A friend of mine from schooldays wrote to me recently. We played county standard ( Gwent schools ) together for 2 years. He told me about his friend’s son ( 19 ) who had fallen asleep ( alcohol I’m sure ) on a sea wall, and fallen off, 15 feet onto his head. The boy had it all – popular, good looking, sporty, bright.

I wrote to the lad’s Dad. I’ll hopefully go to see them both in a london hospital soon.

When I last wrote to the Dad, I said that I wouldn’t be able to make it to the hospital in a morning, ‘ such being disabled life ‘.

It occurred to me actually just now that perhaps I presented him with that word for the first time. Until now, and thus far it’ll have been all optimism and hope ( unrealistically probably ) that the lad will be fine again, having recovered from his currently severe injuries. Lots of people will have been saying and thinking ‘ we hope he’s going to be alright ‘

What ‘ alright ‘ means is ‘ is he going to be normal, as in just like the rest of us?’ As in not, you know, damaged in some way… like disabled or something ‘

There’s an understandable optimism and desperation for a full and miraculous recovery. But all too often that doesn’t happen and it’s another life ruined, another person disabled… and no longer, well, normal. The world is made for normal, obviously, not abnormal. It wouldn’t make sense to make it for abnormal if you think about it… but thankfully now and for we abnormals it’s changing so that we can still do stuff with the normal people.

It’s the horrible reality but it’s not quite as horrible as it relatively recently was. We’ll always be stared at/ ignored/ pitied, and that’s understandable, but believe me it isn’t great.

And the skin cancer check up again tomorrow, as more dodgy looking stuff on me.

Don’t they know I won’t die?! I’m immortal- impossible to kill so far!

Let’s see this time 💥

Had my super hot ( lady ) gardener around yesterday. For a lady that chick is strong as…. you know what.

I’ve been trying to figure out why my garden smells like something died in it for the last month.

Turns out it was this plant with flowers that bloomed really nasty smelling flowers, or started to, about a month ago. So she dug the whole lot up and put wood chips over the area instead, and put a large drift log that she pulled out of the canal at one end to encourage wildlife, all whilst wearing little shorts.. it’s hard just watching and not doing, but there can be consolations…

As I write this I can hear an estate agent showing the flat upstairs to prospective buyers. Just as they stepped out onto the little balcony upstairs above me, to take a look at the canal view in front of me, a canal boat motored past with 2 young fellas on top. One of them shouted to another bloke on the towpath ‘ Oi, what you doing, you lazy fucking bell end!? ‘ To which the reply was ‘ Go fuck yourself, you pissed twat !’

I’ve never heard any boaters swearing this last year until they moment… but I think we can quite safely assume the flat above isn’t going to sell today…..!

You gotta laugh…..😂

After my various trials and tribulations On The Buses, I was offered by Transport for London a visit from a person to assess my wheelchair ( and Triride attachment ) to see if it was acceptable to travel on buses. If approved then I would get a special card, with my picture on it, and also a picture of me in my chair with Triride, that I can brandish to any london bus driver who says I can’t get on his bus, by way of saying ‘ Too bad mate, you’ve gotta let me on, because I have a special pass, and if you don’t you’ll be in big trouble ‘

The chap visiting was called Aerial. Needless to say I gave him a good reception ( there’s a joke in their somewhere ) at my flat, and he had a look and had a chat, and said ‘ it’s absolutely obvious that you should be let onto any bus, and I am sorry. Please call me directly if you encounter any more difficulty with any driver ‘

So that’s good then! Trouble over….. mmmm we’ll see.

Lots more happened of late –

had a Court Verdict that I’m not yet allowed to talk about, as it’s yet to be formalised,

been to a fascinating talk about world climate change with particular reference to Bangladesh, and what they are doing there by way of preparing for inevitable sea level rise. You see, it’s so low lying that loads of it will disappear under water with enormous effects on economy and population migration. The panel there included the world’s biggest cheese on the subject who said it’s theoretically possible to halt and even reverse the changes, but there is absolutely no time at all at all at all to waste, or we’ll soon actually reach the point of no return, where reversal is no longer possible

went to a festival ( Community- Finsbury Park ) – good bands but strangely muted and unenergetic crowd ( maybe because it was a Sunday and peeps take less drugs and drink less than they would on a Saturday?

been to a fetish party ( yep, lots of narcotic action there I suspect )

saw the amazing Cress in an outdoor theatre production of Salad Days

had my catheter renewed ( glamorous ) but without copious bleeding this time around,

and been to the funeral and send off of the very late ( but he actually always was ) Colin White. Loads of people there, I did make one of many speeches about Col, and it was a send off that he’d have approved of for sure. Saw lots of people there that I hadn’t seen for ages, with some that had avoided speaking to me for a long time now sort of having no choice but to ( or just look pretty bad for ignoring me ). It’ll be interesting to see whether they will now be able to maintain the geniality going forward too! For West London and for Chiswick Colin’s passing is the closing of a chapter. The man did so much! He saved my bacon once or twice, and he didn’t bar me from his club probably only because he liked me. I saw him in hospital a lot in 2018, but then it became hard to do that once he’d moved into a care home 40 odd miles away. My Triride doesn’t go that far, and isn’t allowed on motorways. However I did visit him with the help of his son about a month ago. Dementia is a very sad thing, and his onset was probably 10 years ago, though he was so eccentric and not rule abiding that it was hard to tell what was just Col, and what was irrational behaviour. I reckon it’d be hard to spot early in me for the same reasons… But rest in peace my old chum, and you’ll NEVER be forgotten.

