and Chuggle had recovered buy I was sick. (I think it's some kind of defense mechanism; a part of the mother figure wont allow themselves to become sick when there is nobody else to take care of the family. And I look at myself as my family's primary care giver so that makes me a mother figure. So my body either goes into some kind of 'mind-over-matter' thing or it just refuses to succumb to any symptoms for as long as it can).

It was certainly flu like, in aspects; nausea, headaches, random fevers and sudden violent fits of shivering (even though I wasn't cold). I didn't cough or sneeze, though. There were certain other problems that I don't want to speak about through this medium that have continued. Mum thinks it's Crohn's disease.

Since then I've been left with the aforementioned apathy. I'm amazed I even managed to muster the effort to write this. It's a struggle to bring myself to do the things I need to do or try to entertain myself. I just sit or lie there. Even if I do get the energy to entertain myself I find there's nothing I particularly want to do. Nothing that anybody says bothers me. Nothing interests me. I don't care about anything.

Dave has developed a fondness for the TV show 'Lost'. It's the kind of show I might have been interested in at one time or another, or it has all the aspects of one; conspiracy/mystery, science fantasy elements. But I'm not interested in it. I think we've been watching it since before I fell sick but I don't think I was getting into it at the time. I wouldn't have even watched as much as we have (too damn much) if he wasn't so into it. I remember thinking most of the way through the first season that I'd probably get into it soon enough. Then I got sick and I never did get into it. I don't know whether or not being sick has anything to do with my indifference to the show. I never got into it but I am pretty tired of it. It's all he wants to watch.

Elise went to Liverpool without telling anybody, today. She didn't come home for her daughter until slightly before midnight. Her phone's battery died at some point and she didn't try looking for a pay phone or getting somebody else to contact us or anything.

I'm sick of the girl. But I've said this often enough.

There's not much else to say.

Stupid Scouse Dealer

Nothing out of the ordinary at all happened to me today, other than getting up early to make sure Chug had his ritalin while Jeff went to work and staying up to look after the baby.

While nothing was happening to me, though, Elise was having a very interesting day. "Interesting", in this context, being somewhat similar to the Chinese curse "May you always live in interesting times".

Her house was raided by the police. They searched everywhere and Dylan was very excited, so I'm told; he even asked them to search him and his little bike and they complied. (They found on him a pound, which was probably his reward for just being so adorable).

Stav was taken down to the nick. Elise was worrying her head off. I think she might have been glad to be rid of him (or so I'd hope) but probably unhappy about the prospect of any repercussions. She came here, at least for a while, with young Bink. Actually I didn't know any of this before she arrived; when Bink walked into my room looking for chocolates (I've been going through it lately) I was surprised to see him. I took him down stairs with the promise that I'd take him out to get chocolate (or "lock-lock", as he calls it). He picked out a box of Cadbury Fingers and also wanted a foam sword that was similar to one he already owned and, I suspect, long since thrown away because he used it to chew when he was teething whenever we weren't looking. (It was cheap enough so I figured; what the hell). Tony didn't seem to think I should have done, but Tony complains about absolutely everything.

Apparently all the police found was one rather tiny little spliff and an amount of hash that could only be measured with the most sensitive of scales (not something that one would find in a kitchen). He was released without charge or caution. He found the whole thing hilarious, which annoyed everybody else as Elise was sick with worry and Mum and Tony, while probably not concerned as to what happened to Stav, were sick with worry regarding Elise and their children.

I reasoned that, having gone to the trouble of raiding a house that the police just couldn't see the point of charging, or even cautioning Stavross for possession of such minuscule amounts when they could just put the whole thing down to misinformation. It was suggested that Stav had probably grassed on somebody, which seems far more plausible.

Melodrama

So it's nearly a week since I've updated this thing. It's not that nothing of interest has happened so much as the fact that by the time I get to the computer I just can't be bothered to type it up or I've forgotten most of the details of that day.

About 2 days after Chug's birthday he received a text which, since he wasn't around, I read. (I didn't think it would be anything more interesting than an alert to say that he had a missed call).

I was wrong; it was a very melodramatic message from Laura, saying that she was worried about where their relationship was going, how disinterested he seemed the last time she was at our place (apparently she felt the impression that he wanted her to leave), how she felt their relationship was worth fighting for and that she loved him. (I realised early on in the message that it wasn't something that I should be reading but I couldn't look away. It's like seeing a disaster; no matter how horrifying it is you can't tear your eyes away). I felt like screaming at her "You're 12, for fucks sake, you have no idea what love is!" (and even if she did know, what she and Chug feel for oneanother doesn't nearly resemble love). It also mentioned something about how he didn't text her as much as he used to, which seemed especially odd as he'd only had a phone for a few days.

Reading this I felt a brotherly responsibility to try and advise or educate Chuggle. Chug, however, was annoyed that I had read his text message and was certain that he didn't need my help, evidenced by a pretty volatile reaction to my very presence. I think he may have even attempted violence.

When it became clear that I wasn't going to be able to help by discussing things with him I thought I would turn to Laura, thought I had no other means of talking with her other than leaving a message on her facebook, saying that if she wanted advice regarding Chuggle she should feel free to call me.

When she said she didn't have an credit I agreed to meet her at club on the following day and we could discuss matters there. I hadn't actually been planning to go but I saw no reason why I couldn't just stop by for a few minutes and then pop home.

As I was getting read to go to Club, the next day, I got a call from Steve, our church branch president. He was calling to remind me that I'd agreed to go home teaching that night and to see if I was still up for it. I told him that I was indeed still willing to participate. I didn't mind; I didn't really fancy club to begin with so I could simply pop to Ego and have a quick natter with Laura with anything that was on her mind.

I took Chug (for some reason I had to take the baby with me in her push chair), got some money from the cash point for mum and asked Laura if she still wanted to talk. Apparently she didn't, it was either all sorted or she felt too self conscious as we couldn't really find a private spot while I had the baby to attend to in her pram.

I returned home. I have no idea what I did to pass the time before Steve came to take me along. First we went to see the Hughes. I could hardly breathe for the smoke. I mostly said nothing as Glynn and I don't really get along too well. Not that there's any animosity between us, we just don't clique on any level. Well, I clique with hardly anybody, but Glynn's one of those few people with whom I have so little to say that the silences and forced conversation is awkward to the point of discomfort. At some point the conversation turned to dogs. I was asked if I liked dogs and I said 'no', informing them that if I was given a dog I'd give it back in a jar. They asked about 'that big dog' i used to have, and I told them he was now in a jar. I later realised that none of them really got the joke, that the jars in question were urns in which one puts a cremated... well, in this case; a cremated dog, even though they'd all laughed. Maybe it was just the idea of putting a fully grown dog into a jar, the latter of which tend to be quite small.

