A.F.K

We All Scream

2010-06-21T16:41:00.001-07:00

I guess I stopped posting because I felt I didn't have enough to say, but the truth was I'd lost the motivation to do housework and other things and I can't comment on my life away from the keyboard if I'm doing my utmost not to have one.

I have, lately, found the motivation, and I believe it's something the Lord has strengthened me with.

Mum got me up to see to Pickle, this morning, but she went back to sleep soon after I got there so I just curled up next to them and nodded off myself until my sister arrived and promptly woke pickle (who was less than pleased about it) and thus woke me and mum as well. Mum told me she was here to clean and told me to go and help, so I went back to my room to dress appropriately and god back in bed for the next few hours.

I got up, checked my (web) comics, emails, etc, and was eventually called down to watch Pickle by her mother, who it turned out hadn't been cleaning but had absconded with the aforementioned baby and had not long returned with her and was no leaving again without her. (From what I gather she'd only returned to to hassle Mum about whatever while she was trying to address some envelopes and was only annoyed that she'd been interrupted from a task she'd wanted to finish sooner).

Apparently the reason she didn't do any cleaning was because yesterday's dishes hadn't yet been done. Which was annoying; although I've generally finished cooking much sooner than I had been used to (typically I would finish cooking at about 10pm for a variety of reasons that mostly boil down to my short attention span and it takes me about 15 minutes to find and pick up where I left off. Or we don't have a necessary ingredient to the meal I already started cooking and need to go for it). I'm rather happy that I've managed to get my meals on served between 6 and 8pm for the last 2 weeks (with only a couple of times running into 'over time', however I take a weirdly long time to serve each plate. This probably comes back to me being easily distracted).

I don't remember what took me so long on sunday night, I don't even remember what we had, thinking about it. In any case it was getting I had made a habit of washing up the morning after, which somehow seems less stressful (having cooked the damn meal to begin with). And there was, for some reason, more than usual to do.

(I finally did the washing up before I started dinner, not that I had anything to worry about as we got some paper plates for the coming meal). I was to have Pickle until Mum finished writing the envelopes; then we were to go to the post office and drop Pickle off with Tony was in the bookies (we roused him from the bookies but he came and took Pickle at the post office).

We went to Morrison's to pick up what mum assured me would only be a few items for dinner that turned into a full trolly's worth of shopping that came to more than £72. Top top it off her cards were declines, so I generously paid myself. Then, finally getting around to buying the ice cream she'd been promising for ages (since I pointed out it was half price), we went to tesco to get some. Annoyingly we'd half filled another trolley by the time I pointed out what we went the for and we continued to fill it until it was nearly full before we even got to the ice cream. Sadly our brand was no longer on offer. But I resolved to make some myself, which sounded even better to my mind.

So I washed up, we started dinner and I was mostly finished cooking it at around 7ish but I wanted to wait for mum to get back from picking Jeff up before serving it. In retrospect this might not have been the best idea.

Mum finished her diner at about 9 and we started the ice cream. I remember it being much more complicated, last time, you had to be very careful to stir it properly or the eggs would sink and cook incorrectly. I definitely intend to use this recipe more often, even when making custard (icecream is basically frozen custard).

I'd been inspired to make this icecream a week or 2 ago, when Elder Waddington made some icecream for a dinner appointment with a friend from church (being a single sister there has to be a chaperon there with them, which often, if not always, falls to me. Not that I'm complaining). He made it with 'Oreos' (a type of American sandwich biscuit, if you don't know), which was apparently a family recipe, and later remarked how some people had suggested he manufacture it on a larger scale. He said he'd thought about but that it was unfeasible due to copyright restrictions, at which point I pointed out it'd just have to become 'Bourbon icecream', which got a laugh, though I was being serious, and I think he said something about it being a good idea but dishonest which worried be because I've always looked at the Oreo as being a Bourbon made with a cheaper recipe but sold at more than double the price for a packet. (The difference being because a bourbon is, I must assume, some type of 'public domain' recipe; there are dozens of companies that make them and so they're quite cheap at full price. Still higher quality than an Oreo, though).

We put pickle to bed. I don't know what time she fell asleep but it was nearly 11pm when I logged on. While recounting the day's events to a friend online I realised I had enough to make a somewhat decent blog entry, so here it is. While talking to her I also started perusing DeviantArt.com, looking at lots of beautiful pictures which I have continued to do until now which I sadly realise is just a few minutes before dawn breaks and I have been a naughty boy. I haven't even felt that tired... Though now my eyes are starting to feel sore and my back is quite stiff... Guess it's off to bed with me :(

Don't Believe in Pickles

2009-06-18T14:23:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-08T03:03:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-01T15:59:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-05T14:12:00.000-08:00

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

2009-03-02T10:17:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-24T16:34:00.000-08:00

---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

2009-02-22T03:24:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-19T16:15:00.000-08:00

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.

Scared Of Girls

2009-02-18T14:57:00.000-08:00

I awoke from what nearly turned into a fabulous dream, this morning (or possibly this afternoon, since I was allowed to sleep in for a change).

It was a dream about the first girl I fell in love with (I never told her how I felt, though not out of a fear of rejection so much as I felt we were too different to possibly be happy together. She's too much of a party chick and and there were plenty of other things we didn't have in common, either). (I won't mention her name because, even though it's unlikely she reads this blog herself I have linked this to several members of my family. And even though it's not likely they follow it, either, I'm not chancing it because they know who she is and I really don't want to discuss it with them. DON'T ASK, IT'S COMPLICATED!!). In my dream I was 15 again (this is how old I was when I knew I was in love with her) and she was however much older than me she was at the time (I think it was 16 or 17. I haven't seen her in years so I've forgotten what year she was born in).

Though she was never the type to dress as such; in my dream she was dressed in that punky/gothic style (the kind of style that most would call punk or goth except for me; I look at it as something that's balancing on the fence that divides the 2 trends but refuses to fall to either side), wearing a black and purple T-shirt, a matching mini skirt (or possibly hot pants) and black tights with tiny holes in them. Her hair was died black with purple highlights and she had white (or very pale grey) face paint. I don't remember if she had eye-shadow, in my dream, but she did have eye-liner.

I've never really had a 'type' when it comes to women; I like them in almost all shapes and sizes (Except really skinny. Particularly skinny girls do nothing for me. Sometimes somebody will comment on how attractive a woman on TV is and I'll say something like; "you're attracted to girls with the bodies of 12 year old boys?" I blame the media). But somehow I've always found women who dress like that to be... well, technically not more attractive but certainly more alluring. I don't think this make's me superficial, or not particularly. I think I feel I have a lot more in common with somebody who dresses like that; similar tastes, for a start, first in clothes and then possibly in music. (I mostly listen to acid rock, extreme metal and occasionally a little punk, but I do like a little electronic, too; mostly EBM, IDM and Industrial. Gothic/punk fashions tend to occur in both of those realms of music. I do listen to more than that, but that's what the majority of my extensive music collection consists and I haven't really 'discovered' many great acts, if any, since AudioGalaxy ceased being a P2P network). I think I would probably dress as a goth if I wasn't so fat (now that probably is superficial, I know, but I guess that I'm more self conscious than I allow myself to believe)

In my dream she had been out somewhere with my late sister (naturally she was alive in my dream as it was a dream about a past that never happened 10 years ago) and they'd came to our place. They'd just got in and were standing there, waiting for something or somebody for a moment. She was applying mascara (I don't know if mascara is the term used here in the UK but it's what they call it on all the adverts, but they're always narrated by Americans and American is practically another language, now) and when I saw her standing there I had no choice but to go over and kiss her. And, because it was just a dream, she kissed me back.

(Maybe the dream wasn't really a dream at all; maybe I was seeing into some alternative universe where she really did dress that way and, as a result, I felt absolutely compelled to act upon my feelings).

Dream or genuine vision of an alternative past, I'm sure it reverted to a real dream soon after because I took her hand and we ran upstairs. We bumped into my mother on the middle floor and acted as if we were doing nothing that wasn't completely innocent; just running upstairs to play computer games in my room or something. In my dream proving my intentions were pure was as easy as acting as if sex wasn't my first and only priority. (Ever met a 15 year old who had priorities higher than sex?) And when Chug came into my room and said he was going downstairs for a cup of tea I jumped on this as the chance to do just that by offering to make it for him, shouting to *the girl who'll remain nameless* that I'd join her in a few minutes as if it was the most casual thing in the world. (This seemed to satisfy Mum). Making the tea was another little thing that exclaimed that my dream was indeed a dream, firstly because Chug seemed to be his current age when he asked (he's nearly 13 right now) while everybody else was 10 years younger and the tea I was making for him was actually Rooibos, not tea, which is something that our family only started drinking last summer.

And, in what has become traditional in my dreams; I woke up just before it seemed like I was going to have sex.

