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The danger of believing one side… and how to survive Covid19…

I am so grateful for the friends I have in my life. Some for all my life. They are all different. They all bring out the best in me, and all would say the same things of me.

Generous, kind, loyal, trusted, fun, funny, spontaneous, won’t gossip, discreet, patient, wise, knowledgeable.

The last thing my friends need to know about me is that I have a Ph.D. It does not define me.

Those I have had difficulty with, such as Key Living, my former neighbours, and Michael E. are because of unprofessional behaviour, gossip, and alcoholism. Those are nothing to do with me.

The editor that has harassed me for months became more vicious when I messaged his blog to ask to stop. I had to give an email address and I was not going to my own. I had already told him that. So I asked various of my friends and selected one from a professor friend who was interested seeing the replies.

That editor now thinks I have used different identities, even though the name is easily found on the web. But it fuels his persecution complex. Which sits alongside his narcissitic tendency. He’s rather like Trump.

So he has published a reply from Callum Brown. Reporting it to be from me. What a fool, because he has broken all the rules of medium.com and made a fool of himself.

He styles himself as Dr but he only has a BSc. And the institution where he claims to have gained L3 in architecture has no record of him.

A friend of mine in Malaysia has written extensively about Covid 19. Here are some facts you need to know about a corona virus:

SARS survivors are also more likely to develop neuropsychiatric disorders at 31–50 months post-infection, compared to the non-infected. The data shows that 54.5% of SARS survivors had PTSD, 39% had depression, 36.4% had pain disorder; 32.5% had panic disorder, and 15.6% had obsessive-compulsive disorder.Whereas the prevalence of these disorders was only 3% before the SARS epidemic.

To survive Covid19, you need to eat high protein, fats such as legumes and meat, and as few carbs as you can. Carbs feed foreign bacteria and free radicals, so they compromise the immune system.

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A bit crushed…

Photo by TOPHEE MARQUEZ on Pexels.com

The wife in the couple to whom I teach conversational English is angry. I’ve been teaching one of them and he is so grateful, but she will only take lessons by skype. She will not come to join the conversation.

.

A friend down the road hurt me late last week, and I emailed her about it. I got no response. She fetched shopping for me today as I’m not allowed in shops. Instead of apologising she rubbed salt in the wound and left as I started to cry.

Why do I attract such bad friends?

Tonight I diagnosed a much better friend with Venous Stasis, which is dangerous if untreated. She had phoned her doctor described her symptoms and she told me she was prescribed tablets. Tonight I discovered they are antibiotics!!! Completely wrong!!!

I have continued to sleep well. And long.

I have poured out my anger about M. Ebsworth breaking my laptop. No mature response. Why are men such children. I need a laptop so badly.

The houses opposite are much further progressed than I realised. This is why I am considering palliative care only. I can’t not see the sun in winter.

I am happy and at peace. I know where I am going.

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Time passes…

My depression is flattening out. I just looked out my window and the sun is making the chain ferry luminous in the late sun. The harbour is so blue.

So I’m doing a bit better. My friends and I are passing silly videos and memes on WhatsApp which brings laughter into the day.

I came across a flat with a wrap around terrace. But the kitchen is in the living room and I really dislike that. Then I found a ground floor flat what is in a converted church. I love it. It’s in Penzance, so very impractical.

I don’t want to move but I’d love to be closer to my cousin, who’s in Sunderland, very far from Cornwall.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of cutting my daughter’s hair. It seems like ages since I did that. I did it all her life, stating at age 31/2.

The clouds are pink now, turning coral. And fading into grey/blue.

I continue to write articles. I sleep later though.

My friend down the road came for distance cup of tea. My cleaner came. The police could stop him and fine him. But I said he should them to phone me.

I’m grateful that people have reached out to me while the depression was bad. I’m so glad I’m not an alcoholic. Just think, drinking until you’re numb, with with no purpose in life, living a lie like Mike Ebsworth.

So jubilant the neighbours are gone. I celebrate each day.

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Recovery still ongoing…

I am still recovering from Thursday. Just some aches in my ribs from sitting for so long in the cold. I got cold. I have been much colder but that was another era in my health.

I have sent thank you cards. Sent texts of gratitude.

