My cousin has written down some notes about Minneapolis.
I feel like rioting. At our council building, at a certain letting agency. All my neighbours for 15 years, have at some point behaved criminally toward me. Except the Slovenian lady. Even the owner. He was not a good neighbour to have.
I could riot at the idiots who have flocked here and jumped off 200 ft rocks into the sea and needed air ambulances, the 2 who nearly drowned at the beach and needed paramedics. A forest fire is still smouldering because idiots took one use bbqs and were careless, and then a second fire with another disposable bbq.
This is the problem of living where there is beauty. I met some on the quay from Birmingham!!! They’ve come from London in droves. All local police and every other emergency service is stretched to breaking point. The crime I reported hasn’t been looked at.
I gather trolls daily, it seems.
I didn’t water the garden this morning. I didn’t wake until after 7 am. I’ll do it this evening. I know why I started the mornings – I am not tired out by the pain in my ankle or ribs. My ribs are much better though. Just very tender.
It seems so noisy out there now that people are doing too much too soon. Our death rate is still in triple figures while the rest of Europe is below 34.
What a mess up.
But I have my gorgeous garden. My haven.
Bees are there all the time. Butterflies and moths. A refuge for biodiversity. I will taste my strawberries again. They should be really sweet by now.
Writer and psychologist. My health, a journey with two life shortening diseases 
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