Long time no update

In all seriousness I’m actually surprised to see the last post on here was back in july or something… Whoops!

I have had a couple of new people subscribing to this and its like, cool… um… maybe I should actually post things?

I’ve been fighting depression again and… maybe I’m out of it enough to be productive?

I hate just rolling over to sleep and giving up. But combine a lazy person with lethargy and it doesn’t end well.

This is a decent example of the difference in wellness creates

I’m not including images of my own home because, frankly I’m ashamed that I have let it get bad enough that I don’t have a clean plate to eat off of anymore… From someone that owns three large plates and a variety of dinner plates.

Why not clean them after I use them?

Good question.

I ask myself that after every intensive round of dishes. Where EVERYTHING needs to be washed. It gets so bad that it gets put off. Over and over till there’s a breaking point.

The rest of the time I can pop on a video on youtube on my phone and just let it play while I do the bowl from that day and the day prior (especially if I worked a double shift the day before). Instead, because I have enough plates and so on and so forth, its a case of, fuck it.

I’ll just use another one, till it gets that bad, all you can do is just collect ALL of them and watch the stack grow more and more. Till a point of either sheer defeat, or determination.

I live on my own, pots should be easy.

They are.

When I have the motivation to even look after myself. Which, frankly I don’t.

I hate having more bad days than good, but I also don’t want to go on medication because of it. It’s that stubbonness that’s not doing me any favours… but, been there done that.

And by the time I realise something’s bad, it’s already been too long.

Putting this into perspective. The last time I cleaned my flat in its entirety (and I mean REALLY cleaned it, not just sweeping the floor cause it looks bad) was November. Since then I’ve kept the toilet clean, and the kitchen hob somewhat clean. (When its not under a bunch of plates or just random stuff that doesn’t belong in the kitchen).

I took my trash out the other day… After going around my living room, and kitchen… I had enough for FOUR WEEKS. I have multiple bins and I’d just let them get full, and had a binbag on the side (with the intent to take it out after I filled it… it remained half full and gradually being topped up, while the kitchen bin sat next to it full). And that’s before I even touched my bedroom bin.

What makes it worse, I’d taken a bag or two out the prior week to try and clear it, but there was just so much.

You CAN see the floor now, before, well, a LOT of stuff wasn’t in its place.

I’ve had to shove my floordrobe into separate large shopping bags for now to just try and break it up. At this point I only know that half of it is clean laundry I’ve not put away, and the rest… I don’t actually know if it needs to be cleaned or not.

This is AFTER I spent a week like widow twanky with the indoor washing line up in the hall again… Sucks not having a dryer when towels need doing. It just gets worse and worse… and… some of the worst of it all is. I shoved clutter into random storage boxes and shoved them under my bed to give the illusion of a person on top of things… they’re STILL THERE… from November.

Looking at my almost clean living room and I just… one half of the room is a mess, the other fared quite well, I kept my desk clear for the most part, the table next to it on the otherhand…

Another trip to the charity shops is likely due. Anything I don’t use anymore (clearly i don’t if I’ve not used it in months) is going to get ditched, the rest… I’m constantly changing the layout of certain things, my desks… my books… Every time I think ive managed to get a productive work environment going … It all goes to shit in a matter of weeks.

Not making excuses, just saying it as it is.

I promised I’d update my writing blog more and its like, the backlog now is so huge part of me doesn’t know where to start. I’ll try and finish any draft chapters I have and see where that gets me, but… it’s taken THIS long to even want to come onto here and just type away, I’ve been doing anything but…

It also sucks being a wash n wearer, because after a while it turns out you need to wear other things, for other occasions, instead of say… a work uniform, or that same couple of shirts you’ve been wearing. Everything else is floordrobed and rarely put back where it needs to be, cause… fuck it. Even when there’s plenty of space for EVERYTHING.

I also gained a significant amount of weight again recently… I had lost a decent amount and kept on track, then gained it all back… and then some. Diet and lack of exercise for the fail there. Sucks going up a shirt size… because all of the stuff you bought when your weight wasn’t great looks even WORSE.

I could fit into mediums around August, November of last year… Now, now I need XL or generous Large. I’ve always been overweight, but this is irritating the hell out of me. Though, not enough to actually do anything about it…




Sorry for the less than stellar updates lately, there has been a lot on my mind.

