Sleepless in London

Well, it doesn't quite have the feel of Seattle, but it will have to do-mostly because I am very sleepless. I keep hoping that someone will come and kidnap the miserable toad who lives upstairs and drop him off somewhere-over a cliff would be perfect!! I know, I know: I should be more charitable, since the noisy old fart clearly has a lot of mental problems-but I'm way past the charitable feelings, and closer to feelings of euthanasia!!

All I was able to do was report him to the antisocial behaviour team-who will, if they are anything like Haringey Council, do precisely nothing! And the worst part of all this is that the police knocked on my door on Sunday morning-they knocked so hard, I thought they were going to break the door in! I opened it when I saw the plastic police uniform through the spyhole (plastic police is my term for the civilians who dress up in uniforms but have no police powers. And they don't get paid. Perhaps they just do it for the uniform, thinking that it provides some miniscule power).

Noisy bugger upstairs called them and told them that I vandalized his plants that he keeps on the landing upstairs. He said he "saw me do it". I just couldn't help myself; I started to laugh. I told them about all the complaints I made against the imbecile for the noise, and that he threatened me-and that this was all in the hands of the antisocial behaviour team. Of course, the plastic coppers backed down-and they said they would let Suzanne (the ASBO lady) deal with it-but that I should dial the emergency police number if I feel threatened by him again. I said I didn't think that would do much good-and I know from past experience that the only way to deal with someone who threatens you is to carry something noxious-like oven cleaner-and be prepared to spray it in his face before he can take the can away and spray it in yours. Brave words!! I would probably just kick him hard where it hurts-that's if he has any balls at all. Bullies usually don't.

So that was my Sunday-I almost wished I had gone to church and missed the whole performance!!

It's been a rough week. I'm on week 2 of a three week course of a nasty antibiotic for this chest infection. One of the many problems with CVID (or, being born without an immune system) is the fact that I tend to get frequent chest infections-and really strange ones. This one is called serratia-really, it sounds like some form of skin complaint. Even the nurse didn't know what it was; she said she had to Google it. Lovely!

I remember growing up wanting to be rare and special-I think we all want to feel special, different, exceptional in some way. Is it fair to say that most (if not all) children want to grow up and be very important, leave a mark on the world, be remembered for something that lasts longer than they do? I know that I felt that way: I wanted to leave some legacy for which I would be remembered-a cure for cancer, perhaps. Of course, I wanted to be remembered in a good way, not like the mass murderers, Australian rapists who are hiding out in the Ecuadorian Embassy in London because they are too cowardly to go to Sweden and face the music (did I mention the name Julian Assange? Of course I didn't), and assorted idiots who run countries (did I say Blair, Bush, Cameron, Obama? Of course I didn't).

Personally I would rather be healthy and without this rare, hereditary condition which doesn't make life any easier. Skip the rare and special!! And-I know it could be so much worse.

I'm stuck where I am (for the moment). But I haven't hit the plateau point where there is no more progress-progress is just very, very slow, and - I was born without the patience gene. I just have to continue to work very hard, and remember that other people notice the difference, even though I don't see any changes at all.

I won't stay in this flat, this area, this condition forever. So pardon me while I hit Starbucks and the Kettle Chips.