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Day one the babbling old man.

It is unfortunate to say the least I’m low on provisions I live in a place where the lifts are broken and I’m afraid of the rain and the consequences of possible accidents.

I have been reluctant to discuss the vandals, I am compromised to the mention of the ‘vagrants’ in case I submit myself to a heart failure from the rage that welters up

inside my body at the very thought of those wild creatures.

I haven’t mentioned the council have I? Well I have to confess that they too would be added to the vagrant category society never ceases to amaze at its ambition to be come less practical and more incompetent in its practice. I can barely walk and I have been placed on the 5th floor of a dilapidating building with vagrants and vandalism and my dodgy hip: Never mind what can you do.

Besides there is enough of a storm for today and enough to consider of a more practical importance: I should enjoy life, if I were to be remembered as a sound man of a practical disposition rather than known for pestering the tomfoolery known as children or spending every waking moment writing Mary Whitehouse letters to the powers that be.

It is a sin indeed to scare the elderly but it is more a sin to be an elderly person and to know no better than a child, I am aware of my weakness, arthritis and strange sensations which take over my body and wear me thin, to chase up on a youthful world and become a victim of your own foolishness should only add to the existing madness: Yes I am old but I’m not stupid, contrary to the axiom of modern people, that we in our wrinkles need to be distributed to the local pen and ‘disappeared’ with bed pan and bib in tow!

I am raving a little and I apologise.

This is the first time for me, doing this,

How should I address you? Honourable sir, madam? Would you be a lady or a gentleman?

I have never written in a diary before in all my 80 years of life indeed I have not and such a shame it is that I have missed out on the stimulating release of writing, how impressed the pit boys would have been to discover my hidden talent as a writer, I have to laugh at that for in my jest the punch line is they would have laughed…

And called me pansy ha.

I have decided to call you petunia well I do remember with fondness those flowers that grew on the allotments and to call you pansy with it depicting toilet humour wouldn’t seem very fitting to you my new and only friend.

I suppose, that would make you a female wouldn’t it.

I have to admit a little female company wouldn’t go amis. Of course petunia you do understand that you will have to take second place. My mille god bless her comes forever first. I’m sure you understand.

Ah. The rain has finally cracked from the clouds my windows are awash with the sound of clack clack: Big wet kisses. It’s funny but it is only when it rains that my flat finally has a valid excuse for being grim and greying like the storm and the rain.,

Some gifts come in strange packages. I suppose, and may I say in this case I am rather relieved of the British weather.



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