Don't Believe in Pickles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I couldn't bear it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prizes Withdrawn

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apathy in the UK

I guess this will be a short post.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's not much else to say.

Stupid Scouse Dealer

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

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

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

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

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

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

Melodrama

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

It's now wednesday the 4th.

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

Chug Turns 13

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Curry Night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ultimately the food was edible though rather bland.

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

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

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

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

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

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