I managed to go out on my bike today and did the 21 mile round trip to Bottesford, along the Grantham Canal. I was hoping to find the cat that I made friends with there last time, but after an hour or so waiting near the spot where I found her last time, she was nowhere to be found.
Cycling back was more strenuous, as I was cycling against a pretty strong wind and it kept blowing my nasty Spanish moss-like hair in my face. I stopped at one of the benches by the canal on the way back to Grantham and drank my vodka and Lucozade mix and let the time waste away. I didn’t want to get back to Grantham until after 1:30 pm, when I’d be less likely to encounter kids and teenagers out for lunch. I still passed a group of them as I cycled through Wyndham Park. They’re literally everywhere and no time of day or night seems safe.
I’m really dreading this weekend, far more so than I used t dread weekends back in Rochester. Now that the days are getting long and the clocks have gone forward, it doesn’t get dark until almost 9 pm and that doesn’t give me much of a window of opportunity to risk going out without self-medicating with vodka to numb my anxiety (fear of people, especially kids).
I finally blocked my mum on Whatsapp last night after another bad argument between us. I give up with her;; all I want to do is move far away again. She set me off when she seemed to doubt the bad experiences I said I’d had with people in Grantham and the fact that I’ve more chance of winning the lottery than making friends in a place like this. Her dismissive attitude set me off and I ended up blocking her. She’s not part of a marginalized minority group, nor is she struggling with loneliness, so she cannot possibly understand what I’m going through. I do feel guilty for attacking her, but she never changes and I’ll never get the answers that I’ve been seeking since I was a child and wondered why my half brothers benefited from a very different upbringing to the one I endured.
My existence is all about killing (borrowed) time now, waiting for either the shit to hit the fan with Brexit or with me. My lease is up here at the end of next month and I’m going to be homeless, although not penniless for the time being. I don’t really know where to go or how I’ll survive, but I have to leave Grantham.