So I just got rid of a neighbour from hell, who threw things over my fence, gave my mobile number to someone who doesn’t know me, subscribed me to porn sites and telephone companies, tried to change my utilities, used my debit card fraudulently, and slandered me to Quay Living.

Mike Ebsworth (deliberate use) has ignored my texts to tell Quay Living they were lied to. So I will sue them both for slander and much more if he doesn’t contact them by tomorrow. No one knows which Mr Ebsworth I’m referring to because I don’t give my location here.

He has still not visited me after a ‘minor’ surgical procedure which was as much his responsibility as mine. And I’ve had a chest infection since complete with 999 ambulance to get my airways opened. He says he is an emotional coward. He took to phoning, after one visit, and then started video calls, but when I realised the purpose of this, I was revolted and stopped them. I had wanted him to be a happy memory, but he will always be a part of my life and grief now. He won’t even visit to offer condolences.

I’m going back even more to gratitude. Gratitude for this weather, for my friends, and my daughter. For my garden, for the three men who rescued me after I was the victim of hate crime. Grateful, that I am still well despite my diagnosis which had made me think I would have died by now. I am far more motivated than this time last year.

As soon as my ex husband went back to live at his flat, I came to life, a major depression left me. But then my sister Pamela died so suddenly of sepsis, my devoted dog a week later and a vicar interfered so maliciously. Then my Auntie died and then Mike Ebsworth intruded into my life as much as it is possible to turn someone’s life upside down.

He said to me that I stopped ‘pussyfooting’ around. I never decided that so he just refuses to take responsibility for his life. He doesn’t seem to realise that while he stays silent about Ms W’s crimes, he is party to them an accessory after the fact. He told me doesn’t like the truth in writing. He told me last November he was going to give up beer because he was so ill after drink beer and wine. He was so unwell, it frightened me. He’s still drinking beer.

The moon is bright tonight, a waxing gibbous moon, it shines on him and me. He also said in November that life would be about others, not just him. But it’s all about him and obeying MS W. She doesn’t care about his drinking, his depression, his health. Has she noticed that he is gaining weight around his jowls and neck, like an alcoholic? How can any man put up with the way she speaks about him? And has she so little self-respect that she didn’t kick him out?

Even after years as a psychologist, I’m still amazed by people. I tend to expect the best of people, that most people will do the right thing. I tend to attract those who don’t…