While there I got a strong impression that I was supposed to ask the Hughes' to pray more. I didn't ask them, feeling that Glynn would turn his nose up at me (as he has done in the past), however Steve had apparently had the same impulse and I was highly surprised when he asked them to pray instead of me, without a word on the subject mentioned from me.

Next we went to see James Blondel (I don't know if that's the correct spelling of his surname) and had a nice long chat with him. He seemed in good enough spirits, but he's still rather down that he can't find a job, and it seems pretty unlikely that he might find one soon, given the economic situation. I think this is especially depressing as he's engaged to a young lady who is about to join the American air force.

We didn't get time to see the other people we were assigned to visit as it was after 9 before we left James' place.

---

I was going to add some of the highlights of events that happened in the rest of the time between then and now but most of it is the melodramatic love life of Chug and Laura. I don't think I'll actually go into any details as I was planning to. It's not that I'm trying to respect their privacy (which I would if they asked me to) but rather that I don't want to paint a picture of Chug being a worse person than he actually is.

It's now wednesday the 4th.

And that's all I can think of to say.

Chug Turns 13

---I started writing this just after midnight (which is why I specified 'today' and 'yesterday' a few times) but decided to leave it until after I'd had some sleep until I finished.---

Yesterday (Monday) Laura came to visit. I don't remember how the topic came up but she wanted Chug to start a facebook account which meant I had to start him a facebook account. This also meant I had to create a new email address since his last email account went inactive. I set him up a gmail account instead of yahoo as it's not as hard to get a decent username on on gmail.

Today (tuesday) I thought that I might as well add him to my Facebook. It turned out that he wasn't on there as I thought he was. The only explanation I could think of for this was that he'd neglected to read the confirmation email in the account I set up for him and didn't follow the link to complete the registration process.

This was after Tony had arrive to take care of Pickle, ofc. Elise had decided to bring her down later than normal, which meant I got a little more sleep. Still, I wasn't happy that Tony was coming. (Fortunately he didn't complain too much today. However, when he finally did complain it as particularly bitchy. I'll get to this later).

So while I was on there I thought I might as well make people aware that it was his birthday today so I announced it on my 'Wall' and also on Zoe's wall, suggesting that she might like to contact him. Well, thinking about it I don't think I did say it was his birthday, just that she should get in touch with him today. But the first thing you see after you log on is a news feed with highlights of what your friends have done on facebook, which should display my announcement that it is, indeed, his birthday. (Nobody replied to this comment or the one I left on Zoe's wall. But I have no reason to feel bad and Chug won't feel bad about it as long as I don't tell him. But then I don't think it would matter too much if I did as he's not the most sensitive of young men).

So, having read my morning webcomics, checked the news and my emails; Dave was ready to watch some Dragonball. I don't remember how many we watched, probably 3 or 4 episodes, 5 at a stretch (they're less than 20 minutes each). Then he took a break for a fag and I agreed to wait for him, but then I realised that it was nearly time for Chug to come home and that I should probably get him something before he arrived if I was to get him anything at all.

I went to Ego and browsed everything they had... I asked Andy his opinion, but everything he could recommend was either already in Chug's possession or they were unsuitable. He did make one good recommendation, though, but sadly it was a game that hasn't been released yet (it should be there within the next few days, apparently); Halo Wars (an RTS based on the Halo games for the xBox 360). I didn't get him this as I wanted to get him something on the day itself; I'm tired of giving belated gifts.

Eventually, seeing nothing else I could see fit to get for him, I got him a wireless internet thing for his xbox.

I picked myself up a couple of lindt chocolate bunnies on the way home, as I have fancied one for days now.

I got home, gave Chug his birthday pressy and watched more dragonball with Dave having given him a large portion of one of the bunnies' heads.

At around 7ish I started dinner; steak and chips but before that I was standing idly around the kitchen, unable to use the facilities as mum was making pancake batter (it was pancake day, today! :D). (In spite of the huge amount of space in our kitchen most of it seemed to be in use). Laura was there by this point but I have no idea when she arrived specifically.

I went to check on them once or twice as mum made the batter. One time, presumably the first time, they were tucked up under a blanket, facing each other on Chug's bunk and seemed very startled on my arrival. So I did what any older brother would do at a time like this; teased them silly. Well, I didn't tease them that badly but I did inform them that I would be back up in a few minutes to make sure they weren't "up to anything". Sure enough; the next time I went up there Chuggle was trying to set up my present to get onto xbox live.

When I came down mum had more or less finished her batter and I started frying the steaks and the next thing I knew Tony had came down from upstairs and was ranting and raving about Chug and Laura being alone in bed together. (This was less than 2 minutes after I'd been up there). He would not shut up about it for ages. I know it's wrong to let 2 people of that age alone in bed together and I certainly wasn't going to let long pass before I went up there again myself to make sure they hadn't resumed their make out session (at least not in bed as they had been). As far as I could tell chuggle and Laura were still trying to set up xbox live.

He eventually settled down but it did seem as if he wouldn't ever shut up about it at one point.

Chuggle was still setting it up as I cooked but was getting nowhere. He constantly pestered until I went to help, which meant leaving the steak unattended which meant constantly turning off the pans so they didn't burn if I was longer than expected every time I went up there. The meal took ages longer than I had intended.

I finished cooking at about 7:50, at which point I remember Tony wouldn't eat chips out of our deep fryer. I asked him if he minded having just steak and salad and he seemed fine with it so I offered to watch the baby while he put a plate together and had it. As soon as he got up he went to the next room to rant to mum about the fact that all he had to eat was chips and salad. (I'll note, here, that when I use the word 'rant' when referring to somebody's actions in real life I generally mean when somebody shouts or moans loudly without stopping to listen to anything that anybody else has to say or at least trying not to listen). When I managed to get him to accept the fact that I had already asked him if 'just steak and salad' was fine with him he started bitching about the fact that it was now after 8 and that we were supposed to be at Elise's by that point for the pancakes and birthday cake. He seemed so close to exploding completely that he had to go outside for a smoke. While he did that mum called Elise to find out if it was OK that we were running late. Apparently Elise hadn't even realised we were late and said it was fine. She even called Laura's dad to make sure it was ok if she was late home, and he was fine with that.

Mum had a random rant at Stavros while we were there but I don't think I'll go into details on this.

After the "festivities" (which weren't bad, all in all, I spent most of the time there playing with Dylans toys on the carpet with him, Chug and Georgia. Dylan gets extremely excited when we come to visit at their place; he spends so much time at our place and we spend so little at theirs that when we come to visit him the role reversal is a complete novelty. You can't help but smile) Mum took Laura home and took Chug in the car with her to see her to her house (we also have him see her to the door as often as we can get him to. Personally I'd have him walk her home but mum's refused to let him leave the house on his own all his life to the point where he just refuses to do so out of fear. I also believe that to be the source of his so-called agoraphobia).

