Went to the garage with the car this morning - £1,700 to repair a car worth £500, and even then the mechanic tells me, don't do it, the engine is shot and could go any minute. May not last a week.
My mother's youngest brother, Uncle Patrick died yesterday morning at 10am, and is being buried tomorrow at one. No time to say goodbye. I spent the morning trying to find a florist who would deliver with a day's notice. Irish Interflora would.
Came home and spoke to the bank, they are not willing to lend money at this time for me to buy a car. I asked why, because I had checked my credit rating before asking them and it came up as exceptional, and they said they couldn't give a reason at this time.
Both cats are still ill, and I am feeling very down.
This too shall pass, this too shall pass, I keep telling myself. I have been in worse situations and time and tide took them away.
I don't understand how things have all gone so wrong so quickly before my birthday - it's on the 9th and I'm dreading it - what else will happen?
John Lennon was shot around my birthday, wars started, famous people died, there's something about that date.
I was my mum's first child, and she went on her own, on a bus after her waters broke, to Highgate Hill hospital to have me. My father was away in the Navy at the time and his sister Flossie and her husband Ted were the first to come and see me. Auntie Flossie leant my mum a kimono as a dressing gown as she hadn't packed anything. Uncle Ted had just come back from the Far East and had brought it back as a present for Auntie Flossie.
So a red haired, red faced, squawling child entered the world on the 9th December in London, to fight her way through life and end up frustrated and blogging in a Cotswold Village.
Hoping that this too shall pass.