I really wanted to put this all in writing before I forgot the details because I believe we should try to remember our dreams, though I'm not particularly sure why (I probably had a reason, once). My mind has been returning to the matter of last night's dream (or this morning's, if you want to be specific) on and off all day. This is probably because I realised that I was in love with this girl (I say 'Girl' only when I refer to her when she was a girl, and as my dream was 'set' back when she was a girl all above references as such seem appropriate. In all other cases I try to refer to a woman as a woman) because of a dream.

Back when I knew her (we have lost touch, since) we used to wrestle a lot (in a largely non sexual way, but purely for fun) and we were wrestling in that dream. But in my dream we suddenly started kissing before I awoke. All that day (it was a Saturday; I know this because I did some shopping for my Grandmother every Saturday) I was in an unusually good mood. I was smiling constantly and couldn't concentrate on a thing. I felt like a child with a brand new toy and excited for every next opportunity to play with it. However I didn't know why I felt so good. It only struck me that I didn't know why I felt that way until I was on my way home after doing my grandmother's shopping and I knew I had to be that happy for a reason. I stopped right there, on the middle of the foot bridge and concentrated on what it might be; what had happened to me to make me so elated? I had no new computer games (because when I was very young there were certain computer games I would think about when bored and stuck without access to my console, usually if there was a level I was stuck on but was still fun) or any other new possessions it could be (at that age most of my wants were material. I guess they still are but I guess I don't get quite as excited about them). And then, finally, the dream surfaced in my head and the smile once again crept along my face; I knew I was in love and understood what that meant for the first time.

As I said before; I never told her how I felt about her. Many times have I avoided making contact with women simply because I'm afraid of them; it's something I fear that I may never grow out of. Only twice in my life I have chosen not to act on genuine feelings because I believe those particular women wouldn't be compatible with me. (But then, of all the women I've had feelings for; I've only felt some form of love (by which I mean love and also love just before it 'blossoms') 4 times). And even then, I never even met one of the women who I chose to act on my feelings for. Both of those women just seemed to different from me to ever have a successful relationship, so I chose not to ruin cherished friendships.

So I woke up to what turned out to be an uneventful day. I replied to something Gydha said to me while I was offline and [ages] later she replied to me while she herself appeared offline. Apparently somebody from, or used to be in, a band called 'The Dubliners' had done or said something which she's taken to heart and seemed to be i and good mood because of it. Or maybe that's not what she said, at first, maybe I misread something which she actually clarified for me later. She seemed very surprised that I hadn't heard of the Dubliners, but I later got the impression that they were some kind of Irish Folk band, and folk music doesn't have nearly as big a following in the UK as it does anywhere else in Ireland. (For that matter Folk music isn't as popular in the UK as it is anywhere else in the world. Then again, I suspect that the British don't really have a keen taste in music because if it isn't the commercial shit that's popular enough to get into the charts nobody buys it and so you have to go to lengths to learn about other types of music, as I did. Thank god for the internet. It's a self perpetuating cycle of evil; music only becomes massively popular if it's kinda familiar or at least somewhat easy to listen to, but then only becomes easy to listen to if it's at least a little familiar and it won't become so unless you hear some of it on the radio or on TV. But they won't get onto the radio or TV unless they sell particularly well and they will only play a handful of those most popular songs every hour (over and over again). And because those are the only songs most people here they're the only songs they become 'familiar' with and will form attachments to and the pattern begins again. So, as they grow older, there'll only be a limited types of music people will bother with. This is why I so eagerly await the collapse of the music industry).

I was going to write here what she said after, about where she'd been, who she'd seen while she was there and what they'd said to her since that night which had caused her to worry but I don't want to intrude on her privacy. Besides, she has a blog of her own (I'll probably even add a link after I've asked her permission. Which I'll do tomorrow. If she agrees to it, that is. and if I can work out how to do it :P ) which she can write that kind of thing on.

Around a week ago I noticed that her blog had an english (automated) translation and said I would get around to reading it in the next few days. I finally did so to day but it's a direct word for word translation which meant I still had to decipher a little here and there, however some words aren't translated at all. (I've decided that the Norwegian language must be far more concise than English because whenever I came upon a sentence with a Norwegian word in it I really had to guess what the whole of it because nothing in the context seemed to give any clues what those words might be). Still it was a lot easier than trying to read the 'Babel Fish' translation.

Me and Dimebar spent most of the day watching Dragonball. I think he's enjoying it far More than I am, but I'm still enjoying it. There's something innocent about that show that I just love. I certainly prefer it to Dragonball Z (which was too formulaic. Each season would introduce some new villain (who was just a cut and paste of the last villain except for the name and appearance) of such strength that they threaten all life on the planet and the heroes of the show would have to train to a new peak of condition in order to defeat them. Well; Goku would have to do so, since he was ultimately the one who would always beat the antagonist (who, during their epic battles, would undergo major transformations and become even more impossibly difficult to beat) in the end. It made you wander why the other heroes even tried.

The one 'eventful' thing I did today was make fajitas. And they were the best fajitas I've made in years. (Though I haven't really made many since my family learned how much they like my enchiladas, which is a very similar recipe). I washed these down with an excellent cup of tea. I might have another of which now, and then I will go to bed because I've spent nearly 5 hours on this and I don't even know how that came to happen; I'm sure I didn't let myself get as distracted as usually nor was I interrupted at all.

Chaperon

2009-02-17T02:36:00.000-08:00

(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

2009-02-13T04:20:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-11T13:15:00.000-08:00

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...

2009-02-08T20:52:00.000-08:00

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...

Laurence and Charlotte

2009-02-07T16:28:00.000-08:00

Yesterday (Friday) was a good day. Well, it was better than most. I managed to sleep through until after 1pm without anybody waking me to look after somebody's baby. (It's not the babysitting I object to, it's the fact I do this almost every day; apparently without choice and certainly without pay).

Elise did come around after 3 with both children, I had one and Tony had the other. I did make it clear before she even arrived that I was going to club with Chug.

TBH I'm not really going to club for my own benefit, anymore, as I don't play WoW (though nobody there really plays it anymore either) as the average age of its attendees, these days, has to be at least 10 years under me. (When I started going they were about 2 years younger, on average). The main reason I've been going, lately, is because Chug has started seeing one of the other attendees, Laura, outside of club on a regular basis. They spend ours on the phone with each other on weekday evenings, she comes to visit him here on snow days and he goes to her place on saturdays and sundays. I take every possible opportunity to tease them, and those opportunities never seem to end. I'm a cruel bastard.

For example, it's been a running joke for a couple of months that Laura is a boy. (Ofc she's not). I think I might have even started that. It was certainly me who gave her the name 'Lawrence'. When she and Chug became and item he became 'Charlotte'.

I went on a bit of a spending spree while I was there; before I even went on a computer I had purchased 4 DVDs (on offer, 4 for £10. I Am Legend, Drop Dead Fred, A Scanner Darkly and Night Watch. Night Watch is the only one among them I haven't seen, I probably picked it as I needed 1 more to get 4 for £10. Thinking about it now I would have spent less than £9 if I just got 3 of them, but I can console myself that Andy warned me that Night Watch was pretty fucked up, so I will look forward to it). I also tried out SimCity Societies while I was there (everybody else at club tends to play FPS games, which I love but can't play because they make me nauseous on consoles and give me migraines on PCs). It's been at least 10 years (though probably more) since I last played a SimCity game. (I don't remember what console that was for, though it certainly wasn't for the PC. I had rented it and it came without a manual and, as I recall, there was no tutorial level. I had no idea what I was doing and my city sucked ass).

I spent a lot of time there trying to discern what's on at the nearest multiplex on the 14th, as I'm going to see about taking Chug and Laura to see a movie. (Part of me wants to sit a few rows behind the young love birds to spy on them, but somehow I think I'll be watching another screen room).

I ended up buying the game; it was "pre-owned" but the last guy had took it home, unwrapped it then brought it back claiming there was a scratch. So I got it brand new for half price :D

I don't really remember much of last night other than that.

I know mum had Piglet, last night, which meant I had her all day today. (Tony calls Saterday his 'Day Off', but almost every week he gets bored and comes up anyway. He didn't, today. Which was a mixed blessing).

Piglet was especially awkward today. As she's getting older she's getting much more lively and inclined to exploration... And she already a handful before she could crawl, diving in every direction. Now she's clinging to objects so she can walk with them side on. It's important to let her have a degree of freedom on the floor now (though there are certain people, such as Dave and Jeff, who disagree. Neither of them have nearly the amount of child care experience as I have, so I don't see how their opinions matter, though Dave will bitch a little if he sees her on the floor).

Laura was here for most of the day, today, down in Chug's room. Naturally I took the piss whenever the opportunity arose.

