There's been a bit of a gap since I last posted anything to this Journal.
I took Tuesday 11 September as sick leave - more precautionary than actual - but it did help. I posted a couple of Journal entries, one dated for the following day. Then I went down to watch a programme on television and found out the news of the terrorist attacks on New York and the Pentagon.
In the immediate aftermath, although I have been thinking about a lot, I found myself unable to write any of it down. Anyhow here's the start of some catching up with a round up of the social things I've been up to.
Firstly, Chris came to
visit. As with Eva and Sarah the previous weekend, we ate out at Charlie Parker's
and the meal once again was good. We also didn't have sex. Chris and I have had
sex a few times now, firstly on my own
and then with Ross. We were at perfect
liberty to go at it like knives if we'd wanted but we settled for playing around
and snuggling like friends can.
And we went out to Formby Point were we saw red squirrels. Actually we saw an awful
lot of them. It being the onset of autumn, the buggers were hopping all over the
place in search of winter fodder. I must remember to bring
Linda and Mary here sometime.
The following weekend, I was down in London and brought Ross back with me. During those few days together we relaxed and took in a couple of performances. And I took this photograph.
It doesn't look very much but that mark on Ross's skin next to the knuckle on his hand is a scratch caused by the point of a knife. It was a knife being wielded by someone trying to rob him. The wind-cheater which Ross was wearing was shredded. But coats can be replaced. And money can be replaced. Ross himself is OK. The physical cut will heal. It doesn't appear to have affected him spiritually.
The guy who attacked him was fairly obviously supporting a habit of some sort. As Ross says to me, if your life has sunk that low that the obvious next logical thing to do is to steal money from someone in a wheelchair, then you have to feel more pity than anger. Where both of us get steamingly mad is when we think about the three guys in suits who walked past the attack and did nothing to intervene.
I'm afraid that I hope they rot in hell.