Going to see Edwyn Collins tonight. He had a MASSIVE hit with a song called Girl Like You, that just about everyone will recognise.

Interesting fella – he suffered 2 strokes when he was in his late 30’s and then had aphasia, which is where your intelligence is unaffected but you can’t always find the words, maybe can’t even read them in fact, and you have to develop coping mechanisms ( like calling things ‘ thing’ a lot ) while you work on your recovery, which isn’t at all a given.

If he starts singing ‘ I’ve never met a thing like you before..’ I’ll know he’s having an attack.

Brain stuff is so interesting isn’t it? I know from my own frontal lobe concussion that it changes you, in my case certainly a fair bit in the short term at least. My helper today was saying that his brother was involved in a car crash and his head hit something very hard. He got a temporal lobe injury. He was a sign writer by trade, but after the injury he literally had forgotten how to even hold a paintbrush… he had to COMPLETELY relearn his former skill, which he actually did.

And of course having written a post about things going better for me, I then have a sleepless night of horrendous spasming. That’ll be Sod’s Law then…

As it came a bit out of the blue, I’m now analysing what I did differently yesterday. The most likely villain was my consumption of blackberry pie, which although absolutely delicious was possibly ( to my metabolism ) fairly toxic. I’ll leave it for a week and try blackberries again and see what happens.. knowledge is power after all.

Something else happened yesterday as well. It seems that just because you have a stoma and your bum hole is relocated elsewhere ( essentially ) your old bum hole is still liable to ‘ shed bodily substances ‘. Well fuck me, the stuff that your digestive tract produces to make your poo slide through your body is actually the reason why your poo stinks. When that stuff just comes out by itself, without the poo to make it smell nicer, it’s atomic. Since I don’t have the capacity to sort myself out, then it fails to the person(s) I am with to hopefully help me ( ie do everything ) A strong stomach is a requirement, to say the least.

Wendy certainly lucked out when she met me….

Thanks to Mr and Mrs Marky P for dinner at theirs last night, and for the 🥧 of course.

I’m trying to adjust to the novelty of my life having become ‘ stable’. For 6 years it was chaotic, with unforeseen complications and disasters seemingly around every corner. I became understandably pessimistic, borne of my having to be realistic about just how often some bloody hurdle would appear in front of me. When you can’t actually jump at all, hurdles can look impossible to pass, but of course you can actually go under them or around them, which is what I seemed to do. For a bit now, no new hurdles have materialised, and that’s very good news! It also allows me to think without constant distraction, and also to ‘ enjoy ‘ the ‘peace’. I still have all the challenges 24/7 that come with paralysis, but, if you like, that’s all. I’ve found myself watching TV and even reading books, things that for ages I’ve just not been able to do, as I just couldn’t ‘ waste time ‘ on those unproductive pursuits. But now I can, it seems. Last night I watched a film ( and blimey there are so many to choose from when you haven’t watched films much for 15 years ). It was called The Big Short, and was about the collapse of the American housing market, which happened because a few savvy people realised the obvious – that the real estate just wasn’t worth the values that money making institutions had given it, and loaned loads of cash to people that they never should loaned to. Some of the film scenarios were I’m sure invented, but based on reality. They had one scene where a stripper ( yep – only talent was taking off her clothes- so possibly a short term career ..? ) had been loaned enough money to have 5 mortgages on 5 big houses. Yes, she had tenants paying the rent, but in the event of losing the tenants then she didn’t really have any kind of medium term guaranteed income. You get the gist I’m sure. Anyway, the whole system collapsed and banks went bust, with 6 million people ‘losing’ their homes ( as in the homes they should never have been allowed to ‘ buy’ in the first place ). Loads of people lost their jobs, and with that loads lost their health ( because that’s apparently what happens ) People die and people also commit suicide.

The system was totally corrupt and fraudulent. All sorts of regulations were introduced, but the footnote was that actually the same practices were reintroduced, packaged differently to look like something else.

I know the odd person that lives a lifestyle that is actually way beyond the one that they can actually afford, one just based on borrowing and debt, that ultimately can’t be repaid. Who knows how often people ride that horse all the way til they die, and never pay the debts back. It’s risky for sure, but obviously you can have a lot of fun with someone else’s money. It depends how you can cope with it when/ if your debt catches up with you and the mirage suddenly evaporates leaving you with just your pants/ knickers and flip flops…. your ‘ friends ‘ won’t bale you out, that’s for SURE…

Good film – watch it.

It’s actually quite difficult to write about the cases I saw without giving away my thoughts about the offences that had been committed ( and they were all ( found ) guilty ). Now I see why journalists just factually report the court accounts and then leave it to the reader to have their opinions on the verdicts.

