The Winterfood Diaries

The Winterfood Diaries

Thursday, 9 August 1990

Run Like Hell

‘Run Like Hell’ – Pink Floyd

WAR LOOMS ON THE HORIZON.

Saddam Hussein’s occupation of Kuwait and Iraq’s aggression has been condemned by the world.  Some are wondering if he will attempt to invade Saudi Arabia next.  He’s not backing down from the invasion, despite pressure from the entire world.  American ‘peace-keeping’ forces are already assembling in the Persian Gulf (with French, British and, now, Soviet allies, thank god).  IRAQ HAS PROMISED IT WILL USE CHEMICAL WEAPONS IF ATTACKED.  Israel has said that if the Iraqi’s fire chemical weapons into Israel then they will be fully prepared to launch a nuclear strike.

I’m pretty sure Nostradamus predicted the end of the world in 1990.  Right now, I might almost believe him.

So.  Is it wrong to find all of this rather… ‘exciting’?  Like a real experience, or something.  I don’t want a war, but I do hope that bastard gets his arse kicked.  He and his dictatorial kind have no place in this world.

The current dilemma facing everyone is, of course, the ‘foreign nationals’ currently trapped in Iraq.  All but necessary workers have been evacuated, but now the borders have been closed.

From my own perspective, I can assure you that in recent days the jet aircraft manoeuvres in East Anglian skies have been, shall we say, frighteningly spectacular.

WAR SEEMS INEVITABLE.

THE COST WILL BE HIGH.

Later:


Fuck off!  I wouldn’t dare.

You might recall that on Friday I offered Betty some rent money which she declined, saying I didn’t have to pay them any as I was working for Freddie.  ‘Oh,’ I said, stunned but elated.  Well, just now she’s come over and asked me for the last six weeks’ board and I’m now left with just under £80.  Well, fuck shit!  And then she had the gall to use my lack of ‘contribution’ over recent weeks as the reason why I’m at the lorry yard, working, without any say.  Is it me or is this just a bit weird and schizophrenic?  Why are my ‘parents’ so bloody inconsistent.  I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going from one minute to the next.  Talk about lulling me into a sense of false security.  I’m caught by the short and fucking curlies, aren’t I?

The sooner I find a means of leaving this place, the better.  I have had enough of being manipulated by people who have no logic.

I’m so unbelievably angry.  Livid.  So full of energy.  I want to smash things up and I can’t because that would be stupid and it’s so frustrating.    

Later:

‘Mind Games’ – John Lennon

I hope Miranda will reply.

I’ve damaged my leg a bit.  I kind of crushed it under a compressor at work.  I can still walk and all that lack but it hurts to do certain things.

fuck I’m pissed off
my life shits on me
the
BASTARD!


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Next time: ‘When the levee breaks…’

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