Now I have plenty of time to work things out, as, I’m recovering from chest surgery.

More specifically a double mastectomy with a dermal flap chest wall reconstruction. I had my operation done on the National Health Service (NHS), meaning, I had no choice with surgeon or hospital. Going private is something that a lot of people in my position find that they have to do, I was one of the lucky ones.

My surgical team was headed by Miss Grit Dabritz and for what I know she is based in Manchester, Lancashire. One of the other surgeons I met on the day has worked closely with a hospital far closer to my home and is (if I remember right) based in Bolton.

I was the second of two people in for the same procedure, I was admitted and marked up and had to wait a fair few hours to be seen… all the while the threat of being turned away as in the back of my mind. Emergency patients that come in do get priority with beds on a ward, there were at least five admitted to beds the same day the day patients department opened up.

I found it hilarious that I managed to sweat away almost half of the permanent marker markups while waiting in a very stuffy waiting area. It’s a good thing they do a standing and lying markup.

Having never been put under anaesthetic before I became more and more anxious about it. The people I had met had wonderful senses of humour and were all lovely. I remember panicking when I was being put to sleep, beginning to panic… and then, struggling to move as I was waking up again.

Apparently I was in pain as I don’t really remember a lot from that night. I know I was taken to the ward later than I had expected and managed to send out a text to my parents to say I had landed… and that’s about it.

I had been warned that as soon as I was coming round I would feel as if I had been hit by a bus, I was lucky enough not to be aware when that was the case.

It was (and still is) unnerving to think about the chest drains, well, I think anyone would be unnerved to see and feel tubes coming out of themselves with bags of blood attached to the ends. One of the nurses gave me a plastic bag to put the two drain bags in so it was a little less unnerving moving around, specially when I had visitors seeing me.

Don’t ever be ashamed of not having people visit you, but if you can… Make sure you see at least one person on at least one of your full days of admission. It will help break up your stay and give you something other than discharge to look forward to. If you can’t, I’m sorry try making the most of your stay on the ward by communicating to the bed either side of you.

Thing is, the anaesthetic was still working its way through my system and I was drowsy most of the time. Coupled with a bad first night’s sleep and the painkillers I was sleeping most of the time, or at least barely able to stay fully alert.

I had taken a book with me (only a small one, Phantom of the Opera), I had my phone, I had my 3DS. I managed to read the same passage four times before giving up with my book, I played through maybe one small thing on my 3DS… My attention span didn’t want to work at all during my stay and I was more than happy watching the world go by.

Two days after discharge was when I could finally poop. Sounds stupid, but Dad had warned me that his missus was plugged up for days… low and behold that was indeed the case. On the ward and at home I was constantly drinking water and peeing more frequently than I thought I was drinking.

Three days after discharge I had my follow up appointment with my practice nurse – my surgery was on the Thursday before a bank holiday weekend and I had to wait till the Tuesday to be able to see any medical professional post discharge.

Mum helped me to wash my hair for the first time in a week, knelt over the shower as she helped me get that sorted. At one point she recommended that I take my shirt off to make it easier – and quickly said ‘oh wait I don’t wanna see’ and turned so I could get knelt over the bath. She felt awful after about saying it, thinking it nasty… but… to be honest I get it.

At first I couldn’t stand seeing the dressings as they were, they freaked me the fuck out. Even after the drains were removed. After the visit to the nurse when the dressings were changed, that, that was when I started to calm down about them.

A week after Surgery and I still can’t lie on my side… which is irritating, but I knew that would be the case. I sleep on my side normally and having to sleep on my back is just plain annoying, I can’t lie flat either but hey ho that’s the way it is.


I can’t really think of anything really negative about things so far… just…

If you do happen to have your surgeries away from home, be prepared to travel the long distance a minimum of four times. No, really. Unless you wish to spend at least a fortnight at the surgery site you will have to back and forth it a lot.

First will be the pre-op, then the surgery (and post operative appointment soon after discharge), then a two week later-ish checkup, six months later.

When being discharged from the hospital I was told none of this, not even the type of stitches I had or anything. So, to find out four days after discharge that I still have another trip down to Manchester ahead of me I was rather pissed off.

