Humble pie and magic gravy

On Friday afternoon, my WIRED day, I called back the King and apologised for my earlier call asking him to get me a lawyer (oh mercy mercy, who does that? Get the politician consigning their life to hell to find a lawyer to nail him with??? What a twonk.)

I hoped it would go straight to voicemail but he let it ring out which was good. I don't think I could have handled crying on him.

Following lunch with my mate Charlie (Nando's - The speed with which I ate that burger you'd think I've never been fed) I was going to go and lie on the Heath. My mind felt disconnected, problems with the Motherboard, and I felt weak. The Heath is so medicinal.

However, I suddenly remembered I hadn't taken my washing out of the machine. At 3 am on Thursday night, in my wakened state, I remembered with a jolt that I hadn't switched the machine off and got out of bed. The clothes would begin to smell. The heath on this blue blue day would have to wait.

While I was hanging up my son's pyjamas, t-shirts, school trousers, there was a knock on the door.
Who could it be? Npower again?

Mr Gray stood outside, he needed to talk to me a minute. "Come in," I said but he said it was only a quick visit. "I'm hanging the washing, come in, and sorry for the mess." (Oh yes, I NEVER invite people in unless they are council or housing association and they'll have my head if I don't, but I was weak, I couldn't just stand there, I'd fall over.)

Roberta Flack was emptying her lungs on the stereo. "I've just written a silly poem," I explained, though why, why I should tell him this only the Motherboard could know.

Mr Gray said I was going about my fight with the council the wrong way, there was a risk I'd get the council's back up the way I was carrying on (?? but true, my paranoid self has already thought about this but only in terms of blogging).

He said there was a blockage somewhere. There was a reason why my points were so low after all this time. I must find out what this blockage is, where it is and deal with it (eh? how???)

He told me to get some stuff together and piece together "a small description of my circumstances", add a "few details of my medical issues", that I must "focus on the job at hand."

Then he was gone. My Motherboard began to fizz abit, the wiring slacken, tears began to knock on my eyelids and in this state I called the King. Humble pie, humble pie......

I wondered though, at precisely the same moment I wondered how I would write this appeal, whether one of my angels sent Mr Gray. I had posted that I was a "One Woman Army" but I couldn't do this alone then out of the blue, on this blue blue day, when I should have been on the Heath, my washing kept me where I needed to be.

A coincidence, but by God I hope it's a good one.

*From here on in, my mind shall often be called the Motherboard. A Motherboard is an essential part of your computer that ensures that the whole thing works.