Ina Disguise's Blog: New blog, page 55

Ina Updated

Apologies if you have been trying to click on links and found nothing.  I was undecided as to whether to carry on talking about work, and I decided against it.

For the uninitiated, I unexpectedly hit on someone, and am very surprised but happy about it. I think my rampant hormones made a good decision.  Evidently I am very healthy.

I am now settling into my new role as custodian, and have started the garden off for the summer.  I may or may not decide to do a sporadic post about it.

Inevitably, as I have the usual insecure male problem at work, I am also having to make contingency plans whilst moving the artwork on and doing some reading.

Otherwise, this is the lull before the storm, so much stress is on the way that I have to enjoy it whilst I can.

Ina

 

 

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Sometimes I surprise even myself

OK, so, now that I have more time.

The large problem at work is still a large problem.  I do not want the large problem to hurt any of my colleagues, as he previously has, by making their lives unpleasant, so the fact he is focusing on me is not necessarily a bad thing.

He has now annexed my timesheets, meaning that he has control over my income.  Remedial action is now required to deal with the large problem.

I do not want anybody else involved with the large problem, so it is now a matter of urgency.

In the meantime, I surprised myself somewhat.

A classically beautiful, dignified, proud and unbelievably serious individual that I came across happened to stop in for a brief conversation and I believe I heard myself telling him how intoxicating I found this particular combination to be.  I really didn’t think i was capable of doing that anymore, so this came as quite a shock to me.

I had noticed him, obviously, but I am not really in a position to be doing anything about it.  Generally speaking, I would now wait at least 5 years before saying anything, if at all.

In any case, the message was quietly and positively received.

I now have to work on becoming a genius, which may take some time.

In the meantime, I have a lot of work to do, since the thought of having this understated work of art anywhere near my house means that I now have to pretend to be a tidy person for at least three or four days.

I will also have to go through the clothes again and sell a bunch of stuff that I do not want to fund new stuff.  This kind of change is always good.

Anyway, I now appear to be a somewhat bolder lady than I thought?

I have noticed that I am a lot less nervous than I used to be.  I used to be noisy and fractious rather than confident and aware of my presence, so the Wolfe era has definitely seen some significant improvements in my day to day presentation.  I haven’t directly hit on anyone for at least twenty years, however, so that really is a surprise.

He is quite astonishing, however, so I guess this is a special case.

What a dreadful creature I am.

 

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Work Issues Update

Well, I sorted out my rather oversized problem at work, but whether it stays sorted is another matter.  I won’t be needing the t shirt after all.

I also appear to not be scared of relationships.  This sudden development happened quite suddenly in the course of a very, very serious conversation but is very funny.  I will not relate it at this point.

Now I just have to concentrate on being sufficiently proficient to be able to dance and work at the same time, which should be sufficiently challenging to keep me busy for some time.

In other news, I may actually be able to proceed with the Boris project very soon, and will be completing Iain Duncan Smith is fit for work and Darius Guppy is fit for work fairly soon.

I had to spend all my time off sleeping this week, but am back in the saddle now after some rather weepy days.

I am also being investigated by some enormous American detective agency for some reason.  I have no idea why this would be, but I am not exactly an enemy of the state – yet.

If Boris drops in – the focus of the project is debate, so please do not worry, I have no intention of misrepresenting you in any way.

My friend is too depressed to really be functioning well, so I will be seeking out some rapid help shortly.

Toodle pip,

 

Ina

 

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Only in America….

Today my facebook feed is full of Americans saying how sorry they are for Starbucks after several racial incidents were reported.

Two black men were arrested in one branch for waiting for a friend – in a coffee shop, who’d have thunk it?

In another, it was demonstrated that white people get codes for the toilet and black people do not.

During the Civil rights highpoint in the 60s, black American families had on average a sixth of the income of white families.  Now it is down to a tenth.

The prison system works on the basis of multiple crimes – if you are convicted three times you can be in for life.  This makes Victorian Britain look fair.

If this is what you want for the UK, then you are welcome to carry on spitting feathers at what I have been telling you about American influence in the UK.  You do not want this country buying their way into ruling public services, be that public health, prisons, policing, social care or anything else.  It is not a nice country, and the inhabitants are no longer particularly bright.