I am not in receipt of benefits so I get absolutely none of my expenses for travel covered. Which, in itself is fine. I mean, if you’re worse off than me financially then I say see what you can and can’t get back. When I say I earn too much to claim, I mean that lightly, there’s plenty of months where I’m barely getting by, and I have to somehow find the money to go back to Manchester after the prior two trips practically wiped me out financially.


I knew I’d have to save up, but by the christ this is just too much. Without ANY warning. I mean, if I can have my followup from surgery at my doctors practice, why can’t I also have the two weeks later one done close to home too.


Oh well, at least no more binders. When I get back at home I will try one of the easier to get on and off ones on to see the difference. It’d be hilarious to see, that’s for sure. Even mum knows I think of them as a pain in the arse and mentioned them too.


I can’t honestly think of anything else to say on the issue, but hell if you have questions please do ask and I’ll do what I can to answer them.

Back for good?

Alright, so… I didn’t lie when I said I had my mojo back…

However, there has been a period of radio silence. Sorry about that.

I’ve started writing for the Byzantine collection again and I don’t know how long this section will end up being. It was going to be a chapter of Hawk and the Shamrock… before I decided it had already ended at a good place, then the St Patrick chapter came out, then, I looked at the chapter and decided to keep writing it. Nearly three thousand words later I decided it was going to be better off as a multi part story… Just, I’m not sure how many parts. And I’m not sure how it will link up with the rest… But it’s there and it’s being written.


I also have a couple of Student side stories that I’m working on for the Blue Arrow. I’m working on the current chapter of it but I have a major decision or two to make.

I have an end goal for Keyah to become who he needs to be. Do I stick to that goal or do I keep the story going on and on till the dead horse is little more than skeleton? Do I make the character I have introduced stick to the brief plan I had for them when they came into the story, or, do I not (no hints to that, the answer may well surprise you).

So yes, working out if the character I do want to introduce will work at all, or if it is too much of a curveball for the universe the story resides in… And… frankly, if you haven’t figured it all out by now… yes, all of them are connected. Seriously, thing is, I’m not saying how. You have to read them to find out. Some hints are subtle, some are sledgehammers to the gnads.

Anywaaaay, writing moans aside – Below is a lil TL;DR basically with people are dicks, and I was ill with a headcold.

One reason for delay was the five weeks I was without a toilet, that drained me to no end… As I had a family friend staying with me on the back end of the toilet fiasco.

Now, my flat might not be the neatest, what with my Tron figurines being all on the same shelf next to Sephiroth and Vincent… etc… but it’s like. I don’t care if they’re not pleasing to the eye as they look cluttered. Small ones on the left bigger ones to the middle, I like it that way so symmetry be damned. Seriously, I had to justify the arrangement of my action figures and small scene sets…

I don’t care if your daughter would do it differently, your daughter has near crippling OCD from what you say so its like… fuck off if you split the sets up they become pointless to display. I have four of the arena set, I’m not sure if that’s the complete set… I think it might be as I went to a lot of trouble to get one of them.

ANYWAY, The boys creeped her out a little, I offered to put their cover over them (I have a ‘scarf’ thingie that is an imitation silky thing with skulls on, it makes for a pretty decent sunshielding shroud) but it was like, oh don’t bother (felt like doing it anyway aaaasss) I got interrogated about them and it was like, Look, back in Manchester there was a doll community almost, enough of us met up. It’s not for lack of trying that there’s no dollmeets up in Tayside.

THEN she pulls apart some of the artwork I had a dear friend draw me. I have the Original Ink of one commission that was mailed over, and one printed ink of another, and in the middle is a mid poster size printed coloured commission. She pulled the one in the middle apart, not only misgendering one of the characters (when it’s blatantly obvious they’re both male as – NO TITS) but is all condescending about the position of one of the characters arms.

She isn’t an artist, and just because one of her daughters wants to be a tattoo artist… it doesn’t mean that she can pull apart something that I adore. From an artistic perspective there’s not a damn issue, and the more I think about it from a physically possible perspective, well, just because she’s not that dexterous doesn’t mean the character in question isn’t either. One of the characters is leaning to the foreground while interacting with the other… it’s like she’s never seen an instance of foreshortening… and a character’s hair actually hiding the part of the upper arm you would see before.


