My changes in circumstances have been brought about by necessity, not choice, and wandering around Eastern Europe, desperate for an affordable place to lay your head for a couple of nights, is no fun. Why should anyone begrudge me the occasional pleasure?
The day, for me, had been like any other, but when I arrived home for lunch, my mother and all her clients were in tears. I don’t remember whether anyone explained to me about the tips engulfing Aberfan’s Pantglas Junior School and the inevitability of death, but I do remember Mum hugging me very hard as the tears fell.
There is no time like Christmas to reinforce your vastly diminished coffers. Where once, I used to love the late-night shopping under twinkling fairy lights, wondering what to buy for my relatives and friends, now I cut a rather sad and lonely figure with no one to buy for, no one to buy for me, and leaving town on Christmas Eve with a chicken leg and three sprouts for my festive dinner.
Who knew that just the simple act of sitting on the loo was a death trap? Yep, ‘you can just pass out and die on the toilet from straining too hard while pooping.’
I sat, in a crowded room, in complete silence, watching, with disbelief, the sight that has now become one of the most devastating in our lifetime.
I kept it all in a box, and no amount of therapy, counselling or writing about it over decades helped alleviate the pain. Abuse infantilises you: you are forever trapped in its fearful grasp.
The hardest part in all this is the realisation how truly alone I am. I’m used to fending for myself in everyday life as I’ve never known anything else, but when things go wrong, I am consumed by the fear of what the end of my life will look like.
It’s the language interaction I miss. Language is my partner in crime, the thing that is always there for me when all else fails, my one great love. Without that tool of communication, I shrink into the shadows. My voice dies.
The thousands of gravestones that stand out like pillars of salt amid the greenery are painful reminders of the brutality of The War – that everyone still talks about, their eyes sad, their mouths continuing to vent fury.
Yes, I get it. Families need support – but so do the rest of us, and singles (especially older singles) come bottom of the list when the Government seeks to improve people’s lives.