284 days to Antarctica; "Me and Bobby McGee" Kris Kristofferson

 

 

 

 Approximately 22  minutes reading time

 284 Days to Antarctica

“The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”

― Mark Twain

 This is how I choose to live my life, Always.

“Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose,
And nothin' ain't worth nothin' but it's free, …” Kris Kristofferson , Me and Bobby McGee

These words have been a part of me since I was about five years old. I have always loved these words and the man who wrote them. They bring me back to that age and to my Mummy and to someone else that I came to know and love. There’s a comfort and a reassurance that these words bring me. Over the last couple of weeks, Kris Kristofferson’s profound and poetic words have been stuck in my mind, playing on a loop. Even in my dreams, I don’t know why. I feel haunted. I hear and see Kris Kristofferson singing these words, Janis Joplin singing her version and Johnny Cash singing his version of this great song. He is there as well, I don’t know why. Perhaps it is because I have been feeling crushed by the emotions of the last couple of months as I’ve been forced to relive all that I have lost, everything. Reliving it is worse than living through it, unbelievably. With my Knot of Life, remembering my Freedom reminds me that I’m right where I need to be at this moment. Alas, this is no salve for my emotional hell and torment. I push through it all and do all that I must. There is still fun, happiness and joy.

Kris Kristofferson’s words and sentiment were possibly my first lesson in regret and not wanting to live this way. He inspired me to follow my heart and my dreams, to take the biggest and most worthwhile risks in life. The irony being that they’ve become a kind of trap. To this day I have kept regret at bay. This has not spared me the pangs of sadness, loss even at times, despair. I am unbelievably strong, resilient and tough but it doesn’t mean that I don’t suffer hurt. The fact that I don’t complain, discuss too much or wallow leads people to think that I’m not hurting. If only this were true. My soul is withered and my heart crushed but somehow I’m okay and manage to have fun, stay optimistic, happy, joyful, inspired, loving and loved. I am grateful.

At the beginning of this journey I was told to let people into my life and let them help me. The surprising few who really cared, I will cherish for eternity. They are in my heart and one lives in my Soul. I was told that letting people help me was important to help them feel good about themselves. The kindness, compassion, care and love was beyond overwhelming. It became a romantic, idealised version of reality and life. Then the veils were parted and I was faced again with the ugly truth. Many people are selfish, greedy and lack courage, conviction, integrity and nobility. People don’t understand, don’t want to know, don’t care or a situation such as mine simply makes them uncomfortable and disinterested. Luckily for me, I don’t need to share, don’t need anyone’s help or support, much as I would like it and it would make my life easier and better, from the right person. I don’t need to be liked and don’t need external validation, so I’m okay but I feel for people who aren’t because it’s so bloody hard. 

Doing everything on my own is seemingly impossible at times and since the bushfire, always horrible. A great many people are truly wonderful and I have been privileged to have them in my life, most especially at this harrowing time. The disappointment of empty words, false promises and selfish actions, money-grabbing, cruelty have been a terrible reality throughout this journey that have left me feeling emotionally crushed, crippled, disillusioned, let down, disappointed and abandoned. It is hardest when these include people that I love, who I know love me. I guess what has happened to me is collateral damage. 

My sugars have been erratic, dangerously low at times but I catch it and manage even when it’s not supposed to be possible. I have no alternative, needs must.

People ignore and run away from how they feel, what they want, what makes them uncomfortable. This I do not fully understand. It is easier than facing fear and/or discomfort. Growth, discovery, adventure, fun, love, joy and happiness are found in the places that we fear to tread. ‘Tis a great shame and robs us all. Newton’s Laws of Physics are at play again. Karma always wins. We cannot escape what is meant for us, no matter how hard we try, or how hard we hide or how fast we run. We do not know what is coming for us, ever, Carpe Diem (seize the moment).

We all hurt each other, even without meaning to and when we truly, deeply, purely love each other. We all make mistakes. We can all recover from our mistakes if we want to and if we are prepared to put our Ego aside. This is what connects us, our shared humanity. This is why I never give up on people. People have the capacity to love, forgive and surprise each other in the most wonderful way. I have seen life break people. I have had people save me. I am fortunate that life has not broken me, my spirit, weary and wary as it is right now. I am glad that my heart stays open, even if my battlements are guarded. Making this mistake once in my life is enough.