Anyway, that visit annoyed the shit out of me so I decided to tweak the layout of a few things… which… in turn meant turning at least three out of my four rooms on their arse for a while. Unfortunately I became ill shortly after I decided to do this and was living in a mess.

I left for work and came home to a sty, on a regular basis… it’s not a good thing I can tell you.

So I felt like shit, was sleeping in well into the afternoon on my days off… and… Only really recovered this weekend. The wedding was August, it’s over a month after it. It’s taken me this long to actually recover from what a family friend said, alongside working and feeling like shit.

It’s finally got to the point where I can actually type this out and say ‘Fuck you, family friend, fuck you.’ I mean come on, I went to her place and nearly went into a slow and painful anaphylactic shock. That’s right, a home with only one cat was enough for my throat to start closing up on me. Because I was breathing in an overflowing unchanged litterbox for a matter of minutes.


My allergies reacted to her home more severely and at an incredibly fast pace as if she had at least four cats and was rubbing them on my skin/making me pet them/making them sit all over me.

If you are happy with your flat smelling of cat piss, I’m good with clutter. I mean, there was a damp issue in her place that she didn’t realise was a big deal until she found an overgrowth of mould that gave her asthma.

I shit you not. A vent wasn’t working properly or something for the kitchen or bathroom… and she let things get that bad that everything under her bed was moulded to fuck.


How do you let that happen, now, there’s mould where it’s like… aw shit that must have gotten damp. You know the black spots that come up on white towels if they’re left damp… Then there’s MOULD the kind that is beyond the little spots that refuse to budge.  Here’s a good example that shows she’s not talking out her ass when she says it caused her asthma.

Whenever I shower I use the extractor fan as it’s a small room and built into the place (for good reason) but even if I didn’t have one of those as soon as i could my front door would be open to let out the steam (top floor, and that door is the closest way of getting ‘fresh’ air into the place [compared to my windows] especially in winter, ideal for letting warm air out) and at the very least my entire flat would be open to disperse it. And, guess what, there’s damp extractors. I’d buy one of the dehumidifiers and use it post every shower if I had to.

Hell, every time I have my clothes horses up, even the heated airer! I have damp extractors near them. When winter hits fully I’m going to have one stationed in my bedroom at all times, I saw the condensation once (i’d forgotten to close the blind) and it wasn’t a pretty picture… And that was just me sleeping in that room with the door closed!

If I cook I can’t open the window without climbing on top of the units, so I will always have to open windows at both front and back of my flat to create a wind tunnel in my hall that will help with the kitchen… being aware of that I make sure to keep windows open post steamy stuff and keep the rooms open too…

So its like… your home is smaller than mine and at more risk. I know to check the fabrics in my airing cupboard and wardrobes for damp and moth issues… how in the hell did you not realise to check under your bed for a damn INFESTATION. I don’t keep anything but empty clothes horses and my wash baskets under my bed (empty) my wardobes are airy inside but I check them regular for signs of damp… My airing cupboard has the slatty shelf thingies to help with circulation… but I STILL CHECK.

I can’t afford to keep replacing towels n shit if they get mould on them so god knows why she didn’t. I don’t keep any fabrics in confined spaces where they will get excess moisture on them, sweat for example… It’s so easy to forget in winter, that’s why they have the wardrobe damp extractor thingies, silica gel packs, dehumidifiers, damptraps… So many things to avoid such situations…

Hell, when I lived in a three bed house we either opened the small window in the bathroom post (or in my case during cause it was always easier to adjust to the cooler temperature) shower, in warm weather we left the door open to the room. In cold we kept it shut. Even in a Three Bed House we made sure steam got out. If mum was in the kitchen with a lot of steam in winter it was a window and the middle door shut, in summer it was the rear door open with the middle window open or shut, depending on smell factor.

If we can worry about that shit in a three bed, how in the hell does someone miss something so obvious in a small one bed. She’s now got a medical condition which isn’t going away any time soon.

You know. That almost makes up for her talking down to me about shit she has absolutely no right to go on about…

You know it’s kinda funny…

When I lived with my mother I didn’t see much point in a car n all that because of locale… And I didn’t think much of having to make sure I got home after work when I said my shift was finishing… Except for the times she was on holiday n shit where I could just watch a movie or spend time with people outside of work n junk…

Now I live alone I do whatever the shit I want when I want.

