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Yesterday as the stress of living with an alcoholic took its toll in a nebulous blur of somnambulism, that scintilla of doubt vis-a-vis my cousin's hospital appointment on Thursday was spot on. He did not go, and made some lame excuse about the consultant being too busy , whereas in fact he had run out of money, and was too embarrassed to ask me for the cash to get over to Canterbury. Added to this situation was the fact he failed to tell me that the electricity key meter was extremely low, and I had to rush out and top it up to the tune of eighteen pounds, which was just enough to put the meter back into the black.

He has now realised that he did go on a bit of a bender last week, and hence, ran out of money. I have now instructed him that I will take full control of the finances whilst I am here, as I do not want to continually bailing him out. It also means, alas, less trips up to the pub and that buying rounds are out of the question.

In a way I am glad that it is out in the open and that the last week of frustration can be expunged.


My bed seems to have brothel creep. The upper mattress is creeping in opposite direction to the lower mattress and I am having to constantly straighten the two together.

Been reading the Philip K. Dick novel “A Scanner Darkly” , a dark paranoid psychotic dystopia that pre-dates the cyberpunk genre of science fiction by a few years. His fiction is a mind warp of near future hysteria. Should be able to complete it this evening.