It is my soul that weeps, the floods of tears, that do not seem to stop. Reason and logic stay with me and I understand clearly all that has passed. This does not make it easier to bear. I so wish it was otherwise. It is not regret as I cannot change anything. In each and every moment I took the best, although not easiest decision possible. I made the best choice(s) possible in the moment.

“From the coalmines of Kentucky to the California sun,
Bobby shared the secrets of my soul,
Standin' right beside me through everythin' I done,
And every night she kept me from the cold.
Then somewhere near Salinas, Lord, I let her slip away,
She was lookin' for the love I hope she'll find,
Well I'd trade all my tomorrows for a single yesterday,
Holdin' Bobby's body close to mine.”

These are the words that hurt my heart as a little girl. I felt his pain. I still do. Now, somehow, I find myself right here, with him. Only difference being that I was never looking for anything. I expect nothing from anyone. I want nothing from anyone that they don’t want to give me, freely and completely, even a smile and most especially love. I don’t believe in half measures. If someone doesn’t want to honour what they feel, even love, “… And nothin' ain't worth nothin' but it's free, …”

There is no going back. Only forwards. I have always believed in portals and the space time continuum. Portals close and open at the right times, in the right places. We choose what happens. Sometimes we get lucky and get another chance but never in the same place. Never in the same way. We choose if we want to win a place in each other’s lives. My mother taught me that when one door closes another opens. If someone wants you back in their life, they’ll come get you. If someone wants you in their life, they’ll claim you. My hippy beliefs are that if something is meant to be, it will be. If someone is meant for you, they’ll come back for you and your love.

King Solomon knew when the two fighting women in front of him both claimed to be the mother of the living baby boy over whom they fought; each woman claiming to be his birth mother, that only the real mother would love her child enough to let him go. The real mother was prepared to lose her son so that he might live. The other woman was prepared to accept King Solomon’s solution to the problem by cutting the baby boy in half. Real, pure love means being able to let go even when your decision and your choice might kill you. Real love is about giving not taking. This is the story from the Bible's Old Testament.

Recently I mentioned “Hippies” to my nephews, who asked me what this meant. For me, being exposed to the Hippy beliefs and growing up with many of these influences shaped who I am and what I believe. Love is? Free Love. These aren’t measured or of any value if they’re withheld, or rationed and only of value when given away, making us richer, more joyful and much happier. This makes the world a better place for us all. For me, my capacity to love grows continuously. The more love I have the more I have to give. There can never be too much love in the world. 

The Catholic Nuns during my school years dampened some of these beliefs but the nuns didn’t win. It’s the same with sex, it’s not supposed to be about power but sharing whatever way is right for anyone, at any point in time. I am amazed at how many people equate sex to intimacy and by extension to love. For me real intimacy is emotional, is shared through physical touch, sharing and lives in tenderness not sex. Sex can cement love, desire and intimacy but does not mean intimacy. Sex is meant to be fun and satisfying at a minimum. Relationships, of any kind, for me are about partnership, honesty, truth, respect, love, fun, excitement, joy, pleasure, support and enhancing each other’s lives, all in, otherwise what’s the point? If you love someone, let them go and if they’re yours, they come back to you.

I can’t go into something if I don’t believe it will last forever. As a little girl I understood that forever is as long as it lasts, a moment, a day, a lifetime, perhaps even an eternity. It’s my romantic heart and soul I guess. All creative people draw on their experiences, mainly love and heartache. It doesn’t always mean immersion only in melancholy, however it does usually appear.

I don’t judge others, it’s not my place. We are all flawed, fallible souls who have the right to exercise freewill in a way we choose to try and find happiness. That doesn’t mean that I can watch someone I love disrespect, dishonour themselves by making bad choices that don’t make them who they’ve told me they are and want to be; as I know to be true. Ignoble behaviour isn’t excusable when the choices are conscious. Seeing this hurts me more than them doing this to me. If someone isn’t respecting themselves, they can’t respect you. Out of love I’ll point it out as kindly as possible the hope to inspire them acknowledging the uncomfortable facts. From me there is no judgement or criticism as it is simply not my place. I too am flawed and fallible as are we all.

Yes, truth is subjective but facts are not, patterns are not. We are defined by our choices and these can change who we fundamentally are in life. Sometimes people run away rather than face or deal with, talk about a situation. Sometimes they simply misunderstand a message. I have never cared about what people do in their lives unless it impacts me or those I love. I only ever care about people’s drivers, their intentions behind their actions. Why they do what they do? Their intent matters to me. Actions also matter. My mother taught me to beware empty words. I have found that these words are everywhere. Empty words and empty promises mean nothing.These are indeed a trap to avoid.