My gratitude for strangers who are so kind is boundless. I actually believe no one is a stranger, but a friend in waiting. I have always done my best to be kind. All over the world I have experienced kindness. I used to be quite a risk taker, although other risk takers might think me very tame.

Risks are better taken in warm climates. Then, if you have nowhere to sleep, you won’t freeze.

I have continued with napping. My daughter came yesterday and made me a hot dinner.

I made someone very happy today, just by sending a card. I was thrilled. I love making people feel happy.

I’ve been writing and now write for two publications on medium.com. It’s so rewarding, and I don’t mean money..

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Out of the EU…

Today has been a strange day. I felt like my mojo was missing. I can’t put my finger on it.

I have been productive though. I’ve got a lot of writing done. I just seemed so absent minded.

On Wednesday evening, I celebrated the removal of the gate next door with cheese,wine and chocolate. My midweek glass of wine. It was very enjoyable.

Yesterday a friend visited and another one today. And in between my writing.

The nerve in my leg began to hurt again, so I meditated on it and it faded away.

This is the strangest post I’ve ever written.

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In such pain…

Yesterday evening, two friends came to my home to have dinner with me. Mathew is the friend that picked me up when my trolley tipped up in November. Chrisii and he are having a baby which is due on the second of March.

I had bought some gifts the baby, some soft toys and a thermometer, and light blankets/shawls. She intends to breastfeed, so they will be good for discretion when needed. I didn’t really bother with one, but never actually fed my daughter in public, the most being a small party.

I got the pleasure of feeling the babies heartbeat. It was wonderful. I haven’t felt an unborn baby for so long.

I slept very soundly last night, but woke before six a.m. and knew that was it. Yesterday, a nerve in my thigh bit me three times. Today, it began to hurt at around lunch time, and it’s constancy has worn me to the edge of tears. I have eaten a hot meal and feel a little stronger.

I was rather fazed a short while ago. My phone was going. Message alerts from facebook, and timing the oven.

I came here for peace. For processing some thoughts.

Earlier, I was looking at the harbour and saw a grey horse cantering across it with a rider. It was a moment before I realised this was impossible. Anyhow, it’s a poem in the making.

A friend helped me with the garden yesterday. My neighbours had not only hooked their gates open, but had hammered very long nails under the handle off the bolt as well as above. To prevent me from having access to my garden with a vehicle, or rather, my friend’s van. We twisted the nail upright and closed their gate to open mine.

At times I tremble at what they put me through. But I will not give in to ill-mannered bullies. I will assert myself, as I am not in the wrong.

Thank you for some kind comments in the last week. They mean so much to me. Thank you so much.

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Feeling good and some success…

I went to Salisbury on Tuesday to read poetry. Poetika happens in an upstairs room at a rather nice pub. I had a vegan dinner with an Italian lady I met there. My Italian is virtually zilch, but she spoke enough English for us to get by.

Theme of the poetry was nonsense, so I read the piece about the pig and a version of a poem I had emailed to a friend to print for me, but he didn’t see the email. I quickly cobbled together some of the lines.

There was a guest poet who does a lot of comedy and cabaret in London. She grew up in Salisbury and did not fit in, as her Dad is, or was black. She then related through her poetry how hard it was to fit in in London because of the lightness of her skin. She has a lot of talent.

I stayed the night with a friend, whose wife I met for the first time. We walked home together, and she kind of assumed that I had never been able to drive. This did not offend me, she is lovely and very enjoyable to be with, but I need to reset something about me to alter some perceptions. I never proclaim my skills and accomplishments, they just come up in conversation. So what if that conversation never happens? I am not concerned. I just can start telling people what a novice I am with buses.

On medium.com my articles are being read, and I’ve got a thousand followers in just two weeks.

I find writing satisfying there. So many positive vibes.

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Recovering and happy…

Yesterday, I went with friends who are also poets, to read in the next county. We drove through the New Forest, which I hadn’t seen for a while. It was very beautiful despite being winter, and it’s lovely to see the ponies grazing. My friend, who was driving, bemoaned the lack of a bypass around a certain town, but really less traffic is needed by improving public transport.

I had forgotten how far one had to walk from the nearest car drop off to the entrance. Then I rested on chair, before climbing the stairs.

The venue is a listed house in Romsey. It is a museum, run by a charity. Because it is listed, meaning it is of historic value, it cannot be altered. Further, there is now an entrance fee of £7.50 per person, which includes tea and cake.