The people on my friends’ list cited healthcare for part-time workers as a reason why having piss-poor policies towards black people was OK with them.  An astonishingly large proportion of Americans believe that companies exist for reasons other than taking your money.

They do not.  Businesses exist to turn a profit.  They do not exist to educate you or enrich your life experience in any way other than upsizing your fat lazy backside by selling you more solutions to your artificially created unhappiness.

You are fat, so you need a diet, you are celebrating so you need a cake, you are ugly so you need make-up, you are unhappy so you need an alcoholic drink – it goes on and on.

This is not what any sensible person would want for the UK.  Education is nothing to do with business.  Health should not be anything to do with business or how much money you have.  Prison is nothing to do with making a profit for a capital labour business.

You want to be stupid?  Keep on watching the TV and consuming the Starbucks.  Keep on buying and sending the missiles.  Keep on assuming that Theresa May knows what she is doing.  Keep on enjoying the Big Bang Theory and being reminded about the difference between ugly girls and pretty girls, and how stupidity is always a good answer for everything unless you want to be a hilarious dweeb.

There are six vacant homes for every homeless person in the USA.  Capitalism unfettered by concern for actual humans DOES NOT WORK AND IT IS ACTUAL FASCISM.

 

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Is David Wolfe an idiot?

Thanks for the mail and the interest.  It’s very kind of you, but to answer your general points:

No, David Wolfe is not an idiot.  I have come across this attitude before, where gentlemen are apparently supposed to do the decent thing and get it up to order, and I don’t buy it.  It is neither pleasant nor adult behaviour to bonk everything that moves.  Besides which, he appears to have a preferred list of attributes which I am not on.  I was likewise until I met him – I use the term loosely, since it was really a brief moment of cynical irritation on youtube that initially sparked things off some months prior to our fortieth.  The haiku was good, apart from that.

I do have the message I sent to my friend somewhere on one of the computers – I think it was 2008 or so.  One of Harley’s psycho fanbois was involved as far as I remember, and I said something along the lines of “Shit, I appear to be in love with the horrible man, how the hell did that happen?”  In any case, it appears he was married by then, although there was no trace of it at the time, so it has all been a self-delusion of mammoth proportions which happened to get me through at least one period of extreme stress – my mother would have been dead years ago after being thrown into a care home by her disgusting offspring if it hadn’t been for the aspirant Mrs Wolfe delusion.

Anyway, from casual observation – I stopped looking at anything to do with him in 2011 or so as I was afraid that I was going mad – he prefers compliance and a considerable amount of forbearance, and I am definitely not of that ilk.  Been there, done that, don’t need the anxious wrinkles or the insecurity.  I am probably in the best situation I could be in – I get to make indignant objections without pissing him off, which strategically is the most advantageous situation for both of us.  I also get to obsessively work and ignore him, which is kind of why I don’t generally do monogamy in the first place.

I was asking myself for some time whether the overall situation was a question of safety.  I gave up a lot of old relationships that were not really going anywhere because of it, and I don’t regret it at all.  It is also very safe emotionally speaking to avoid actual relationships, so I wondered about that, too.  Having had several tiresome years to ponder it, however, and considering the number of times I was told I was mad for admitting to it, I do not think it was a cowardly decision to just accept it and work through the inevitable questions that followed.  Cats or Wolfe? Mother or Wolfe?  Do I hate America more than I love Wolfe?  Shit happens, and sometimes you just have to make like a fish and deal with it.

The frightening bit was the lobster tank part – if you put lobsters in a tank, one will almost make it over the top before the others pull it back down, and I got a lot of that.  I had no idea that people who criticise others for achieving, do so on the basis that they feel safer being a nothing, so anything you do is going to be hated.  They will pretend to be interested and then sabotage what you are doing, because it makes them feel safe.  That has wasted years even after making the decision to roll with it, never mind the years of misery before I met Wolfe.

I think the first thing I wrote for him was an astonishingly pompous looking academic philosophy of love entwined with some rhetoric material.  Even I looked at it and said WTF, so I had some vague ideas about disseminating information to a wider public at that point.  A really good specialist publication can sometimes only sell about 8 copies, to people that need to know who you are before they will buy it, so academia was never going to work for the over-arching project.  I do not now regret the huge confidence crisis that has meant the delay in the work, although measures could have been taken earlier to prevent agronomic war, which I suspect is now inevitable in about fifty years.  We can blame the Avocadess for that one, so she is welcome to a good hard stare in the mirror when America finally gets bombed flat by 194 irate and probably starving countries using its own crappy missiles.  I was more of a sarcastic pal prior to that bit of pointless nastiness, and I was certainly very out of touch with my emotions generally.