My independence is my foundation for surviving these miseries that have befallen me. I have never relied upon anyone and I still do not. Yet, I am not without support. This, to me, is always a gift. I don’t need anyone but I would be happy with the chance to honour something rare and special that we are blessed to find, ever. Sometimes we all need help. Asking for help is not easy but important and something that we each must learn.

To deal with this all, I have been writing poetry. I’ve been garnering good responses to my poems. I won an International Poetry Competition and was selected for the Editor’s Collection Anthology. This seems to be my silver lining. All my poems have been written in the moment. My novels are also progressing. I have done a couple of courses so far to sharpen my skills, focus and strengthen my foundation. I’m working hard. I’m having fun. I’m grateful and surprised that my new relationships with men that I have met seem untarnished by past events. Surprisingly, I’m still getting too much attention from men. I still don’t like it. One man, the right man, is enough for me. I am no longer stuck in isolation although I am always careful. Masks are still worn as a safeguard. Schrodie and I are having regular adventures, once again with different people. We are having fun. Every day I still talk to friends and family. I know exactly how lucky I am.

I’m not sick anymore. The ANCA Vasculitis is gone. I don’t look sick. My hair, although no longer as thick as it once was, after my industrial strength chemotherapy with Cyclophosphamide, is long and lustrous once again. I’ve been incredibly lucky not to completely lose all my hair, as everything I read about this horrible life-saving drug is that everybody loses all their hair. Mummy made sure that I would never go bald by taking extra special precautions to preserve my hair when I was a baby. I am grateful. My destroyed nerves are repairing themselves and all my feeling is practically restored. This is extraordinary given the severity of the disease I suffered. This is what the specialists and various therapists have told me. I am still working as hard as possible recovering, to restore my body and my strength that was damaged and destroyed by illness. I am exceeding all expectations, including my own. I am battle weary and choose, wherever possible, not to fight as I have not the energy or the inclination.

I’ve felt exploited by many people, including tradesmen trying to take advantage of me financially. This has been incredibly hard to deal with, doing this on my own. There are some really special, fantastic people who have stepped in to, support me as I have been crumbling and struggling to handle it all.  Others have been marvellous, kind and generous with their help even though they are being paid handsomely for their work.  Accessing charity funds kindly donated by generous souls around the world is not easy. Third parties are dictating how the money is accessed and spent. Even when the money has been allocated to me by the charities I cannot access it and miss out, getting nothing. As I spent last year fighting for my life, I missed out on most of what was on offer and still am missing out. I am sure that there are people worse off than me. As long as they get the money, this is all that matters. I am ever grateful for all the assistance that I have received. Most especially I am grateful to the kind and generous people, from around the world, who donated to help us during the most terrible and harrowing time of our lives. 

My priority and focus was staying alive not money, never money.  I am incredibly and eternally grateful for all the assistance that I have received, including any future receipts. This has made a very real and important difference to me and my life at this horrific time. For me, money is important only for the choices it affords and for the security it provides, nothing more.

I am so grateful for any help that I receive but I don’t ask so I miss out again even when it would make such a huge and real difference to my life. Partly it’s because of the way that the people hired to support the bushfire survivors do their jobs. I do not doubt that their motives are noble or honourable but they seem to be ill equipped for the work. I am sure all the wonderful, kind, generous people would love to know that the money they wanted to go to the bush fire victims was being handled this way and not being given equally to the people who need it. The process is also incredibly demeaning. The Direct Grants were the best and fairest way to distribute the funds. I won’t ask. I’ll die starving on the street before I ever beg anyone for anything. Hopefully this is all a learning curve for everyone so that future requirements are met more easily and more satisfactorily. This was an unprecedented situation. I pray it never happens again anywhere, ever. 

For me, the same goes for chasing a man. It will never happen. It’s a different story if he’s staked a claim, I’d fight to the death but this must be earned. So, I’m forced to pay thousands of dollars every month on essential bills out of money that’s meant to rebuild my home. Expenses are escalating as I am forced to choose the path of least resistance; spend more money. I’m grateful I have the skills to manage my finances and the endless tasks I face. Albeit, in a compromised state as the stress takes its toll. The burdens are endless. This is the first time in my life that I cannot work to earn more money. I am grateful that my previous wise decisions have supported me now, throughout the worst time of my life. Even if I only have twenty dollars a week for food, I know how to get by, eating good, healthy and nutritious food on a shoestring. At least I can cook again. Not having the capacity to shop and cook, as before, would have made this impossible.

