8 th.January.

Monday, 08 January 2007
Got up at 11.45 had a cuppa and then washed, shaved and made my self presentable in a pair of trousers and a jumper.
Had no baccy left so no thought of a rollie; came to come out and couldn’t find my wallet!
I knew the last time I’d had it was when I scored the half ounce, then I remembered the neighbour calling for one;
he had been a little tipsy that night, had he taken it?
I’d been saving and apart from the £450 there were my cards, driving license and insurance.
I looked everywhere it is normally left, even looked in places totally alien;
no sign of it.
I had then to rush up to my parent’s house for dinner at the allotted time.
I woofed down my dinner made my apologises and made to leave, my Father insisted on giving me £50 to see me all right.
I had of course gone to the shop and bought some baccy in an effort to calm myself down.
I had got myself right wound up; I left three quarters of the meal!
I drove home thinking the only place it can possibly be is down the back of the chair.
I arrived home, made myself a cuppa and rolled up a joint, lighting it up as soon as it was prepared.
I took a few draws and went over the memories of the last few days;
I definitely had it in the chair after scoring.
The rest of the memories are blurred because I’ve been smoking since scoring.
Must be in the chair; I concluded.
I slipped my hands down the back and searched, no sign.
By this time the feeling in the pit of my stomach is growing and I’ve stood up to pull the chair away from the wall to allow me to search behind the chair; no wallet.
In the background of my mind is the suspicions falling upon my neighbour;
he’s always skint, would be a big temptation and he was drunk.
I pull the recliner further out and in doing so knock the plastic container, which is to be found inside tins of chocolate of good Quality.
It’s an origami self-assembly holder for a handful of chocolates.
As it moved, there was my wallet underneath!
I breathed deeply with relief and began to count the contents and refresh my memory of what is exactly inside my wallet.
I decided that in the future any extra cash would be kept separate and never to store cheques in my wallet.
If it had gone I’d have lost a week’s money and have been skint till next payday, having lost months of savings.
I’d have had to contact banks and post Office to get new cards.
Yet another replacement driving license and have to get a new insurance cover note.
Would have meant a lot of hassle,
I phoned my parents and told them the good news.
When I think I’ve lost money I get annoyed,
I’d rather have spent the money unwisely or given it away rather than to lose it or have it thieved.
I go without a lot in an effort to scrape some money together and that fact alone intensifies any feelings of loss.
Should I feel guilty for suspecting the neighbour?
An innocent smack head.
Having lost over £1,000 last year I wasn’t looking forward to losing any more.
Tomorrow I will sort through my wallet and take away some of its load, too much in one place.
Too much to risk losing.

When I visited my Parents I saw that three of the first residents of his row had got together to replace garden fences with a matching stonewall.
Some old trees had to be uprooted and because of that the gardens should look nice, should improve the general look so the terrace no end.
The house next door, which is being renovated, has the beginnings of a tidy front garden now the builder is putting topsoil onto the sea of rubble, which was the garden.
A few months time should see it looking nice;
Father has been prompted into repairing his rendered wall and perhaps painting it to match the colour of the new walls.
I sit now, nicely relaxed after finding precious wallet and having had a joint.2: 32 PM
Don’t need too many days like this!
Remember when I was in hospital, I was too confused to remember pin numbers and was in a position of having no access to my money.
Others had but not me, my carer had been playing mind games with me, giving me incorrect numbers to try.
I couldn’t for the life of me remember my bankcard number. I was powerless.
I had a couple of things go missing while in the hospital, victim of opportunist thief, had my wallet stolen and a large amount of cash.
I went through a bad time.
Never again.
Today has been a reminder to be more careful of something, which has proved how important it is when misplaced.
I’ll also think about not presenting temptation to others and keep wallet out of sight in future.
All in all quite a significant learning day.
I still cannot get over the intensity of the mixed emotions and thoughts, which encompassed me from this morning.
These last few days has seen my heart thumping like a rabbit giving a distress signal, exaggerated beats of twos and three in the middle of my chest.
I have had to breathe deeply to get rate to slow and be quiet.
Quite a week, smoked Tuesday had Wednesday off, smoked Thurs, Fri. off, smoked sat. Had joints on Sunday, bought half today being upset, wasn’t planning on smoking today?
If I can do it alternate days I should be able to go further, will see.
I roll a rollie and have to search for lighter!
Find it and have lost rollie!
Deeming smoke was not to be I roll a joint instead.
I have sufficient left to make a couple more and then that is it.
I’ve spent £100 on gear this Xmas and New Year and the effects of three different scores have been poor.
Two half ounces, one costing £50 and another £30 and a deal of grass and glass! Not value for money.
Smoke has relaxed me and I’m listening in snatches to the meditation sounds, appreciating it.

