WARNING: Photographs of injuries, which are explicit in nature. Not for the squeamish.
I wouldn’t say it was awful, but it wasn’t brilliant. The fates conspired to ruin nice things for me by sending the Lurgy Fairy (in bloody Sweden of all places, while I was on holiday!) but we managed to make the best of it. At least my liver regenerated, right? So that’s good. Hoorah for … More Kicking 2017 Out Of The Door
This year, the inhabitants of Tribble Towers did something we’d never done before: we went online and booked a holiday abroad, just the two of us. I’d been wanting to return to Sweden since our weekend on Ingarö last December, and so we decided to stay in the Slussen area of Stockholm.
We were so enchanted with Sweden last December, that we’d vowed to return even before we were driven to Skavsta for our flight back to wet and dreary England. We’d only had the weekend, and it was a tight schedule, but we still loved it. I was finally in the land of (some of) my … More To Colder Climes
Those were dark times, being one of the “hidden homeless” in a council-funded guest house. My house had been conned out of me by a “loving” partner who persuaded me to sign it over to him so that “You won’t have the stress of worrying about rent any more”. That was the same “loving” partner … More “I Want to Heal, I Want to Feel”
Watermelon mocktails. I must try these! For some time now, I have been concerned about my drinking. Ian Duncan Smith and the DWP knocked me off my happy little sober wagon last year, and I have been struggling to climb back on ever since. Add my liver cirrhosis into the mix and I absolutely shouldn’t … More A Twist In My (Lack Of) Sobriety
Disclaimer: The following post contains photographs of a spider, and a possibly distressing photograph of myself in intensive care, at death’s door. I don’t know how to hide them, and so I thought I ought to warn you.
You may have noticed that I was quiet in 2016. I really just wasn’t feeling my muse, and I only write when I have something cohesive to say. Besides, I wanted to see how the year would end, after the dark days of benefit deprivation, celebrity deaths, Brexit and Trump. I can safely say that … More 2016: The Year That Was (Or, Why Sweden Is Wonderful)
I want my life back. I have spent a year trying to work things out with you, and I just can’t do it any more. You and I are through, but I’m a kindly soul and feel that the least you deserve is an explanation. In the beginning you delighted me. You’re a pretty shade … More Dear Amitriptalyne…
[Image: Central Park, Chelmsford, courtesy of Google] If there’s one thing I really don’t like about summer (aside from the Hot; I do terribly in Hot and like autumn and winter the best) it’s when all the young, pretty ladies break out the kind of adorable sundresses and accessories that a rotund, middle-aged trout (me) … More Summer As A Spoonie