The Arse Bone

17.11.14 (Day 330, still)

The Arse Bone’s Connected to the Elbow…

Well, sort of. Thanks to CAB, things are starting to come together: possible movement on the council housing front now that I have a diagnosis for depression. There’s now just the overpayment of carer’s allowance to deal with, because I cared too much. For someone who worked for DWP and if she’d turned whistle blower would confirm that they just want to kill us slowly.

This is mainly thanks to CAB. I do like an acronym and once set up a company called Consolidated Unified National Transactions: it never took off and to this day, I can’t work out why. We made appointments for clients for the following Tuesday, bid them farewell with confirmation of the date and they never showed.

Business is re-ignited with the help of my caring, loving host family. We’re making sauces and giving away free samples.

And that is all for now. I’m busy, sorting things out.

This part of the story will have flesh added to the bones. I hope. I live in and with hope. Those whom I love.

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