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I'm scared about this ceremony/ritual thing we're planning for GS to remember/celebrate who ED used to be - as you can see, I'm not entirely clear of what it's going to be. I can't imagine how I'm not going to be overcome with sorrow at what she/he/we have lost, even more than usual if we're going to be reminding ourselves of who she was and who she could have been, should have been. Ah well. I think it's a good thing - maybe he (GS) needs to see our grief, to know that it's overwhelming for us all in our different ways, as mother, sister, brother as well as son.

So, five other things.

1. I am now smoking in the shed, having cleared a space and put down a rug. I sit in my camping chair, squidged between the lawnmower and the washing machine, keeping a wary eye on the fat, hairy spiders that are all coming in from the cold, fuckers. I'm not doing well with the e-cig. It tastes nasty and makes me cough much more than a roll-up. And I keep forgetting I'm meant to be weaning myself onto it.

2. That's it - my mind has wiped itself clean of everything other than daughters and smoking.

3. My brain hurts with all the lies being told by the media and the politicians. There are so many opposing versions of how things are going in the UK that some of them have to be lying. In the end, I think we all choose to believe the things that support what we already believe. I wish I could turn the news right off, but you never know what might have changed without you noticing - I missed the bit when they told us that you have to pay for dental treatment unless you're on a specific set of benefits - it used to just be free, apart from cosmetic stuff. Well, not free - 11% of every penny you earn went into the fund to pay for it - but free at the point of delivery. Now I'm not on benefits (due to co-habiting with Bloke who still works) I can't afford to go.

4. I don't like having to ask Bloke for money.

5. Watching political journalist Jeremy Vine on Strictly makes me happier than I can account for. There's something about the combination of all those gangly limbs flailing about and his facial expression that cheers me up. I find Daniel O'Donnell creepy as fuck - hoped he'd go this evening but he didn't.

I am grateful for: best roast potatoes I have ever cooked tonight; and a big pile of veg - roast onions, parsnips and carrots, plus runner beans, spring greens and a bit of chicken, plus gravy made from the pan juices, a bit of flour and the veg water; I love my sleeping pills, creeping up on me now; opening conversation on getting a dog - I'm leaning towards a rescue greyhound, but I am meeting zero enthusiasm

Nightie night, dear silent pals.

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