Having a garden again will make a difference. My precious, healthy, rare and expensive Heritage Fruit Trees, at least twenty four of them were saved but about a dozen were blatantly destroyed, run over by bulldozers, by the men who were paid to landscape my yard in preparation for my build to start. Their brief was to protect the trees to which they agreed. Only the trees dug up by Habitat for Humanity and taken to my friends’ farm were saved with only a few left on the property. This has been devastating for me. I’m not seeking reimbursement, I don’t have the energy. Pick your battles. My trees produced the most wonderful harvest of mixed fruit this year. Replacing lost trees will be expensive. It will be years until the new ones produce. This was the sixth year.

Last week was school holidays and my brother-in-law came to visit with my five year old niece and seven year old nephew. They’ve only just moved to Australia from Singapore. We were walking around my mostly cleared land sans house but with a smouldering fire-pit where green waste had been burned, with my garden beds and more. My nephew told me how last year, during "show and tell" after he had told his class about me losing my home and all my worldly possessions in the bush fires that they had all watched on t.v., that the school had asked him to speak at the Assembly where upon hearing his story, they started a Fundraiser in Singapore. When my sister told me last year I was so moved and touched that a six year old understood, cared so much and wanted to help. I still am and he is a very special little boy. My niece had been driving on the Northern Beaches and had seen a fire ravaged area and asked if that was where I had lived? All my nephews and my niece are incredible people whom I believe will make the world a better place when they grow up. Back to last week, my nephew told me, not happily that last year he had run around a massive Sports Oval, to raise money for the bush fire victims. He said that he had worked so hard for only five dollars from someone. I assured him that what he did was so wonderful and important because that five dollars went to someone who had lost so much and that it was going to make a very real and important difference to their life. It is the truth. Five dollars is seemingly nothing, especially when you have money. When you have nothing, it is so much and can be life-changing. It might be what is used for food, medication, heat, clothes or anything else that is desperately needed. This cheered him up and it also cheered me up. This is what makes humanity special. All the years that I donated money and time to Charities and worked as a Volunteer, I could never have imagined being on the receiving end, in such a position that I have found myself.

After not going to physiotherapy or hand therapy this year, poverty is my current reality, I have over the last few weeks, once again been able to walk every day with Schrodie. We walk at least three and a half kilometres a day. Schrodie chooses our path, it’s his chance to exercise his free will. It’s usually a different walk every day. He’s smart and has a low boredom threshold, just like me. This is another reason I’m really careful with relationships. I believe that every soul has the right to exercise free will, that’s where joy lives, although not on it’s own.

We’ve been dancing every day. “My Sharona” by The Knack and “Happy Together” by the Turtles and Bon Jovi feature daily. These have been our staple since he came to me at eleven weeks of age, about eight and a half years ago. The rest of the songs depend on how I feel. Today I think I’ll add “I want your love” by Transvision Vamp. Wendy James would be a better role model for girls, young women than the women who behave in such cheap and nasty ways that are all over the music charts today and have been for the last decade at least. Sex appeal, attitude are important but it doesn't need to be cheap for it to be effective. The dancing re-balances and re-energizes me. It’s the best adrenaline rush. This is why Puritans hate it, it releases primal energy, that’s why people get together on the dance floor. I can’t wait to go home when my house is ready, to dance and do my spin sessions with my glitter ball.

My physiotherapists and hand therapists think that our dancing is brilliant. It’s great exercise for my arms, upper body and core strength. Schrodie is about six and a half kilos. We’ve added the marching. Whenever Schrodie hears the music he comes running. I use different music for my spin exercises, he lies near me. My bike is a magnetic flywheel so it’s silent. I haven’t used it this year but I was doing about forty five minutes, five days a week and will start again soon. Being unwell and dealing with so much stress this year has taken its toll.