This does not sit well with me. Other venues I read at are pubs which have a room or let you take over the whole space. So one buys one refreshments and everybody is happy. In my local poetry group, I buy a drink for £3.

Also, Romsey is in the afternoon. That presents logistical problems of different sorts for different people. It doesn’t bother me, except that it takes up all my day because I spend almost two hours travelling to my friends.

Anyhow, arriving at my friends, I was asked what time my bus home would be. I was taken aback. I had not even thought about my return journey. Andit turned out that being Sunday, the last bus back would be a 4.20. We would still be in Romsey.

My friends lifted my trolley into their camper van, and said they would drop me at the outskirts of my conurbation. This was kind of them.

I really enjoyed the poetry shared by other poets there, apart from one poem, which was dense and required a lot of concentration. One lady read poetry that was so funny. She is Irish and knows many of the places I know.

Someone read a Haiku string. But they weren’t Haiku and it wasn’t a string. It was three line stanzas. I did not say anything. I am weary of teaching Haiku.

My friends ended up driving me all the way home, which I didn’t realise until we were at a certain junction. I was very grateful, but feel I can’t ask to travel with them again.

The element I mentioned yesterday, that is lacking from a vegan’s diet, is iodine. I remembered in the night, as one does. Borden’s Blather provided a link in comments on my last post. Thank you Jim.

So, today, I have needed rest as I’ve ached a bit. But as my poetry was well received, and I heard some wonderful poems read, I am happy.

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Getting there…

Today started fairly well, I remembered to use my inhaler. I am meant to use it every morning, but I am only just getting into the habit. It’s habits that make our lives good and happy, or empty and pointless.

My daughter went to fetch my steroids. I got them later than I hoped, but I took them, todays dose, anyway. I’m meant to take them in the morning as they encourage wakefulness, rather than sleep.

Last night, I watched Sully. I enjoyed it a lot. I don’t watch a lot of TV, as I’d prefer to watch it with someone. I mostly enjoy natural history programmes, some documentaries and a good drama.

I have run out of hours today. I slept a little late as I was awake a lot last night. I have had letters from the hospital. I pick up a device to monitor my breathing during my sleep for two nights. This means I probably won’t sleep…

I got news from friends in the States, though we are in touch a lot with WhatsApp. And I am a sounding board for my friend in Australia, who is buying a mother of the groom outfit. She has a wonderful dress. Now we are discussing jacket or pashmina. I’m for the pashmina as it will show off her dress. (The wedding is up a mountain in New Zealand, and it can be quite cool up there.)

I chatted with a lady from the hospital, who is dealing with my complaint. It is not a formal one. She is giving him feedback.

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Later today…

After my tepid shower early this morning I laid down, determined to sleep. I laughed, because if one is determined to sleep, success is not guaranteed. But I fell asleep around 8.30, because I missed my favourite news programme of the week.

I woke at 1pm feeling sleep satisfied, but not quite myself. Nothing specific.

I logged into medium.com and found I had more followers and responses to articles I have written. I so value this validation.

I have started a new campaign to try to save our local hospital, which serves a vast rural area. The political plan is to downgrade our acute hospital to elective surgeries only, and a walk in Urgent Care for minor injuries only. They want to upgrade a second-rate hospital on the far side of the next town, which means much longer travel times for the majority of the population. This flies in the face of common sense, let alone the risk assessment made by the ambulance service, and the nominated hospital has also calculated that 56 people per year will suffer a negative clinical result. Their figure is well below reality.

After the Tories won such a landslide victory, I was so gobsmacked that I thought I would no longer campaign. But habits die hard, and I have started a new petition, addressed to PM Boris Johnson. (His first name is Alex, but he adopted his middle name when he was about 14. We all refer to him as ‘Boris’.)

So my day so far has been productive, even though it’s Sunday. I don’t go out as much in winter, so it’s no problem. I take leisure time when it suits me.

I am about to eat some dinner, though it’s quite early. And I need to find someone to fetch my prescription, which my friend failed to get yesterday because she didn’t care enough. She thought the chemist would still be open when the shop she works had shut. The chemist closes at 5pm on a Saturday, and at the same time as her shop every weekday.