So all in all a busy time then. I have a new carer too, which is going well. G spent far too much time enjoying herself with me and decided to go and use her skills to rescue someone else in need, which is understandable, and someone else stepped in.

I’ve even watched some Women’s football and the odd bit of tennis. The women are more watchable than the men, and you can check them out whilst observing their footwork ( if you like ) and the English females do actually have a hope, unlike their male counterparts.

Right, gotta go.

And my dear friend Colin White died on the weekend. It wasn’t exactly unexpected, but nonetheless a shock when it came.

Colin was a significant man in the lives of many that he touched. He was my buddy Dan’s father, Dan that I’ve often written about in this diary, and for 20 years was Pia’s father in law. Both Dan and Pia were at his side when he drew his last breath.

Colin left a lot of legacy behind him, far more than most people can dream of leaving. Legend is very overused these days as a description of someone, but this fella actually was. I’ll write about some things he did for me in due course.

Rest in Peace Colin, you will never be forgotten by those that met you, that’s for sure!

So Fanny becomes…

Taffy!

Thanks to The Mighty Myatt for that suggestion. Taffy is actually a nickname for someone from Cardiff/ Wales. Whilst I realise that the bird is Australian genetically, he still may have hatched in Wales, who knows, so I’ve given him an identity and nationality. I stroked Fanny for the last time and put all that behind me ….

Have you been to Thailand? Sure would be an eye opener for you given your ability to spot gender. Budgies are Australian not thai right?

Breaking news. Wait for it…

Fanny, my darling budgie…

Is..

A …

FELLA!

Well either that or it’s a very horny lesbian that’s very frustrated and identifies as a Male.

The friendly preening and beak play that followed the introduction of Fanny and Tweety soon turned into Fanny repeatedly trying to shag Tweety senseless…

Ok then!

It doesn’t seem right to call Fanny Fanny anymore, so renaming will have to take place and I think I ought to ready myself for the creation of a flock… the Birdman of Brentford might be be moniker in a few months time?

I’ve had to separate them for now, as I think Tweety was possibly somewhat harassed by my ( until then ) sweet little lady budgie…

Good Grief, that’s a turn up!

Having seen how excited Fanny was to have Dick around, at least until Dick just couldn’t take any more Fanny, and died, I found myself phoning the shop and telling them what had happened, with a view to planning a replacement boyfriend. The shop insisted they give me another little birdie of my choice.

Off I went then in my chair with a little Dick between my legs, wrapped in plastic, as I wanted them to see how he looked. I hadn’t really thought about what might happen if I was stopped and searched ( as I was stopped by the cops the other day ) for the officer to find a dead budgie in my lap.

I can imagine him saying ‘ Sir, do you realise you can’t transport a live bird in a tight plastic bag?! In fact, by the looks of it, you’ve killed it! ‘ Follow me to the station…

Anyway that didn’t happen and I got there, chose the budgie who’d actually been the previous roommate of Dick in the shop ( on the basis that having been exposed to Dick for several weeks he was evidently very well and perky – so I don’t think that what Dick had was catchy ) and I brought her home in a little cardboard box with holes in it provided by the shop.

Having disinfected the cage etc that Dick was in, its now the home of TweetyPie, and she seems very happy in there.

I’m going to keep them way apart from one another for a while to make sure Tweety doesn’t expire… but 24 hours on and she’s all active and chirpy.

The 2 of them are cheeping to one another from different rooms, and it’s very cute tbh.

illness

Most people recognize the most obvious signs of illness in pet birds such as vomiting/regurgitating, loss of appetite, or the typical “fluffed up” appearance and sitting at the bottom of the cage birds show when they are very ill. But some signs of illness can be difficult to recognize such as subtle behavior changes, change of habits, vocalization changes, or variations in color or consistency of droppings. This is why it is so important to know what is normal for your bird: what time does he/she normally go to sleep? What is its favorite perch? How often does it speak/vocalize? How many droppings are normal for it to make in a day? What foot does he/she normally eat with? Never assume that a subtle change in your bird is normal as it could absolutely be a sign that something is wrong. Here is a brief list of some obvious and not so obvious signs of illness in birds:

• Decrease or increase in appetite✅
• Increase in urination
• Increased drinking
• Feather or skin changes✅
• Discharge from the eyes or nostrils
• Vomiting/regurgitating
• Sneezing or wheezing
• Limping
• Fluffed feathers✅
• Tail bobbing while breathing
• Sudden behavior changes including biting or screaming
• Decrease in activity level✅
• Voice change
• Change in flight ability✅
• Spending more time on the bottom of the cage✅
• Weakness or inability to perch✅
• Overgrown or discolored beak
• Change in droppings: color or consistency
• Straining to poop
• Wing or wings drooping
• Diarrhea
• Weight loss or weight gain
• Blood on the bird or in the cage/on perches

Any of these changes, or any other changes recognized in pet birds, should be brought to the attention of an avian veterinarian to determine whether or not it is a sign of something more serious.

Wendy ( bless her ) suggested cremation and having his ashes made into something…. I only have the electric oven and a barbecue, so I’ll go with taking him back to where I got him from and let them do what they do, rather than have him dug up from my garden by one of next door’s several cats, or the local fox.

I think I’ll go to a different pet place to find another lil fella, in case the whole flock in the last place is infected with something that Dicky had….