Obviously I don't want them having sex or anything but I have noticed that most of my teasing tends to be about whether or not they've kissed yet. At the very worst I'll say something about how they have to "use protection" if a situation arises where protection is needed. (Chuggle is, as yet, far too shy to even try to kiss here. And, from some of the responses to my teasing, I really think that Laura might be a little bothered by this. Of course I can't be certain about it, due to my condition, but I like to remind myself that my aspergers might negate any ability to read body language or vocal inflections but does improve my deductive reasoning and lateral thinking generally make up for it).

Actually, thinking about it, the worst I've ever teased them was probably telling "Lawrence" that if "my sister got pregnant" I'd know it was her.

I felt obligated to ask if she was staying for dinner, unsure as to whether we could accommodate her. I made diced chicken, baked in a creamy mushroom, mustard and port/cognac sauce. (My own recipe. Sadly it's something I tend to cook when we have nothing else, can think of nothing else or can't be bothered to make anything else). Apparently she said 'it was the best curry she ever had. I found this amusing :)

She went home around 9ish (several hours later than she as supposed to, as I had to make several outings while I was cooking; first to pick up some frozen chips (not washing, peeling and chopping my own in a meal of convenience, then to get some egg fried rice from the Chinese take-away at the end of the street (tried making my own in the past but I always seem to get it wrong) and then taking the Piglet home).

(Stavross was supposed to take her home, but when he arrived half an our previously his daughter was asleep, so he said he didn't want to wake her and that we should call him when he is awake. 20 minutes later, when she did wake up, his phone had been conveniently switched off).

I dozed off on my bed, fully dressed, until Dave started yelling at me that he'd won one of the best axes in the game. I wasn't too impressed on being woke up like that, but the joke was on him when he took a portal back to Dalaran and had to spend an hour or so trying to get back on to that character. Well, that joke was really on both of us, as I spent most of that time sitting in the arm chair waiting for him to get on, get his stuff enchanted and finish.

Having recently discovered that we can plug my portable hard drive into the PS3 to watch videos, listen to music or look at pictures downloaded to it I spent a lot of the time through the miscellaneous content of that hard drive. I also spent some time looking at film and game trailers while trying to find some final fantasy trailer, which I wasn't even sure was a new film or a new game. Eventually I found myself gravitating towards pictures of my ex wife and re opening some old wounds in the process. (Definitely not a good idea this close to valentines day).

However I can compartmentalise pretty well. Though I don't know how true that is... Sometimes it might seem that the emotions I feel are a shadow of the real thing, that my palette might be missing a few essential colours, lately I've come to suspect that my brain or my body doesn't know how to interpret them. For example, I can't really gauge how stressed I am at all until I start breaking out in mouth and throat ulcers in the least convenient places. Sometimes I'll blush in a situation when I should be embarrassed, however while my body is telling me how embarrassed I am my I can't feel the embarrassment that's supposed to come internally, if that makes sense.

(I used the same word far too often in that last sentence. The tell tale sign of a poor imagination)

It's another mixed blessing.

When Dave finally got off the PC he went for a smoke and had me decide what we were going to watch. I eventually decided on something we'd already seen before; Starship Troopers, as I'd be able to play on the PC while still following the story. It's actually better than I remember. Those bits I remember as cheesy don't quite so bad, now.

I didn't play any games, obviously, choosing to write this instead.

And that's about it, I guess.

Poor Little Bugger

2009-02-04T18:15:00.000-08:00

I had Bink, last night (Tuesday night). The poor little bugger has at least one infected tooth (Tony argued, as Tony always must, that it wasn't infected; it was rotten. Which I suppose is true but I imagine that the second reason we don't want our teeth to rot is because rots cause infections. The first reason is because we don't want to form cavities to form which will expose our nerves). We found out that it was a rotten tooth today after an emergency dental appointment.

Elise spent most of yesterday here with both of her children until she finally decided she would rather be somewhere else, though we still had both children at this point. The reason for this, due to the pain in his teeth, Bink has been highly sensitive, today. I'm not saying that he's not normally sensitive; the boy is set to become one of the finest people I know if we play our cards right, but today he burst into tears at the smallest of things; particularly the word "no" and especially when phrased as "No!"

Apparently Stav has also been ranting about the cause of his son's oral decay; he claims it's the fact that he's been given milk in the night when he's supposed to have only water. (Elise has claimed that he was going back to sleep readily with water and she wouldn't even have to refill it because Bink would only sip it and go back to sleep whereas he would generally drain the bottle of milk). Elise blames us for this because, apparently, it's only since the last time he slept here that he's been refusing to have water in the night. I wasn't in the room to respond to this, I was in another room and she was being deliberately loud, possibly to get a rise out of me. I didn't feel like coming in because it's hard for me to know whether it's acceptable to but into her conversations with getting told off (by her) for it. Apparently the fact that I have Aspergers doesn't concern her at all. (But then, whatever does?)

In anycase, both mum and Elise have referred to Stav's behaviour as 'bullying' which I assume means that Stav has been losing his temper with Bink when he start's crying

This accusation of theirs (concerning the milk) was the cause of much private snickering between other members of the family over the course of the day as this theory because, while it was true that Bink completely refused the water I gave him and he would only accept milk, when last I had him, I have never heard of anybody who thought that milk might cause tooth decay. But then Stav is a Scouse ("ˈskaʊs"), a notoriously stupid breed and Elise is just particularly stupid anyway. (I don't know if I ever made this comment previously in this blog but as I can't be bothered to check I'll say it anyway; during both of her pregnancies Elise I would frequently mention that her offspring would be born smarter than her parents combined).

He kept waking up in floods of tears, during the night. I took him down to give him some calpol and bonjela for the pain once or twice. At one point he was crying so for so long, no matter what I tried, that Dimebar came in and complained, so this lead to the second time I took him down for painkillers.

At one point when I got him back to sleep I got up to go back to watching the cartoon ("Death Note") I had downloaded to my PC, however Bink wasn't properly asleep yet and demanded I stayed. I explained to the distressed 2 year old that I was only going to the desk and he asked if he could come with me, which I allowed.

He sat on my lap and watched it, though he complained of some discomfort (and that he might fall off at any time, even though I assured him that I wouldn't let that happen) but somehow I don't think he was really into it; it's pretty much intended for adults but then he's never really into the programmes on the TV much anyway (though he will often dance to music if the song is upbeat enough). Eventually he cuddled up to me and I decided to put him to bed. Once I had put him to bed it was clear that he wasn't going to let me go this time either so I just stayed with him and went to sleep.

He woke up at about 10am this morning. I took him downstairs and called Tony, asking if he could come as soon as possible; explaining how Bink had been up all night, Crying. And Tony can't say no to Bink, so he was up pretty quickly and I went back to bed until sometime between 3 and 4pm.

Apparently Bink needs to have 4 teeth removed. When you look in his mouth only one has had any particularly obvious

Nothing interesting happened since then except for RocknRolla, the latest Guy Ritchie film which I had wanted to see last summer (but nobody wanted to go with me and I don't particularly like going to the cinema alone). It was quite late when Dimebar suggested we watch this, something I didn't question because I assumed he knew how late it was. About half way through the film, when he was about to go for a cigarette, he checked the time and it was after 1am and he said he couldn't watch the rest but told me he wouldn't mind if I did so without him, something I wouldn't normally do but I made an exception with this case as it was something I had wanted to see for a while.

There was something missing from the film, though. I never really noticed before but I think the other Ritchie movies I've seen must have had a certain level of complexity to them because this one seemed to lack it. It was still highly enjoyable, though.

My Sledge

2009-02-02T13:42:00.001-08:00

One of my very earliest memories, possibly my earliest, is of mum driving me to some kind of camp (though, thinking about it now, it could have been on open-air market that was simply snow covered) and buying me a sledge. I wasn't even one year old at the time. I was dressed in a snowsuit in which I could barely move and securely buckled into the a child seat on the back seat of her car.

The sledge was made of bright orange plastic with black plastic handles on either side and another on on a string at the front and was pretty wide, by today's standards. She made a make-shift seat in it by putting me in a little sleeping bag, propping me up with cushions and wrapping me, tightly, with a blanket.

She did this as a means of taking me with her to run her errands as the snow was too thick to drive or to use a pram. Years later she told me how passers by and acquaintances had commented on what a good idea it was and how cute I looked in the sledge.

I used this sledge for every snow that fell on the hill behind our house for years. I had hoped that, should I ever have children, I would sit them in it when the snows fall and push them down the hill or wait for them at the bottom of as the trundled their way up the hill to slide back down.

Today my sister came around asking to borrow a few of our old sledges to take Bink up the hill and go sledging and mum declined because, apparently, she had lent her mine when she was staying with the Grogans (the family of one of her ex-boyfriends. I actually liked Charlie, in spite of his boisterous and presumptuous nature and the fact that he was known to have been a drug user, before his release from prison, and that his mother firmly believed he still used hard drugs at the time) and it had disappeared when they had moved house.

