An odd day…

It’s been an odd day. I rose early, got the coffee on and watered my window box. I feel nervous going out of my gates because my neighbour verbally abused me in public with witnesses.

I have done nothing. I already had written to them after the wife verbally abused when Andrew was with me.

No one deserves this. And it’s so obvious that QL have been looking through my blog – the snoops that they are. Vile people.

I have had to report it to the police. I needed an ambulance after each occasion.

The Moores kept a parcel for me for a whole week. Apparently it isn’t an offence. The stupid man tried to lie about it, but I had emails to prove when it was delivered. Stupid people dig deep holes.

I had intended to make frittata earlier but my meds had been taken so I am not my best after that. Now, all I want is to sleep.

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

3 replies on “An odd day…”

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