As is things couldn’t get any worse I fell in the garden yesterday and ripped the tendons in the back of my right leg.

Thankfully Ashley was at home and wrapped me in ice.  I dare not go to the hospital because it will bankrupt me.  Now at home totally incapacitated.

Began to panic about getting back to the UK with one functioning leg and a dog.

Have to go via Paris again.  Not even directly to Paris but via NYC to go to court to get the money that Jake owes me.  This really stinks.   Everything conspiring to make life more difficult than it needs be.  It was such a silly thing to do.  How did I do it?  I tripped up the path and instantaneously I could feel the tendons detach.  Pop.  Oh God.

Ashley cooked dinner for us.  Her friend Emma arrived. They made steak and greek salad.  After all that meat we ate chocolate and drank hot tea.

It rained heavily all night.

The night.  Plagued with nightmares.  A kitten hidden in a chair.  Me as a child wandering into the road outside my Grandmother’s house in Herne Bay overlooked by my step-father.  Torrential leaks from the ceiling coursing unchecked through the house.

This year has been ghastly.  Made more so by Jake’s despicable antics.

Unthinking, callous, selfish.

I sometimes wonder how his parents put up with his lying shit?   Of course!  They love him unconditionally.

This leg situation is going to take at least a month to fix…more without treatment.

I wrote to Jake’s father asking him to persuade his son to just pay me the money.   We have a court date fixed now.  This is fucking bore.  He is holding onto me.  Refusing to let go of the final tendril.  The last vestige.  Let me go Jake.  Pay me the money so I can go to the UK and get on with my life.

I am sure that he feels the same way…we were perfectly synchronised.

The drawings are by Jennie.  She sent them yesterday.  Drew them when we were in rehab. They have a real Picasso feel about them.