Elise had nothing to say in reply other than summarising what mum had said in very sarcastic tones. When I called out (I had Piglet on my lap, at the time, and wasn't about to run out into the cold) asking for clarification on what had happened to my sledge she made further, louder sarcastic comments for me to hear about me making a fuss over something she had done years ago.

I am upset about this. Deeply upset. Thinking back to my early childhood that sledge was, perhaps, my dearest possession for years (right next to my teddy bear). I would prey for and desperately anticipate the snows every winter, feeling immensely disappointed if they did not come.

I can't get amazingly upset about something that has happened years ago. But I am a little upset that I can't get upset about it, as mad as that might seem. I am upset that nobody saw fit to tell me until today, and even then I wasn't told directly as much as they forgot that I was in the vicinity when they had this loud discussion on the doorstep. I'm very distressed that she can regard my feelings on this matter so lightly, feeling no remorse and even finding them pathetic (as indicated by her sarcastic tone over the matter).

For years I've been saying how close I was to giving up on her; to losing all remaining love for her. Today I really think it happened. Today I decided that I was finally washing my hands over her, that she was no longer my sister. Until now I had been afraid that, should I do this, she would cut me off from my niece and nephew, both of whom I regard far more highly that her. But I should have realised that she would never do that as long as she needed a free babysitter. She might keep the kids at her place for days or even a week but normal service would always be resumed.

Today was the straw that broke the camel's back. Which is weird, in a way, what with all the things she's done to me and mum over the years; the (literally) hundreds of times she's made me get mum out of bed to answer the phone when she was ill over stupid little things that didn't really matter (yet she claimed them to be emergencies), all the times she's borrowed large sums of money from either of us and neglected to pay it back; trying to talk me into walking long distances in the hot weather when she knew a lift would be coming any moment, making me watch her children because she told mum I had agreed to do so, even though she hadn't actually asked me in the first place and things like that...

Not to mention all of those times she came at me with knives because I turned off her CD or was playing with her hair dryer...

What seems weird about it is that, upset as I am over the less of my sledge; I'm only as upset as one could be over losing something years earlier, which is to say it's like spilled milk. I feel like the straw that broke the camel's back is a petty and almost insignificant one , but when she's determined to pack so many to the beast it was only a matter of time.

I officially hate my sister, as of the 2nd of February, 2009.

Bit of a Blur

2009-01-23T12:24:00.001-08:00

Well I haven't updated for about a week now and, to tell the truth, most of the that time is a blur for me. I have a vague idea of what's happened in that time but don't ask me to write it down in any chronological order. So I'm skipping it.

And I'll add an update of the day so far.

I was awoken several times by Jeff who was looking for one of Bink's baby bottles. The first time he came up I was well too dazed to have a proper look. The second time he insisted in arousing my attention so I was forced to think about it. I seemed to recall mum taking the bottle with her when she left my room last night (she used my computer for an hour or so to check her emails and things. It could have been closer to 2 hours, as I had time to read enough of an old book of mine to decide that whatever reason why I never actually read the book before must have been valid, read some of a book I started when I was 10 or so but lost before I could finish it only to realise I may have grown out of it. It was also enough time to watch the first 15 minutes of the 1st episode of the 3rd season of Dexter, which I stopped partly because it wasn't so good the second time around but also because mum said she didn't like to watch things like that prematurely because they (all T.V companies) only show 1 show she likes at a time, a run of one usually ending as a run of the next begins. So I put on an episode of Psych, which I think I was able to fully watch while she was there).

He searched for a while, I don't know if he came to search just once or looked for it once, left, and then came back to look again. I think that he came to look for it twice because I told him that I recalled mum taking it on her way out, as mentioned above and came back to look again after conferring with mum over this. I told him that I recalled it pretty vividly, which I actually did, and this seemed to satisfy him. I don't remember if he came and searched a third time but a little while later mum came and searched. She, too, may have came back and search a second time but if she did come on 2 occasions the second time was a far less serious attempt as she got in bed after just a few minutes. It was hard enough to sleep with her just being there but I decided I definitely wasn't getting back to sleep after she started snoring.

I went on the PC but, being a guy with a very short attention span, I get bored very easily. So easily that I will start playing solitaire for while waiting for something as simple as a web page to load up. And I generally have to be blasted by information from all sides so I usually have to have the TV on while I'm playing a computer game, particularly ones where you don't have to concentrate one anything that characters might be saying.

It was about 12ish, by this point, and I wanted to play the sims 2 (I've had the game almost since launch and I still haven't played families beyond the first generation. Though this is mostly because by the time I've got a house and/or family exactly the way I want them there's some other game that's come out that I want to play or I've got back into World of Warcraft).

I tried to refrain from putting something on for a while (I don't know how long, certainly less than 30 minutes, definitely longer than 10), until I realised that it was my room and, rude as it is to turn the TV on while somebody is right there, she had the option of going and sleeping somewhere else. (I probably wouldn't have bothered, however the sims has such a long loading time, or at least on my PC). So I watched the following episode of Psych from the night before. I don't know how long it took her to leave. (Again, it was between 10 and 30 minutes. Actually, in both cases, it was probably closer to 30).

My copies of ghostbusters finally arrived from HMV, today. Between then and now is something of a blur. I'm sure there were details which might be worth reporting on but, to be frank, I remember very little of them. I did go and take Chug to club and we stuck around to make fun of him and he girl he's seeing (the joke being that Laura, his girlfriend, is a boy whom we call Lawrence, and that Chug, as he's 'seeing' her, is a girl; Charlotte). It was particularly funny. I'm worried that it might be a bad reflection on my character that I'm finding some of the stuff said there to be less repulsive and laughing along more and more. Trust me, some of the stuff said there is very disgusting.

So, fast forwarding more hours still, Dave and I finally got around to watching the first ghostbusters film some time after 10, we're still watching it now (11:42).

I have to say, there are a lot of things I missed the last few times I saw it.... But I don't think I actually have seen it since the turn of the century, at least not more than a few clips of it.

Stinking Cold

2009-01-11T15:21:00.000-08:00

I guess I could feel this cold coming on a day or 2 before it did but I just thought it was going to be a case of the sniffles.

I remember having a conversation with mum a few weeks ago about how I had managed to escape from the cold, this year, which is something rare and this reminder her about an article she had read which said that, this year, the cold had some how been covered by the flu shot. (I'm entitled to one because I have asthma).

Then, the night before last, it just went from the sniffles into full blown nausea, sinus pain, runny noses and streaming eyes, on top of the usual sneezing fits. Normally when I get a cold it's just runny noses, sneezing and maybe one night of coughing and then back to business as usual. I'm not normally one of those people who treat a cold like they're dying (ladies; just so you know I'm also willing to stop and ask for directions when I'm lost and will except the blame for my actions ;-) ); I'm willing to get on with house work and things but I still don't like exposing my bugs to other people when I can avoid it.

So anyway, when it got late, yesterday, and I realised that we not only had both of my sister's children but that nobody had come to pick them up I had to ask the question I already knew the answer to. "Do we have the kids tonight?"

Not only had my sister dropped off the other child while I was occupied but she had told mum and Tony that she had already cleared it with me.

I really wish people would check these details with me before assuming that Elise is telling the truth, for a change. Maybe it's the fact that we don't spend so much time with her, these days... She isn't here to lie to us so much but all people seem to have registered is that she isn't spouting as much bull shit as usual. Maybe, subconsciously, people are just assuming she's being more honest lately; at least as honest as a normal person.

I'm not sure if I'd have babysat, last night, given the choice. I mean, I suspect it's one of the babies' who cave me the cold in the first place but all either of them seems to have is the sniffles. I'm not particularly sure it's the same thing; it could be that they're just much better at fighting infections than I am. But if they're not and their sniffles aren't the same strain of virus as my cold then I have probably given them what I had.

Anyway, what I was getting about way above, concerning what mum read about flu vaccines immunising people against the cold, it kind of tells me that the cold and flu could be the same thing but when your body fights it more easily we call it a cold and when we feel like death we call it flu. (This could also explain why men complain about colds more than women do, as females generally have better immune systems than men do. With the exception of my mother). Since I get flu shots it could be that I'm fighting a slightly mutated strain of the flu, making it seem like a severe cold.

At about 6.30 or so this morning I couldn't stay awake any longer. I climbed in next to Bink, who had done a good job of keeping the bed warm for me.

He woke up at about 10, maybe 10:30 with an extremely weighty nappy and we had none his size for me to change him into. As soon as mum was sure I was up she gave me Georgia to look after until Tony arrived. We actually had ones her size, though. When Tony got here I was to hand him a tenner and send him back out for nappies. When he came back he bathed Dylan and I went on up.