Now I have a car I don’t care how far shit is to get to, I just up and go, from work to the cinema that’s actually beyond my house – as opposed to the one run by a different company than the one I’m a member of that’s between work and home…

I was talking about going after work and I’d have to be on my own. Someone mentioned taking a friend of mine, I simply laughed, it would be too short notice. They questioned why I didn’t bother even asking my friend and its like…

Whenever I give them a lift home they usually have to BE home for a certain time, or they at the very least have to give notice. And, they’re moving house by the end of this month so it’s like, they need to go straight home to sort their shit. I know what it’s like to have parents to have to go home to and explain shit to.

It’s easy for me, I just up and leave the flat when I want and don’t care.


It kinda dawned on me yesterday, and kinda dawns on me so every so often… the flat is mine. I mean, not the bricks and mortar side of it, but… its my home. Mine.

It’s like, this is practically an end goal for me. I have my own place and I’m working and I’m me.

Of course I’ll try and save up more money so I can buy my own place, for various reasons I won’t disclose here I’m pretty close to probably being able to do so if I wanted a fixerupper… And, to be honest, even with a low mortgage a fixerupper wouldn’t be worth it right now. It’d be cheaper than living in the place I’m living in now per month… but, I’d try and get a house if I can – A nice small pokey two bed with bay windows… that’d be freaking awesome. Such places DO exist, they’re just not easy to come by, small families flock to them, people like me rush their asses off to get in them, new builds are typically three or four bed houses these days. I mean hell, a wee terrace would do me just fine, there were plenty of small houses as there it was a densely populated area. Mill towns surrounding a busy city…

Id have to move to a big town to get anything like what I’m after, or a big city… This one is big enough, it’d likely be a flat though which is irritating, unless I get one that’s over two floors… it’s not going to feel that much like a home. Meh, I know what I want, I’d only see it when I come to buy it really…

There’s also the cost of moving to be factored in too, and, it wasn’t cheap moving into this place from what I remember too, I’d be willing to move a lot of the stuff myself, as last time, but the furniture I’d need to get some removal guys, as hell, I’m currently on the top floor and I’ll be damned if I’m moving a fridge and washing machine, even with friends.

Oh well, least my surgeries are partly booked, I mean… provided I don’t gain weight I’ll be fine… I hope.

Boom Bam I’m back baby!

Ignoring everything medical, every bill I have to pay, the financial shit I’m in by living in a place that sucks up money faster than a coke addict-!

I have my mojo back-! Or at least for the drawin n shit. I’m not the best, but hell trying to create webcomics used to be a huge part of my life, at one point I juggled three. I shit you not three, and they updated fairly well… then… mum’s redundancies and everything hit the fan.

Everything got put on the backburners, I was editing the comic profile site for Not So Imaginary After All and laughed as the last update was two years ago, I only got two pages in before I just gave the shit up. This time… I’m playing by my own goddamn rules. I have an entire chapter written and waiting to be told, that should be ample enough buffer if I pull my finger out.

The plan was back in the day to be successful, I don’t give a crap about that now, I just want to actually say I created it and it’s out there. Sure, it’d be nice to have it picked up, and who knows I might well get better at what I’m attempting to do. I prefer storytelling through text, and that’s slowly creeping back into something I can actually do again.

It absolutely sucks, I used to update the written blog once a week, now it’s lucky to see an update a month. At least I am thinking of it here and there, but it’s like. Shit. Hawk and The Shamrock does actually have an ending and I’m so damn close to it (compared to other stories which are far longer) before the rest of the Byzantine installments will be thrown in there. It’s a collection of short stories, and sadly, my short can be anything from 2000 to 20,000 words+ Hawk and the Shamrock is looking to be a short book on it’s own at this rate.

I’m disheartened that I haven’t received a reply from the letter I wrote to the Mojave, but… in light of that I will try and remain respectively distant to the actual locations of the First Nations peoples and continue with my own ignorant assumptions to locations and whatnot. With all the grounds of plausibility.

In fiction.

MEH, If you read anything I write, even the science fiction has some basis in current science and theories, I can’t help it. If I get an idea (such as the rate of growth within twins differing and one having nearly seperate genomes etc) and it has some basis in fact I am far happier than shit I make up.