But I’m ready to sleep well tonight, and have a movie picked out for tonight.

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It’s Christmas Eve and I’m hungry…

Yesterday, my daughter arranged Christmas, but was staying at her boyfriend’s place. I had run out of food for the rest of the day today, apart from dinner. Almost all my nearby friends had shipped out to their Christmas destinations, the rest of my friends are a distance that would make getting me some things very inconvenient. I could have asked the girl who lives nextdoor (the good side), but I had seen her earlier in the day, when I wished her a merry Christmas and she was in her dressing gown, probably planning a day of blobbing and pampering. So I did what I never do. I contacted my ex-husband and asked him. I got the response which is the reason I don’t contact him. No.

In times gone by, if I thought I might ask my ex to help with anything, I would lie down until the thought went away. He will not do anything unless it is his idea. So I’ve eaten the house bare, and am hungry. Because I have a chest infection, with fever, and a slightly upset tummy I could not face going out myself. I have been drinking milkshakes to keep myself feeling ‘full’.

I could kick myself for asking him. One definition of insanity is doing the same thing again and expecting a different result.

We used to have a lot in common. But now we differ quite a bit. He uses the Twelve Step Program as a tool for self growth. I see him shrinking, not growing. There are parts of the program that are very open to interpretation. One is that you look after yourself first. This is not wrong, after all we cannot save a drowning person if we have cramp, or cannot swim ourselves. But another part of the program talks about gratitude. To me, expressing gratitude is sharing what I have, or doing someone a favour. I’m not certain how my ex expresses gratitude now, but I suspect it is charitable donations. But to me, what is the point of charitable donations if you can’t take a ten minute walk and get your ex-wife, who raised your daughter alone, some food?

I’m not writing this to expose how unkind he is, but to show my insanity and the different way we perceive life.

We always used to have an open house. If friends were round and it came to a meal time, we’d invite them to eat with us. We invited lots of people for meals. We offered hospitality to people we’d started talking to on a ferry or plane.

I like to do this still. In the summer I took lunch to a young guy I’d befriended who worked in a store alone. It gave me pleasure.

Tonight is the first Christmas Eve that I don’t have any traditional German biscuits and cakes. I feel a bit sad, but that isn’t what Christmas is about, and I won’t die without them.

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Being hacked, Prince Andrew and other things…

At some point today, while I was downstairs chatting with my friend Abby, my laptop was hacked. I know who did it, or it was their brother who lives in Bristol. Stop it. The police know.

A friend tagged me on facebook with a meme I had used on here… It’s good to know I am being read, though I generally prefer to not know who is reading among my friends and family.

I am glad there is a reader in Portugal, and I hope it is Frank.

….So Prince Andrew has famously given an interview to Newsnight. I think notoriously is a better word. He has shown himself to be a very self centred person, he showed absolutely no concern for the victims of Epstein, and is not fit to be a patron of any charity, organisation or initiative to do with young people.

Anyone who is asked such questions and expresses no empathy or concern for trafficked children for sex, poses a risk to young teenage girls. Really. Truly. Prince Andrew not once uttered any concern that his friends had been abusing girls in this way. Ghislaine Maxwell seems to have a lot of questions to answer too. In a court of law.

Prince Andrew does not regret his friendship with Epstein. He really should regret it and should have not bothered to end the friendship at all, by phone, by text, and certainly not by staying in Epstein’s house for four days.

All he did was say he had let the Royal Family down. He described sex from a man’s point of view is ‘a positive act’. But we are not talking about ‘sex’. We are talking about abuse of power, violence, victimisation, etc etc.

It is appalling that someone of his position can give an interview in a palace, with plush carpets, furnishings and comfort, while his accusers are not afforded the same. Prince Andrew should be answering in a court of law, in America.

I don’t see what he can do in future. Exile is an option. Certainly, he is now a huge blight to his family. His crime is to be totally uncaring about the abuse of children, the extent of Epstein’s crimes, Ghislaine Maxwell’s involvement, and the callous self- vindication he engaged in.

The NSPCCC must be cringing that he was ever involved with him, and as someone who once worked with the NSPCC, I was shocked to the core.

When I was a young girl I had a crush on this man, and was shocked when he was labelled the ‘the playboy prince’ and he feigns surprise that he is called the ‘party prince’.