annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Not young

I find I really want to see Queen with Adam Lambert, because this:

but the nearest place they're playing is the o2 arena where the cheapest tickets I can find are £79 and it says "Level 4 is not recommended for people with vertigo or a fear of heights" so what the fuck?

I've been pissed off twice in the last few days over age-related incidents. The first was on the pier. I'd brought ED out, in her wheelchair and we'd made it to the pier, which is one and a half miles, so a fair old distance to be pushing an adult in a crap, heavy chair and actually I'm quite old. I do my best and all, but I tire more quickly than I used to and then I need to sit down. We get to the cafe on the pier and there are a few tables outside, so I go in, dragging ED up the ramp, through the double doors, between the tables and the pushchairs and the people and up to the counter and the queue, where I eventually order a coffee, and retrace my steps, back through the people and the pushchairs and the tables,  the double doors and the ramp (differently hard going down) to find that now there aren't any free chairs. Apart from one. Two young couples are round a table with four chairs but only three are sitting. One of the men, with a baby in a sling, is standing (and swaying) behind 'his' chair, so I ask if I can take it and the fucker says no, he might need to sit down. Gulp. Instead of calling him a cunt and taking the chair in the almost certain knowledge that he wouldn't fight me for it with a baby strapped to his smug fucking torso, I went and sat on the ground, against a wall, pulling ED and her chair in front of me as I knew I would cry, which I did. I wish I'd just said, "Really? Is that really the choice you're making?"

Then this afternoon, while doing the furniture up-cycling workshop, I went out to get a coffee, from the only place nearby that does a decent cup. The guy who owns it is OK, but he calls me 'young lady' which pisses me right off. He's probably in his 30s and he probably thinks he's being pleasant but what makes him think that calling me young is some kind of good thing? I've asked him not to, both politely and less politely, but he says he's sure I'm young at heart. I'm not and I told him I'm not. I'm old and I feel old. The modern world is too much for me, my own life is too much for me, I am exhausted, my friends and family are dying all around me - I am not young at fucking heart. This is me now, tonight:



I know I could look worse - I have looked worse and undoubtedly will again, but what I don't look is young, and why should I when I'm 63? I absolutely reject the bollocks around ageing and always aspiring to look as young as possible. I don't care - I'm not trying to pull and I don't give a fuck how attractive or unattractive anyone finds me, and  fuck off with this assumption that the best response to age is to deny it - I've been trying to think of a metaphor to illuminate this but all I can think of is calling an overweight person skinny - maybe I'll call him that next time I go in - he's not fat but he's most definitely not thin. Anyway, when I got back to the workshop, two of the three other women there thought I ought to just let it go as he's only being friendly, but that's just keeping on with this same old crap of women shutting up and letting men continue to upset them - I'm the fucking customer here as well. But there's nowhere else to buy coffee, it's his business so no one to complain to and he does remember how I like my coffee, the fucker. "A cortado, no sugar, for the young lady." Fuck you, fucker. I'm not a lady either, I reject that from here to next Christmas as well, but I'm too tired to even begin to go there


I am really struggling at the moment. I keep losing things and forgetting things and just being overwhelmed with it all. And lonely. No one to share it with. I miss my Younger Daughter so much. I spend most of my time alone or intermittently with people that are kind of close acquaintances. And the dog, but I'm too done in to be consistent with the training so she's probably as confused as I am.

The police are getting on the case of the SIL and the benefits. They do think he has committed a crime against my daughter - I misinterpreted the line of questioning over the phone (but they're partners? It's a joint account?).  Policewoman was checking the details when I thought she was discounting my complaint. But somehow it makes me feel worse - it's not just my imagination, he really has stolen all her money, I have been unable to stop him. PC came to take a statement and is going to type it up for me to sign on Friday. I've to find the documents proving that I am ED's appointee for benefits and have the "Deprivation of Liberty" thing - don't ask - it's some ghastly-named legal document for adults without enough mental capacity to be out in the world unaccompanied, which doesn't apply to ED in reality as she doesn't have control over her body enough to move herself anywhere and I always forget what it's called because the very name of it is enough to literally make me weep. The crime was committed in another county so my PC has to gather all the evidence and send it to the county where SIL lives and the police there will have to act on it. If he'd just stopped now, when he knew I'd found out about it, just let her have it from this point on, I would never have gone to the police - it's been one of the worst things I've ever had to do, but I'm meant to be her representative and I fucking well am.

And in the middle of all this I'm applying for jobs as I am heading towards financial mayhem.

And now it's one thirty and I have to be up in a minute so I'd better go to bed.

1:50 a.m. - 22.11.17


previous - next

latest entry

about me





random entry

Jan 21st - 22.01.20
Jan 20th - 20.01.20
Jan19th - 20.01.20
Jan 18th - 19.01.20
Jan 16th - 17.01.20

other diaries:


Site Meter