As mum left Elise and Stavross popped to the corner shop (I assume it was the corner shop, as it's the only one near their house and it was nearly 10pm, so I doubt anything else would have been open) purely because of the novelty of being able to step out together with both children in the house, what with me and Tony being there.

As soon as Elise got back Tony told her all about Chuggle and Laura being left alone together. This particularly annoyed me because it's simply not his business. I know we've always called him 'Uncle Tony' (to his face. The only time we refer to him as such is to the babies) but he isn't an uncle or any kind of relative to either Chuggle or Tony. We wouldn't have told Elise unless it seemed appropriate as we'd already dealt with it and Elise would only go ballistic and shout at Chuggle needlessly. It seemed to me that he was waiting to tell Elise this specifically when mum wasn't there.

It took me half an hour to find my coat. (That's an estimated figure, it did take me a long time, though). I looked absolutely everywhere, until the point when Elise started insisting that I mustn't have brought it as I thought I had, however I was quite certain that I did (most of the time I have a pretty cloudy memory, at best, but regarding this, that night, I had a pretty specific mnemonic; Laura keeps staring at me. And I noticed at an early that it is the instinctual reaction for somebody to look back, eventually, when somebody is staring at them. I say 'instinctual' because it often applies when people don't realise they're being watched, they simply become aware of it. I caught Laura staring when I put my coat as I was getting ready to set off, I caught her several other times over the night including when I began to feel a little too warm wearing the thing, so I took it off).

I even went to the car to see if mum had taken it with her. (Not that I could really think of a reason why she might have) and she kept telling me to go back and look in the house. Evidently Elise was pretty annoyed with me, after a while and practically pushed me out of the house, assuring me that she would bring it over in the morning if she found it (though she had adopted a tone that suggested she sincerely didn't believe I had brought the damn thing with me sometime previously and used it even as she said that). It wasn't that I was worried that she'd steal it or search through my pockets, it was more the fact that whenever I Lent her something she and Stavross would promise to bring it back for months and it would never materialise. (My copy of 'the Simpsons Movie', for example, took over a year and I only got that back when mum went and got it. I had gone up there a number of times, reminding myself in advance to pick it up while I was there but, as I mentioned above, my memory is extremely cloudy and I would tend to forget over the course of my visit). I just didn't want to have to go without a coat when I might need one with constant promises of its return that would go unfulfilled.

She gave Tony a lift home on the way back. After he got out I told her how he had told Elise on Chug and Laura while she was still giving them a lift and how deliberate it seemed. I am very aware of how hypocritical it seems to tell her about how he was talking behind her back when I was talking about him behind his back. I feel justified, though, because I wasn't about to start an argument with Tony deliberately.

I know this entry hasn't had much about Chug's birthday but a journal is simply a log of events from the author's perspective and this is how the day went from mine. A little more happened after we got home, for example; Jeff asked if Tony had acted up in any before he got home and mum recapped the events, inspite of my hints warning her not to, causing him to go off and stress (scratch the back of his head) and I explained things in more detail which was a foolish move, on my part. Nothing other than that is really worth writing about.

Well, I did mention that I thought it would be a good idea if Tony didn't come up for a few days. This advice was clearly forgotten as he came up and took Pickle while she was asleep on my bed as I was typing this blog.

Curry Night

So... It's Sunday now. Nothing interesting has really happened yet so I'll start at Thursday night/Friday. But I'll be brief about that day.

Thursday, 8pm; I fall asleep, fully dressed.
Friday, 00:00; I wake up, just as dressed and have pulled my bed sheets over me in my sleep, as I do. I was hot, sticky and uncomfortable. And, having slept for 4 hours I didn't fancy my chances of nodding off again. Failing to get off I go online and do... Fuck all for a while. María was actually online for a few minutes but the amount of chat between us wasn't even enough to be classed as 'small talk'.
02:30; Nothing else to do I go back to bed. I lay there for hours before I fell asleep.
08:00; Elise arrives to dump one or more children on me. I'm so tired I can't actually process how many I have.
12:00; Tony arrives. I go back to bed.
5 something; I'm woken up because we're going to some church thing. I'm annoyed that I wasn't really given enough time to shower but I do so anyway, since everybody else who was going to has apparently already done so. (That doesn't count Chug. He bathes for no man).
19:30; We set off at the time the social event was set to begin. This has essentially become a standard household practise. If it isn't Tony holding us up it's Chug, which was the case that night. And it's mental because he went dressed in whatever he was wearing when he woke up; all he had done was added shoes and socks.

I had already been told that it was a 'curry night' but I decided to go anyway; curry is something that the British are incapable of screwing up, it's as if it's ingrained in our genes. Obviously it isn't because it's not a British thing; we've only actually had it for 1 or 2 hundred years. And I don't think it was amazingly popular until sometime quite recently.

When I realised that it was Glynn Hughes who was cooking I was somewhat disheartened as this is a man who has gone to great lengths to avoid providing food for any church events, even when all he's been asked to do was sandwiches. I do recall him having words with some of the relief society when they'd asked him to do so and he'd said that he'd happily 'provide the drinks' (as he often did, as it required no more effort than buying a few bottles of the cheapest pop or squash that he could get his hands on) .

We arrived to find everybody was playing DVD Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. The hall was divided into 3 teams, as the game is apparently set up for a multi-player mode of play. (Apparently not as many players as we had in attendance, therefore my team answered questions for 'player 1', the next for 'player 2', and so forth). All teams lost at £1000. Chug refused to participate in the game completely.

I went and offered to help Glynn with the cooking but he refused point blank. I tasted some and suggested he should add some spices but he said that 'not everybody likes it spicy'. I tried to explain that I didn't mean peppers or anything that would make it hot but Glynn just kept saying 'some people don't like it spicy', refusing to understand the difference between spices (such as cinnamon or musala) and peppers (chili peppers, etc). Looking I might have come across as a little condescending but I had no way to tell and no way of finding out retrospectively. I'd call and ask but I'm afraid I might be stirring a hornet's nest of some kind as trying to understand humans is something best left to other people.

I seem to recall that we had some mexican themed lunch after church one time and mum made a enchiladas (ie; I made enchiladas) and a mild chili. Glynn refused to try either of these on the grounds that he didn't eat hot foods. However they were both extremely mild and I can't see how he could qualify them as hot without trying them for himself. Everybody assured him it was mild.

Chuggle refused to participe in this, too; not only would he not have any of the food (which I admit that I completely understand) but he wouldn't even sit at the table with everybody else; he sat on a lone chair facing away from everybody. After a while Steve went and sat next to him for a chat. He must have ammused the boy in some way or other but it didn't seem to improve his attitude on the whole because he was back to his gloomy self as soon as Steve went to attend to other things.