I don’t really do convention, and I don’t regard squabbling over ‘ownership’ as being something that is relevant to me at all, since I do not play that way.  Either you want to be with me, or you don’t and if you don’t you are welcome to bugger off for ten years until you figure it out. I’m not usually in love with them when I make that deal, however, so I guess this is a bit of a departure from my norm in that respect.

The only really bad part is the timing.  I could theoretically go and have a child before it is too late, but I don’t really want to be sucking anybody into anything I don’t mean.  Tough tittie, you make your decisions in life for whatever spurious reasons I guess.

Suck it up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Ina Disguise new workwear

This week I have bought the above T shirt for wearing in the event of emergency.

If Wolfe is still reading the blog- you know that I am not a petite woman.  I am a short giant with a wrist as big as a large six foot five male.  The dude at work causing the beginnings of an issue makes me look like Audrey Hepburn, which makes you look like a midget.

I figure the easiest and fastest way out of this situation is to sport the above lovely t shirt.  This week’s play included telling me that two invisible and anonymous women were bullying me behind my back and he was protecting me whilst upholding their complaints.  I am not sure how I managed to upset them given that I speak to nobody and sit nowhere near any women, but to me, this looks like an isolationist policy with the intention of cornering me later.

Now, as someone who habitually over worked, I have seen it all.  We can do this the easy way or the hard way.  I am not that bothered about it – yet.  So that leaves the two issues: attempts to touch me – I hate that even with people I really like, as you know I couldn’t even look at you and I’m very fond of you; and the continuous staring and possible manipulation – the whole team got in in the neck because I was two minutes later than usual.  He does the starey thing with everybody and I am thankfully able to avoid his eyeline very often but the vegetables and supermix have already offended him, and you don’t want to be pissing off a giant with a probable steroid problem.

So, now I am to be a big ol’ gay girl.  This will be interesting.

I brought out the series as one book, in preparation for Amazon.  I will be doing the short stories as well, but the re-formatting took hours, so maybe tomorrow.

When do I get to stop being scared?  Seriously, I am putting up a good front but I appear to drive people mad without even talking to them?

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FTAO NHS

“I don’t like the look of the new cleaner much.” Helen scowled at the little man fluttering around the CEO’s office.

“There’s something a bit funny about him, yes. I can’t quite see what it is. He certainly cleans well though.” Robert looked up briefly. The little man was sweeping the paraquet with delicate precision. “They don’t usually brush the floor before mopping it.”

“Yes, why is he doing that? Nobody else did it like that? There’s something odd about him.” Helen continued to stare at the apparently effeminate man.

“And, more to the point, why does he dress so well?” Robert applied only slightly more thought to the issue.

“He has very good skin, have you noticed that? Why does he have such good skin? Cleaners normally have eye bags and drooping jawlines from the chemicals.” Helen screwed up her face. “Do you know what he said to me the other day?”

“No?” Robert was losing interest, and leafed through his BMJ.

“He suggested that I had a subconscious desire to retrain as a nurse. Can you imagine?”

“He spoke to you?” Robert was suddenly irritated. Cleaners were not supposed to speak. Especially not to encourage his wife to do something other than concentrate on him. “He isn’t supposed to converse with other staff.” Robert felt suddenly threatened. “Good grief, woman, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I was speaking to Margaret about my dream. You know how you hate it when I talk about dreams. I had a dream that instead of booking people in to see the nurse at the reception desk, I was able to simply deal with them. You know, in a sensible way where they weren’t having to wait for a fortnight to get a skelf removed.”

“We can’t have that. People train for years to remove skelfs. There is a union for dealing with people like you, that think they can simply remove skelfs or recommend that people stop having a daily Mars bar without guidance from a proper nutritionist. You will upset them. You don’t want to be dealing with an upset nurse, I can tell you.” Robert shuddered. “I do hope he hasn’t spoken to Physiotherapist Ian about anything like this. He is most unpredictable. He might start to think he is a counsellor, or worse an actual expert in something.” Robert had the GP’s usual disdain for three year degree courses in occupational therapy, podiatry or physiotherapy as being essentially worthless, resulting in hugely overpaid jobs to tell you to buy yourself a better chair, or whatever. The NHS was in many ways, the last bastion of useless unionism. Apart from the doctors of course, it wouldn’t do if they were cheated out of their inflated pension scheme.

