Thinking or feeling rather that the stuffing balls may of been undercooked and that's why we've got the upset tum. Not taking the kettle to the bathroom to fill it anymore. Just using a cup that can fit under the kitchen tap and using it to get enough water in the kettle. The lad has no problem with a lazy day. Never does. Or at least not since he was three or four and said he wanted to go to park but we couldn't but didn't say it was because it was too fucking dangerous and I was to weak to feel I could deal with whatever was threatened. He never asked again. It's always gonna hurt remembering that and how dejected he looked when we said sorry, no.

Now Christmas day has past we are able to have the kind of boxing day we love, close to a loved one but mostly by ourself, listening to chilled music, looking out the window, napping. Our hands and our back and our everything else needed a break. The tattie peeling has been particulary painful but it meant today both him and us could eat mash with gravy and the last of the pastry. He had meat to. We passed on that.

Kind of remarkable we got here by ourself. Been reflecting on that. There's no regrets from the him about it like there was when we first took him away from the extended family and his cousins. He loves the seaside as much as we do and doesn't hate school anymore. Don't know when we will stop feeling massive relief that he won't be going to a Glenrothes secondary, maybe never. There are times when we feel like we did about living next door to such awfulness and evilness and we can remind ourself we are not there anymore and every time it seems to sink in a little deeper. No wonder the sky seems bigger and brighter. No wonder we are sleeping better. But horrific nature of the domestic, legal, financial and political scenes and schemes that put us there isn't something we can forgive or forget or feel us and other people are safe from.

Stunt dreams I think last night. Roller blading in a big building at serious speeds. Bastards. Guess the slavers got all the money for that or maybe there are still languishing accounts we have no hope of ever getting to access to. Usual sex scenes on TV being in our dreams. The horrible sexual frustration of rape is ever present in them and every time we wake up from those dreams we feel a bit more acceptance that a sex life isn't for us and we feel safer knowing more and more of us feel the same way about it and understand why.

 Its not doubts we would ever have a genuine opportunity for a physically intimate sexual loving relationship but maybe we would if we could anymore, we don't want or need one. We cant see or feel any overlap between sex and and love with us, here. There is no escape from "sex/power/money/hate/patriarchy" so its not for us and we feel no need to mourn that. But at lot of mourning for the loss of life, science, art and culture of all kind that were and are irrevocably destroyed or chained in order to make things the way they are and to keep them this way.

 Not all of us feel as comfortable about no more babies and never getting to experience pregnancy without isolation and lack of support and tonnes of trauma and terror for myself and the unborn. Thinking about that just fills us with hate and disgust for the privileged and controlled populations of this planet. They had a fucking choice when so many never have.

We remember the tears of our friends when we returned and said they were right about everything and they said they wished they weren't, we could see they truly meant it and felt it burn as much as it does us.

As much as it has some of us rolling our eyes we've been thinking about a Daddy and wondering if he can hear us now.

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