Ultimately the food was edible though rather bland.

I spent most of the night talking to Lauren Thorley. I had previously assumed that her real name was 'Eden Ivy Lee', and that she had adopted 'Lauren' as a pseudonym because doesn't stand out so much, however she clarified that she'd changed it to Eden by deed poll some years ago. She seemed to be in good spirits, hard as it is for me to tell with people, though I think something might have been on her mind. She never seemed too cheerful when I first joined the church so I don't have much to compare her mood of that night. She thought I seemed miserable.

At one point she asked me what I had planned for the weekend and I honestly did not know what to day. I consider myself an introvert (though my friends and family find this hilarious) because I don't go out or socialise in general. My answer was "I don't know. Get screwed over by my sister and probably watch some cartoons" or something very similar. She smiled and said "You mean get stuck babysitting?". I was tempted to make a joke about incest but I decided not to bother. (I'd told the one about the 2 Jewish assassins who were hired to take out Hitler, earlier, and it had gone down badly).

(In the event that I have any new readers I would just like to clarify that I have never engaged in incestual relations. I hope that nobody took any implication that I might, but I have this dry sense of humour that some people tend to take seriously).

Her daughter, Hally, has grown as an almost surprising rate, but then I do tend to forget how much time tends to pass between the instances I see her mother and it's rarer still to see her. She must be 6 or 7 now. I meant to ask and I have no idea why I didn't do so.

I got home about 9:30 or so and eventually went to sleep at around midnight which I wasn't expecting given the amount of sleep I had already had that day.

If anything particularly interesting happened the following day I can't remember it.

Agoraphobia

I'm a little agoraphobic. I've been sure of this for several years until recently when I decided to look up the condition properly when I found it was more of a fear of the unknown.

Today I realised that Chuggle hadn't left the house in more than 4 days; since I took him and his girlfriend to the movies. And I took it upon myself to do something about it. All I wanted to do was take him for a walk through town (or anywhere he wanted to go instead) and back again. Even Mum was on my side on this one, in spite of her horrendous tendency to molly-coddle him.

Chug, however, refused point blank.

First he wouldn't get our of bed (He'd been in bed all day watching Dragonball Z, which is pretty much what he's been doing with Laura almost every day this week) and even when he did it was only to storm off and complain to Mum, whom I imagined would come down on his side.

We clashed again and he took one of Mum's walking sticks and threatened to hit me with it, so I snatched off him and waved it over him menacingly, before throwing it somewhere else. (He told me to 'go ahead and hit him with it, as if I actually would, and that he'd call the police. I told him that it was fine if he called the police because any foster family that took him in would also insist he left the house once in a while for fresh air and exercise). I told him he had 5 minutes to get his socks and shoes on while I left the room, time which I used to make Mum and myself each a cup of rooibos tea and I had a slice of cheese and ham on toast.

When I got back he hadn't moved except to cover himself in a blanket (warm as the house was at the time) and I was getting pissed off.

I decided he was playing a waiting game to see how long until I got bored and went about my own business so I explained to him that I had absolutely nothing to do with my time and that I would wait there as long as it takes.

He'd complain that I wasn't being fair, but mum and I were agreed that it was perfectly reasonable to have him leave the house for a least a 10 minute walk every 4 days. He'd whine in some mock tone that was meant to suggest he was being treated beyond reason things like 'why are you doing this to me', to which we would reply that it was for his own good.

At some point Mum tried to explain that he'd been diagnosed as "slightly" agoraphobic and I said I'd looked into that and it didn't quite mean what she thought it meant. She looked it up on her lap top which technically proved me right, but it still seemed to apply to him; a list of symptoms is here. (Clinically it actually means a fear of having a panic attack, rather than a few of unfamiliarity/leaving safe places, as a thought, but from what it says on that sight I wasn't far off. I've never heard of Chug having a panic attack, though). Avoiding the issue as to whether or not he's ever had a panic attack I pointed out that I was slightly agoraphobic (which I've long held as true and relatives have often suggested I might be) and that Chug was a ridiculous case.

I asked him if he was afraid of crowds. After a short silence he said 'No'. I asked him if he was afraid of public transportation and, after another short silence, he said 'Yes'. I pointed out that he showed no hesitation using the train or bus last weekend do which he exclaimed "That was different!". It was almost amusing, but I was too annoyed to laugh. Mum assumed this difference was because he wanted to 'look brave' in front of Laura... "It wasn't just that!" "Ok," said Mum "You were there to keep him safe." "No!".

So I just continued to sit there. Eventually Mum said just go and find him some shoes, socks and a jumper, which I did thinking that I might even have to resort to putting them on him myself. I don't know what Mum said to her, if anything (Chug said that hadn't she said anything), but as I went to go back downstairs he came Chug came up to put his stuff on to go out. (I meant to question her about this, because anything she might have said I would probably need to remember but I never got around to it).

From the time I managed to get him out his room to the time I went to get his shoes and things it was more than 50 minutes. It was probably well over an hour if you include the time it took to get him to get out of his bed.

I don't know what I did, if anything, before it was time to cook.

I'd marinaded some chicken with some sauces mum had got from Nando's a while back (before I ever took chug there). Well, she didn't actually buy them 'from' nando's it was just their brand of marinade sauces. (I think they were actually purchased in Sainsbury's).

Worried that the chicken I had chopped, yesterday and sauces in the bottles wouldn't make enough to feed everybody, so I added a little port to one of them before putting the container in the fridge and added some lemon juice to the other. If I use them again I don't think I'll add any port to the 'sweet and sticky' one, I'll leave it as it comes.

Worried that the port, and whatever else I may have added, may have detracted from the sweetness I added some golden syrup before putting it into the oven.

I added some sour cream to the other batch, which I was frying, which was also a mistake but I was able to rectify it with some salt, sugar and lemon juice.

Both batches of chicken were generally well received but I'll serve them as it comes if I ever try them again.

The next time I marinade something I probably won't be using a store bought marinade.

Chaperon

(I should have typed this up half a week ago, since I mentioned it several times in advance of the event, but when I haven't been busy I've either been tired or just plain lazy).

I suppose a chaperoned date doesn't feel like too much of a date at all. I wouldn't know since I was the chaperon, in this case, and I've never had a chaperon. They spent most of them time not talking to eachother; mostly because Chug is naturally aloof to... Well, just about everyone. The journey out of town he spent most of his time staring out of the window and I, wanting to give them the illusion of privacy, stuck my nose in my book.