“Anyway, the queer little man looked up and said he liked listening to dreams. He actually smiled at me you know. I must find out what he is using to exfoliate. He has the most marvellous skin. He said I have a repressed desire to help others, and my dream indicated that what I really want to do is be a nurse. Preferably in charge of a department apparently. I quite fancy it, what do you think dear?”

“Madness. You would have to give up yoga.” Robert was now irritated. “I hope that bastard isn’t looking at the medical records. We can’t have him actually curing anybody.” He viewed the cleaner with increased suspicion. “What age do you suppose he is?”

“Well, that’s just it dear. I wondered too, so I called the agency that sent him, and apparently he is 65! He looks great, doesn’t he?” Helen flushed with excitement. “What does he know that we don’t?”

“Pass the bran flakes, dear, I don’t want my diverticulosis to get any worse.” Robert growled and issued a surly glare in the cleaner’s general direction. Some uncomfortable rumblings in his abdomen told him that he needed more dry and unpleasant fibre today. “You can put the butter away. I might be tempted to actually eat it.” His mood was becoming worse, and his arthritic wrist was starting to flare up as he became more irritated. “I will deal with the cleaner later.”

Physiotherapist Ian swallowed another steroid as he left the gym. The guys were so much nicer to him now. The only downside seemed to be his uncontrollable need to touch people. He had become quite handsy with the other men, of late, so desperate was he for physical attention. He wasn’t sure he really liked the oily film over his skin, or the need to shower three times a day. He liked having a waist for the first time ever, however, and the steroids had certainly enabled that.

He had also found that he could not stand much in the way of conversation. People were so – challenging. They never seemed to respond the way he wanted them to. The girl in the bakery was way down his food chain, and she barely noticed him. He had had to actually attract her attention. Why was this fair, when he worked so hard in the gym to obtain a more masculine shape than merely blob, as he had been for decades before?

The cleaner had smiled and recommended that he gave up meat. What madness was that? Telling a man to give up meat? What else were men for, but to impregnate and consume lesser beings? What kind of world did the little man inhabit, where men were polite, had good skin and cleaned clinics for a living? The bastard. He would fix him later. He had noticed him enjoying a mouthful of sugarsnap peas. The bastard. What kind of person ate sugarsnap peas for lunch? Ian could feel a wave of aggression as he met the challenge of dealing with the irritating cleaner, who just wasn’t right, somehow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The cleaner even knew how to perform a clinical clean down. He had caught him the other day. What kind of cleaner had that kind of knowledge?

Margaret the nurse was also annoyed. She had spent hundreds of pounds on private treatment for her symptoms of menopause, which included a weight loss clinic, since NHS advice was no help, hormone treatments, since NHS treatments actually made her feel worse, and, to her horror, alternative medicine, which she of course did not officially believe in. She was aware that if any of her colleagues found out, she would be laughed at, but she did it anyway, because it was the only thing that made her feel better.

Thus she would laugh scornfully when discussing such therapies with her colleagues, yet sneak off and use them when she did not think they could see her. There were rules about that sort of thing. You must maintain the illusion of authority, so that people had confidence when clinical decisions were made on behalf of the patient, to act in their best interests. It would not do to admit to an alternative, even if you actually used it yourself.

She too, was annoyed with the little cleaner, in this case for recommending that she ate more pineapple to deal with her persistent cough. Five times more effective than cough medicine indeed! He was clearly a liar. He was also too smart. Everybody knew that only pharmaceutical companies could be trusted with medical matters. You should never eat anything that wasn’t out of a packet, in line with NHS hospital policy. Everybody knew that.

She did not feel like being smiled at and having conversations with a cleaner. He was supposed to be part of the furniture. Perhaps she should bring it up at the clinic meeting?

When the Tuesday meeting rolled around, Helen, Margaret, Robert and Ian agreed that there was something odd about the cleaner. Robert made the decision that he would ‘speak to him’ to pin down the problem.

