I’ve got to get those people off my back.

That is where it feels they are, clinging there, hanging on.

I heard music once – in the walls, or the central heating pipes –

I was on anti-psychotics at the time, and I established a theory that the reason I was hearing things was because I wasn’t psychotic and had been put on the tablets so that Cassie could tick her boxes.

It was a sort of reversal, I figured – not-psychotic plus anti-psychotics makes hearing music in the walls.

No.  It was coming from next door – it had to be.

Later, when I wasn’t getting better, Cassie accused me of not trying to get better!

I’d punch her in the nose, if I saw her now – metaphorically speaking.  (I wouldn’t risk the law court for that awful woman.)

And do I remain ‘cool’ and pretend it hasn’t affected me?

Pearl.  And Dean.

Disappeared as though off the face of the earth.

I’ve got to be fair, I suppose (it’s not raining) – they parted.

That makes it understandable, I tell myself – that they then backed off . . .

I have wondered – could it be this?  Could it be that?

Oh – I have bits and pieces of paper all over the place, with notes to myself on them, attempts at writing this:

‘I haven’t a clue what happened.  What am I supposed to do?  Make up answers for myself?’

‘Try to be understanding?  Try to make up stories for them that let them off?’

‘That they think they can treat me like that, and make excuses for themselves?  That I don’t matter – except that I do?’

The word ‘shoddy’ comes to mind.

Glastonbury has been on this past weekend.

If they are not dead, or hopelessly demented, they will know it has been on – and they must think of us – we went with them to Glastonbury once.

‘No.  I didn’t see much of it on the television – I’m musically inept – I try but I mostly don’t get it.’

I wrote that, but then I did see Liam Gallagher on ‘catch-up’ – and I know I have some problem with music – but you recognise masters of the genre – even I do – I haven’t lost music, I think (I knew it) – it was taken from me somehow – way back, way back . . .

Oh, I’m just slopping this on the page, now – get said what I can – but I’d thought I could make characters of these people – I can’t.

They are who they are, and I am not giving them the benefit of telling their stories for them – I’m not speculating – giving them answers; putting answers into their mouths.  That isn’t fair (it’s not raining).