The first case featured a little guy, slight and nondescript of 35 years old, bearing an uncanny likeness to Ian Huntley, the man that killed the 2 little girls. We went in just as his crime was being read out. He’d engaged in sex chat online with a girl, that got more and more sexual and involved him having sent graphic video of himself ‘ self pleasuring ‘ At some point the girl had typed that she was just 14 years old, and that hadn’t stopped him at all from continuing the sexual conversation, and was followed by him requesting pictures of her. Then it was revealed that he had been ‘ caught in a honey trap’ by an adult posing as a child in order to catch paedophiles, at which point I wondered if it was actually a crime, as it wasn’t actually against a minor. Apparently though that doesn’t matter and he was still guilty.

Then his defence solicitor spoke, and said that it was a one off out of character offence, a ‘ moment of madness ‘ that he was a man of previous good character, had no criminal record ( and it seems that they do now list all previous convictions to the magistrates in the course of the hearing ), was a divorced father of 4 girls, all of whom came to stay with him at the weekends ( the eldest being also 14 ) that he lived now with his mother ( that could vouch for his character ), that his ex wife had had no suspicions at all, and was happy to accompany their girls to stay also when the 4 girls stayed with him and that he would observe a curfew of the court’s choice. His current job as an employed gardener meant that he was able to pay child maintenance of £2500 per month to his ex wife, and if he was to lose his job because of being convicted of this offence then he would no longer be able to pay maintenance for the upkeep of his kids.

It seems that paedophiles don’t get a second chance, and immediately face certain conviction that is beyond the sentencing power of a magistrate, so he would have to be tried in a Crown Court, but the magistrate could decide whether to release him on bail prior to his appearance in Crown Court. They deemed his ‘ first offence ‘ serious enough to NOT release him on bail, and not let him near his four girls until properly tried, after which presumably he could never legally spend unaccompanied time with them as long as they are minors. It illustrated the catastrophic consequences of his actions one night – he would lose his children, his livelihood, his reputation and his liberty, all gone for ‘ the thrill ‘ of time spent on his laptop. His kids would forever be shamed, his own safety in and out of jail as a ‘ nonce’ would for ever be endangered, and his banishment from Society would be everlasting. I wondered what was going through his mind as they led him away. Was it actually a one off? Is that believable? Does it make any difference, as the one off crime is so reprehensible anyway..

Another man was up and he was there for driving whilst banned. He was hard of hearing, yet only about 30. He was unemployed but didn’t look like he should have been, if you know what I mean. He spelt out his address using the NATO phonetic alphabet- you know, the one where A is Alpha and H is Hotel etc. I had a thought that perhaps his hearing had been messed up by a bomb blast, and that he was once a soldier, and perhaps was ‘ retired out’ after his hearing was ruined. There was total confusion ref dates and whether he knew he was banned, so kept driving. and many references to his ‘ mental health ‘problems meaning that he couldn’t turn up in court twice before today’s hearing. Any kind of sentence was deferred pending further investigations. He seemed plausible enough when explaining his driving error, but you have to bear in mind that he had already been banned for something else. For me, as someone who had an unexpected accident and then lost his ability to work in his profession, I felt this man’s pain ( though as I say, I don’t actually know his back story )

Then a woman of about 40 was in the dock. She had been caught stealing expensive perfume from a department store. She’d fought off the security guards and also assaulted an off duty policeman that had intervened. Another crime of wrapping 3 bottles of expensive champagne in foil and making off through the store theft detection system ( which hadn’t worked because the alarm went off anyway) was taken into account.

She looked a mess, this woman, and as I say at least 40. We then heard that she was 21 years old , and a crack addict. She was a druggy because she’d been brought from Poland years before and made to work as a prostitute. Her life was a mess. She couldn’t get a job and had few prospects of getting one, so stole to feed her addiction. The Mag didn’t sentence her but referred her to the probation services and wished her good luck. Rehabilitation was the objective rather than banging her up only for her to reoffend once out..

The next ( young Asian ) fella was in for driving without a license or insurance, for the second time in a year. He was given £350 fine and 6 points, making 12 in total, so was banned for 12 months too. He had 1 month to pay. This seemed lenient? If he didn’t actually have a license how can he be banned from driving, as he shouldn’t be anyway.. I guess it means he just can’t even start learning to drive ( officially ) for 12 months. I didn’t get the impression from his face that banning him was going to stop him if he felt like taking his mum’s car again… but what do I know.

