The Winterfood Diaries

The Winterfood Diaries

Wednesday, 11 July 1990

Reality Asylum/Firefly Cage


‘Reality Asylum’ – Crass

If I don’t get a REAL job soon, I’m going to go mad.  And now my ‘parents’ are standing in the way of any progress I am attempting to make.  I don’t care what anyone says, I am entitled by law to 13 weeks Income Support before I have to find a shitty job (i.e. something I don’t want to do and probably won’t be any good at anyway).  In the meantime, I’m putting together CVs, etc, but Betty just keeps getting on at me.  Why?  Well, because the DHSS haven’t paid up yet and Betty thinks I should have made a fuss.  To be honest, I didn’t think it was worth me making a fuss till this coming Friday when the cheque is actually due!  But no, she had to come ‘round and have a go at me, telling me that she’s fed up that I’m not paying anything towards my bills.  She says I ought to get a (shitty) job in a factory or on the land.

Good god, I wish she’d get lost and give me enough time to get my acting house in order.  Right now, I’m trying to organise a strategy, making job plans, etc.  And when I finally get my DHSS cheque and can afford stationery and stamps and typewriter ink, then I’ll be more than happy to find a (proper) job!

God, it’s bad enough knowing your life’s a mess without people telling you all the time.  Do they know what it’s like when I listen to my fears?!

I signed on again today and spent some time in the library, writing letters (to Audrey, Maggie, Lilith, Natalia Wnek, Amy Neat, the Doctor Who Production Office, and Colin Baker, the Sixth Doctor).  That at least gives me some post to look forward to.  I suppose.

I have received, since my return from town and following the gardening Betty has forced me to do, letters from Lilith and Donna.



‘Under the God’ – Tin Machine






‘Panic In Detroit’ – David Bowie

She’s ready to leave Norfolk and is hoping I’m still close to her; hopes I haven’t abandoned her.  She’s upset about her family rejecting her.

She’s working temporarily at IBM Computer Components.  She hates it, but its money.  She has finished with Tom and still feels cut up about it; but all the folks in Cirencester are being good to her.  She’s applied for various jobs to no success.  She saw Rita and they made friends.  Apparently Rita fell out with Willock + Kat and has returned to Wales.  She, like myself, has found great joy in watching World Cup football.  She’s optimistic about her future and about my future.

But that doesn’t really help me.

I drank half a bottle of THUNDERBIRD this afternoon in a fit of tears.

I’m face-to-face with my fears.  It’s difficult, you know; knowing your life could be at its end.  Often wanting to die.  Knowing you could do well in the kind of job you’ve been trained for if only the opportunities were there or if someone would invest their faith in you.  I cry every day now.  It’s all I can do to stop from dying.

[Images subject to control of individual Copyright Holders including works originated by Elton Townend Jones, but excluding any images or design attributed to ‘The Situation’ which are copyright of The Situation (see specific acknowledgements in the ‘Thanks to…’section below) / ‘Berwin Groomstool’ is an iteration of the Situation character ‘William Whicker’ and falls under joint copyright of Elton Townend Jones and Waen Shepherd / Based on true events and designed as a study of parochial British cultural and emotional life in the late 20th century, this blog is a work of fiction – cultural icons excluded, all characters and incidents featured are entirely fictional / This blog is non-profit; all video clips are used for illustrative purposes and almost always come from YouTube / No copyright infringement is intended – just trying to get things into context. Never forget: no man is an island. If you think anything I’ve used is damaging you in any way, please comment and immediate action will be taken to minimise offence / This notice was amended on 1 July 2012 and is intended to cover this and all posts on that precede it]

Next time: ‘Salvation from Portsmouth…’

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