JUST A LITTLE CHAT

I was reading a blog about secrets and came across one which was a photo of a very fat woman, and written on it was, ‘I am eating myself to death because I don’t have a gun’. It wasn’t till an hour or so later that the whole concept suddenly dawned on me; suicide by overeating. How long would it take and how many diseases and chronic conditions would you pick up along the way? I never thought about eating myself to death; although it might be quite evident to some people that I am on that path whether I’ve planned it or not. On one hand it might seem a good way to go but not if you arrive at the stage that you can’t leave the house because your legs won’t hold you up, and you can’t fit in a car, bus, train, plane without having one specially made for you! And, is it still suicide if it takes 20 years?

Amazon told me that she’d had a strange automated message on my landline in Glasgow saying that someone had incurred a debt from a premium line. That bloody Musician! When I spoke to him before this he said he hadn’t used the phone at all. He was always a great liar; even when caught in the act; I once caught him standing on the landing outside his bedroom screaming that Amazon was hitting him - she was way inside the room! And then there was the time he became the pound-coin thief. One morning I was looking for the school lunch money; I had left them all  in little piles on the mantelpiece - one coin was missing. We looked all over the house. In the end I said that there was nothing left but to call the police because someone must’ve come into the house in the middle of the night and taken it. Musician piped up, ‘ Maybe it’s in my jacket pocket’. I asked him why it would be there and he said he didn’t know, ’Maybe the burglar put it there’. He would've been about six or seven at the time.

I was thinking about Roseanne today, and Louise. They were my two loudest, brashest and raucous friends. It’s hard to believe that they’re dead; something Roseanne’s daughter told me came into my head. Her mother said to her, from her hospital bed, ‘I’m never getting out of here’. And she was right. I’m just wondering if Gent is ever going to get out of that hospital; things keep happening that keep him there. I know that he hasn’t got long but the other day it seemed like he might have the summer at least. The youngest son is here for the weekend and Joy and I took the day off from visiting; she’s tired. So I won’t see him and won’t see how he is after yesterday. In some ways I don’t want anything to happen while I’m here, but Fi is such a softie I don’t want it to happen when she’s here. Well, I’m sure he’s alright.