Now that I am able to cook again I’m making a chicken maryland (thigh and drumstick) roast for dinner with potato, sweet potato, onions and carrots. I might make some gravy too; this is hearty comfort food on a cold day. I made a chicken stock and soup for lunch. If I can’t eat my roast today, I will have it after my guitar lesson tomorrow. Finally I have found chicken thighs, bone-in and skin on, my favourite. Meat tastes better when cooked with the bone in. I don’t really like fillets. I love chicken giblets. I don’t normally eat chicken very much. I’ve always bought Lilydale Free Range Organic Chicken but now I can’t find their bone-in thighs. Schrodie used to get the boiled chicken. I eat the stock in a soup. He loves the rice soup, like a Congee. He loves spaghetti too but doesn’t get too much or too often. The chicken and soup is healthy, nutritious and warming for us both and really cheap.

Yesterday I had spaghetti for dinner and the most delicious. Sugar free, organic peanut butter ice-cream for dessert. Not cheap but worth the money. The flavour was not at all sweet but umami with a wonderful scent of peanuts. It’s too cold for ice-cream now. It is an indulgence I no longer need. 

Since losing everything my attitude to treating myself has changed. I was always careful with my shopping. I bulk buy during sales. Now, I am still careful with my spending as I need to be but I know that all I have is today. I’m defying the odds, more than the laws of physics suggest possible. I have celebrated a Birthday that was not on the cards so many times. I have always lived in the present with care so that I had a safe future. I don’t want to wait anymore, for anything, especially pleasure and joy. The same goes for telling people how I feel about them and what they mean to me. There’s no reason to wait. I don’t want anything but for them to know how much they mean to me, that they are loved and cherished. If I die or don’t see them again, they know. They will always have my blanket of love, especially if they need it and it matters. Love is all that matters in this life, for me. I’ve been lucky enough to have more than my fair share but I have paid the highest price.

When cooking I don’t injure myself constantly anymore, which is wonderful. Eating is still a struggle. It’s a combination of illness and medications taking their toll on my body. My roast and soup smell great. Since leaving hospital, the first time, last February, it’s easier to eat with company. I’m somewhat peculiar in that I find sharing a meal, food with someone is very personal and intimate. I won’t eat with anyone. Work or functions are different but I won’t go to eat with a stranger or someone I don’t like. I always want my own meal. It’s easier with my type1 Diabetes as well. I don’t really like sharing anything. I will gladly give my last morsel of food to someone I love, care about or who is starving, no question.

I am currently working on the electrical and lighting design for my home, not easy trying to get it right. Such a big job. Breathe. Then I still need the electrician to connect lights. I waited my whole life to get a beautiful spa which is beneficial for my health. I won’t have one anymore. I have been weighing up whether to leave more for the electrician to install later. I don’t think it’s worth it as the costs will balance out and the work won’t be covered by the Builder's Warranty. I might get him to add the circuit for my water bore, after the build, as this is proving to be incredibly expensive and problematic. It’s a nightmare. I’m a bit sad because even though the lady working on my electrical plan was lovely and helpful, I am forced into a position where I do what they want not what I want as it’s their process. I really didn’t want single light features in the middle of the room but that’s what I’ve been forced into. I didn’t want down-lights everywhere but they are almost everywhere. Breathe. I need my home to have character, so I am happy and comfortable in my space. I loved being at home. I have fought against this process. It means too much to me, it’s not just interior design.

Thankfully I have studied design but it’s still such a hard process the way they make you select. It’s not what I like or want but what I must do. I made the best choices I could at the time. Breathe. I hope it comes together as I wish. Last time I rebuilt the interior of my home, after the flood, it was beautiful and made us so happy. I believe this is why people struggle to live well in their homes. Worse case scenario, my home will look like a giant Circus tent. The irony is that for the first time in my life I will have a home with space and storage and nothing to put in it. My sisters are kindly giving me furniture. Mostly we will be camping inside. I miss my belongings. I miss my home. I miss my life before this all happened to me. I look forward to going home. Hopefully the peg out has been ordered and the plans are finished over the next two weeks.

More than anything I look forward to my build starting and being finished. The delays with landscaping have meant that my new septic system could not be installed. This will probably cost me more money as the rear lane access is not as great as the current access. Hopefully there is enough room to get the tanks in so I don’t need to pay for more expensive cranes. Hopefully Masterton will allow the team installing my new septic system access after the slab is poured and before the house is finished.

Once the house is built there will still be so much left to do. Everything is so expensive. Everyone just sees me as a bulging purse, thinking that I have insurance money. That’s a joke. Water and Septic Tanks have so far cost me over seventy thousand dollars and counting, that was unforeseen. Path of least resistance. Fencing will cost about seventy thousand dollars I don’t have, plus landscaping. The cost of just a plain, safe yard terrifies me as does affording it’s completion. I will need at least another thirty thousand dollars for the completion of internal works. Somehow I must, as always, work it out on my own.

