Taps oan, mibbes aff in Glasgow!

So, it’s sunny in Aberdeen. Like 19 degrees Celsius which is hot enough to utterly cremate people like me but not quite “taps aff” hot. I sat out in our creepy little courtyard where they used to let the lepers exercise – we live in a converted hospital that was built to house epidemics, not that we knew this when we signed the lease. We literally live in a granite death box… I sat out for half an hour before I remembered what happened last time and came back in. My sunburn seems to develop a few hours after I’ve been out and as much as some sun helps my joint pain, too much sun makes me feel bloody awful. I am legitimately this pale all year round.


I came inside and did a load of washing and tidied a few bits up. J’s brother and his fiancée are coming up at the weekend and staying with us. They are lovely and always nice to see – J needs to be a bit more sociable seeing as he is their best man in December! J and his bro have the same friends who are lovely guys and helped us move house a year ago when I’d just started to get really ill so everyone is gathering here and we’ll order pizza and play Cards Against Humanity. This absolutely works for me and my crappy body. Yay for staying inside plans!

J went to get his hair cut on his lunch today which is a freakin’ miracle. Instead of going to Linda, the middle aged woman wielding clippers and offering a “one cut suits all” sort of style that tends to make even grown men look 7 years old, I suggested he visits this relatively new hipster barber – which took some convincing, believe me. You know the ones that have games consoles and offer you a beer? He grudgingly went, having been reassured that they won’t try and shave down his parting, and has been texting me all afternoon with how good his hair feels. A new haircut feels good but nothing feels quite as good as being right.

I need to go and vote tonight. I must not forget to go and vote tonight. It’s quite important to me that the UK remains a part of the EU so that when Scotland leaves the UK, which it will, we are still a part of the EU. These are my views and no amount of bullshit memes or people fearmongering on Facebook will change my mind. It has, however, helped me weed out any racist, xenophobic, bigot “friends” I had accumulated.

My appointment to see the psychologist called… wait for it… Kathy Kindness (holy shit you can’t make this up) isn’t until next month. I wish I had kept a record of how many weeks and months are allowed to pass where no one is doing anything to make my life less sore. In fact, I’m glad I haven’t because I’d feel even more depressed. I think I’ve found a GP who knows about EDS which is amazing, though I’m out of the catchment area for their surgery, dammit! I sent a rather tersely worded letter to practitioners services asking to be considered as an exception and allowed to register at his medical practice – if not, can they ensure my current practice is educated in my condition because it’s unacceptable that I can only access potentially harmful care within my catchment area. Sometimes you just gotta be a dick!

Ren x


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