(I must say that the first part of the Earthsea series has not been nearly as interesting as I hoped it would. I think LaGuin managed to recreate Tolkien's problem in precisely the opposite way; he writes pages and pages of detail that cover just a few hours, she writes pages and pages of detail covering several years and neither of them seem to have enough story within those pages and I get bored. Towards the end I was really forcing myself to continue, mostly because I have a Neil Gaiman book waiting for me when I'm done but I've reached the second book in the volume and I haven't found the will to read any of it since I finished the first one on the train, that day).

We then hopped on the next bus from the bus station after going to some trouble to find out which one it was. (Apparently it was from 'Stand E'. Again. It's always there, but since it's only once every year or so that I take the buses in Shrewsbury, which are the only times I ever ride on buses at all, I live in constant fear that they will have changed the routes and if I get on 'E' it will take me to completely the wrong place) I learned the value of getting a return ticket the hard way, which I will explain later. (I don't know why I never bother with them for trains, they're completely sensible).

They had already decided on 'The Pink Panther 2' (Steve Martin) the night before. I had been promising myself that I would attend a different film to them but there was nothing that started at the same time that had a similar run time; meaning there was nothing I could watch separately without leaving the 2 12-year-olds unaccompanied. (There was nothing I wanted to see, anyway. There was only one film that looked remotely interesting that turned out to be by Woody Allen. A quick check of the weather indicated that hell was, indeed, still in the middle of a heatwave so Woody Allen was still out of the question). So I got a ticket for the same movie.

The show time was at 4pm which gave us over 2 hours to kill, so I got them each some Ben + Jerry's Ice cream and gave them a £5 note to go on the arcade (I say 'arcade' but a 3m x 5m corner with 1 game, 1 lucky dip and a "who wants to be a millionaire" machine does not an arcade make by any standards), though I would have given them £10 but the cash machines had been shut down and the £5 was all I had to give them. After that we still had time to kill so I took them to dinner at Nandos, which made quite an impression on both of them. Chug displayed an uncharacteristic amount of machismo by ordering his chicken "extra hot" and putting their special "extra extra hot sauce" on everything and daring me to do the same after mocking me for my feeble (he didn't actually use that word but I doubt he actually knows what it means) choice of Lime and Mango chicken which, according to the menu he had studied (though not much further than the 4 grades of spice on the chicken) was the least spicy of the chicken they did.

I had to explain to him that, once you're particularly used to hot foods, you find that various chili peppers and chili powders don't actually change your food's flavour, much, it only makes it hotter and that my choice of lime and mango was made purely on the grounds that it seemed like it was one of the most flavourful. (Alternatively there was 'Lemon and Herb', however seem to have a lot of chicken marinaded in herbs while lime with mango was something I hadn't tried, though I have had them as marinades separately on other occasions, usually with various mixed herbs).

The kids sat themselves down before I could suggest that they sit opposite each other, as etiquette dictates, though I didn't feel the need to correct them since sitting adjacently on a round table can be more intimate and, since it was only a table for 4 and it was a round table I would have been between then, which would have detracted from that intimacy.

They were both suitably impressed by the place, Chug even complained that nobody had ever taken him there before (we explained this was because he had always refused to go before, favouring the allure of Pizza Hut, on the other side of the town). The place was more 'up-scale' than anything either of them were used to (hell, it was nicer that some of the places I've eaten and I've attended some pretty swanky venues, and it certainly had the most posh rest room I'd ever seen; it even contended with those that had attendants). I wasn't expecting a franchised restaurant of that type to look classy; I was expecting something with the atmosphere of a more generic fast food place. The only problem was that the music was so loud we practically had to shout to hear oneanother. (We even considered writing something to this affect on the feedback form that came with the menus, but when you have a lot of family in various areas of the catering business you learn what happens when you give the people who serve your food any form of criticism. I decided to comment online, nice and anonymously).

The film had some funny moments. The plot wasn't great but, then, it was a sequel which is something generally to be avoided with this type of film. It was funny enough to make me consider seeing the original (and by 'Original' I mean the first of the 2 Steve Martin PP films, not the original Peter Sellers version which I have seen many times and never laughed at once), as there's the likelihood that this was just another case of a movie company trying to make a quick profit following up on an unexpected cash cow.

When the bus back to the station arrived I realised that it I had no money to pay for the tickets and asked the driver (knowing that the odds were slim to none) if he accepted cards. This is why I should have got return tickets, as it would have been easier than paying for a return journey. I don't know why I don't bother getting them on buses when I always get them for trains. I will make a point of doing so in the future. He said they didn't so I said I'd just go to a cash point and wait for the next bus, but he said he'd lets us pass this time. There was only one other passenger on the bus and when she got off he asked me 'if that trick works often' and I explained that I hadn't intended for it to happen at all, that I merely hadn't been thinking ahead (but most of what I do is spontaneous or with reluctance and therefore I seldom plan ahead).

When we got to the station there was over an hour to wait until our train arrived (trains between my town and Shrewsbury arrive every 2 hours, so it was just a case of bad timing that we arrived half way between 2 trains) and so we waited on a bench on the cold platform.

While Chug had been very aloof with Laura on the way out there seemed to be something sweet between them, in a shy sort of way, and he did actually make eye contact and there were lots of embarrassed smiles between them. (I actually did catch a glance at them doing something which they swore me to secrecy about. Nothing bad, it was actually pretty innocent, but being 12 years old they're shy and easily embarrassed (especially since I'm always the first person to tease them on their 'puppy love'). I said nothing about it on the way home and I've been bursting to tell somebody IRL ("In Real Life"), such as Dimebar or Mum or Elise (or even somebody online). But if there's one thing I'm good at it's keeping secrets (or at least I am when I know it's a secret, if somebody fails to ask me to keep something on the down-low then I don't see how I can be held responsible for what I share with others. Or maybe that's just the aspergers in me...) I would write it in my journal, as that's always a suitable place to keep secrets (and I do write plenty of stuff that could be construed as confidential to others who didn't tell me it might be) however, having said I wouldn't tell I don't think it would be right for me to do so knowing that I'm going to publish my journal online, essentially telling the world (or at least the world who wants to know. So far I think that's one person).

She came to visit on both the following days and is here now as I type this (when last I passed chug's room she was on his WoW account while he was playing some xBox game she got him).

Yesterday I awoke with a nasty tummy ache and found myself doing squats to relieve it, assuming it was a blockage. Sure enough I felt whatever it was moving through my system quite rapidly over the next few hours. I made sure I had plenty more fiber yesterday, to try to make sure it didn't happen again, though it did.

