One of the things I miss most about Brighton, and not being about to travel to London is MEATliquor. One of my most favourite things is Satan Fingers. I spent years of my life looking for a good vegan wing alternative and when MEATliquor appeared my prayers were answered.

Since moving to Kent I gave up hope of ever feeling as happy as I did in Brighton. No disrespect to Kent. It’s good. But Brighton was the first place I ever felt at home. I can shut my eyes and picture the North Laine, London Road areas, the Level, Grand Parade, Kemp Town… now. I love that city with a passion. I’ll admit it wasn’t all plain sailing, but the joy and friendship I found there will sustain me for life.

But life moved on. Things changed. And I returned to the Westcountry for a short while. I felt too far away from Brighton, and as I had some friends in Kent I felt like it was the next best place to be. I mean, yes I know, I’ve told this story before.

It ends differently this time.

I took part in a zine workshop recently with an ex-colleague, and I was chatting away absent-mindedly. My ex-colleague asked how I was finding Kent since lockdown (because I haven’t been on campus much during that time). And I said Well I like it more than I used to, I was really homesick for Brighton. But once I stopped comparing them I felt better.

So this evening I discovered jackfruit wings in a local restaurant. And they were the second most delicious vegan wing I’ve ever had.

That was good enough.

I wanted to do a series of zines prompted by #12daysofoca. But I can’t think of the words. I just made some booklets and I’m superhappy with how they look. I just don’t like that they’re empty.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CIeL_8ZFHmT/

https://www.instagram.com/p/CIfu9C1l6ka/

In a challenge to shake myself out of my funk I’m trying to find a new favourite Xmas song. The front contender is Beth Ditto.

I’ve been quiet for a while. I spent the latter part of last month visiting a relative recovering after leaving hospital. It’s still difficult to talk about at the moment, because I have so much fear and sadness swept up in me. Later this month I’ll hear more regarding a diagnosis and care for my relative. I don’t mean to be so vague but I’m not ready to share much more yet.

During the visit I hurt my back laying around for too long. I hadn’t intended on staying away from home for such a long length of time… but complications arose in the hospital and I spent five days in a state of panic. I missed my medication because I had spiralled (which in turn resulted in my neglecting self-care).

Now I’m back home, and people are talking about Xmas. I don’t want to hear about it. My partner has been trying to cheer me up, and wanted to get a Xmas tree but I said no. I know I have no reason to be so mean but it’s hard to function as normal when everything feels so frickin’ abnormal.

I keep thinking about the poem, For Nick, which has the opening line The sun rises and sets. Everyday things feel so weird during times of grief. I feel constantly surprised that the world hasn’t stopped along with me. I know it’s a selfish feeling, but I feel it.

I got my typewriter out today. I can’t remember the last time I used it. I put on one of my favourite old albums The Distillers and just sat staring at the keys.

I couldn’t help but think about where I was two decades ago, probably listening to late night BBC Radio One. Also making a zine or writing in a shared journal. It felt like no time had passed at all.