Last Chance

Usually I have a title first. I don’t assume people are much given to reading other people’s blogs except as an incentive to have their own read. I’m not enough interested in people reading mine to do that. To a degree it interests me to write them because the facility’s there and it’s a way of filtering what’s important to write about if anything is. The writing is more important and the form it takes, more or less determined by its being a blog. The content may come like John’s opiate-blocking tablets today.

We were going out to waste my money on travel card and drugs for him when the postman arrived at the outside door with the mail John had been anxious for. I asked, since they had come, why he didn’t start taking the blockers. He’d already set himself up for the day and blocking the opiate would make him sick whereas if he started tomorrow morning….

I’ve inserted the title.

He was short of tobacco, a hint to be given more than £15 as well as travel pass I did not take, saying Terry’d have tobacco, adding to minimise the amount of opiates he took today.

I didn’t intend to start as I’ve started, with the postman at the door bearing blockers, but with my encounter yesterday with a former pupil who’s homeless. It made me realise there’d be life after John, that I’ve become too immersed in his problems. The former pupil categorised John as a smack head, asking if he was arrogant since in his experience smack heads were. “He doesn’t think he is,” I’d answered, but he does arrogate to himself so much, the examples I gave to him those of going to bed as late as he wanted and sleeping in late while complaining about the loudness of my music in the morning. He was going to go out again and smack my former pupil for calling him a smack head. He didn’t in the event but ate a huge pasta I’d cooked earlier and still called out for more. He is inordinately dramatic. He failed to make tea in a cup for himself, having wrongly assumed the water had boiled and remarked the day had gone from bad to worse, the bad presumably being called a smack head by a stranger, but …over a cold cup of tea? a day could go from bad to worse? That he could use that expression with such readiness would turn any day sour.

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About johnbrucecairns

I'm a retired history teacher who's written for most of his life with a book readied for publication.
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