Another plugging post here, many apologies, but it is my blog, after all!
White Witches are an excellent band, and my boyfriend is excellent at being a total eejit. So here are their powers combined, with White Witches, “Little Ease” and Robert Wolfgang Moneypenny, revolutionary hero of South London. In the last five seconds, you can hear me laughing at him walking mostly naked down Liverpool Street at 5am.
And, er, a mental health tangent to keep this post relevant-ish…
I’m back in London tomorrow, though currently in my best friend’s bedroom, stinking of tea tree oil. It was nice to see my family, who are going through a rough patch. I’m not great at comforting people, so I just let my brother play on my laptop and fed him. Feeding people works. I’m an Irish-Jew (minus the Jew). I get nervous if I suspect someone isn’t fed. When I was a child, my granny would thrust three plates of sandwiches and a Kimberly Mikado on us before we even sat down. That, I think, is the way things should be. I watched a shite Mark Dolan documentary called, “World’s Fattest Family” in which he went to fat peoples’ houses and called them fat and mocked their diets. He went to Tonga, which has a large proportion of fat people, poverty and umemployment. The family fed him their food (a lot of, URGH! things like goat’s fat, largely imported from New Zealand, and basically the dregs and unwanted offcuts of their food) and he moaned and refused to eat it. I wanted to kick my way through the TV screen and smack him. I can’t imagine such disrespect. It was their way of making him welcome. And so it should be.
ANYWAY! Clever little diversion there so I didn’t discuss my family’s business.
I feel and have felt rather irritable and low, which I’m not sure is because I forgot to bring Citalopram, or something else (not sure what, don’t feel really irritable at anything, and nothing in my life is annoying me, I am aware I actually have a rather lovely life, abject terror at oncoming benefit rules aside). I doubt it is the citalopram, as I’ve only been on it a few weeks. Maybe it is just the weather. It’s farty, grey and miserly. Tightfisted sky dropping only crumbs of rain. Who knows! Citalopram was certainly being helpful, even if it was making me a little bit buzzy. Though it could be a bit of the old placebo effect at work there, and depriving myself of sleep until I have to take Seroquel helps.
I saw my honorary nephew, too. I was a bit worried about that, giving my little issues with babies right now. I didn’t want to shove him into my bag then flee down the hill. But it was great. He’s an actual human now. He can hold his own head up, he smiles, he is delighted by everything. I gave him his bottle and he played with my chin, pausing occasionally to stare in abject awe at the lamp. I tickled him and he laughed and my ovaries whimpered.
This week is busy, which is relieving. Keeping busy is good for me. I’m looking forward to seeing my London family (Robert, the cats).
Filed under: Bipolar Disorder