I should have dialed 999 that morning at 3am

When my neighbour woke me in my bedroom at 3am on 10 11 2018, I should have dialed 999 for the police. Oh, the trouble I would have been spared!

DW would never have known about this blog, she would not have been able to tell subsequent tenants next door about it and those tenants would not have gossiped about me and caused my good name to be flung into the mud which I did not deserve.

Not that those neighbours were pleasant. They knowingly caused me nerve pain by refusing to take down windchimes which they hung close to all my windows. Even the council and the police could not persuade them to stop causing me agonising nerve pain and headaches because of the singularly high pitch. That is sheer cruelty.

Few people know that very high-pitched noise can cause nerve pain. If I had hung wind chimes, I would have taken them down as soon as I was aware that they were not enjoyed by a neighbour. I will never know how my health would be now if those wind chimes had been taken down.

But not just that, the husband shouted and swore at poor M on the other side.

If I had dialed 999 at 3am when the boring man appeared in my bedroom, I would not have been lied about; I would not have had my trust abused, I would not have had a problem with Quay Living, I would not have enabled M to tell lie after lie about me. How wrong I was to think he was sweet and earnest. He was in a blackout. A drunk. An alcoholic.

I am really ill now. Because I did not dial 999 that morning at 3 am my life would be far better now.



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Like Star Dust

A poem

Photo by Blair Fraser on Unsplash

You seemed to fall out of the sky
into my life, wanting to die
I took you, loved you, taught you,
your eyes seemed like star dust

Glittering sadly, tears never far away
unworthy of being loved inside

I tried to turn that tide
to hold on to the star dust

So fragile, yet so brave not knowing
how you should behave in company
that cost you your freedom from the past
I’m really missing the star dust

Published in The Lark


Jealous alcoholics do things that no normal person dreams of…

Today I had insight into the alcoholic mind of a very twisted woman. She has written malicious letters to all tenants in the house next door about me. I have photos. She gave my number to the Landlord Alliance and I took calls for the letting agency for three weeks.

I got no apology from the agency or compensation. Today I went to the office to apologise that I had been offended when I thought they were gossiping about me to their tenants and explained the truth.

That got me nowhere. What an unkind woman. I have sent everything to the anti-social behaviour team.

I have done absolutely nothing wrong. Ever. A former friend threw things over their fence because she was angry Ebsworth didn’t keep his word about, after a malicious text from his platonic housemate. I was not pleased that that happened. I am not tall enough to throw anything over the fence, except notes to M.

I don’t think that Michael knows how depraved that woman is. After she dumped 12kg of firewood over the fence he told me was ‘concentrating on getting better’ after breaking her back falling off a horse as she told people. She fell down the stairs.

A compulsive liar, she lied to me while we were ‘friendly.’ Wine in her hand every time I saw her.

I have worked with recovering alcoholics, but never have I seen the empty evil in a resentful alcoholic’s mind. What a pathetic life, watching a house on website to see if it becomes available and then to deliver a letter to each new tenant AND give my number to the Landlord Alliance.

Putrid behaviour. Inexcusable. Making my life a misery with neighbours’ who won’t take down windchimes that caused me agony. Damaging my good reputation.

Ugliest clock ever. Far to big for a room
Ugliest sofa in the world with ugliest cushion
Bed I shared, with ugly ship after criticising my tasteful one. Gymnastics in this bed.

An open letter to an alcoholic…

This reminds me of you when your head gets yanked out of the sand.

Dear M,

You were boring. The night you started messaging me I got bored. Went to sleep. You crashed into my bedroom door with a flashlight and woke me and refused to leave.

You seemed so sincere. So I stopped yelling at you to get out and told you to go downstairs. You were so meek in obeying. I got dressed and came down to see what you wanted to talk about. I noticed then it was 3am.

You made me a cup of tea. You were so sweet.

You remembered that I get cold feet. You tried to warm them. I thought that wow, the boring man is a sweet drunk.

I kept trying to send you home. So many times. You made so many excuses to not go. And finally, that thing you shared a house with yanked you back. Abusively. Just how it always referred to you. Idiot. …doesn’t matter, it’s Mike’s… he’s a complete idiot…

Always putting you down behind your back.

The first time I knew you lied was when I asked you if you ever had had a beard. Your eyes travelled to your housemate for guidance…you replied no. But I knew I had seen you with one.

I didn’t like that you groped my legs that early morning/night when I should have been sleeping. I was furious. Of course, I should have told the thing. My mistake. I should have called the police instead of indulging you. The heartache it would have saved.

I asked you to make amends. You didn’t even finish that. But before not finishing, you again molested me and then seduced me. I wanted a spare bed or a blanket, but somehow I ended up in your bed. Although there was another one you could have used. You had entirely separate rooms. You could have used your housemate’s bed.

