Can I forgive you….no, and even if I did

You wouldn’t thank me for it

You, being in total denial

I see straight through your smart exterior

To the rat you are inside

And you’d never pardon me for telling you

So I silence my voice and bind my hands

So that I cannot write a letter to you

You took a stick of dynamite and threw it

Into the centre of my childhood

And blasted it to tiny pieces

Yet I yearn to love and I cannot cure myself

Of the love I had for you for what I thought

You were before I knew you

Dear Diary

diaryDear Diary;


Well, here I sit in the middle of a chilly night, shivering with cold despite a blanket, which I have pulled up to my chin. It has a picture of ‘The Snowman’ on it; red, white and blue, not unlike our Union Jack , the major difference being that ‘The Snowman’  which I’ve had goodness how many years, (and have now, rather ungratefully, completely forgotten who gave it to me), isn’t blowing in the wind at the top of a pole.


I fell asleep several hours ago, in my riser-recliner chair which has been carefully manufactured for the elderly (not that I am!), and disabled folk such as myself. I didn’t intend to nod off, I might add, but it’s hardly worth going to bed for four hours so I have decided to write this, out of sheer boredom and to pass away the long and tedious hours!


It is a clear night, with the sky pitch black and starry (due the street lights being switched off at night by the Council, supposedly saving them a few pence!); and yet I note that our Council Tax hasn’t been reduced one penny. So, where exactly is our hard-earned cash going? No doubt to better feed the Managers and Directors at their annual Christmas dinner! Yet, if you carefully observe, there are homeless people who call an empty cardboard box a home, littered in the many shop doors in town in order to stay partially protected from the bitter wind.


My intention was to go to bed, as I was weary from the effort of the day. Instead, I wake in the wee small hours only to find myself bent forward with my head on my laptop’s keyboard so that I now have QWERTY indented into my forehead!


It’s now two o’clock in the morning and only four hours left to while away the time until my carers arrive to get me washed, dressed and breakfasted in a record time of thirty minutes, which is the maximum that the Council will so generously allow me! Oh, deep joy!!


So now, i shall leave you, my faithful friend, to go and make a cup of coffee, (white, two sugars) to keep me going till six o’clock when my Carers arrive.