In a purely fantastic setting, sure, something appears from the void to eat everyone? Magic did it. Someone’s hair is like a moodring? Magic. Monosex races being able to reproduce without obvious sexual organs? MAGIC DAMNIT.

Don’t ask how, and why… I don’t know.

Also… I don’t know when I will begin updating the webcomics, more likely I’ll be able to put up basic information pictures as to who’s who, I don’t think I’ll be introducing them all by name straight away anyway and it could well be easier. (Wants an excuse to draw Kearlynne before and after)

[Gif –  Emperors New Groove- Disney]

Heads up – Moving

Yeah, this is your warning. Deal with it.

Yeah, I almost forgot to put here that I’m moving house. To a place in the city woooo~ No more living two towns away from where I work. And… well… I’m either making a huge mistake or I’ll be just fine. I didn’t expect it to be easy, but hell, I didn’t expect it to be this tricky, I mean, I’ve moved twice in as many years… but… then… I’ve not been the ones with the reigns.

Not entirely sure if my finances will hold out, but then, saying that. Mam just handed over quite a lot of (Yeah imma not telling) of cash and said happy early birthday (it’s Feb 03 so yeah, close enough). So that’s the blinds and maybe the moving guy paid for, I didn’t expect a shitload of cash from mum and was a little flabbergasted and thanked her a few times for sure.

After she got over the fact that I’m moving out she simmered and has been really nice. I mean, she bought me a few odds n ends, and hell, after I bought a bedside table ( ‘cabinet’ as I was told I was wrong ¬¬ ) for £2 at the charity shop, she was nice enough to pick it up. Now, I thought that was cheap I mean, a cheap bedside table costs like £20 before delivery etc. She ended up returning with a shitty little short side table too – bearing in mind it was £5 and the shop assistant changed it to £2 to get shut of it – and well, it’s not actually all that shitty as mum’s like. ‘Who said you had to pay me back’ I laughed a little and confessed I sounded like a right ingrate, cause, hell, I did xD. [There’s a little damage on the top of the beside table, but fuck that, I can cover the top of it…] I might well use it for beside the bed, or I can still use it as I intended for the livingroom (there’s space for a fireplace and I was going to put the beside table there to give me a little more shelf space).


Yes, a place of my own.

It’s rented, not bought. which means finances are going to shit for a long time. Though… mum handed me a wad of cash which will help out with quite a lot this time as BLINDS ARENT CHEAP. seriously, there’s no curtain rails and to get them put up, AND the appropriate curtains…. WITH net curtains up for privacy (which do shit all, turn on a light and everyone can see in)… So yeah, cheaper to have blinds put in and lament that I can’t take them with me.

The landlord gave me permission to decorate and its like, well… I’m fucking putting blinds in. If they give me money back off my rent towards them or something… fine, but, I’m facing the reality that I’m just throwing my money away for nothing. I mean, even more than I am doing simply by renting a place. With renting you’re throwing your money into bricks and mortar that you will never own. With a mortgage the repayments will ALWAYS be lower than the rent (because the landlord will be expecting you to repay the mortgage+profit+maintenance costs), but the responsibility will be yours alone. I dunno, I’d just rather have a home out of it in the end.


The hob’s a nightmare, and a severe safety risk, so the Electrician’s going to ask about getting it replaced. No word on that yet and it’s been over 24hours. The landlord has keys though and I’m insured so, fuck it, let them in so they can fix the damn issue. Same with the dripping tap and the water pressure. I have no idea how to fix that issue and I need me a plumber.

Part of me’s beginning to see how much of a disaster buying this place was going to work out at. After the rewire I’d need to decorate, buy the white goods I’m already having to buy, replace the whole kitchen (no, seriously, fuck whoever put it in) it’s ridiculous everything’s on a plinth for no good reason and it restricts access to the immersion heater… which is why it’s on a plinth, but its like… DON’T BOX SHIT LIKE THAT IN YOU FUCKING MORONS. And THEN I’d have to replace a couple of the internal doors, (or have one shaved down as it’s damaging the flooring) AND then there’s the FUCKING FLOORING. The list goes on and fucking on. And I’m just renting this shit. Man… if I were the one that’d have to sort it all out I’d be a ball in the middle of the floor regretting my decision to buy a place that would also need new windows. Yeah… so… all the shit that needs doing to it… Bloody hell, no wonder the rewire alone was £2500.

