Well..
AstraZeneca sure know how to keep us dangling. STILL no confirmation either way about the move or any time-frame. It's like they think I can just throw together a new life down south in a couple of days or something...
Consequently my depression and delusional episodes are going off the charts. Hallucinations, suicidal ideation, self-harming, Valium abuse, all sorts of big fun stuff. I've made a large seeping wound on my chest with a pumice stone and it really hurts, stupid.
Meanwhile the work on the house has stalled due to a bad patch of multiple flash-flooding towards the end of the recent hot weather, due to blocked street drains emptying into my house and soaking everything.
Ergo everything is still like a bomb-site and it's really breaking me in the head. Plus I managed to rip my second good Fat-Face shirt in as many months thanks to having to struggle over the piles of crap and it's become completely obvious now that my marriage is a tissue-thin illusion.
I've got to go and see the Psych crisis team tonight after work to look at my meds and probably I'm going to have to endure yet more fruitless months of psychology referrals, because that's how modern Mental Health Services roll, it seems. Damn you George Osbourne, you posh twat.
I just have to focus on keeping the hissing lit match of madness away from the flammable Draylon that is my job, to coin a bloody awful metaphor. Watch this space.
In other news, just got back from a family "holiday" in Whitby. I did enjoy lazing on the beach and fossil hunting with Joshua as usual, he may drive me nuts but he's a really good kid. Previous to that we went to the cottage in Norfolk again (near Thorpe Abbots). Not so good as the "wife" had asked her parents along AGAIN so I couldn't relax at all. Plus I ended up going fishing, which I abhor, with Josh and my Father in Law. It only served to reinforce my conviction that fishing is a hideously cruel blood-sport, so I'm afraid someone else will have to take him next time. The WI-FI at the cottage was playing up so we all felt a bit amputated, especially since we really rely on BBC iPlayer these days to keep the kids from killing each other. One cool thing was going to an aviation museum and seeing a real Gloster Javelin, arguably the very worst jet fighter Britain has ever built, a genuine pilot killer which was obsolete before it even left the ground. A full list of it's many flaws is given by the late, great, much-maligned test pilot Squadron Leader Bill Waterton GM AFC* (1916 – 2006) is a major part of the excellent book "Empire of the Clouds" by James Hamilton-Patterson (ISBN: 0571247954), which I highly recommend to all those who wonder why we're having to buy in US F-35 fighters for our aircraft carriers and why the RAF flies planes which are 1/3 German.
We also saw a couple of Apache helicopters weaving through the trees one day which was a first for me. It made me think of how I used to see planes all the time in Northampton, Tornados, F-111's, A-10's, F-15's the works, flying training sorties up the Nene Valley. The agile grace of the A-10's particularly left an impression upon me, such a contrast with their plug-ugly looks and their mission profile as witnessed later .in Kuwait and Iraq.
This has been a post of two halves, for which I am sorry, but sometimes one just needs to vent.
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