As is somehow always inevitable when you’re bloody tired, lots seemed to go wrong with the start of the trip abroad.

No sleep at all in the Travelodge before the flight ( 4am check in – my fault for booking that early ), not being able to get on the shuttle bus ( inconsiderate driver ), a wait for another,  getting off at the wrong terminal ( I just did as I was told ), having quite a lot of medical supplies ( which made the bags cumbersome too ), seeming to travel on the busiest day of the year, and only hours after a MASSIVE terrorist incident in London ( which had everyone on high alert ), not being assisted at all by the airport Assistance staff ( as they were supposed absolutely to have done ), as a consequence getting to the gate last rather than first ( resulting in there being a huge panic by the boarding staff that were there to be in control, rather than lose control ) being transferred in a very amateur way by the Assistance staff ( so that I felt very vulnerable to falling out of the narrow ‘ aisle chair ‘ that they perch me on and strap me to, to get me to my seat on the plane – tbh I feel like a right tw** being dragged along backwards and then lifted into my seat ).  I spasmed all the way to Faro airport…

Having arrived in Portugal, it got briefly better for a bit, though there was much confusion as to how to get my chair from the hold to the luggage hall, as with thé Triride attachment, it was too long for me to use in the airport lifts. They stuck me in a different wheelchair for half an hour or so, before repatriation with my own, making me very uncomfortable in the process. Having got a taxi to the apartment, things seemed to be ok at last…. until we realised that the key code that we had been given was wrong, and we were locked out of  the accommodation ( on a Sunday, when office staff that run this stuff aren’t at work, or answering their phones ). At that point, I felt that I was again cursed by misfortune.

An hour later we were, however, in, but had no food or drinks, having not had time for breakfast. Compared to the other stuff, that was nothing though, and within a couple of hours we had a coffee in a cafe 2 miles’ wheelchair away, and had bought some food  too.

Pre injury, everything was so easy. Now everything is so much more challenging, and harder to resolve.

It’s 4 years to the day, in about 10 days. At this time last year, I was counting down to a suicide attempt ( that didn’t work out ) but this year it isn’t quite so depressing.  Days like today make those thoughts feel easy to have. My very existence seems to hinge so often on things that do or don’t happen to me, either way without my ability to influence them.

So…. a trip abroad, ‘ on holiday ‘ without my family, coming up, starting Sunday. It does feel a little strange, but I guess that it’ll be ok. I hope that the friend coming with me can cope with me ( seriously ). If she can’t, then I’m a bit stuck, let’s face it. I’ll let her win at all the games, and stay sober ( ish ) so that I don’t annoy her.

There’s nothing like testing a friendship than going on holiday together, apparently ? She has the additional pleasure of looking out for me all the time. Fingers crossed then…

On Saturday night, it’s Depeche Mode, in the London Stadium…. a blast from my distance past, but they’re still going strong. The keyboardist, Pete ( or Depeche Mode Pete, as we call ‘im ) lives practically next door, so has offered us backstage passes… which sounds good..

Angela, I loved seeing you last night, and Mike, you too. And thanks to Cherie for joining me down at the river and watching the strangely fascinating man who seemed to have an unnatural way with the local pigeons. I think he’d taken pigeon fancying to a whole new level, but each to his own, I say.

Big love to Cherie for doing all the chefess’ing at my BBQ. What would I do without her help?

Thanks to my friends for coming to a pretty last minute thang, and for the company of those that I’ve had the pleasure to see since, too. In no particular order then, to Rick, Russ, Jane and Bret, the 2 Charlottes, Cherie, Toby, Cress, Eve, Chris H and  Dickon.

And thanks to Yvonne for her kindness, and to Pia for her ongoing dedication ( and for coming to a band tonight as well – The Kills – I think Pia fell in lust with the  lead singer – a hot, blonde, girl …… what can I say about that?! )

I would say that the search for that elusive thing called happiness is eluding me. There is very little that is right about my life, and nothing that I wouldn’t change if I was able to. For sure, there are those worse off than me, but I struggle with the concept of feeling grateful for what I have left.

I get recurring dark thoughts that feature my demise, and also about the twice that I definitely should have died already, namely my crash and my brush with drowning a couple of years ago. My thoughts always end with a regret that I survived, rather than feeling fortunate that I did.

My temporary live in carer is well intentioned, for sure, but as company falls very short, due to us having nothing at all in common, other than the place in which we both live. The agency IS looking for someone else who will fit better, and I definitely need to get a proper girlfriend I think.