I had Bink last night and he woke up crying to I took him down for some milk. I fixed him a bottle, put the fire on and we curled up watching the baby channels under a blanket and both fell asleep. (Which was a bugger, because 30 minutes before I next woke up we had a delivery, but as there was nobody there to receive it (the delivery guy didn't knock very loud and didn't even bother ringing the bell) he left a note telling me where to get it). I went to pick it up at 10am only to be told to come back at 1pm (it's 12.43 right now). I don't really know what I did before typing this, I did spend a while looking for torrent files (the latest episode of Kyle XY would have been broadcast in the U.S, however the only rips I could find were all over 1GB, so I'll wait for a smaller file. I know it might actually be quicker to download it at 1GB but disk space has really become an issue, lately).

When Bink woke up again (thus waking me also) I had another stomach ache, though not nearly as bad, so I did some squats and encouraged Bink to do the same for the sheer hell of it. (He seemed to think I'd gone mad).

And now the big question; do I, a guy who must have every moment of his time filled with something, even if it isn't very exciting, to occupy his mind, kill the next 10 minutes or so by dossing about? Or do I load a computer game, waiting for which and getting stuck in with eat those 10 minutes and demand more?

I guess the game it is, then...

Shrewsbury

I've logged on to this with the intention of writing up yesterday but here I am; just staring at the screen.

Elise dropped off Pickle at around 8am, which was thoughtless because she knew Mum was going to the Shrewsbury hospital in today and we had to be on the road by 10. But she told her that we had until we set off.

So this meant calling Tony to take over while we were gone. We generally have to tell Tony appointments are way earlier than they are because by the time he actually turns up there's almost no time to actually make our destination. We told him the appointment was at 10 so, naturally, he didn't arrive until after 10.40 when the journey takes 45 minutes if there's little or no traffic. He even made a joke about how there was no point in setting off in the time left. His tone suggested that he either wanted her to be late or that he knew she wasn't telling the truth about when her appointment was. (She only started lying about it when she had 2 appointments on the same day a few months ago and only had time to attend the second. I suspect Tony didn't believe she had the first and is now playing mind games).

It's nice to drive with people since car travel means that everybodys eyes have to face forward and, for me at least, conversation becomes more natural.

I sat in on her consultation rather than be left with nothing to do in the waiting room and I'm glad I did as, although a lot of it was pretty gross, there was also some very humorous terms thrown about (such as something that sounded like a 'Pretzel Enima').

I then accompanied her to have a blood sample taken. I picked us up a couple of drinks from a hospital shop on the way (apparently they have more shops, now, all of which seem to sell snacks and soft drinks). I got mum a diet coke and I tried a carrot and orange juice thing which was surprisingly nice. (I don't like carrots, but I don't mind when stuff I drink comes with its juice in it. Mum said carrots tend to go well in things or make things taste better. I said, 'like what?' and she gave a couple of examples that included carrot cake. I pointed out that I did like carrot cake, especially for the cinnamon, but when I make carrot cake I tend to leave out the carrot cake and if anybody approaches my carrot cake mix with wallnuts I get very annoyed).

We then went to check out cinema times for Saturday, ready for Chug's little date. You see, Cineworld has the most annoying phone system ever. It's much worse than "if you want to blow your brains out; press 1. If you want to be annoyed; press 2. If you want to be put through to another annoying list of things that don't sounds like they apply to you; press 3!". These guys have a voice recognition system, which means you can't talk to other people while on the line to discuss the options or anything because the computer can mistake what you're trying to say for the various options. And you can't just stay on the line for an operator because it'll just keep reading out the same list over and over. The web site was little better, either. Neither the phone line or the web site had listings specifically for the 14th, and those films which I worked out to be actually showing on the 14th made up a pretty dismal selection of about 3 and there's no way a multiplex is just showing 3 movies on valentines day.

The cinema, however, was closed. (And it was after 1pm). There was a notice in one of the windows saying that it would be opening 30 minutes prior to the first film but didn't mention when that would be. (Over the week I even tried looking up details for listings at the Odeon, the nearest one of those being another 30 miles away, however their website was just as useless. I ruled out going to that one because I don't know how to get to the cinema from the train station in that town, or even how to get to the bus stop... or the address of the cinema to know which bus to get on. Actually I don't think I know what the address of the Shrewsbury cinema, either, and it's been a while so I don't know if they've changed the bus routes or anything so I'll have to take a look at that, too).

It appears the customer relations for Cineworld are pretty non-existent. The phone message actually gives the web address of the people who created the voice recognition software. I don't know if I should really complain to them, it's not their fault that the company who hired their product didn't add a way to speak to be put through to a human.

I would still like to send a strongly worded letter to somebody or other.

We then went to the catering warehouse and picked up a few needful things and one or 2 slightly more frivolous ones.

I don't remember much of what happened after going home. Or I might do, but I'm too lazy to access those memories because I've been typing almost since I woke up (except for the usual distractions, and the usually unusual ones) and haven't had a drink this morning so I'm getting a headache which I'll need to do something about soon.

I do remember that Dave and I watched 'Night Watch', one of the DVDs I picked up at ego last week or the week before, before he decided to go to bed and he even managed to stay awake all the way through which was good because he normally doesn't last that long if we watch something that late at night. It was a good film, I wasn't expecting it to be Russian (I guess I didn't do enough research on it) but being foreign isn't something that would usually stop me from watching a film. In spite of the way they were clearly going for a 'Blockbuster' it wasn't too cheesy.

And there I'll stop to get some painkillers, a drink and maybe even some kind of snack to have by way of breakfast.

Eye Contact

Well... What's happened? Fuck all. I wasn't even going to make a post today, but if nothing has happened then whatever I do report will at least be quite short.

Errr...

Hmmm...

OK, well yesterday, sometime after chug got home he was on the phone to Laura. Or, at least, she was on the phone to him. He had the phone squeezed between his face and his ear while playing Star Wars; Knights of the Old Republic intently, saying absolutely nothing and probably not listening, either. So I came in to tease him, as any older brother should. And, for some reason, she had him put the phone on to me after a while.

So we chatted for a while and whenever Chuggle came up I would deliberately mention him loudly as well as whatever context in which we were talking about him, mostly to annoy him. It's hysterical to watch him give me dirty looks (ie; an angry expression, for anybody who isn't familiar with the term). Then she said we'd being talking for around 45 minutes which I said was impossible, she was apparently looking at some timer on her phone. I continued to dispute this but she wouldn't believe me so I told her what I was doing exactly 45 minutes ago; I had been looking at the clock in the dining room and was told to go and make dinner by my mother. I wasn't cooking anything special but it still took me 15 to 30 minutes to so, and I think she may have conceded or at least humoured me. She also told me that we were having what was possibly the first 'real' conversation she'd ever had, including with her Dad.