Brent Oliver, 36, spent over a week on a life support machine after suffering serious head injuries during an incident in the car park of the Telstar pub in Billingham.
So much for the pleasures of going for a drink. I take a draw on my joint.
An elderly man was robbed at knifepoint as he walked home.
Makes me think! Is it worth going out?
I sit in my warm room enjoying a feeling of mild euphoria safe from becoming a statistic like the above.
I knew of a guy, a pensioner who suffered hip injuries when mugged for his oversized sandals and a bit of change,
People round here are apparently keen to mug the milkman, take money and phones from people on demand and roll the drunk.
Rolling the drunk had increased in popularity to such an extent as to once over persuade me to get a house as near as possible to as many pubs and clubs as possible.
Almost every two weeks there were reports of someone getting rolled on their way home.
I succeeded in getting the house eventually but by that time I was losing my interest in drinking socially anyway.
I must admit I’ve had nightmares in which I try to explain to assailants that my spine is fucked and would appreciate them not kicking me in the back.
Ever since I received notice of my complaint I stopped venturing out on night time, fearing trouble would see me sustaining back injuries, which would possibly bring on paralysis.
I cannot worry about damaging it all the time and most of the time I’m in a non-dangerous situation either at home or at a place of my choice. A pub not known for hosting sporadic bouts of violence,
Even though my youth was spent fighting from the age of 12 I learnt to control my temper somewhat.
The violence I see now portrayed on the TV seems non -sensical, mindless; violence for the sake of it, thuggery akin to supporters actions between rivals.
Often-innocent bystanders, or people who innocently intervene in an attempt to help the situation, end up with horrendous injuries, which last a lifetime if on the face.
I used to wear some weird coloured contact lens and make a note of the amount of people who actually made eye contact.
I took note that some of the customers, in fact quite a few were in need of glasses.
Very few noticed them, one member of the bar staff noticed immediately but three others failed to take the usual second look to assure them selves of what they were seeing.
Noticed nurses in hospital soon spotted them.
Just a thought.
As the victim struggled he injured four of his fingers on the knife.
That could signal the start of problems for the victim, I’ve had damage done to tendons and have learnt to live with the restrictions in finger movement which is usually the result of such injuries.
Restricted use of thumb is most annoying, going to pick things up can result in the opposite effect when the thumb gets in the road, or fails to grip.

He wasn’t out late, this victim; the incident happened pre. 9 o’clock.
He had maybe been on an errand or was simply returning home before the undesirables take over the pubs and streets.
The only information is what I’ve read.
I recently watched the clutch of programs covering the topic of Britain’s binge drinkers, the video footage taken from any high street in the country showed frightening scenes of the drinking population being controlled by a handful of police.
Like I said earlier I haven’t been out in town, at night, for some twenty years and if that’s what I’ve missed I’m not sorry.
I remember one night, pleasant summer’s night, I thought I’d treat myself to a pint in a pub I usually use during the day .
It had a pleasant seating area outside and the night lent itself to having a beer outside.
I walked through the packed out seating area, standing room only, on my way to the pubs rear entrance.
The place was heaving, queues 6 to 8 deep at the bar, bodies everywhere, either clamouring for drinks or stood shoulder-to-shoulder drinking out of bottles.
I turned and went to the local club, of which I’d been a member for years.
There were three drinkers in; afternoon drinkers who had overstayed their welcome and were now arguing loudly.
It was way to soon for the night time drinkers to arrive.
One guy decides to leave and the others try to reason with him to leave his car keys and get a taxi.
He’s had several pints and some whiskies he sees no reason why he shouldn’t drive, after all he does it everyday, drink drives and has got away with it.
His brother begs me to do something,

“What have you in mind?” I ask.
Take the keys off him, they answer,
I’m thinking yes sure I will, the guy is a steel erector in a bad mood and full of beer.
I follow the guy to the phone and while passing I drop the comment.

“Hope that’s a fucking taxi, you’re phoning”
He assured me it was, I went for a piss, when I returned I assured his brother that all was well and a taxi had been ordered.
He continued to force down his drink and left, I supposed to catch a bus.

“You Bastard!” he shouted at me when he returned a few minutes later.
“Our kids gone and he’s took the car;
if he kills someone it will be your fault, you should have taken the keys off him.”

I thought about explaining I had just come out to enjoy a quick pint in the garden not sit in a windowless, smoky room and listen to family arguments.
But I didn’t.
The guy actually came for me and I simply pushed him away, when I saw the stance he was taking while getting up off the floor I warned him I had a lot of anger inside and he didn’t want to release it.
I left.
I then called into my other club, security door entrance and no service without a valid card, little or no signing in.
I got a pint and sat with a group of four; only customers in, the topic of conversation was how to improve the club and keep most if not all of its standards.
I listened while I drank;
my only suggestion was that they must get “bums on seats, to make money “
I drained my glass and asked what was on that night.
Men only Bingo,
Fucking Bingo, I thought as I crossed the road to my front door.

Told you the house was near.

Before I cross, I lean against the garden wall and take a few minutes to look at my allotment, some 10 yards away from the house.
If it hadn’t been for the proximity of the road and the excess of exhaust fumes I would have enjoyed the produce more,
but it was as near as possible to the house,
The house garden and sides acted as garbage collection points, everyday there would be Pizza and take away cartons, bottles and cans.
Vomit and dog shit decorating the pavement.
Same area where the kids of the residents kicked the life out of my dog when I put the fear of God into the local off license owner and stopped their tap.
I only took the bare minimum with me when I left the house to move here, leaving behind the bad memories.
That brings my afternoon to a close, having had 6 rollies and two joints.
I’ll have myself another cuppa, turn the fire down a mite and have a joint while watching tonight’s viewing on the Plasma.
Beer in fridge and enough for one whisky left untouched.