Around 30 minutes later still, after I had checked my emails and web comics, etc, I had just got in bed, so naturally this was the moment mum chose to shout for me. She wanted me to watch Georgia for an hour. This meant that Tony wanted to go out, somewhere. (I don't mean to treat him like a servant but the guy grates on my nerves then rubs salt on them). I called back that I had just taken a bunch of melatonin, which was true, and she let me stay in bed. Normally I'd have gone to do whatever was asked for me, I'm generally the kind of guy who let's people walk all over me (or so various people tell me) but if there was an occasion when I needed to have some rest it was this morning.

I slept until nearly 6pm and did what I normally do; stayed in my bed room and went out of my way to let nobody know I was awake. Dave came home and told me he was going to a raid in 9 minutes (he don't remember him asking if he could use the PC to do so, this time, so there was a bit of a cheek in that, though I didn't really mind). I logged on for him and informed them that he had only just got home and had gone for a quick smoke. His whole timing was off, as I had finally decided to download season 2 of Sam & max and was going through the payment details, which meant updating my card on pay pal.

I sent chug down to get my card from my coat pocket but he couldn't seem to find it, so I went down.

(Both babies had been picked up which was highly surprising. Tony, however, was still there. He had asked to stay for dinner which is fine; he does deserve something for his efforts... Putting up with his constant whining and complaining doesn't really constitute as payment).

I finished the details and payed for the remainder of the season (I had downloaded episode one a year ago) and started downloading the first file (episode 2) as Dave started gathering consumables for his raid. He was on in Orgrimmar for a long time so I saw nothing wrong with watching over his shoulder and downloading the other episodes as they finished, seeing as they all came down so quickly. Then I went to help with dinner.

The potatoes had burned. Well, some of them had burned. Others were just slightly coloured because they were in the same water as the burned ones, so we were able to fish them out and put them in another pan for mashing. The tasted fine, though were a little tough to mash. The lamb was the best I've had in.... Actually I don't remember when I last had lamb that nice, though I don't doubt that it would have been minted lamb shanks from Langfords in Welshpool.

Then I went to lie down because I was still feeling a little nauseous. I think I may have dozed off, but no more than for 5 or 10 minutes according to the PC and mum called me down to help tidy the living room. Oddly enough I think that few minutes of sleep might have done a lot of good for my cold, who knows how much better I would be feeling now if I had been left to sleep. I got up and felt extremely groggy, which is how I tend to feel after 5-10 minutes of sleep, and went to see what I could do for them. I just was not with it, though, barely registering anything anybody said. At least Tony was gone, though.

Jeff was extremely stressed. Being completely out-of-it I thought this was due to the mess he was attempting to clean. Apparently it turned out that, after I had gone to bed, Tony went off on one of his rants at them again.

It was especially hard to concentrate on anything that was going on because Die Had 4.0 was on. Although this is the cheesiest of the Die Hard films it's still hard not to become engrossed by it. When I had finished everything I had been asked to do and the instructions seemed to end I sat down to watch the end. Then I came up, kicked Chug off the PS3 and Dave, who had finished his raid at this point, logged off and went to bed. He didn't feel like watching anything, but I knew it was a long shot just to ask, as it was already 11pm and he has work tomorrow.

It turned out the girl who had requested to be my friend on facebook was Lauren Thorley... It also turns out that Eden Ivy Lee IS her real name. I wander how she acquired the name Lauren, if that isn't her real... I replied to the last message she sent to me through Facebook and I started updating my blog and we ended up sending messaged back and forth through face book as I did so. One of the last messages I sent was asking if she had MSN or Yahoo IM but I don't think she got it, as she replied to the one I had sent previously and that appeared to be the end of it.

I also took the time to check out my friend Kirvil's blog; http://noeullent.typepad.com/. I don't speak any Norwegian, however when I run through it through a translator it's still pretty damn hard to read and I grasp pretty much none of it. Hopefully there's a better translator out there...

That would apparently bring us to the here and now.

I'm long over due for a shower but I'm probably going to play some games first. Even though I really want to get into Sam and Max I think I'll play the sims a little, as I want to make the latter last as long as possible, as there are a few games that come out in February that I'm really looking forward to. Plus there are several games that came out last year I'm interested in yet I don't seem to have got my hands on, yet.

Slow Day

2009-01-09T16:45:00.000-08:00

Well, the title might say "slow day"; I don't think it went by too quickly or slowly or any more so than usual. Today and yesterday I watched Piglet (my niece). When she slept I played a little of the sims 2 which I also played after she went home (yesterday, that is; I do intend to play more later). I don't think I should get too 'hooked' on anything now that I know I'm not going to see through for long (the Sims 3 gets released next month).

To that end I'm probably going to download the rest of season 2 of Sam & Max. The first season was hilarious, I've been waiting for it to come out on disk (it's been only available through download for most of last year) so that I can support my small, local businesses, in this case Ego. To make up for not supporting my local games shop by buying this directly from the publisher, instead of from them, I'm probably going to get the Wii version of season 1.

I confess; I did continue playing for half an hour or so after she woke up, letting her play on the floor. But every time she asked for attention I gave it to her and as soon as she seemed unhappy I'd pick her up (or, if she was already in my arms/on my lap, put her down) and when she became upset I would take her downstairs again.

I watched a little Red Dwarf with Dave after Jeff and I took her home yesterday, I'm not sure how many episodes. This was before I played on The Sims.

The only difference between yesterday and today was that mum actually cooked today (I felt a little guilty when I saw her in the kitchen, I guess I might have been complaining more than I realised. I don't mind being the one to do the cooking for the house... I think I just mind that I'm the only one who is really fit to). (I don't remember what I made yesterday. Couldn't have been adventurous. Now I think about it, it might have been burgers and chips. Not adventurous by a long shot. Wish people would stop buying damn burgers...).

Also, pickle was actually picked up by her mother for a change.

I came up and Dave asked if he could do a heroic instance on WoW, which I agreed to. He apparently needed 5 more emblems of heroism to get this neck piece he wanted. He's needed 5 more for the better part of a week. Perhaps more than a week, I don't know. He recommended I put on a DVD, and that he didn't mind which (this was after we couldn't find the one he wanted). I couldn't be bothered to put anything on, so I just lay on the bed. I dozed off for a few minutes, I don't know how long but it was long enough to be aware that I was asleep, or at least beginning to fall asleep.

I went down to use get myself a sandwich and a drink... I somehow managed to have the sandwich, make my mother a drink and come back thirsty. I checked my mail and other messages and found that somebody I've never heard of has added me to face book (I only opened an account to contact Zoe, so that I could get her address and Mark's so that I could get Christmas presents for their children). After Christmas I decided to fill in a profile (probably because somebody else I didn't know had added me to her contacts, only at that point the only thing about me on my profile was my name and a week later she added a second James Nash, so I'm pretty sure it wasn't me she was after. Basically I updated it to avoid more situations like this).

I think this person might be somebody I met when I first joined the church, she looks a lot like her. But the name threw me. It said that she was a member of the church, but that could mean any continent. We had no friends in common, apparently, so did she add me because I listed my "religious views" as Mormon? (I listed my 'political views' as Anarchy \m/)? I sent a message, saying that I didn't know much about FaceBook etiquette, but that I would like to know more about her before I confirmed her as a friend.

Then I realised that this girl is obviously local as she works for, or is, at least, somehow involved with the local newspaper. Looking through her friends I found that those few that had anything in common (from the limited information they supplied), but there seemed to be clusters of people who did; Mormons, people from mid wales and people from the midlands. Some of those from mid-Walesfamiliar. While it was possible that the girl in the photo who answers to the name Eden Ivy Lee may look different enough from Loren Thorleydifferent person, I don't think there any members of the church in this area by that name who look that much like her.

I shall now play some Sims 2. I still hope to get myself something to drink, I don't know if this will be before or after I play the sims. Whenever I go for it this drink it will probably turn out to be a cup of rooibos tea. (But it might turn out to be orange juice).

There is no life A.F.K.

2009-01-07T16:09:00.000-08:00

I named this blog as I did because, at the time, I was playing a lot of World of Warcraft. Actually, my time on that game dropped dramatically as my sister had a baby boy, Dylan, 6 months prior to the first post I made (the only real post before this) and she didn't seem to want to spend any time with him. And she went on to spend virtually no time with him until he was nearly 2 years old; she would drop him off at our place soon after he woke, usually between 9am and 10 am, and wouldn't come to pick him up until after 9pm.

At some point during this time my play time on WoW and any other games dropped even further and yet I still seemed to have no life of my own.

When her son was around 18 months old she had a Daughter, Georgia-May, just as adorable as he is. We frequently took care of both children for a few months, but as her son was now able to walk unaided and speaking in full sentences (no thanks to her) she started taking much more of an interest and we don't get to see him as much, these days.

