Edited Sunday August 23rd 2009: Please see Comment 4 for clarification on inquest findings & accidental death. (I can’t readily adjust the post this far on, but please be aware of Comment 4, from Charlie Stroud, before reading the post, & bear in mind my memory has played me false. Thanks.)
I woke up this morning.
I appreciate that’s not really the sort of incisive opening line that normally draws you in*, but I start with it regardless because I think, all things considered, it’s something of an achievement in itself, since, in spite of everything, up to & including me, I’m still here, ten years further down the line.
(and, yes, slightly coming to bits. Never used to be this weak, dunno what’s going on with that.)
But, hey, I’m still here.
Naomi, a Quaker from Telford Meeting once changed her surname to Stillhere as an affirmation; “I am still here, in spite of everything the world throws at me.” I quote that as it appeared on the order of service from her funeral; in the latter week of May 2000 she was finally overwhelmed and threw herself from a bridge in London.
I wished at the time that had the guts to do the same. As it was, however, I repeatedly chickened out of anything of the sort, and thus, by and by, I came to waking up this morning, which I do think is something of an acheivement since, if I’d had just a wee bit more backbone, I’d never have come close.
Congratulations, past JTA; you are indeed a useless gutless spinless shit, and I owe you one for it. I know it isn’t much help but cheers! nevertheless, and remember that if you’re stubborn enough life seems to get bored of shoveling shit in your face.
Time I got to bed; I’ve got a whole another lot of waking up to do tomorrow. G’night.
* The best opening line I ever read ran ‘If you were a pigeon, you could fuck forty times a day.’ I can’t for the life of me remember the rest of the book, but it started fantastically.