The cleaner was finishing up when Robert asked him to come into the office. Robert could not think of a reason for firing him, so he tried simply lying.

“The staff are complaining that you smell. Are you having problems at home?”

The little man did not smile “What possible connection would problems at home have with me smelling?”

“Well, perhaps you lack running water or something.” Robert felt suddenly uncomfortable.

“Are you a little inflamed? You look a little inflamed? Any joint pain, coughing or general fatigue?” the cleaner looked concerned about Robert, and blissfully unconcerned about his allegation.

“Now look here!” Robert was suddenly furious. “I am not sure who you think you are, but I am the doctor here!”

“Experience tells me that that does not mean that you know anything at all about health. How is your diet?” the little man remained calm, and remarkably patient for someone who had just been maligned. “Perhaps you should try eating more vegetables?” he folded his arms. “You know your physiotherapist has a steriod problem?”

“That isn’t your concern.” Robert blustered. “We are all professionals here.”

“Apparently not. Apparently you are busy talking about other people.”

“What qualifies you to talk about my diet?” Robert spluttered.

“What age are you Robert?” the cleaner cocked his head.

“Fifty.”

“You need to pay some attention to your diet, and I don’t mean following NHS guidelines, unless you want to be really ill. The problem is Robert, that there are too many doctors and not enough concern about health.”

“Who are you?” Now red in the face, Robert stared at the little man.

“I used to be a nurse, then a psychologist, then I got interested in alternative medicine. Then someone very much like you ruined my career, so now I am a cleaner. You needn’t worry, I am fully trained in dealing with confidential information. Why did you take a career in medicine if you aren’t interested in health?”

“How dare you!” Robert started to shout. “You are fired!”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that. I’m just not sure why you felt the need to have this meeting.” the little man continued to stare at him. “You are aware that you have bowel cancer?”

“What?”

“You can see it in your eyes. Go and get it checked, there’s a good chap. The NHS won’t pick it up until it is later stage. Likewise your type 2 diabetes, which they won’t diagnose because of your low blood sugar. You will need to go private for them to perform the necessary tests. Luckily your over-inflated NHS wage is more than sufficient for you to pay for it. Your nurse also needs help. Those hormones they are prescribing her have started off the beginnings of breast cancer. Even private healthcare has its problems. None of you are trained properly.”

“Get out! Get out!”

“With pleasure. Sort your health out, Robert. And let your wife do what she wants. She is bored, and no wonder.” the little man smiled at him. “I will be going to have a nice long magnesium bath.” He got up and adjusted the perfect seam in his linen trousers. “You will need some nice chemical solutions for the next cleaner by the way, I only use safe solutions. You will notice a difference in the smell.” he smiled unpleasantly again. “Don’t forget about your bowels, although I imagine by now you already have difficulty forgetting.” he laughed. “Don’t be accepting too many antibiotics and X rays now, will you?”

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Thank you so much

Thank you all so much for the support for yesterday’s post.  Despite my cheerful tone, it was a very depressing week.

Normal service will resume when I have completed some of the more ‘austere’ work.

Not sure why my former boss is still spying on the blog, but nice to see him learning from a non-commercial source for a change.

Smooches,

 

Ina

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Here we go

So, I finished writing the last blog post, settled down to my History of the Conservative party and then the phone rang…..

And rang……

And rang……for about an hour…..

I ignored it and then found my fan page bristling with life.

“Why are you hating on Boris?  You always liked Boris.  I remember you hotly defending Boris twenty years ago when blah blah blah blah blah……”

You get the picture.  My lovely ex cannot apparently read any more.  This is a guy who used to know more about the Rothschilds and the Classics than most postgraduate specialists, and now he cannot read.  I used to get a kick out of the Glasgow hardman/advanced reader combination.

 

For the benefit of people who think they read this blog and do not apparently understand it, I will go through this again.  You will find it under politics and economics, you will find it in Unpopular Blogging,

you will find it in any rudimentary Social Science education programme if you cannot manage to figure it out by looking at those things we used to call books.

Communism, Conservatism, Socialism, Fascism, Liberalism are Debating positions.

They are not intended to be correct, they are intended to reflect points of view, and they have labels for the convenience of humans.  It is not gang warfare, it is not something that is supposed to run in families, and it is not meant to be used for killing people. It is, like most academia, a labelling system.

