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*headdesk*

Aaaggghhh!!! I did it again! Or the old words programme on this ancient dektop did it! Chunks of random text from other chapters and pieces of the chapter missing when I thought I had cleanly cut and paste each chapter into my AO3 fic. Or I'm very tired. or a bit drunk. or extremely emotional. or something.

Please! Can anyone out there tell me if they notice anything not making sense or they are reading extra bits that they've already read in a previous chapter?

Feel a complete dickhead.

Sure of the FallCollapse )

The shame...

I decided to post the first 4 chapters of my new epic fic, although I've finished 11 of them, just to test the water with a dark death fic in the Lewis fandom and, oh! The utter embarrassment... Fortunately my lovely beta asparagusmama was on line and read it, pointing out I'd some how cut and paste random lines from other chapters into some of the chapters.

Oh the shame...

Apologies to anyone to who has already read those embarrassing bits.  I don't know what when wrong! It's my first posting since the new look AO3, but, well what a complete twat I've been. I blame the drink...
Not only all my fan fiction, but my accounts on my flat I'm letting, my father's accounts, his speech therapy and physical therapy schedules we had worked out and more importantly lots of pictures of my boyfriend, auntie and father when he was fit and well. Some I have in hard copy, some are on my father's pc, but many, many lovely ones, including one of Alun and my auntie and me well she was on chemo just before we lost her, a few months before he died. I should have printed it. Why didn't I? It was my wall paper and screen saver. In short I have lost my phone, my ipad, my laptop, Actually, I have also lost Alun's gold ID bracelet and ring, a tooth and my straight nose and most importantly all my self-confidence!

So, in the unlikely event you sods are reading this - do you think what you are doing to someone? No, you just want gear to sell to buy you gear, I suppose. I'm glad I sort of believe in God and the Day of Judgement right now, coz, you deserve what's coming to you! But then I think of my auntie and asparagusmama and realise God would judge you on your crack addiction or whatever and be kinder than I. And considering I lived in London 8 years and Oxford 7 before that I can't believe what a country bumpkin I have turned back into after a year at home with Pa. I was stupid not to leave the ipad at home when I was taking the laptop to look like the professional landlord I am so obvioulsy not. Stupid not to be more vigilant. Stupid to fight back so hard. Should have given up on it all.

Like that poem about the whole battle lost for the want of a shoe everything has got worse since my mugging. I was in such a state at the hospital they wouldn't let me go without someone collecting me. I have my Pa, disabled from his stroke and ...? I realised I had work collegues, running mates, gym mates, friends who were Alun's friends who vanished after he was killed and...? Because of all the stupid I closed down my FB so I'm no longer in contact with school and uni mates, not that I had many of those, and I long distanced myself from the DWAS wankers. So, the nice policeman tracked down my cousin in Crouch End and he and wife and daughter drove me home. In the meantime the Met had got Thames Valley to find my Pa's friend the retired doctor - our old village family doctor - to go round and sit with him and relieve the lovely next door neighbour. She is 72 and always sits with him if I need to go out. Two things happend as a result of all this. Doctor and police phoned soical services who poke their noses in, make me feel like an inadequate and Pa useless and past it and then tell us there is nothing in the kitty for a care plan and budget because I live with him. Fine, I know that, so why question us and fill in endless forms? Worse, my Uncle and other cousin turn up from Birmingham and tell me I cannot cope and nor should I. How marriage is half of faith and they could find me a poor ugly thick girl no one wants to marry desperate enough for a UK passport and yaddity yakkity, blah blah....

I.e. Get yourself an import poof! You don't have to shag her, just use her as an unpaid skivvy. No thank you. It's abhorrent, isn't it? Apart from reeking of people trafficking and slavery, surely every heterosexual woman has a right to a heterosexual husband? My auntie was deemed unmarrigable due to her port wine birthmark over half her face, but one wonders if big brother might of palmed her of on someone if little brother (Pa) hadn't invited her over to help look after me and run his business. She learnt English. She did O levels (as they were then) and trained in veterinary nursing and took a secretarial course. She peed everyone off (that is, nearest town community and local village whites) with her wearing of jeans and wellies and Barbour jacket and hijab (in the 70s!). Would she want me to marry? No. She blamed my Mum for my sexuality and saw it as a handicap but no, she didn't tell me I was wicked and sinful and should pretend to be something else. I miss her. So, they spent a day and left and Pa, who has got me buying halal recently asked 'Is there any bacon or ham in the house?' As soon as they left. My father was an old fashioned socialist at college, a revolutionary of the old order, and rejected his background. I think he still believes in one God, etc, but in his own quiet way. Certainly not in a list of things to do, say and dress way.

But, the whole mugging has made me realise I have no friends any more, there is no support and back-up plan apart from the OT and ST and kind neighbours. And I've not left the village since it happened apart from a weekly drive to Waitrose or to take myself or Pa to the health centre. I've not been very good at motivating Pa to his exercises. All  we've done is curl up on the sofas in the lounge and watch Midsomer Murders and drink tea and wine and eat cake. Lots of cake.

So, the fics: sequels to Warmth in a Cold Caravan and Where you Go, I Go, lost. Last chapters of Summer In San Franscisco - lost. and unlike the rest, this was all my own work. The last chapters of Autumn in Chicago - lost. As I was prosing someone else's script, which I still have a hard copy of, redeemeable. I was half way through a Doctor Who/DS9 crossover - have the first bit in hard copy, the rest - gone. Notes on this bizarre crack fic that I wouldn't have posted anyway, featuring ST:TOS, its Mirrorverse and NuTrek - thrice the Spirk - lost. Everything I've tried to write since involves marky sues with lovely Hathaway coming to the rescue of stupid mugging victims who decide to throw punches or the lovely fifth Doctor arriving in the back garden and whisking us away to a future hospital that can cure stroke damage in the wink of an eye. How old am I? Such fan fic is permissible at 12, maybe!