Another man was so drunk he was asleep in the dock and mostly unable to answer any questions at all. His girlfriend was in the court too, and kept shouting to him to wake up. The Court staff seemed to find it fairly amusing to be honest. The accused said he ‘ couldn’t take responsibility for his own actions ‘ after being told to by the Mag. He had been convicted in court 43 times previously and didn’t appear likely to suddenly reform his behaviour. He was already contravening his parole conditions from his last offence, as he was supposed to observe a curfew and not leave his ‘ home address ‘ between 7 pm and 7 am any night, but as the couple had just been evicted for not paying rent they were now somewhere else. They were told to go to Ealing Court at 9am the next day to change the address on his previous conviction, and he just said to the Mag – no mate, no way I’m going Mate I haven’t got any bus money mate.And I’m not drunk, I’m just tired, I haven’t slept for 3 days mate! The Mag didn’t seem to have another plan so the man was likely to be arrested shortly. It was all a mess. The couple left the court with her shouting it was ‘ all disgustin’ ‘ You got the impression that there wasn’t a lot of hope for these 2 and wondered what the answer actually was. They were definitely a couple that you would cross the road to avoid having to walk past, I thought. ( For me, that’s actually often not possible if there is no dropped kerb at hand – often I have to go quite a long way in a direction that I don’t want to go, just to cross a road. Some parts of London, especially the really old bits, have massive kerb heights and no dropped sections at all… but I digress. )

Interesting day, but definitely not an amusing one like last time…

When I wrote about my nephew ‘ ejecting’ a German fella from a bar, after the chap had tried to push his brother around, I said that he’d picked the fella up and threw him outside.

Picking someone up isn’t something most men can do very easily, let alone throwing someone.

Well this is why he can. I mentioned that he’s a power lifter. In this video he’s lifting 260 kilos. That’s 3 fairly big fellas at the same time.

Today I hope to get to Magistrates Court again. I’ve tried and failed a few times since the last visit, but today I reckon I’ll make it. Who knows what I’ll see there. I’ve been told that the Crown Courts are more fun ( I mean they have ‘ bigger/more serious ‘ cases and crimes ) but there is something about seeing the law at work in the trying of petty ( you might say ) offences. The amount of time spent arguing about the most insignificant things is extraordinary really, but humans are bloody petty. I know from my own experience that people can react in the most extreme ways to the most minor of ‘ills against them ‘. It’s almost certainly because their lives are fairly charmed and they have very little to complain about, so tiny events are escalated to being significant. Prime examples are garden fence disputes, where neighbours argue and prosecute each other over a few inches of lawn. I mean really, who gives a fuck ? But actually lots of people do.

I know that because I have so many actual challenges that are always there, I don’t get worked up at all over little things. If I do appear to, the reality is that the ‘ argument’ is for my own entertainment rather than because I’m in any way perturbed. I’ve learned however that perspectives are everything – what’s almost invisible to one person is shocking to another, and you just have to accept that and not interfere.

Sometimes though it IS fun to poke people ( that deserve it ) a little bit…. and I do on occasion.

After my injury, and everything changed for me, I felt very uncomfortable being on my own. In fact I couldn’t bear it. I’d get scared too, the awareness of being so vulnerable and unable just being too much for me.

Before my injury I often spent time alone. Invariably I’d train by myself, whether it be running, kayaking or cycling, or all the other sports I did.

6 years on and I’m happy to say that once again I’m ok by myself, by myself with my thoughts and just doing what I can by myself, which isn’t a million things like before, but certainly quite a few things.

Having said all that, I have seen lots of people recently who have gone out of their way to catch up with me. Thanks to Miles, to Lal and Saz, to Roy and Dickon, to Marky P, to my parents, to Toby and Cress, to Pia, Brian and Macey, and of course to Wendy. The persistent rain of late definitely hindered my doing stuff that I’d planned, and I’m glad it’s cheered up ( a lot ). 3 outside cinema nights weren’t possible ( well they were, but I get bloody wet ) recently. The rain has however helped my garden. I never thought I’d be interested in gardening, and to be honest I can’t actually do that much of it myself, but I can at least decide what I have in it, and where things ( plants and lights and a water feature even ) go. Im like Incapability Brown ( that’s a gardening and disabled joke btw ) now, and it’s satisfying to see it flourish. I don’t faff about, everything is done on impulse, and my sexy gardener and also Gawain are pretty handy as the implementers of my impulsive creativity…

And there’s lots of wildlife in Brentford!

I met up with a lady I used to work with, when I was 22/23. I haven’t seen her since then actually. She’s called Gisela and is from Venezuela. She’s a lovely lady, and her English now is far better than it was back then, which makes chatting far easier.

She had said before we met up that she had had a rough time, with lots of sadness. I didn’t know what, other than the her brother having died after years of disabling MS, which is obviously bad enough for one family, by itself. When she came though, she told me that both her parents had died recently too, which of course is inevitable at some point, although heartbreaking for Gisela.

She then told me about her other brother, and I’m fairly certain you would never have heard anything like this. …

He imported ( to Venezuela ) two emus from China. At the time of their arrival he had a cold, so his immune system was slightly compromised.

One of the two emus had Avian Flu. Her brother caught the flu and died within a week. He was 45.

A golfer stands over his tee shot for what seems an eternity: looking up, looking down, measuring the distance, figuring the wind direction and speed. Finally his exasperated partner says, “What’s taking so long? Hit the damn ball!” The guy answers, “My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse. I want to make this a perfect shot.” “Forget it, man,” says his partner. “You’ll never hit her from here.”