In A World gone Mad: Sunday 31 May 2020

Sunday 31 May 2020

I feel fabulous.

I was ill yesterday. I had this terrible, serious illness that felt so bad  that it could be life threatening. The awful malady—was simply being tired.

I lost the full day of work. I was up from three in the morning, and when I say I lost a day of editing, I’d already done nine hours from three until twelve, including the hour live chat that I work on Paul’s book for him, which always turns into nearly two hours. After hanging up on Paul I couldn’t continue with anything else. I was done.

I had a banging headache and could hardly keep my eyes open. I’d literally— and I’m given to exaggeration— but in this case  literally had two hours sleep in thee nights and nothing during the day. I couldn’t walk properly, my balance was affected, and I was banging into walls.  I wanted to go to bed but couldn’t because I was babysitting Arthur all day. I say all day, but Max didn’t get up until one, and never left until half two. He was back by seven with a chippy tea, so it was only the morning and a few hours in the afternoon really.

I went through the motions of making Arthur’s lunch and put him a huge plate of fruit, biscuits, and snacks out so that I wouldn’t have to keep dealing with him. I gave him a Fotisip milkshake with the snacks at three o’clock, a cup of tea and a pint of orange juice.

I tried to settle in the lounge but couldn’t  because I had this image of going out to him and finding him dead and looking like one of those Frazzle corn snacks. At half three I asked him to come inside. He was sunbathing and  didn’t want to.  We argued, I can’t be bothered recounting it, but I  ending up telling him to come in when asking him nicely didn’t work. He went up to his room, refused to let me put his telly on for him and lay on his bed sulking until Max got home—fine at least he didn’t have third degree burns.

Max came home with a double bed mattress and needed a hand getting it into the house.  I felt so sick. I was that tired that my dinner wouldn’t go down and I only managed one fork full, everything was like walking through treacle. I couldn’t even speak properly, and my words were getting muddled.

Lifting the heavy mattress, I almost fainted. My legs went from under me and I think I may have lost consciousness for a split second but I’m not sure about that. I fell over. Max thought I’d just lost my balance because, of course I got the going backwards end, that goes without saying.  That was the last straw.

‘What happened then?’

‘Nothing.’

He grabbed my arm and I screamed at him.

‘Get off me.’

We lifted the mattress into the Lounge.

‘Right I’ve had enough. I’m going to bed and I want the room to myself for the full night. Do not come in the bedroom until at least eight o’clock tomorrow morning. You’re not welcome.’

‘This is my house, I’m not being told what I can and can’t do in my own house.’

‘You sound just like your father. I’m going to bed, you can do what you like, but I’m locking the door. If you break the door down, that’s us done.’

I went to bed and slept until nine and then dosed until ten. I feel so good this morning for just getting some sleep. Max didn’t go to bed at all and is like a walking zombie, I don’t feel guilty and really don’t care. If he stays up all night that’s his choice.

Yesterday, I wanted to get a day in on my bosses book but wasn’t as stressed about losing a day’s editing as I would have been two days earlier when I had other people’s books coming out of my ears.  The one for my friend is done and has gone back to him. It was an excellent story and didn’t feel too much like work. I had a surprise when I opened the bosses book to find that it is only 42,000 words. Not even a full novel and more a novella. I can bang that out today—Sunday—and possibly into tomorrow –maybe beyond if life gets in the way. I’m not too worried about it.

And the new book for the bloke with the sex and the street language hasn’t landed yet. So, it’s all good. I’m going to get his partner’s book as well when it’s finished.  That will be three for the same family. The mother has read the edit I did for her daughter and was impressed with my work. I imagine this family, daughter, mother, and mother’s partner sitting at the dinging table endlessly discussing their sex scenes.

I haven’t done any reviewing for the writing site I use since I got all these books in. I’m going to have to pay my dues when I get these last few out. I’m loving writing again— sometimes you don’t miss something when you lose it and only realise how much is means to you when you get it back.

A classic case is relationships, and grass is always greener. When I’m in a relationship I long for the freedom of having a house that stays clean and having my own bed and being free to do what I want to do.  When I’m single I’m lonely and want somebody to care about.

Family politics.

Belle and co had their huge family party for Ocean’s birthday. It ended in disaster as it was always wont to do, and Andy was right not to go. The family have grown up being spoiled, Annie and Carrie were spoiled by Janet and Bob, and they have grown up spoiling their kids. It makes for high maintenance and high drama when they get together.

One thing that annoys me with Max and his family is that they look down on people from Barrow. There is the Windermere elite. Windermere people are better than people from Barrow—it’s a given. Max has always been a snob. He looks down on me.

During an argument he once said, ‘Well I’ve never had a social worker involved with any of my children.’

‘Right you pretentious arsehole, you can stop right there. Neither have I. My children have never been involved with social services. You’re mistaken. I had a social worker as a child. I was in care, not my children. I hit my son when he was fourteen and acting up and I rang social Services for help, and they wouldn’t do anything because we weren’t on their books. I can’t believe you’d throw that horrible night back at me.  So, you can wind your neck in on that score mate.’

We sometimes have the family dog when Annie goes to Tukey to see her boyfriend.  The first time we had him, we were under strict instruction not to let him off the lead. Annie sent us a message through Belle, ‘He’s a very expensive pedigree and we don’t want him getting stolen by drug addicts in barrow.’

He’s a springer spaniel and Max got him free of charge from a farm.

They have one child who has been on drugs himself and was a dealer. Another who is so screwed up that she can barely function and takes a new lover from dating sites every week, lockdown or not. One who is so tied up in her own life and friendships that she has no time for anybody else, and one who is emotionally stunted and  has no social ability to integrate into society. They—Max and Annie—are up to their eyes in debt, something that we will be paying off forever and she is an unfaithful slut who took herself a Turkish boyfriend and spends all the money we give her for Krystal on flights to Turkey every six weeks.

My children are both family men with thee children a-piece, who have been with the same partners since being teenagers and they cause us no problems whatsoever.

And they look down their noses at us.