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Tuesday 9th June 2009: I�ve been unwell. I was stricken with swine flu, chicken flu, cat flu, foot and mouth disease and a verruca. I didn�t know whether to call a doctor or a vet (Lie detector says, oooh, you little fibber) Oh all right, I haven�t had flu of any description, but I have been poorly bad. I had a spate of night episodes that left me absolutely knackered. I wasn�t aware of them at first. I woke up one morning with a sore tongue and feeling like I had a terrible hangover. Shane calmly stated that I�d fitted in my sleep and bitten my tongue. I had absolutely no memory of it. It happened another two nights in succession and of course Shane went straight into action and I was booked in for a private (we�re not fucking around with NHS waiting lists) appointment with my neurologist pronto. I was scared enough not to cause dissent. To cut a long story short the neurologist could find nothing drastically wrong. Hitting my head when I fell on the bus was probably the trigger and in his view the night episodes would settle down over time. However, he still strongly advised an increase in medication for a little while, which I didn�t want to accept. Shane made the decision for me, an increase in meds it was. I was really pissed off and Shane and I had a couple of heated exchanges over it, and I�m sure you can guess who suffered most in the heat stakes. I hate the episodes and I hate the meds, it�s like being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Left to my own devices I have to say that in all honesty I probably wouldn�t strenuously manage my condition�and that�s exactly why I�m not left to my own devices. The boyfriends refuse to be enablers. They insist that risk is minimised where at all possible. They insist I take my medicine, they insist I take it on time. They insist that I eat and sleep properly and they insist that I don�t drink. Shane has even installed baby monitors in the bathrooms, so they can hear me when I�m in the shower or bath. Yep, you read that correctly, baby monitors! I�m too embarrassed to even begin to relate the paddy I flung when he waltzed home with them. It was just after the tragedy that killed John Travolta�s poor son. I argued that my episodes were nowhere near as severe as his, but Shane�s word is law and they got installed. Dick, for his part (and you know him and his parts) was a bit disappointed that the models were sound only and didn�t have video surveillance�he is such a perv. He refused to back up my complaints. He said it was fair enough for Daddy to want to protect his baby and he didn�t give a flying fuck if I thought it was all a bit ott. By way of revenge I faked an episode in the shower one evening, making terrible noises and pretending to slip over in the throes of a fit. I have to admit they both got on scene pretty damn quickly. Sadly they didn�t see the funny side of my joke and Daddy Shane just about blistered my bad boy bottom with the bath brush. It was my birthday yesterday. Of course there was no card from my mother and that upset me a bit. I�m not ashamed to admit that I shed a few tears. The men folk were very attentive and I got some lovely gifts and flowers. They had a surprise for me after dinner in the form of some light bondage play that they�d devised just for me. I was �kidnapped� from the kitchen, blindfolded and carried upstairs where I was stripped naked and then tied to the bed for some sensual torture. I was covered from head to toes in hot and cold kisses (achieved by my torturers drinking a hot or an iced drink just before placing the kiss) it was incredibly erotic, especially when they got down to my right honourable member. I enjoyed it very much and so did my enslavers. I�m trying to move some of my diary to a new site, but it�s a slow business. I�ve felt compelled to concentrate on doing more autobiog writing lately, so that eats up my computer time. I�ve got a chapter all about Valentines Day completed and I�m also writing up some events from last year. There�s no point posting them on this site, I�ll put them on the new one. Saturday 20th June 2009: Dick�s out playing golf this morning, though if the sky is anything to go by he�s due a soaking. There are some heavy storm clouds gathering, again. The lawns are a mess; I haven�t been able to mow them because it�s been too wet. It�s hard to keep on top of the gardening when it rains non-stop. I�m having a go at growing veggies this year and some strawberries. The weather has been a bit of a hindrance, and so have the slugs and snails, greedy little bastards eat everything. I�m thinking of gathering the snails up, boiling them and then smothering them in garlic butter, that�ll teach them to munch on my Little Gem lettuces, or should that be letti, I�m not quite sure what the plural of lettuce should be. I�m also growing tomatoes and peppers in the greenhouse and they�re coming along well. Gardening with Gilli, don't you just love it! Shane has gone to the gym. He told me off this morning for writing on the back of my hand. We�ve run out of toothpaste, I meant to get it yesterday, but forgot, so this morning after trying to squeeze the last drip out of