I’ll be pissed if they decide to do the electrics AFTER I move in. I will have literally NOWHERE to move things to and would essentially have to move out while the work was being undertaken. So, they can’t do anything till it’s unoccupied and they’re unlikely to touch a thing while it’s not turning a profit yet, same with the flooring. It needs replacing in every room, barring the bathroom as they had that done. There’s holes in the lino in the kitchen, there’s damage to the bedroom floor, and the living room floor, and I’m pretty sure there’s a decent amount of wear on the hall too. So… yeah… EVERY FUCKING FLOOR SECTION.

Fuckin card meters too. Jesu, no bastard shop person knew how to reactivate the damn key. FOUR FUCKING HOURS I spent trying to get mine sorted out as no bastard knew how to sort it. I ended up trawling 3 stores, and the FIRST one I went to had the damn capability, they just didn’t have a damn clue what they were doing.

Here’s a handy dandy insulting guide to how it’s meant to be done –

* Type the 8 digit code that the person mentions they got off of their electric provider into the machine. No, stop that. JUST THE CODE.

*Press enter.

*NOW put the key in. Good, good, now it’s the third selection. No, it’s OK, it’s always option 3.

*WAIT FOR THE RECEIPT, patience, it will print.

*Take the key out and fork over the receipt. The person with the key will have to nip home before they put any money on it.


Anyway, I’ve let most people know I’m moving, booked a guy that a workmate knows and often works with… hopefully if I move most of the light/small/time consuming stuff over they only have to grab the big stuff and the move itself will just cost me the petrol, and the movers time.

I’m a territorial person and I don’t like people handling my stuff. No, really, I am. When it comes to moving again at least I’ll be able to box things up by room too, at the moment everything’s all over the place on account of most things being crammed into my bedroom and the rest in the garage. I’ll be able to have yet another sort through to see if there’s anything I don’t need. Doubtful, but then, I’ve been picking up allsorts over the last year or so and there’s a lot of stuff that’s likely stuff I need, and then there’s going to be a few things that it’s like… REALLY?

Books I have the most of, they’re fun to move… too many in a box and it’s a nightmare to lift up. So they have to go into small boxes… and its like… srsly, HOW many boxes worth of books!? The last time I packed them into plastic crates and they survived, but I doubt they will do so up several flights of stairs, I’m splitting the loads up and moving them myself gradually. I’m moving a boot full at a time for now, when I get a little more time I’ll be able to do multiple trips, doesn’t help that I have to actually remember to eat. No, really, I keep forgetting to actually have three meals atop waiting for people to show up at the flat and the general running around I’m having to do.

I didn’t expect this shit to be easy but it’s doing my head in. I’m sleeping but I’m waking up even more exhausted.

I made some headway in the notification list at least, there’s a couple of government bodies I have to inform and that should be the last of it… At least I won’t have to set up a postal redirection though, some things I’ll have to remember to change as I come across them (store point cards etc)… cause mum’s not going to mind having a pile of my post for a while before I pick it up.

If I do fail spectacularly and end up borderline homeless (aka having to move back in) the game will have completely changed. I’ll have to spend money on self storage, my rent will go sky high (I mean higher than it is currently – to match my original rent rent more like.) and the room that I will be staying in won’t be ‘my room’ it will be a guest room and for a limited period. I’d be better off actually becoming homeless (in the state’s eyes – anything I want mum n co to keep that I can’t fit into self storage would go in the garage or something) to be rehomed faster, but even then it will be all stopgaps n shit.

I earn too much to be on benefits, which is a big blow… but at the same time it’s not. I’d have to take a cut in hours to get practically nothing back, so its like… shit, I’m self sufficient with no support at all… Bollocks. Everything’s riding on me, and me alone.

No support net. No backups. All on me.

Welcome to the real world, watch as it kicks your arse.

I don’t know how I’ll cope.


Or… Not well.

Time will tell, but it’s still bloody daunting.

