Bright Eyed And Bushy Tailed

I have a three hour session tomorrow. Maybe “session” is not the right word for what I have to do. But it’s a one-off special event all because a very wealthy client is clicking their fingers and throwing money at us. It makes you sick doesn’t it!

This is all to allow me to be free to travel up to Wales more often to spend some time with my family member who has cancer. I can earn almost a whole month’s rent in a few hours. It’s brain numbing work. And I get zero satisfaction out of it. It doesn’t help anyone, or make a difference to anyone. Basically I am a decoration, an ornament.

I have just re-read my first paragraph again and it sounds very dubious. It’s nothing extraordinary. I have earned my bread and butter in a hundred different ways over the years, and tomorrow I have to dress up and put make-up on and look good and smile and wave for three hours. Think Barbie (you know at the end of Toy Story 2!!!

The agency who have arranged it told me to make sure I have a good night’s sleep the night before because they want me bright eyed and bushy tailed!!!

I do need to have a good night’s sleep. Seeing Jack, being just a few feet away from him on Saturday, seriously interfered with my sleep. I did have panda eyes on Monday I noticed.

So I am signing out early tonight. Should I wash my hair now, or first thing tomorrow morning??? Ooooh decisions deciions!

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Can’t We Go Back To Page One And Do It All Over Again?

An expression I grew to strongly dislike after I left London three and a half years ago because of the injuries I received was “it’s the end of a chapter of your life, you need to turn over a new page and enjoy a new chapter”.

It was the last thing I wanted to hear. I know people were probably well motivated. But I totally rebelled against that idea and made it my mission to return to London – because I wanted my life back. I was not ready to give up. I did not want to start a new chapter.

I still feel as if my life is just on pause, until I am back where I belong. However, this post is not about the effects of the crime I was victim to. I am rather thinking about Goldfinch yet again.

Goldfinch is leaving. That is the right step for him. I would like longer with him. But I have had longer with him. When I first met him, he thought he would be leaving England in the spring. So rather than five months, I will have had over thirteen months with Goldfinch. I am very grateful for that.

Goodbye has to come at some stage. It may as well be now. But I share these sentiments in the Piglet and Winnie the Pooh picture I have attached….