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Still very post-valium. Every time I check I find my jaw is clenched and all around my neck and shoulders is proper hunched over. Didn't make it to singing - just couldn't get myself out of the door, despite being up, breakfasted and dressed in good time. But I'm trying to be philosophical about it - this is the price I'm paying for having managed to avoid months of sleepless nights lost in agonised ruminations over the fate of my darling girl. Well worth paying - this won't last long as it's purely chemical. Well, not entirely - I am obviously still fucked up and would be exhibiting some form of inconvenient (at the very least) behaviour.

There's a programme on TV about The Beatles - some anniversary where a bunch of people are doing covers in front of a swanky audience including Ringo and Macca. It strikes me that a) those two have grown into a right pair of old fucks - Ringo is petty and bitter, Macca is just smug and vile, utterly loathsome; and b) the only interesting covers are those that 'make it their own', the rest are just dreary. Oh God, Ringo's singing - there's no need. One of my favourite quips is "Ringo Starr - not even the best drummer in the Beatles". This has been making me laugh all day:

OK, the bastard Macca is now turning in a very decent 'Get Back' but I reckon the voice must have had help during editing, if his performance at the Olympic Opening Ceremony is anything to go by. But this is tons better than anything else I've heard this evening - though now he's on 'When I saw her standing there', which is ill advised from a man of his years, given its opening line: 'She was just seventeen, you know what I mean?' Creepy.

Sorry to be drivelling on like this - I've turned the telly off now.

Things I'm anxious about include:

1. YD's housing problems - I think they've managed to avert becoming homeless just before the wedding in mid-June, but only for it to be postponed to sometime pretty soon after. London private rented is only for, probably, earners in the top 10 per cent and anyway none of us can put up a deposit as we've all chipped in for the wedding. But SIL2 has MS and a fantastic support team which he needs to stay close to - they've been with him since his diagnosis twenty years ago and are much better, orders of magnitude better than ED's were when she was still up and about. The council can't do anything till they have an eviction notice. Oy.

2. The wedding. Cos she's my baby and I love her and it's all very emotional.

3. Bloke's health and refusal to go to the (free) doctor and my reluctance to listen to another fucking word about it - his digestive system is in meltdown and has been for months and months, but he always says, "Oh, it's nothing," which it isn't, on its own, now and then, but when it's variations on a theme day after day, week after week, on and on, go to the bloody doctor and at least make sure it's not something that is either simple to cure or serious and needing treatment pdq before it gets brutal. Or if not SHUT THE FUCK UP. But go to the doctor.

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