I could spend more time here whining till my keyboard packs in, but, fuck it, it’s not gone to shit completely yet. I do have a budget worked out, it’s just a case of how well I’ll stick to it. I can monitor my Electric spending as it’s a pay as I go meter, but even then I’ll be too paranoid to use the lighting when it’s dark. – I have good night vision and I can’t justify using it till it’s completely pitch black and my panic attacks set in… so… to prevent panic attacks they’ll be on… but to keep the bills down I won’t want to use them and leave them off as much as possible… and round and round.

Budget Packers [ nsfw images ]

I’ve shied away from buying a packer for several reasons. Mostly it’s the cost. I was hoping for a stand to pee but… I can live a while longer without.

Most shippers would have been from the states too. Living in Scotland (formerly England) would have meant some costly shipping, or a hell of a wait. More than likely it would mean both, and customs isn’t friendly at the best of times.

Recently Bondara have started selling packers, or at least it’s only recently I’ve noticed –  because of at least one model being in one of the sales when I had a look.

Mr Limpy Fleshlights

“These amazing Mr Limpy Fleshlights are great accessories that are made to simulate a flaccid penis and create the bulging look of male genitals; perfect for transgender customers or anyone experimenting with gender play. These high quality packing accessories are made with your comfort and confidence in mind so you can experience and display the realistic shape and size of a male bulge. Made with soft and pliable material, Mr Limpy faux penis accessories will move and feel like the real thing through your clothes[…]This Bondara collection of My Limpy Fleshlights is full of amazing sex accessories that are designed to help transgender men or those dabbling in gender play create the bulge and crotch shape they desire. These accessories are soft and pliable with an incredibly realistic feel. This means the penis will move slightly as you walk, like a real penis would, and be supple to the touch the same way a flaccid penis would be. These Mr Limpy accessories are made to give transgender males confidence and comfort in everyday life plus the potential erotic thrill of gender play.”

I took the plunge and well… they aren’t kidding. I bought a Small because… well, I thought that 5.5 Inches sounded just right for me. NOTE- Free UK delivery on orders £10 and up. Small is £10.99 so you’re not pressured into buying anything extra. The only thing with the Extra small currently being £9.99 is that you might want to see about getting something cheap and cheerful to go with your lil fella.

Bondara pack discreetly, I can swear by that. It’s not the first time I’ve ordered something from them *cough* Sign up and you get 5% off of every order too. This is something worth mentioning if one ever needs to stock up on lubricants and so forth xD (No I’m not getting paid for this) [Orders outside the UK please refer to the shipping page before ordering]

So here it is (as of yet unnamed xD) – for those wondering yes, fits snugly in a jock strap and presents the way it’s supposed to.


The detailing is honestly something else. Not just the feel, but every small detail. They cast this with either accuracy, or love. I’d like to think a mixture of the two. Here’s some extra information they provide about the Small.

Made by Fleshlight from their trademark ‘Real Feel Superskin’ Mr Limpy Small boasts a modest 5 inches of droopy length. Soft and supple enough to be manipulated into a range of positions, Mr Limpy Small is perfect for transgender packing and is brilliant as a novelty item for parties, hen/stag nights or even just as a unique coffee table ornament. Just don’t expect to use Mr Limpy as a sex toy; Limpy by name, limpy by nature.

Prices might change, but I think it could be safe to say that they won’t alter drastically. Also, if one wants, I don’t see why this model couldn’t be turned into a stand to pee, with some tubing and the right tools it’s worth a looksee. Though I will say now, I’m as pale as they come… so… many other skin tones might be a little lost with that and some dying might be in order. But as a stand alone packer, I’d say it makes a difference for sure.

I only intend on using it when I feel a need to. I don’t feel that it’s going to impact much on my work life as I’m behind a counter most of the time and I currently only own the single Jockstrap. When I’m going anywhere where someone’s going to be mindful of my junk (and not notice the lack of) then fine, I’ll pop him in. Day to day… Still not sure, I think I have to adjust to wearing one occasionally before it becomes a full time thing. Like it or not it’s an adjustment.

So yes, I cowardly leave you with pictures of my hand, and definitely no demonstrations, and still more information I’d tell people face to face (close people that is!).

NOTE- there is a Renewing powder that Fleshlight sell – at least one review I can see says it’s just cornflour… so… keep in mind if you want it to keep feeling great there could be some maintenance (general wear and tear from fabrics might be increased with tight clothing)