Several journalist friends, who I texted for advice on Monday night, called me yesterday. A mixed bag of responses when it came to giving my full details but a couple of them asked why I didn't write the letter under my own name given it wasn't about housing.
Indeed....
Well the answer, I suppose, is in the post 'Why ARE cigarettes always the answer' but to expand on that a little bit, anything I write that even remotely mentions a politician's name, has to be written by Stigmum. This is because enough people in the council know who I am, or know of me and they have it within their power to send my life into the pits. Already I'm much further down the waiting list than I used to be.
I did email the CNJ yesterday, said my link was my address, I would leave it all at their discretion. It was the best I could do.
It's funny and not funny, but in my twenties, one of my favourite quotes was:
"I might be going to hell in a bucket but at least I'm enjoying the ride!"
Now I feel I really am going to hell in a bucket, and I'm not enjoying the ride. I have my son, I want to go to heaven in a chariot.
I guess it's time for another letter to the council. About overcrowding this time?
We gotta get out of this place, if it's the last thing we ever do, cos boy there's a better life for me and you. (The Animals)
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