Funny old day.

The people from the council came to check me out for the dog boarding licence. They arrived at 9 and left at gone 11. There were so many rules and guidelines and precautions. Nothing was left to common sense. Frankly, it was insulting and mostly a waste of time.

I had no problem with them wanting to see the house and I was perfectly happy to meet them and have a chat, but it went on so long, I was getting to the point where I’d had enough. I felt as though my smile had been nailed into place by the time they went.

They finally said all was OK, but they’re still going back to the agency again to check out a few more details with them.

I think it’s bureaucracy gone mad.  I’d already read through and checked all the rules and conditions and guidelines before I sent in the application. At least it’s over for now, until they change the rules again.

Once they’d gone I started work on planning next week talk for Heydays, the over 55s organisation that takes over the West Yorkshire playhouse on Wednesdays. I have to talk from 10.30 to 11. 45 but when I tested my material, I ran out after 45 minutes. I had to have a quick rethink. I’ve decided to pepper the talk with short pieces of my writing, some of which are quite amusing (at least I think they are) to get up to the required length. Any time at the end can be used for questions.

I’ll try out the new format a few days before the event. At least once it’s done, I can use the same framework for similar talks.

As part of the planning, I looked back through some of my old fish keeping articles. They brought back wonderful memories of the days when everything I wrote was snapped up or commissioned, my words as well as my photos.

Then a bit of a downer. I finally had an email reply from Devon Country Council saying they’d received my letter and would be getting back to me to discuss the matter further.  

I wrote straight back and told them I didn’t want to discuss it.

I also told them I wasn’t up to talking about it because the depression I’ve battled for many years has come back.

I’ve been doing well since I moved to Leeds and hate the fact that I’ve been dragged back down into the pit thanks to something that rally wasn’t my fault. I only hope I can keep doing things and going out and meeting people. I .learned the last time I was ill how important that is, so hopefully I’ll be able to climb out of this fairly soon. All I know is that talking to Devon Social Services isn’t going to make things any better. What’s done is done. All I want is to make sure that they don’t do the same thing to somebody else, then (maybe) I can  get on with my life.