I did not want sex or to be naked, I wanted sleep. I had already been asleep. No one rapes me since I was raped, so we had consensual sex. It was pretty good considering. And again in the morning and the afternoon.

I felt nothing for you. Especially hearing the fake laugh into your phone to your housemate.

Things happened. Extreme rudeness from the housemate. (I should have told her you had groped my legs and taken me to your bed.)

My friend chucked stuff you promised to dispose of for me over the fence. I was not happy about that. I was cross. Your housemate threw them the next day nearly giving me a head injury.

I made a statement to the police about you. I wish I had never withdrawn it. Never let you take me to your bed twice before I told you about that statement to the police.

I still felt nothing for you. Then you started visiting me. I wanted not to be used. I wanted to be touched but not love.

I liked you. You were kind, thoughtful. Then it got more than talking. I liked it. I liked you.

I was fine when you lied to me. I realised I was better off without a coward, a bullied man.

Then your ex phoned and she was stunned at how much you had opened up to me. She thought I would see you again.

I was fine until you did come back to see me. When I realised your desire for me, I finally fell in love.

And then you became a nightmare. Using me, being lustful. Being lurid in your boredom. I realised the depth of your alcoholism. You looked terrible.

When we coincided at the Custom House, my companion and I moved to be in the sun. Not to avoid you. After all, I had done nothing wrong. You looked like two strangers who decided to share a table because it was crowded. Not even friends or housemates.You gazed me for far too long and often. Those sunglasses don’t suit you. You looked at me in a way that told me everything.

Your friends, Simon Bagnall, Matt Hammond, all of them, enable your alcoholism. They don’t care that you broke my laptop, they just enable you to avoid taking responsibility for your life. All I want is a laptop that works. And someone to help you get sober, which comes through connection.

You will die an early death. Everyone who loved you, hates you now. Your Dad, your ex, me, your housemate hates you too. Her alcoholism is more advanced than yours.

You know she is foul when it is drunk. She was vile after my sister died. Abusive and vile. A drunk. You admitted it that morning at 3am.

Your path is set. Unless you get sober. Get connection in your life. Instead of having your housemate at your tail abusing you, mocking you, making you small.

I wonder if you ever will. Get sober. I’m not actually capable of hate. I just want my laptop replaced or fixed. I’d like the truth to be told.

You said you would tell me what your housemate has over you when you are ready. I’m waiting. You owe me so many amends.

Now I know that your housemate wrote to the next tenants, telling her lies. But they were truly ghastly. They were clearing the shed when I knocked to ask if they needed anything. She looked at me so strangely that I wondered if you had left all my books in the shed. They had my name in them. The ones you said you would take to charity shops. Now I know they got a letter from your housemate. I had a year of acute pain, but the second letter got rid of such cruel people.

The current tenants showed me the letter, and are disgusted that anyone would behave like that.

I don’t hate, it’s not in me. I am sorry for you.


Let’s talk about alcoholism…

People use the word alcoholism and alcoholic but are not always certain of what it means or what it actually is. It is a dependency or addiction to alcoholic drinks.

Some people say that if someone doesn’t drink spirits, they are not really an alcoholic. This is a complete untruth. It does not matter what type of drink the alcoholic prefers, if they habitually get drunk, they are probably an alcoholic.

People say that if someone doesn’t drink every day they are not an alcoholic. Again, this is untrue. Other things that people say are; the person has a job, they pay their bills, they drive, they spend time with their children. All of these things do not preclude alcoholism.

This bell curve shows the drinking habits and toleration of alcoholics. They begin drinking normally like any of us. But they will experience hangovers while many others don’t. Their desire to drink alcohol will increase, so they will drink more. They have an increased tolerance of alcohol, often consuming far more than their friends, and still function at work. However, they will begin to tell lies, especially about how much they drink. They will lie about why they are late, for example, or why they did not arrive where they were expected to be.

After time, the alcoholic will become drunk and have no memory of what they did or said during that time. They will have gained weight, especially around the neck, they may often appear flushed for extended periods of time and hangovers will be miserable.

Hangovers are a genetic hand down. People who get them are damaging their internal organs. Usually the liver and kidneys are damaged most and first, and then the heart. So if you get hangovers, you are very likely to become an alcoholic.

When an alcoholic begins to forget what he did or said while drink, we call it blackout. They may get into someone else’s car and drive it away, they may go home to wrong place, they may sexually assault someone. Anything. I know of someone who got into an ambulance and drove it away.

When someone has blackouts, things are seriously bad for their health. Their liver is failing, their kidneys are working overtime and their heart is far less than healthy. Blackouts can go on for years.

Finally, the alcoholic will stop tolerating large quantities of alcohol. They will begin to shake if they go too long without a drink. They won’t care what they drink, as long as it is alcoholic. Eventually, they may need to relieve themselves often, and even wet themselves.