I wasn't sure if I should believe her or not, it seems unlikely to reach that age without having one at some point, but then again I rarely converse with people myself, due to Aspergers. Plus her dad isn't much of a talker (and, from meeting him, possibly not much of a thinker, either). I have heard that she doesn't have any friends she hangs around with at school (from the guys at club) or from outside it. Plus her Mum lives somewhere in South Wales. All I could think of was of how sad that much be. Not just to be lonely, but not even getting a degree of conversation. Then again, I think it's something I know well, and most people must go through it at some point or another. She said that her 'conversations' with Chug is usually her talking and him not saying anything and then, after 5 minutes.

So I gave the phone back to him and kicked him off his PC, going on there instead. He fussed and argued and told me, repeatedly, to let him back on it but, from my perspective, if I was on the PC and he was on the phone he was far more likely to talk. And if I was there to tease him there would be something to provoke some conversation.

And it worked. He claimed that all the did was argue while he was on the phone but I suppose they're both too young to know (and Chug is both young and autistic) that it was a very flirtatious argument, if it could be called an argument at all. They hung up on each other, they pressed buttons to make noises in attempts to bother each other (something of a phone war it was) and generally bickered. Then there was the smug tone of heir voices which is generally considered to be flirtatious. I'll have to explain it to him at some point later.

I've reached the conclusion that I'm going to have to sit him down and start giving him the 'girl talks', or whatever you'd like to call it. I'm not talking about "the birds and the bees" mechanics of sex, I'm talking about much more basic stuff. And I mean VERY basic, starting with things like Eye Contact. Besides, I'm almost sure he knows the basic mechanics of sex. Most kids do, these days. I had an encyclopedia with some interesting diagrams long before I reached his age. More complex stuff, things such as condoms, STDs and such can wait until he's 14 or 15. (Not that I'm expecting him to be 'getting any' at that age, but I'd rather he know and not do it than do it but not know. I don't want to have any extra nieces and nephews to look after from him before he's ready).

Though, come to think of it, I don't know how much about it he does know. I really hope that "the mechanics" not one of the things I'd have to explain to him.

Not much to say about today, either. I looked after Bink for a little while this morning while chatting with a close friend online. A while later I swapped babies with Tony, who was downstairs; he had Bink and I had the Piglet. And a few more hours still Elise picked up Bink, Tony had Piglet and I got to watch the rest of Iron Man with Dave. It was far better than I expected it to be, not only because it's based on a Marvel comic (I don't know what age I went off marvel, but at some point I decided that all the costumes and pseudonyms were silly, especially considering that the marvel and DC universe had thousands of costumed heroes between them, most of them with super powers. And you know they're running out of ideas for new powers and silly names for them). It made me realise that, in a lot of ways, Iron man was possible Marvel's answer to DC's Batman. (Playboy millionaire sinks millions into creating cool crime fighting gadgets. There's probably a bat man/iron man crossover out there, somewhere I should get my hands on...) Though the Iron Man movie wasn't nearly as good as either of the recent Batman movies I would certainly watch the sequal.

Elise came to take Piglet home surprisingly early, today, around 5:45. Apparently Piglet is having her first swimming 'lesson' tomorrow (I don't know if you can call it a lesson when you're only 10 months old. Then again, she tends to call everything "wblwblw" or "Aggahh!!" or "Hmhmm", so she may have a word for it). I find the idea of the precious little girl splashing away in the pool adorable, I just hope Elise takes a camera or something.

With no baby to watch Tony went home, I went to pick up a few things from the super market and then I made dinner. (I say "Made", what I really did was take some pies out of some boxes and put them in the oven, took some chips out of a packet and put them on to fry, as well as a few other things. The only real 'cooking' i did was to make to chop some chicken breast and cook it in a mushroom sauce. She didn't ask but I added some port and Cognac and a little salt and pepper. I had a taste of it when she was done and severely regretted not adding garlic). I only went to the market for chips, but I also picked up some Cadbury's Mini Eggs (childhood favourite) and a big box of Thornton's Chocolate for Chug to give to Laura.

I'd put the first items in the oven and then I went to give the box to Chug. As I said, I've come to realise that I'm going to have to be the one to give him those 'fatherly' talks. These are talks I never had, unless you count a few conversations with CP in my youth. But I don't really think the advice of mum's ex-husband are things that I should be striving to apply to my life, especially when you consider that he's a special forces trained ex-mercenary who has a track record as a rapist (though never charged with anything). (CP is Chug's biological father. Though Chug is kind of aggressive he's quite unlike his 'old man' in a lot of ways, and we hope he's going to continue being unlike him).

I had him pause his game and come and sit next to me and tried to make him make eye contact with me as we spoke. (This is something that doesn't really come naturally to us Aspergics, but it can be learned, however I've found that when I'm with somebody I'm close to for a prolonged period I will tend to forget to make eye contact completely. I don't know if there's any etiquette to this I can read up on, as far as I can tell it's all natural behaviour learned or almost from birth for humans). If he could do it with me (make I contact) then he could do the same with Laura. He refused to make eye contact with me on the grounds that he hated me which, to be fair, wasn't a particularly good reason not to make eye contact with somebody. I know that we often avoid it with people we feel hateful of but it's hard to do when having an argument with them, especially a heated one.

My argument got more heated when he declared our talk to be 'over' and that he was going to go back on his PC. I pointed out that I was right next to his power socket and could turn off all of his electrical appliances with one movement. I think he came close to calling my bluff, though I wasn't bluffing and I think he saw that. He stormed off to tell mum and I followed so that I could reasonably explain things. (I think that Chug has finally realised that, if I follow him when he runs off to mum after I tell him off, punish him or simply "lay down the law", as I had just done, it means I'm going to explain things to her and she'll probably come down on my side). Mum did agree with me, though she wasn't certain, but Chug still wasn't having it. I'll try again tomorrow, but I'll try harder not to back down this time as I'll only have 1 more day before I take he and Laura to the cinema.

I went down to finish cooking and we all ate.

Dave and I later watched some Doctor Who (episodes 5 + 6 of the 2005 season) before he went to bed at about 9 and I started typing this. (It generally takes me several hours to write all of my entries as I happily allow myself to be distracted. For example, at about the same time as I started writing this I started browsing some shoes that I had been meaning to buy for a while).

These are what I ordered; Like them? Want to know why I like them? They're PUMPS!! (Plimsolls) or as close as you can probably get without a time machine. We used to have to wear these indoors, back in primary school; they were our "indoor shoes". They don't make these, anymore. I don't know why, they were worn by children in schools all over the damn country and they were the most comfortable shoe you could possibly buy (after you broke them in). I first saw them in one of Dave's "Rollersnakes" catalogues. I couldn't find the specific shoes I fancied online (I think the ones I wanted had some sort of iron maiden motif) Anyway, I book marked the page (I had to do something, I suppose) and more or less forgot about it until today.