The positions in use reflect philosophy.  What we witness as theatrical posturing and drama, is the reenactment of arguments that have gone on for centuries.  They are in use to enable us to move towards an honest discussion of day to day issues from the standpoint of centuries of thought.

To say that you “hate Theresa May for fucking up Brexit” is completely stupid.  You can hate Theresa May for having no charisma, or for allowing poor decision making because she lacks leadership skills, but to say that you would not sit down to dinner with her and have a perfectly civil conversation because she is probably reasonably good company when she is off script (whenever that is) is a bit silly because she is adopting a debating position.

To say that I am hating on Boris, because I object to elements of Conservatism is equally ridiculous.  As you well know, I have always had a soft spot for Boris, because I hear entirely different parts of what Boris has to say than you do, and because I have had a very well rounded life and have direct experience from which to draw which allows me to agree with or understand much of what he stands for.

I may not agree with Conservatism, I may not agree with everything he has to say.  He can still be the best person for the job at hand.  He can still be the best prospect of having adequate leadership to allow a change of course which means the UK survives.

Likewise, I can make this determination alongside my views on independence, because we do not have independence and our prospects of getting it are dwindling by the day.

I can object to the idea of living in a miserable clannish republic rather than a monarchy, and I can object to the idea of having a limitless stream of people taking jobs when there are so few suitable ones in Scotland.

I have in the past worked on a project where the employees are determined by an English agency, and despite the plethora of perfectly qualified Scottish candidates, only forty percent of the employees in Scotland actually lived here.  The people were perfectly pleasant, but as you can see we have a problem.

So, alongside my British tendencies, I am well aware that we are at economic war with our neighbours.

Having said that, we are significantly outnumbered.  It is not helpful to get annoyed about it.

Therefore, our best prospect as individuals, is to make the correct decisions based upon the situation in which we find ourselves.

My situation is coloured by my recent experience, in which I have had cause to witness the failings of the NHS, Social Services and the Conservative Party in relation to the public.

This, in combination with my objection to corporatism has led me to believe that a little activism is in order.  This has nothing to do with Scotland, and everything to do with public welfare.  Boris is merely a rather lovely cherry on top whom I would like to help with the benefit of my critical thinking skills on the way to solving this particular set of problems.

I do hope that makes things clearer for you, and I do not otherwise wish to see any more manga pictures, hear any more conspiracist drivel, or boring, boring stories about how miserably helpless and tedious you are.  Please go and relearn how to read.  I am BUSY working on the future of the conservative party with a view to reducing the number of people ACTUALLY BEING KILLED! Preferably in a pretty, surreal, cute, romantic and entertaining way alongside the actual academic slog.

Boohiss, poppet. I wouldn’t dream of dissing Boris.

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Too bad, how sad, moving swiftly on….

Finally woke up after sixteen hours recovering from my meeting with the largest tobacco company in the world.  They are moving into new ways of killing yourself.  Whilst I am in no position and have no wish to moralise about smoking, (I used to be an Olympic level smoker myself) vaporising their product is no better than burning it as far as my lymph nodes are concerned.  I have a friend who is a smoker, and his habit does not have the same effect on me as sitting in an enclosed space with a tobacco vaporiser going.

Apparently this method of imbibing tobacco is not actually regulated yet.  As it is considerably worse than vaping fluids, I fully expect that it will be banned in enclosed spaces in the fullness of time, as actual cigarettes were positively benign in comparison.

So much for them.  I will not be doing any work for them.

Just when I was moving into position to start on filming, it has emerged that the person I was working with has no connection or interest in the project, refused to understand what the project was about, and reverted to talking about the news as if it was something separate from him.

It is a form of self-protection to assume that there is nothing you can do to solve any problems, so I am not planning on taking a chisel and trapanning it into him.  Therefore, I now have to amass a team from scratch and get the job done properly.

A small delay is inevitable, but at least it is at this stage and not halfway through.  I have been put in this situation by this individual before, and it is extremely depressing.  To this day, he will try to start an argument rather than take any responsibility for any part of anything he does.  Kinda tired of that, so an early blow-off was preferable.

Thankfully, there are plenty of other exs, and I have my sights on one with some choreography experience.

Extremely tiresome, but inevitable and it is just as well it happened now rather than later.  In the meantime, I now have plenty of time to write and finish the shoe collection to pay for all this….

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