All my possessions had a story and meant something to me. Everything in my new home will be stuff. The only things of value will be given to me, making them special. This is so hard to imagine. Sometimes I go to get something and remember I don’t have anything anymore. Last week while driving to meet the landscapers, for the umpteenth time over the last four months for a job that was supposed to take a weekend, I wondered if I had my house keys. Then I remembered that I no longer had a house or home. Laughable and sad. This is what happens. They didn’t finish. I have been forced to employ others to complete the job for which they were paid. Breathe. Pick your battles.

The worst thing is that I don’t know how I will feel being back there or if I will want to stay. Truth is, I do not care about location or where I live. All that matters to me is that Schrodie and I are happy and safe. Mummy was right again, "home is where the heart is". My home will remain my insurance policy so that I am never homeless. Everything else are details. I can write anywhere. When I go home I will work towards restarting my Accessories Business. I was starting my Etsy Shop just before the Fires. This will be great therapy for my hands and by then hopefully my capabilities will have improved to enable me to manage and make beautiful hand-made, one-off products, accessories once again. Firstly I will need to stock up with materials, fair-trade where possible, sourced from around the world. Hopefully my sewing will be fine.My hands although starting to function are still very weak and wobbly.

Tomorrow I chat with my Trauma Psychologist. Apparently what I am experiencing is expected, but much better than normal, for someone who has suffered any trauma, let-alone as many compounded, complex and ongoing traumas that have happened to me. Building a house is a separate stressful and traumatic event, especially on my own. It’s been one problem after another. Strangely, the only sport I was ever good at and liked was jumping hurdles and gymnastics. This is more than Synchronicity. Just as the people who cross my path, against all odds. I’m told that it takes a three year cycle to recover emotionally, after a trauma. This is good to know. Every day has been harder than the one before. I press on and push through the nightmare, jumping the hurdles and overcoming all the obstacles. One baby step at a time. It has not been easy to breathe. I have been sick every day and struggling. Most importantly, I am okay and stepping into my future towards the life I want, whilst still miraculously managing to find fun, laughter, joy and happiness every day. I could not survive this without Schrodie and am grateful that I need not.

Worrying about anything is a waste of time and energy that I do not have in me right now. The days fly by as I have so much to do. I am still doing my hand therapy exercises, most days. I’ll show you what they entail once I work out how to present them in a useful, helpful way. Johnny, my guitar is not getting the attention that he deserves. My teacher reckons I’m actually doing pretty well and that the weakness in my hands and fingers isn’t proving to be a problem. My retention isn’t great so I need everything written down. It’s a coping mechanism and PTSD. My teacher says he’s not just being kind. I have noticed that keeping my thumbs straight, even to hold the neck of the guitar is tricky. As the muscles in my thumbs are weak, they bend to compensate. In my right thumb this has caused trigger thumb, very rare because of the design of the thumb. In my case, I have worked out that this happened when I was pulling the thera-putty up to strengthen various muscles. My thumb compensated using the ligaments, creating a double joint in the first joint, as the muscles weren’t strong enough.

Antarctica doesn’t even feature in my thoughts. Over the next couple of weeks I need to start kayaking. This will be so hard. The cold affects my muscles and nerves. My shoulder always hurts from the stress, nerve and muscle pain. My strength is nowhere near what it was before any of this happened. My time frame for being Antarctica ready is shrinking.

Most days this feels like a hellish nightmare and sometimes the most wonderful, beautiful dream. There is a part of me that hopes this is a parallel life. Mostly, I look forward to every day continuing to be better than the day before, notwithstanding the horrible bits. I have been late with my posts as it’s been too much to write after living through every day and reliving everything else that has happened. I’m still finding inspiration. Music helps me and keeps me happy. Films and series on Netflix and Stan keep me entertained, some more than others. 

Mummy taught me that nothing in this life is free. Everything has a price. This is the price I am paying for my future. Knowing this keeps me centred and focused.

“Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose,
And nothin' ain't worth nothin' but it's free, …”

I’m still playing around, learning how to do this, hopefully well.

If you have any questions, or suggestions as to what might interest or help you, please ask in the comments section.

Stay well.

Watch this space…