I wanted something dominantly black that I could wear in public without people jumping to conclusions about my tastes or personality (as most of my first picks had skulls on them) but ever so slightly ostentatious and I thought the checkered pattern would cover this. They're still pretty conservative in my opinion.

This is what I was originally going to get from the rollersnakes site. I still might, tbh. The ones I did order were on amazon but this design isn't on there as far as I can tell. I like the colours, I like the design... They look a little like carpet slippers but that's forgivable. And there probably will be times when I want to advertise my tastes, if not my personality (I don't see how footwear can prove this, but they do say women look at your shoes before anything else. If this is true then it shoots the 'girls are smarter than boys' argument out of the water. Besides, in my experience they tend to look at your package before anything else)

I'm looking at them now and I'm seriously reconsidering them. They don't seem to 'ostentatious' now, but if I actually put them on and went out they might. Since I don't normally give a damn about what people think of me or how I dress, I shouldn't let it get to me. (Especially since I don't care how I dress either, most days).

After ordering the black and grey checkered shoes above I continued browsing Amazon and found this pair, shown on the right...

Had I seen these first I don't think I'd have bothered with anything else. Possibly the least subtle of anything I looked at today and yet probably the pair in which I most saw myself. (I know that one of the figures appears to have cleavage and therefore women's but you'll look closely you'll see that one is a queen but the other is a king. You know, from playing cards... I think I'd have preferred a Joker motif but you can't have everything... Though I may yet find some with such a design. If I can't find some with Jokers I'll get this pair, next). You, the casual reader (and I imagine most of you exist primarily in my imagination) probably wouldn't like them, but that's ok.

I was still browsing shoes when my good friend came back online (whom I will henceforth refer to as Gydha) and I must confess I continued to do so for a while as we chatted. I did write more about our conversation, giving no particularly specific details but when I logged on today she said that she was 'aggressive'. She said it was because of the housework she had to do but I thought I would delete this small segment just to be more respectful, just in case.

And, as should be obvious, I continued to type. I don't think I've ever written so much about stuff I did while I was writing the very account of that stuff. I think there's a paradox in there, somewhere, but that's cool because when you look at things from a metaphysical point of view being caught in certain paradoxes give you some measure of immortality.

And you can't really complain about that, can you?

Stupid Cupid...

Cupid's stupid for a number of reasons, today.

Chug's girlfriend has a crush on me. They spent hours on the phone with each other and every so often she would find an excuse for him to put her on to me. She finds excuses to stand around with me when she's here, if I'm cooking or something (neutral territory; she hasn't actually set foot on my floor, let alone me room) and apparently she was asking my mother how old I was and if I had a girlfriend. Mum said I hadn't, but that I was 26. I'm actually 25, I don't know why she said that or how 1 year makes a difference; if I was a year or 2 older then her then it would be fine, but every year of difference after that makes it more and more questionable. She's 13 years younger than me, I don't think 14 would be that much more of a turn off.

(In any case, I'm not into 12 year olds so if she was to come on to me I would let her down gently).

In some of the instances of the excuses she took to speak with me she asked me for advice about Chug, why he's such a recluse etc. I tried to explain about Asperger's syndrome and how it affects us socially and how we sometimes didn't even know our own feelings, even as we're having them, until it's too late, giving personal examples such as how I sometimes blush without actually feeling the emotion of embarrassment or how I don't realise I'm stressed until my mouth and throat have broken out with ulcers.

Later I took him to her place. A minute or so after I turned back home I remembered that I hadn't told him to ask her or her father about the cinema next week and that he'd probably forget even if I did ask him to do so.

The walk home, alone, seems so much faster than the walk there while accompanied by Chuggle. Every few minutes I had to stop for him to catch up or go back and move him onward at more haste with my arm behind him. He was complaining about the distance when we'd got as far as the town library which is less than 10 minutes away. Laura lives about a mile away, give or take. He seemed to complain more about the walk than he did last time, as that time we didn't know about the foot path which would have allowed us to get to her place without going up hill at all.

Part of me actually wishes he attends the local high school, hell as it is with no facilities for people with AS. At least he'd walk 2 miles a day, like I did, and wouldn't be such a pussy about a little walk where he actually got to see his girlfriend at the end of it, something which should be more than worth it if he got the opportunity to kiss her for the first time or put his hand down her top (and, naturally, get slapped for it). But, then, I'm not even sure if chug is actually interested in sex. I've never known him to pay close attention to women in skimpy outfits or, unintentionally, find his eyes gravitating towards breasts while talking to somebody with large ones and let them, still unintentionally, linger there longer than they should. I haven't noticed him drooling over any men, either.

Plus there's still Juhela on my mind, but I said spoke of her yesterday and the whole thing that happened there hasn't really weighed on me any heavier today.

Then today (today; today) one of my exes logged on and we spoke a little. María. María lives in Venezuela and we've never actually met but we had this long term, long distance relationship going on. At first I didn't really feel anything for her, it was pretty much just an infatuation and part of me knew it, but then we had this moment when it seemed like she was going to split up with me and for less than a day I was miserable... And one of the worst things about the way I felt that way is because I had this feeling that, sooner or later, I was just going to shrug it off and say that I didn't care; that I didn't feel the way I thought I felt about her. Then, after a day of forcing myself not to, I just let her go. That night she logged on and I told her but she had decided that she wanted me after all and begged me to continue with whatever it was we had for a relationship. And I agreed; I had gone through an emotional roller coaster with a girl I hadn't met for over a year at the time and she'd put up with me in the same way... I realised that there must have been something there. Then a year or 2 after that she dumped me for some guy with bipolar depression who lashed out in his low times. Only this time I think I really had fallen for her and losing her hit me hard. She left him, too, and that was probably far harder for her.

Well, that's the abridged version of how our 'relationship' went. Naturally there were many more details and a lot more complexity to it but I can't really illustrate the entire story here. It'd take ages, for one thing.

We didn't say much, other than that she was studying at the time and I told her about Chug's first date coming up.

There were things I wanted to say. For example, I sent her an email about 2 years ago which I never got a reply to. You can't just bring something like that up in conversation, it would sound as if I've been obsessing over this why she hadn't replied. I'd also learned she had a new address and as I don't know how long she had that I don't know if her old one was still active when I sent it. But then, when I found out she had a new one (about a couple of months ago, when I added her to facebook, on a whim) I sent her an email there, too, and never got a response.

And I couldn't mention that email for the same reason. To be thinking about an email sent 2 months ago with no response might not seem as bad as thinking about one sent 2 years ago but I still didn't know how to bring it up without seeming like a freak.

Looking at the last couple of paragraphs it does sound kind of like I've been obsessing, but it's genuinely been something that's been at the back of my mind since I sent them.

We more or less made small talk until she logged off.

Then, of course, there's my Norwegian fantasy lady...