(Elise isn't actually employed and nobody is completely certain why she can't watch both children, or why she couldn't look after Dylan when he was an only child).

We now baby sit her as much as we did Dylan, if not more as Elise tends to drop her off after 8am, some time, and will rarely come for her before 10pm. She seems to have less interest than she had for Dylan, and I thought her treatment of him was pretty deplorable. Realistically I know George is getting treated better than he was, or at least changed more frequently. Though this could be because she's spending more time with us during the day, although Dylan probably spent more time here as we had him for far more nights.

Most days a guy called Tony Quigg comes and babysits for us. I don't think I can really explain the way this man makes those around him feel and do justice while accurately explaining the feelings he evokes in us. He does it for free and he's not exactly affluent. This, you would think, must make him some kind of saint. This is what I would think. However I think that if you, my imaginary reader, got to know him for a few weeks, then eventually you'd want to be payed to endure his continued company. There's no end to the amount of personal comments and cutting remarks he makes. He has no problems telling people what he thinks about their personal habits, especially my poor step father who has several medical conditions which prevent him from leading a hygienic lifestyle. I think about killing Tony at least once a day, which is still much more merciful of the amount of homicidal fantasies my mother has of him.

I don't even think he babysits out of the goodness of his heart, I think it's more to do with some perverse way he see's my sister, who has to be 40 years his junior. (He claims to be about 50 or so, though I wouldn't be surprised if this was true and life has simply aged him a little prematurely).

Even though he's babysitting my sister's children she won't let him do it at her house because he keeps complaining her house stinks of weed (she denies this repeatedly, but I think this is one area where we might actually agree with Tony. Though, thinking about it, I couldn't smell weed when me and mum popped by for a few minutes earlier), that her boyfriend is a twat (one of the few other things we agree on. Even Elise has a hard time rebuking this) or anything else that comes to mind. She also suspects that she snoops around her house, in places where he doesn't belong, and opens her mail. She doesn't mind the idea of him doing that here.

Today he told mum "wasn't fit to look after the baby" (he's ill) this morning, however I pointed out to her that he's not fit to look after her full stop.

So I had her all day, not that I really minded. A few months ago (it might have been about 6 months ago, it was summer) we had a huge blow out and I wouldn't let mum have him around for a month. This was the longest we've been rid of the anal bastard since the birth of her first child. I knew that, as soon as I started backing down and letting him come infrequently it wouldn't be long before he was here almost every day of the week.

Mum had a dentist appointment today, needed to make a trip to Welshpool and had a weight-watchers meeting. I was supposed to accompany her to Welshpool, but we both agreed it was unfair to take a baby out in the car in this weather when we don't have to. I still didn't like letting her go along but I didn't see any other choice.

George took 2 short naps in the middle of the day, the later one lasted for the better part of an hour, most of which I spent trying to revive Chug's yahoo email account. For some reason it won't accept (what we believed) to be the old password or let us change it to anything new. I didn't manage to do this while she slept. I even tried starting a new yahoo account, however I kept getting messages saying I couldn't open an account for anybody below 18 years old without parental or guardian consent and required a parent or guardian to log in to give it. I don't know my mother's password (which I'm a little surprised about, truth be told, as I know the entire household's passwords for their online services except for mum's email. And I swear I used to know it).

I don't remember what I did until after 4, when Charles came home, and I don't really remember what I did until around 6, when I watched the episode 1 of 'Psych' on my computer, as he never saw much of the first season.

George was asleep at the time, this time sleeping for at least 80 minutes. After Psych I took fer down to change her nappy and make dinner for family. Although "making" dinner seems wrong, mum got a cooked chicken from the supermarket and some pork stuffing and meatloaf, which I warmed and fried some pre-sliced chips. (Actually, it's been so long since I've had anything other than pre-cut chips that I don't remember what home sliced ones even taste like. This isn't because I prefer them or even because I don't like the hassle of cutting chips (I don't, but this is beside the point) but because, years ago, I found the McCain's Home Fries were better than any other chip I'd ever tasted from anywhere. They're not nearly as good since they made them into oven chips, but they'd become too habitual by then).

I stayed downstairs until it was time to take Georgia home. She was very talkative in this time, though she doesn't know any 'actual' words, unless you count 'mumumum' (which I suspect we do), and possibly bababa. (She also make a sound which I don't think I know how to repeat, let alone spell, which seems to combine a 'W' and a 'B' sound. You can try to imagine it but I don't think you could possibly understand the noise without hearing it first). I watched a little Q.I with Chuggle.

Stavros, my sister's loser boyfriend, had taken their car to Liverpool for whatever reason (I wouldn't like to think about his reasons, let alone speculate about them as publicly as this). When we got there Mum had to pop inside "for 5 minutes" to top up my sister's mobile phone credit. We ended up staying for far longer, but this was to be expected.

We arrived to find her playing that memory game with the cards where you flip a pair and if the pictures don't match you have to flip them back. Dylan apparently had some trouble understanding the rules. But he's 2, so I let that slide, especially as he played so enthusiastically.

He cried when we left, which was pretty heart breaking. He was pretty excited that we were there, as we rarely make the visit to her place (in my case it's mostly because I don't like my sister) and I think he wanted us to spend the night.

It's not fair to have to take care of them so much, but it still hurts to see the little buggers go. I've bonded so much with both of them it's almost a maternal thing, which is more than can be said for their mother.

On our way home mum said she wanted to have a look around town (which she does sometimes, and so do I, occasionally), not that there was anything to say by that time (especially on wednesday). I reminded her that I was the only one who hadn't eaten yet (as I was looking after the baby while others ate, as they were nice enough to watch her while I 'cooked'), but that I didn't mind as my dinner was, no doubt, already cold. We didn't spend long going through town (my sister lives 5 minutes away by car so any stops made between her house and ours are detours).

I warmed my dinner a little and ate it with some buttered bread and watched Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. (It started off pretty hard hitting, but trailed into more of a court room drama, like the original show. Actually, it one I'd seen before, where the woman from the D.A's office comes out of witness protection). Then I came up here, checked my messages and finally got around to updating my blog after 2 years.

I think I may go and have a mug of Rooibos before I actually go to bed, though.

Boding Silence

2007-02-25T20:46:00.000-08:00

-- The entry below entry has been saved as a draft since the 25th February 2007. I thought I might as well post it. --

I don't consider myself a 'clogger' (one who makes a few blog entries and then stops altogether), the truth is that there has simply been nothing interesting to right about.

You see, I'm almost a full time baby sitter to my sweet little nephew, Dylan (Bink, Binky, Binky Bob, BeelzeBink, Binkelzebob, Bobbles, Mr. Biggles or combinations of those). I have to look after him at night but the thing is I'm an incredibly heavy sleeper. The house next door could blow up and the my reaction might simply be to roll over. So I refuse to go to sleep when I have him. I might wake up when he makes those cute little baby noises; the gasps and the 'false alarms' (when he starts to cry in his sleep but then goes on sleeping) and I might do this for an hour, more or less, and then the last time I'll reach the pillow and stay there and mum (who isn't very well, anyway) will come to see to him if he goes on crying for a prolonged period of time.

On a weekday I'll have him until about 10am, more or less, because everybody will either be at work or at school or, in mum's case, won't get back from taking Chug to school until sometime between 10am and 12pm. So me and young Bink spend a good deal of quality time together; I get to spend most of my days (nights) without anybody asking me to do stuff, which is a blessing.

He'll generally wake up between 3am and 6am because of discomfort in his nappy but he won't let you change it or stop screaming until he's given a bottle. Don't get me wrong; he's one of the happiest, sweetest and most loving babies I have ever met, always laughing, giggling and instantly warm affectionate to just about everybody. He just get's very impatient when he doesn't get his bottle as soon as he wakes up.

Today was somewhat anomalous, though; he woke up happy and smiling and practising his oral sounds (little 'ahhh's', 'oooh's' and 'ahgoo's' and continued happily in this manner for 15 to 30 minutes until I could stand his cuteness no longer and picked him up for a cuddle. He watched Avatar from my lap with me and Chuggle but kept diving forwards to Chug, who was lying in front of us, until I gently lowered him until Chug, where he most happily cuddled and wrestled his 11 year old uncle (it was his birthday, yesterday).

The flip side is that, unless I'm watching films or DVDs with Dave I have nobody to talk to until bink wakes up... And try as he might; he just isn't the conversationalist he thinks he is. (The baby, not Dave. Dave can be a great conversationalist when he wants to be; we'll sit up and discuss all kinds of things, but he's addicted to TV and movies. I don't mind watching movies but I can't handle many more than 5 a week at a stretch).

