More to Me Than HIV

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More to Me Than HIV

First published in Gscene July 2020 For last years World AIDS Day I put together a public project of work joining other people living with an HIV+ diagnoses at Jubilee library.For last years World AIDS Day I put together a public project of work joining other people living with an HIV+ diagnoses at Jubilee library. For the project I spoke openly about my journey having being           Read more

More to Me Than HIV: GScene post Aug 2020

More to Me Than HIV is a project that aims to breakdown the stigma that has historically been attached to this virus.  When I saw my piece in last months Gscene to promote the More to Me Than HIV project, I was extremely proud, but a small part of me was filled with anxiety; but why should I feel this way? I have been on effective antiretroviral therapy since the Read more

More to Me Than HIV: first published in GScene July 2020

For last years World AIDS Day I put together a public project of work joining other people living with an HIV+ diagnoses at Jubilee library. For the project I spoke openly about my journey having being             diagnosed HIV+ 32 years previous. Back then there was no treatment and a lot of fear and misinformation concerning how HIV was transmitted. As such stigma was rife, Read more

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writing Everyday in October. Hate (part 1)

Writing Everyday in October: Hate. (part 1)

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Ronny hated everybody and everybody who had ever had the misfortune of meeting him hated him back.
The thing with Ronny was he had the knack in spotting someone’s weak spot and digging in deep with some nasty comment. No one was except from Ronny’s vile tongue. He would ridicule someone if they had a lisp, by exaggerating their speech and spit all over them. If a mother’s chid had a visible birthmark, he would pretend he had some dark ages faith and say they their child had the mark of the devil and should have been drowned at birth. One of his neighbours who had a mild tick had become one of Ronny’s favourite victims; whenever Ronny saw the neighbour, he would mention the tick and go on and on about how about how prominent it was which in turn made the tick so much worse. Ronny who had taken great delight in turning the tick into a trauma until eventually the neighbour had a complete break down and tried to burn down his flat. Ronny was even waiting outside the block of flats when the neighbour was taken away. Ronny took great delight in pointing and shouting, “He’s a fucking nut case that one, someone should give him a ticking off!”

As time went by, Ronny spent less time going out and more time staying in but this didn’t stop the hate. He would take great delight in phoning people up at random and telling them that they were being watched and to be very afraid. On one occasion a new neighbour had moved in below Ronny. Once Ronny knew they worked night shifts and needed to sleep during the day, he made sure he played his television and radio on full blast off and on throughout the day. Each time the neighbour complained, Ronny would have the music off and say it must be coming from somewhere else. When he saw he was getting such a stressed out reaction, he kept upping the hate campaign. As well as the noise, he would make appointments for double glazing men, loan sharks and unwanted pizza deliveries to be made when he was sure his neighbour was in a deep sleep. Things came to ahead when he pretended to be his neighbour called up the gas company and fire brigade saying he could smell gas coming from his downstairs neighbour’s flat. On that occasion the fire brigade had to kick down the door. A week after that he heard neighbour had taken his own life. After that the flat stayed empty for some time. Ronny in turn decided that he too would have a break and wait for a new tenant to move. Being able to witness just how powerful his hate could have an effect without having to leave his flat was something Ronny wanted to do again and again and again.

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Writing everyday in October: Don’t Scream!

After all that screaming, the quiet seems deafening. Looking around, nothing is normal. That stain over there will it ever come out. Strange the things you think of as important but on the grand scheme of things that stain that has a life of its own is the least of my worries, and yet I do worry, always have. Worried what my mother thinks, worried what the neighbours think, worried what my more successful sister thinks, worried what people at work think, Blimey, I even worried what the cat thinks!

I wonder if it’s the same rule as red wine? What was it my mother swore by, salt on the stain or was it white wine that has some kind of magical power. I would give her a call but she’ll only ask why its so quiet. I could look it up on the computer, but that is stain splattered too! Such a messy screaming match!

Seriously though, bleach is the only thing that’s going to shift it, I’m so pleased I managed to get out of the house yesterday and got the weekly shop done… there will be a fresh bottle under the sink…and some clean cloths, but that is such a waste. I’ll get the rag bag out from under the sink and use them.

Now as I sit here I feel so calm, something that has been missing for months! The neighbours will be pleased. I almost want to pop round and tell them, knock on every door and say that  all those months of shouting has now come to an end, but they will find out soon enough.

Maybe it will be best if I just leave things as they are, I wonder if it will be like on the television detective shows when they have those all in one white paper suits.

Oh my! I’ve just seen myself in the mirror, I’ve still got the hammer in my hand, I thought I was feeling quite relaxed now that the shouting is over, but I can’t loosen the grip, thankfully it isn’t that heavy. Not much more then a toffee hammer, but it has done the trick, shut him up once and for all. All that screaming, all that shouting; looking at him you wouldn’t think he would have said boo to a goose, but behind closed doors…

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