Perhaps my thoughts are influenced by my UTI – well it would make sense that they were – but it’s impossible to say that at this precise moment.

It’s a bank holiday, I believe. What I wouldn’t do to have a holiday from being bloody paralysed – just for a few days.

Night sweats,constant spasms and  low mood – can only mean one thing, another UTI.  Dammit, here we go again. I have to wait until the doctor’s surgery is open, then call and speak to the GP, then have the usual ‘ discussion ‘ ( argument ) about which antibiotics are effective against my UTI, then hopefully be prescribed the right one.

I wonder how it’ll go this time.

So my live in carer hadn’t really appreciated what  the role entailed ( the clue is in the title, to be fair ).

Things came to a pretty abrupt end when I requested that she didn’t go out to a party at 7pm, with an unspecified ( 4-5am ? ) finish, meaning that in an emergency I’d be alone and helpless. I mean, for sure everyone likes a party, but most people appreciate that going to one whilst you’re supposed to be at work isn’t going to be altogether popular with your employer.

I certainly haven’t had to watch Jeremy Kyle these past 10 days, as I’ve been in my own episode, or felt like I have been…..

Another little chapter of my existence therefore over, I now have temporary help from another lady who will be here for a few days. As I write, I can hear her using her initiative and cleaning the flat – thats a sound I’ve not heard a lot for a week or so. The washing machine is also on.

Goodness me, I didn’t even have to ask.

This may actually work out?

I had this idea, the other day. The bike that I fell off, I still have. I did try to give it away to a couple of guys that knew me, a few years ago. I mean, it’s a beautiful machine, and I didn’t need it anymore, did I?

I think that to them it was akin to wearing dead man’s shoes; the bike was cursed by association/ would I be upset if I saw them on it / wasn’t it just all a bit f’d up?

If it had eyes and could feel then it would be the last thing that saw me, and sensed me   – as an impressive figure of a man, and as a normal human being.

For years it’s been in an outside cupboard. Not like a dark presence, but sort of unspoken about.

My friend Lea, herself a record breaking cyclist ( so far better than I would have been, as an enthusiastic amateur ) helped me to tie it to the girder in the flat in which I currently live.

I’ve looked at it a lot tonight, and have fallen back in love with it ( as I used to be ). It’s no longer either cursed, or a dark presence… and no one else is going to ride it ever again.

Only me, in my dreams.

I’d actually forgotten that I’d bought tickets to see Sheryl Crow tonight ( you have to buy tickets for stuff well in advance in the ‘ access ‘ world ) so  it was a brilliant surprise to realise that I was going.

Sheryl is completely incredible . I had no idea she’d be that good.

I’ve not listened to her stuff for blimmin ages, but I think I’m going to have to now that I’ve seen her do it live. She is definitely one of the most natural crowd pleasers that I’ve had the luck to hear.

Thanks to Kate, for being my last minute gig buddy 🙂

So… a taste of things to come?

Last night, for the first time in 9 months, I watched a film on the telly, in the flat that I live in, actually accompanied by another human being in the same room as me, that was being friendly. …  a seminal evening.  I’d forgotten how that felt.

The actual film wasn’t the important part, it was the fact that I was in company in my home – company that talked to me, and smiled as well.

Here’s to Francesca…

Okay, so she is paid to do it, but let’s not let that fact detract from it.

There were the usual assessment of ‘ physically  normal  looking ‘ people in the disabled area of the gig.  One lady, in a silk red dress, definitely started in the non disabled area, and after half an hour ended up positioning herself at the front of the D area…. she had definitely had a lot of Botox, and possibly a facelift, but I’m not sure if that kind of self inflicted wrinkle removing paralysis counts as actually being disabled? Im sure that the man in the corner was Morgan Freeman, but he didn’t speak so I can’t be sure. In common with the others he didn’t smile either, which seems to be the code of behaviour in the D area, for both the afflicted and their carers ( as neither rarely look disabled, it’s impossible to tell which is which ? )

Pia and i don’t fit in, as we laugh, smile, do satdowndancing, and drink a fair bit ( we seem to be the only ones to do much of the latter, as well ?! )

Mr Ant was very good. He hasn’t lost whatever it was that he had in the first place. He still dances in a very effeminate way, last night in tight leather and a cowboy hat.   He still sounds and looks ( from a distance anyway ) like he did in the Eighties.  The Albert Hall was packed, so he definitely isn’t short of fans/ the curious to see if he’s still any good.

We were in a very small minority of peeps that had dressed up as him….. not surprisingly… but we did both get a LOT of compliments… possibly mostly tongue in cheek…