So my 'free' nights are largely spent playing World of Warcraft and trying to figure out the best times to have me 3 meals a day in conjuncture with the time I get up and when I estimate I'll go to bed.

Saterday was Chug's Birthday so I stayed up through the day until about 6pm. I took him to play some LAN battles of some starwars RTS and the latest expansion of battle for middle earth.

I also got him a new office chair to replace his miniature typist's chair which, apart from £10 from his dad, was his only gift that I'm aware of, since we're having money troubles atm and Mum and Jeff are broke. He's hoping to get 'Hoodwinked' on DVD and the afore mentioned battle for middle earth expansion. We got Pizza on the way home, I ate my share and don't remember what else I did before I went to bed.

I remember feeling awful about the state I was in that day, being so tired and lethargic and I dragged myself through all the things I promised to do, only to cut my time with him short and go to bed.

He spent the rest of the day on his PC playing games in his room, trying to wake me every few hours. I eventually woke up at roughly midnight to find that, once again, nobody had put him to sleep in my absence. That is, if I don't put him to bed nobody else will even try. (They have tried in the past, I guess they gave up on that particular task).

That night was uneventful; the baby woke up some time after the WoW server went down (I don't remember why they took them down) and I took him for some milk (we were all out of the pre-made stuff so I had to mix him some powdered, but I left the kettle on for too long and had to leave it under a running tap for a while). When all of that was done we settled down to watch Mannequin until he fell asleep (he
--I don't remember what the rest of the sentance was suppsed to be, apparently this is where I stopped typing

Girl in a Box

2007-02-16T20:20:00.001-08:00

Friday was my step-sister's funeral. I began writing this in the small hours of the next day because my sleeping pattern is messed up beyond recognition I went to bed not feeling slightly tired at I-don't-know-what-time, feeling completely restless as I listened for the downstairs clock to chime every 30 minutes. The last chime I remember hearing before I fell asleep was 4am, meaning that I had at least one and a half hours of sleep before I was awoke by my step-dad.

I found a shirt, (I found another shirt when it turned out the first one wasn't big enough for me to put in both of my arms at the same time without squeezing my shoulder blades together and force me to walk around with my arms out-stretched) got dressed in the new suit that I blew all my cash on a couple of weeks ago, got mum to put on my new tie for me and then went back to bed, where I failed to get any more sleep before the time to leave approached.

I changed my nephew's nappy; something I don't mind doing but this morning... having taken off the one he slept in (which he had clearly pee'd in several times and was a hefty weight) he pee'd again. And again. He must have pee'd at least 4 times, although I counted 5, each time failing to hit me (although he managed to get the corner of mum's laptop, I have no idea what the shape of which is now). I made my usual joke, when he made a large amount of waste that I was "surprised there was any baby left".

So when I finished changing his nappy and had him dressed I went to put my coat on when somebody (Jeff, I think) noticed I had managed to get baby cream all over the top of my new suit trousers and part of my jacket. We got most of this out but it's grease based cream and very hard to remove, but we managed to get it to the point where it was only really noticeable if somebody pointed it out.

I don't know what time we set off. An old friend of Tanya's, Kelly, was accompanying us so we took 2 cars; Steve had agreed to drive some of us and Elise would follow mum's car (after mum's chemo yesterday she wasn't feeling well enough to drive), which may have been a mistake because Steve is an erratic and often dangerous driver. Kelly, Chug and I were in his car, mum, Elise and the baby were in mum's.

Steve and I talked quite casually, only occasionally speaking about Tanya or the Funeral. I wandered how Kelly would interpret that as being callous, since was clearly taking things much harder. Then I felt a mild sense of shame that I was thinking about my outward appearance on such a day.

We stopped at a service station just east of Birmingham because mum needed the toilet. We were hoping to grab a quick breakfast but fate was not in favour of this; I had forgotten my cash card and had to borrow £10 from Steve and most of the food court was shut, opening in 15 minutes which was unacceptable because we were already behind schedule and the one shop in it that was open was highly over-priced and I didn't have enough to feed and quench 4 people. So I got a drink for Chug, mum, Elise and myself, Kelly got her own drink and some food and I think Steve got something, too. I didn't have to break the tenner Steve gave my since I managed to find enough loose change in my pockets to cover it, but I kept it nonetheless in the hope there would be an opportunity to get some food later on.

Unsure at first that we were in the right one we found the cemetery about an hour early, probably due to Steve's erratic, dangerous driving.

Steve got out and looked at the various tomb stones, Kelly and Chug squeezed into mum's car for warmth, while mum fed the baby, and I paced around a little bit and looked at a couple of tomb stones, staying a long distance away from the freshly dug hole not far from where mum had parked. (Steve had a good look at it at some point).

After a while the ladies got out of their car after mum asked me and Steve to fetch the reefs from his far. I began to suspect that I was being somewhat petty, as I wouldn't touch the reef sent by Tanya's father, taking the one mum had selected instead. We put 2 cards on it, one from mum and one with a short message from me, Elise and Chug. I don't really remember what they said. My message read something like "Tanya, I love you as much as any real sister and I always will".

I do love Tanya, as shamefully distant as we were. I deeply admired her until she gave up... And even then I felt the deepest of sympathy when I heard the circumstances of her death. And I felt these things every bit as much as I do for Elise or Charles or any other relative, even as short as our time together was. In a strange way it was a relief to know that I loved her.

I was worried about how I felt... I couldn't tell if my lack of feeling simply due to my Asperger's or if I really didn't feel anything. It only really hit me that she was gone the night before; Jeff said something about seeing Mark and Zoë (fumbling a little bit, trying to remember Zoë’s name) and I was about to open my mouth to correct him and say something like "you mean Mark, Zoë and Tanya" and then realising that Tanya was gone.

I don't know if the 5 stages of grief will never apply to death for me as they do for everybody else; I seem to miss staged, or take them in the wrong order and tend to get through them very quickly*, but I guess my grieving prices started there.

Much as I wanted to I was still unable to shed a tear.

Having finished my message I put them both in the card holders and the 6 of us (it may not have been 6, the baby may have been in the car with somebody attending to him) stood around, waiting for something to happen.

"Collo" was the next person to arrive in his van with a couple of other people we didn't really get a good look at, although we all seemed to notice that one of them was on crutches but didn't see the person's face.

He walked up to us and asked if we were alright. We all ignored him as well as we could; I couldn't even glimpse him with more than my peripheral vision without feeling a little nauseous. Maybe he thought we hadn't heard about the things that happened between Tanya but Zoe had told us all about the absolutely despicable things he had said and done and none of us wanted to know him.

The next thing I remember Elise was on the phone to Zoe... I don't remember who phoned who but I guess Elise phoned her, since I don't remember the phone ringing. Elise told her that Collo was there and that we all ignored him and that he was there with somebody who might have been his new girlfriend, but we couldn't tell because we didn't see the person from the front and only knew that they were in crutches.

Zoe told us to move out of the way because some bikers were on their way down.

I think Steve had already returned to his car by this point; he didn't know Tanya or any of her family and I guess he felt uncomfortable with the prospect of attending the funeral (which is understandable, especially given to his irreverent nature).

We all walked around to the other side of the chapel and stood around there and, sure enough, minutes later the bikers arrived. They parked their bikes on the other side of the building from us (the side we had just walked from) and they marched back towards us, looking stern and into the chapel. They walked out and seemed to be looking around.

Elise took it upon herself to see if she could be helpful, asking them if they were looking for somebody (which they were) and if this somebody had ginger hair (which he did). She pointed them in the right direction, saying that he was by his van with somebody in crutches.

We didn't see Collo again that day and the malicious thought crossed my mind (and, presumably, everybody else’s) that hopefully nobody would do so ever again.

More people started to turn up and eventually the funeral procession arrived.

We awkwardly tried to position ourselves as out-of-the-way as possible, which sadly meant we found ourselves bunched next to the doorway where we were available for all to see...

I know this is something which shouldn't have meant anything but I have attended enough funerals to know that there is a weird kind of pecking order when it comes to position and being seen much the same as weddings. The mourners who were the most closely related to the departed (spouses, parents, children, siblings, etc) will be at the head of the procession (after the casket), at the front of the service and at the head table of the wake, followed by 'lesser relatives', people of importance, close friends, and those who wished to pay their respects and be as inconspicuous as possible. It can all get very shallow from time to time, but I didn't want to be perceived as some stranger standing in the place of Tanya's closer relatives. Again I wandered if I was being shallow or petty.

Fortunately Mark and Zoe made a point of coming up to us and greeting us all exceptionally warmly and stood with us.

The preacher said that there was no way everybody there would fit in the small chapel.

