What was I supposed to do? Send her my diary. She wouldn’t have liked the truth. ‘…Hi mum…we haven’t made it big yet…sleeping on somebody’s floor. He’s a junky…but don’t worry I don’t like needles myself. I haven’t had any real food for over a week. No money. We rescued a couple of loaves of bread from the back of a bakery and are making toast and beans on an upturned electric fire.
We have no access to hot water, so washing with cold water from a bucket whilst standing in the sink.
We have been given a cool name by the neighbours and are known collectively as ‘those bloody hippies.’ Apparently they like our music as they congregate outside, the front gate, every night, a whole bunch of them. Occasionally they knock on the door and walls, in time to the music and shout encouragement. We can’t really hear them as the amps are too loud.
But it is a nice thought, don’t you think? Sorry I have to go now…the landlord has just turned off the electricity and I have to find some candles. We will have to go acoustic….’
The last few weeks have been a blur of inactivity what with Christmas and my decision to retire from the National Health Service at the end of March. I will have been a psychologist in learning disabilities based in Tower Hamlets for close to 20 years and my time is done here.
What with austerity measures, the Social Care Act and competitive tendering, long term psychotherapeutic interventions in a community setting will get harder to justify. Before I become totally disillusioned it is time to move on. I will still do some consultation and private work but the hope is I will have more time to spend on my three greatest loves, my wife, family and writing. I would like to think that is the right order but kind of believe that Kay would say otherwise.
I still write a missive everyday and my third novel is about to be released. See details of that below.
Hopefully I will have another collection of missives coming out soon and this one will be called ‘The Second Wave’.
Kay keeps saying I spend too much time glued to the laptop, I resemble a teenage gamer or a play-station geek, tip-tapping away. I am either writing, thinking about writing, or answering notifications about my writing. I wish all the effort I put into producing my work would be rewarded by an increase in sales, but public apathy to my creative endeavours’ remains high.
Hang on how can apathy be high
It must be low.
So low it barely reaches above gutter height.
But maybe not quite as low as this shamelessly unabashed attempt to illicit your support for my new book ‘The One Soul; Into the Grey’. All contributions gratefully received Oh! and PS. A review would be fabulous.
Best wishes Peter.