During all this, they will be obvious of the effect of alcohol in their life and body. Denial is their worst enemy and best friend.

I know someone who died of alcoholism and would never admit he had a problem. I would at times meet him at the train station, and as soon as he got in my car he would ask me to stop at an off-license. I would agree, and planning my head where I could park near one. After a few minutes he would remind me to stop and I would reply that I had somewhere in mind. He would tell me exactly how many we had passed and I would try to prolong the conversation so we could get to my planned stop. He never started drinking in my car, he just needed to know it was in his hands.

He died alone in his flat. He hadn’t been seen for just over two days. The coroner’s report said that he would have had a severe bladder infection which led to kidney infection. He would have probably lost consciousness from high fever as the infection entered his blood stream. Organ failure was the cause of death.

Only one in twenty alcoholics get sober. They have to reach what is known as a rockbottom. This is different for every one. It may be a serious car accident, a heart attack. the break up of a marriage.

We tend to say that only an alcoholic can say whether they are an alcoholic. This is because we want them to have the honesty to admit it. However, an alcoholic can easily be spotted except by the people close to them. One alcoholic will affect up to ten lives, and at least three people will be enabling them to keep drinking without realising it. We call these people co-dependents and they need to recover too.

Perform feel free to ask questions. This is only an overview. You may be worried about someone, or living in a situation I have described.


My lucky escape

So I’ve written here how Michael Ebsworth came to move in with me and left because he created a lie in his head. Well, at first it hurt a lot because he told me I’d only wanted a relationship so that I would have a cook, cleaner and nurse. Anyone who knows me realises that is complete tosh. Nonsense. So far from the truth.

Then I realised how lucky I was that he left because my concerns about how much he drinks were confirmed. I told him eleven months ago that he needed to cut back his drinking and quit smoking. He has paid no attention. He spends so much of his time in black out. He doesn’t recall things he’s said or done.

The sweet, gentle, kind hearted man I discovered isn’t there anymore. He’s changed into the state of further along the path of alcoholism, where his need for alcohol supersedes other concerns. He cannot take responsibility for anything, let alone his behaviour. He cannot see that the malicious lies his friends told to their letting agency have irrevocably changed my life here in my home of 14 years. If I had not withdrawn my complaint of sexual assault, none of this would have happened. That is my only mistake. I should have stuck to that. I have paid so dearly in being merciful. He has repaid mercy with selfishness and games. And if he had never visited me last March I would have carried on happily forgetting him. I was not unhappy when his friend found him out. I was a bit sad, as I’d enjoyed his company. But I did not want a man who jumped to heel when commanded.

He must be so lonely in his make believe world. Everyone who ever loved him hates him, including his Dad. I don’t care enough to hate him. I’m just grateful that he isn’t in my life, making me lonely. There is nothing lonelier than being in a relationship with an addict. Even if he had decided to stay, I would have soon asked him to leave.

Because of the lies told to the letting agency who let the house next door, they have no regard for me and won’t ask my current neighbours to move or change the wind chimes. I have started a petition to create a law that ensures that if a householder wants to hang something that makes noise or visual disturbance they must consult their neighbours to ensure no harm or nuisance is caused. This would benefit night shift workers, young mums with toddlers as well as those with illnesses that are detrimentally affected. Anyone can sign it. If you would like to sign it just let me know.


Performn’t want an alcoholic in my life…

After spending the morning waiting for a phone call, I went to get a watch repaired. I tried a jewellers first, as that was what I was told I needed, but ended up at the little watch repair shop in a department store.

On my way there, I ran into an old friend and we decided to go for a coffee. We had a double vodka each. We talked about the past, our now, our pain. I ended up sobbing as I told him about my neighbours’ refusal to change the windchimes to a lower tone, like bamboo. I told him about the physical torment it gives me and how my former neighbour lied to the letting agent. About her malicious behaviour. I told him how I fell in love with Mike , and how he’s been trying to contact me all year and how he moved in and out within 24 hours.

I can never live with Michael. He drinks too much. He would be lazy and slobby. He left quite a trail behind him for his short stay. I’ve had enough of bad relationships.

I am seriously worried about my health due to those windchimes. It’s all because of Woodhouse’s malicious lies. That’s the one thing she does well.

So I went to a solicitor and am going to sue them, the letting agency and my current neighbours.

I have to. This has to stop. I have to regain my health and peace of mind. It’s time to stop considering others and put myself first for once.

My laptop is not working properly because the end of bed couch got kicked over in the night when Mike was here. I’m having to give vegetables away so they don’t perish. Mike Ebsworth has deactivated his phone number – an act of real cowardice.

The friend I met in town prayed for me. I so appreciated it. I have deep faith in God, and pray, but it’s been a while since anyone prayed for me. Not any one with real faith.