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Battle of the Bulge

(Top note: the personal posts are back!! Please tell me this isn’t a mistake.)

NEWSFLASH: I need to lose weight.

REWIND: I think it’s fair to say that I’ve had my ups-and-downs, weight-wise!

I was always pretty skinny up until about 1988, when I first gained a bit of weight. And I do mean a bit. At the time I was drinking some alcohol and also smoking an amount of pot (which, I’m sure many of you know, gives you “the munchies”). So, I was aghast enough, after seeing a photo where I looked kinda round-faced, to go on a diet! I probably weighed 11 stones. But by mid-1989, I weighed a mere nine stones—the lightest I’ve been my entire adult life. In fact, I was a bit too light. I am, after all, 5’8″, and my build, while not large, is not petite—so nine stones was pushing it!

It didn’t last long. I was back up to maybe 10.5 after a few months. And that, to my mind, was a good weight for me. Anyhow, I have to say that at the age of 20, losing weight was a breeze. I had a simple method: I just ate exactly half of every meal. The weight came right off, quickly & efficiently.
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Lunch in London

Lunch on the South Bank near to the Royal Festival Hall, to be exact. Saturday, Aug 21. The below photo was taken by John Anderson, showing me with Paul Gambaccini, Dez Skinn, and to the far right good old Tim Bateman. Martin Skidmore was meaning to come, too, but he couldn’t make it.

With Gambo Dez Tim South Bank August 2010
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Preoccupied

It hasn’t been a week for drawing anything. Too much on my mind, I suppose. I’ve been looking for a job, i.e. full-time & salaried—down in the London area. I’ve been doing same locally for ages (this area sadly being of one of the country’s darkest & deepest pits jobs-wise), being that the lack of stability of freelancing has certainly caused me problems—and a lot of other people, during the recession, as far as I can tell. But, I thought, if I’m investing so much time into this, why am I looking round here? I don’t like it round here.

Well, yes, down south was littered with bad judgement calls last time. I messed-up repeatedly as far as places to live were concerned, and my mom’s death was still affecting my morale. It went badly. But in actual fact, I didn’t want to leave. It just became the only ‘sensible’ option under the circumstances. Even at that, the experience left me shattered enough to ask my GP for anti-depressants. They helped a bit for a while, but I stopped taking them back in January because they had clearly outlived their use. Doing so hasn’t left me in a worse mood, at any rate. Perhaps a touch better generally, once withdrawal had passed.
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Sort-Of Update

I’m not posting this from my blog interface, but rather, hand-coding it. Blog software’s been a bit knackered for the last month (it’ll hopefully be fixed soon), so I’ve been unable to post. [Note: Of course, this has since been reposted using the new blog interface!]

Well, you know, weird turn of events. After the last move, to Ilford… I found myself without an Internet connection for two months, almost. And the new home had cockroaches. This was an unbeatable combination, quite honestly. I finally decided I had to give up on the Down South Experiment, so, would you believe… I write this five weeks after my fifth move in a 14-month period, back where I began, my old home-town (actually, the same street as before to boot!).

I don’t see this as permanent, but for now, just a bit of stability seems like a good idea. Apart from the trauma of moving five times, anyhoo. My sleeping patterns are shot to hell, worse than they’ve ever been and very nearly upside-down. But, the upsides: I have Wifi, there are no cockroaches, a large living-room into which all my junk fits nicely… and today, a new washing machine arrived, which was nice. (No, really. I am allergic to hand-washing.)
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Another Day

Or another moving day, even, as it’s later today that I move… for the fecking fourth time in the space of a year…

But, yeah, I did find somewhere dog-friendly, and my escape from Ye Landlord from Hell is finally happening. I’ll get this moving thing right one of these days.

I’m off to Ilford, which is in Essex, in case you wondered.
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Developments

So I am looking around for a new place. Went to see my friend Michael in Camden today and browse what was on offer there. No much of any use, as it happens, but we had a nice meal anyway!

I am (fingers crossed) viewing a place on Wednesday night in the Brockley/Lewisham area. Prolly not as funky as Fulham, but close to the city (only about 20 mins from Charing Cross), and it’s obviously the living situation itself that is most important. This one sounds a lot better, but I don’t wanna say too much for now.

I’ve been in a sort-of relationship for some months with someone now, and last night he suggested making it official. He was a little drunk so I said, ‘Hey, maybe tomorrow you’ll not say this.’ But no change so far! I guess that means it is official. It’s a nice feeling. The situation started to develop just before leaving London for my disastrous spell in Brighton, which did compound the error big-time. As much as it turns out that the current living situation sucks, I’m glad to be back in London.
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Funny Thing Happened…

Hmmm. I’m almost too embarrassed to say this. I believe I will be moving AGAIN shortly.

I’m not gonna gripe excessively. Actually, it’s good to be back in London. Pretty fucking great, mostly. Social life’s not doing too bad; I think, in 25+ days here, I’ve only spent about four or five days/nights in with no socialising. Even the sex life’s got some moderate activity. So that’s all A-OK.

But my seemingly reasonable landlord misled me a bit, about how often he’d be here, and as this is only a one-bedroom flat and the kitchen adjoins the living room (which he uses as a bedroom), a full-time share just doesn’t work. It’s untenable. I took it on the basis that he was only here occasionally. For the first three weeks he was here practically all the damn time, shutting the living room door at 11pm most nights, spending numerous afternoons watching TV very LOUDLY with his mates while spliffing up, etc. Regular Boys’ Club shit. All the stuff his fiancee in North London won’t let him do, presumably…
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Now It Can Be Told

I’m moving tomorrow. To Fulham.

It’s been an interesting past month or so. I got a cold which didn’t go away and it became apparent it was glandular fever. I’m still not 100%—the weakness and lethargy can last a couple of months—but I’m not too bad. (Having said that, I do feel a bit rough at the moment, but I hope it’s just the fact that I got a bit drunk last night, against medical advice…)

It is really, REALLY unpleasant to be actually quite ill in a town where you don’t really know anyone. I’d have really appreciated someone being able to do a bit of shopping for me, or walk the dog once or twice, just to allow me a couple or three days of complete rest. But it wasn’t possible here in Brighton. I had to drag myself out at least once a day to walk the dog and get food. It was, on the whole, a hellish period for me.
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Being Red

As in my hair…

Red Hair June 21 2007

Of course, being self-administered (about half an hour ago), it may not last very long. Be interesting to see. The docile expression is an optional extra. 😉
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