HEROIN IS A DRUG TO MAKE THE WORLD GO AWAY

THIS IS A BLOG ABOUT A LIFE WITHOUT HEROIN



Tuesday 12 March 2013

Selfridges/New Pope/Siberian Weather in London/etc....

HEY DEPRESSION GONE!! I FEEL (relatively) "NORMAL!" again! Wow. And not high as a kite either. My sleep cycle is all over the place, it has to be said. Getting up at 4am yesterday and staying up till 4am again. Then I'm waking up twice an hour and in bed till one. Missed the group session I was fully intending to go to at the druggieclinic.

IGNORE yesterday's "I want morphine" rant. Really, I probably don't. My worker told me yesterday I don't "fulfill the clinical criteria". I'm pretty sure this means I'm not in physical pain. He also said my methadone dose, at only 20mg a day, was too low. I know someone in Austria where morphine pills are regularly used as an alternative to methadone and she said the standard ratio was 8mg morphine to 1mg methadone ~ which would put me on 160mg a day. If I really wanted it, I would fight. In the past, I have been good at overturning official hurdles. But I don't want it enough. If methadone is like swimming in cold water (when you're used to warm), I'm hoping it's preparing me for the chill waters of life stretching endlessly to the blinding horizons...

BINKY has been lying in bed for FOUR DAYS now. Yesterday she looked in a terrible state, but I couldn't tell whether the pain was physical or emotional (or both). She now goes shopping on a mobility scooter. The other day, she said, the sleeve of her coat got caught in the accelerator right when she needed to brake and she knocked a man over and went careering into a moving car. The man, who had gone flying to one side like a bowling skittle, said tangled coats were "no excuse". Yeah because he's an angel. Never gets his sleeves caught in passing door handles, or scooter handles, like the rest of us...

Anyway I've got to go. London is FREEZING COLD. Yesterday it was snowing quite liberally. The air feels like liquid nitrogen. Something to do with a cold front drifting over from Siberia.

Oh and the World is about to get a new pope. Here's my prediction: a politically correct African pope who says his aim is to "unite all Catholics". And I bet he'll be Francophone African. The Roman Catholic church doesn't seem to like the English language that much... Let's see whether that one comes true. Or if not African then South American. Preferably with tribal blood...

Has anyone been watching Mr Selfridge on ITV, Sunday nights? Why did no-one tell me how good it was? Like Downton Abbey in a shop. Selfridges is London's largest department store ~ after Harrods. Harry Gordon Selfridge was an American, who brought the novel concept of the department store across the Atlantic. He ran the store for thirty years, becoming the most talked-about shopkeeper in London. But he squandered so much of his fortune he practically went bankrupt. And spent his final years travelling about London day and night by bus... Sounds like one of my friends then...
Well I've got to go and harang the council about the bloody Turkish television that is still being beamed against my will into my flat. Wish me luck: I will need it.

O, and I'm rereading Sons and Lovers by DH Lawrence. We did it at school for A level English. I love his descriptions of nature, they're lush. He describes the local cricket pitch glowing in the sun "like the bed of a sea of light". Wow. 

OK gotta run bye.


Illustrated: Selfridges, Oxford Street; arctic wastes; Harrods, Brompton Road, Sons and Lovers...

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