Both mum and I said that we would remain outside if there was no room. I think she was able to procure a seat and I remained outside with the baby, deciding that (uncomfortable as it was to stand there carrying his chair) my own comfort should be second to that of Tanya (such as it was) and the strangers there whose closeness to Tanya was a mystery to me. The undertaker ushered me in, though, saying that I shouldn't be stood out there with a baby (I'd just like to point out that he was well wrapped and it was as cold inside as out, so standing in the shelter of the doorway he would have been fine but she seemed to find this idea unthinkable) and not only sat me near the front but on a bench in front of the other mourners, adjacent to Tanya, next to 4 or 5 people I had never seen before.

Sadly I found myself trying to feign the appearance of my genuine sadness so that anybody not aware of my condition who noticed me (i.e., everybody except mum, Chug and Elise) wouldn't think I was totally heartless. This time I didn't think of myself as shallow because I reasoned that if somebody did spot somebody who didn't look as if they were deeply upset would become distracted and [further] resentful of me. Some of the contortions in my face, at least, were caused by real pain from some of the things being said by the speakers.

The baby awoke during the service and began to make noises and I fed him his bottle (after all; he's usually of the opinion that being awake means its feeding time) and took it away again when he coughed slightly. He cooed and gurgled happily and quietly (for the most part) throughout the service and I caressed his cheek and his faint, wispy hair from time to time.

I noted that the reverend twice mentioned all of Tanya's brothers and sisters and other immediate family without mentioning Chuggles (I didn't mind that Mum, Elise and myself weren't mentioned), her half brother; as much a brother to her as her half siblings Gaynor, Daniel and Alex who were mentioned. But I understood; her mother was for some reason resentful of us; Tanya's extended family; probably because of our connection to Carl; Tanya's father. Or maybe the list given to him was given by one of Gaynor, Daniel and Alex themselves who would have been too young to remember any of us. Or maybe it was Mark and/or Zoe who didn't include our names in order to avoid trouble with Renarta.

The list was also mentioned by Daniel, who delivered the eulogy and seemed to gloss over the years she lived with us. But this was time spent with her father, so etching it out of history may possibly be a good thing. I know I don't want him mentioned in my eulogy if only because I was taught that if you can't say something nice you shouldn't say anything at all.

It was about this time that I felt that I should create a new blog and write about the day.

Then the coffin bearers took her remains outside... The people in the front row followed, along with the people standing in the doorway, and then people seemed to be unsure who was supposed to go next. The guy sitting next to me stood up and walked out of the room, and I was sitting right next to the door so I surmised that it was probably me causing the bottle neck. I cautiously got up, trying to look around to see if I was indeed supposed to go next but nobody seemed to be looking at me. I left anyway and the rest of the congregation seemed to follow me so I guess I was.

I shuffled around nervously, awaiting the rest of my family so that I could walk with them and got separated from my mother (as I tended to during funeral processions), but Elise caught up with me and took the baby's chair off me for a couple of minutes (much to the relief of my arms) and she walked with me.

It's not often I'm glad to see her much less walk with her but I was then.

The flowers and reefs had already been taken from the chapel and hurst and displayed near her final resting place for all to see before the service. Tanya's remains were lowered into the hole and people were invited to drop roses into her grave; mum ensured that Chuggles was among them, being a genuine half brother.

Then, as people started walking away something happened that I had never seen at a funeral before; people stopped to admire the flowers. This wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the rather tacky feeling that came with this and I asked mum "What's happening? Are they 'comparing sizes'"? At which she sniggered but I pointed out that that it wasn't funny. It really did seem to me that people were checking to see who gave the biggest and nicest reefs and bouquets.

Gradually people began making their way to their cars and Chris (an old friend of Mark's whom we didn't recognise at first) started to give people directions. Mum told him we were from Wales (and so we didn't really know any local landmarks or street names) which prompted him to recognise us and he said just to follow his car (a white Ford Fiesta).

Kelly and Chug decided to ride in Mum's car leaving me to go in Steve's. Steve and I nearly lost the procession to the wake a few times, probably because the car we were following didn't realise we were following him, he seemed to be having some trouble keeping up himself, he was overtaken by other cars (not part of the procession) once or twice and so were we.

We were a little worried that perhaps he was not actually attending the wake but just going straight home, however we spotted mum standing next to her car in the car park of the community hall in which the wake was being held.

Everybody else went in and I assured Steve that I would find out how long we would be (he said he didn't mind how long) so that he would know if he had time to grab a bite to eat from the nearest corner shop. After using the rest room I found mum and asked and she told me she didn't intend to stay too long, but I gathered from the tone of her voice that Steve probably had time to get some food quickly and I told him so.

The Pears side of the family, as well as the younger mourners, were more jovial than the older attendants whom I supposed were the Collo's family and Renarta's in-laws, who sat at their tables looking more like those people more traditionally found at wakes.

One or 2 of the bikers joined in the merriment but most of them sat along the wall looking as solemn as the older guests.

After a few minutes of standing around feeling uncomfortable I sat at the same table as Kelly and Chug, which Elise and Mum had been at previously as evidenced by their coats and bags. They were not far off, chatting with Mark and Zoe.

Then they, along with Kelly, wandered off into the bar room for a few while leaving me and Chuggle with the baby again. (Not that I mind, I love that baby incredibly and I love Chug just as much). I had a few crisps (some kind of smokey chicken, I suspect) but I didn't like them to much (not that this stopped me from picking at them every now and then; I was famished) and I chatted with Chuggle about some mindless stuff.

I couldn't help but notice Chris from time to time, as he was laughing and joking loudly with some people I didn't recognise, exchanging stories which I don't think were really related to Tanya. It seemed somewhat disrespectful to me and made me a little uncomfortable, not that I could really make out what they were saying specifically, and I found myself regarding them with some mild disdain.

After a while Mum, Elise, Kelly, Zoe and Mark returned and I got to hug both Zoe and Mark, told them that I missed them (it just slipped out, unexpectedly. It was true enough but I hadn't actually planned on saying it. I hadn't really realised how much I missed them until I said it, to be honest) and we all got to chatting (I say 'we'; I chimed in every now and then but I'm not a brilliant conversationalist).

Having spent some short amount of time (in truth I have no idea how long we were in the building, it could have been half an hour it could have been over 1 hour) we went out to set off home. Mark and Zoe came out to see us off and the small talk continued. We talked about the baby, computer games, and work in that particular borough of London.

We had time to talk considerably because Steve still wasn't back from getting a snack. Mark assured us that the nearest corner shop was just at the end of the street so we weren't sure where he could be. Steve told us he often gets lost in big cities, so we imagined him in lost somewhere in the middle of town. Well somebody imagined that; my imagination tends to get the better of me and I imagined him getting arrested for making another illegal u-turn somewhere. This was a thought I probably should have kept to myself.

He eventually returned, having found some kebab house some way away where he got himself a burger. We pointed out the shop mark told us about as wel left; it was less than a minute away.

We went back to the cemetary for one last moment at Tanya's grave. First Elise went to see it and Kelly followed and I waited to accompany mum, who stayed with the baby. I went to see it with Kelly as Elise returned. It wasn't the personal moment the ladies hoped it would be; it was being filled in by some some ugly men who seemed like the couldn't care less about whom they were burying. As cold as they found it it was the thing that eventually made me cry, and I turned away so that Kelly woundn't see. (I have a problem crying infront of other people).

I thought about her half siblings in London and her 3 children. Tanya was a mother or big sister to everybody she was a friend with, even people of her own age. The world seriosly needs more people like her.

I opened mum's door so that she could go and pay her respects but Elise had described it to her and decided to stay.

We stopped for a KFC on the way home. It was some cheesy radio 2 show with Chris Moyles or Chris Evens or Christ Tarrant or some other terrible radio personality called Chris taking cheesy requests. Although it's kinda weird; in the dark on a long drive after a long day (particularly when everything you see is only lit up by the cheap orange glow of street lights) there's something kind of comforting about the tone of the radio, no matter how bad the programme is.

Kelly, now that Chuggle was in the other car, stretched out on the back seat a few times to sleep, according to sleep. I nodded off myself a few times but I don't think it was ever longer than a couple of minutes.

Dave was there when we got home. We watched some TV together and eventually we went online to play World of Warcraft. I would have gone to sleep but I was over-tired and didn't see the point of doing so until I came off my 'second wind'. (I would just be awake, thinking, all night). When I did head off to bed I remembered that I really wanted to record the things that had happened so I came back to my room and started a new blog. I was up until sometime after 5am writing until I couldn't keep my eyes open.

Although Tanya's body was buried on the 16th of February, she wasn't there. I believe in an afterlife but this is something differant... It wasn't her body she left behind. She died once in december and what was left behind was what remained. When that died 2 weeks ago it wasn't even the remains of Tanya, it was just some girl in a box.

*I don't know what happened with my nan, 6 years before; it was about 4 years later when I started crying uncontrollably in the middle of a night when I was having trouble sleeping.