the tube, I thought I�d better write myself a reminder note. I couldn�t find a scrap of paper so I wrote the reminder on the back of my hand. Shane saw it and did not like it. No boy of his is going around looking like a memo pad. I pointed out that it wasn�t exactly a tattoo and would soon wash off. He still didn�t like it and I was told not to do it again. It reminded me a bit of being a schoolboy and my mum telling me off for the self same thing. If I got bored during lessons I used to doodle on my hands, or my shirt cuff. It drove her up the wall. Dick got into real bother last weekend. It transpires that when he was down south visiting his family he also visited a few horse racing fixtures with a cousin of his, Alan. They ended up having some kind of bet with each other regarding betting. The winner would be he who could win the most using an accumulator bet. I�m no gambler, so I�m not really sure how these things work. I think the winnings from one race are then placed on a horse in another race and so on over a succession of different races. Dick�s bet crashed and burned after a few fixtures when one of his chosen mounts pulled up and didn�t finish the race. All he could hope for was that Alan�s bet went the same way, thus making the bet between them, null and void as they�d both have zero winnings. Alan rang up last weekend to gleefully inform Dick that his accumulator had paid off. His chosen mount in the final race had romped home first, so therefore he had also won the bet between them. The trouble is that Dick hadn�t mentioned any of this to Shane; the double trouble is that Shane answered the phone when Alan rang. Alan didn�t know that Shane didn�t know. He soon did know though and he was furious, not so much because of Dick placing the bet, the initial stake money was low and well within his allotted budget. However, the bet between him and his cousin wasn�t relatively low. It was phenomenal and wiped his budget off the face of the earth. Alan, like Dick, is a serious gambler, and if he had lost he would have paid up, so there was no question of Dick not honouring his debt. They�d shaken on it and that was that. The bets they�d placed on the races were small fry, a five-pound initial stake and however it grew from then on according to odds, but the bet made between the two of them was serious shit, and worth several thousand. Richard was called in for discussions with Daddy. I was sent down to the summerhouse and told to stay there until called back to the house. Poor Dick, he was quiet for a few days afterwards, and obviously in discomfort. Judging from the marks on his backside, he got a heavy strapping, not with Daddy�s belt, but a much meaner implement. He admitted that at the time he and his cousin had devised the bet they�d both had a few glasses of champagne and it had hindered common sense. He said that Alan has always been a source of trouble for him. Well, I�ve got things to do, so ciao for now. Sunday 28th June 2009: Poor Michael Jackson, how tragic is his death? Shane described him as a sad, lost little boy, despite the fact he was fifty years old. Physical age is meaningless in some respects. Age is an attitude of mind and emotion, and some people never ever make a full happy, healthy transition from childhood to adulthood. They get lost somewhere. Shane reckons that MJ was one of those people who had enormous talent and power, but absolutely no idea about how to control it and it destroyed him in the end. I know there were a lot of grey areas in the man�s life, but still, his death is sad. I�ve been watching some of the tribute programmes and enjoying his videos, some of them I�ve never seen. He was an incredible performer and a beautiful man, until the plastic surgery got out of hand. I actually had a bit of a falling out with my Daddies midweek. They were both on holiday from work, and Shane decided that he�d like to go away for a few days with Dick, just the two of them. He felt they really needed some time alone together, especially after the gambling incident last weekend. I think he felt that Dick�s actions were a sign that he felt neglected and in need of some concentrated Daddy time. They haven�t been away together for a while now, which makes me feel both glad and guilty. Glad, because I am, as Dick says, a possessive, jealous little bastard, and guilty because I know that they really need some �them� time and the only reason they haven�t been getting any is because of the increase in my episodes. They worry about me being on my own and to be honest I don�t think Shane fully trusts me to be diligent about taking my meds. Anyway, on Tuesday night, after dinner, Shane said he wanted a chat with me. The chat did not please me. He explained that he wanted to take Dick away for a break for a few days. He also explained that he was concerned about leaving me alone in the house for a protracted length of time, especially after the night fits I suffered recently. Therefore he had arranged for me to stay with Leo, just so there was someone immediately on hand if need be. I was stunned. I told him that if they wanted to go away then they could go away; I�d be just fine on my own. I wasn�t a bloody baby in need of 24-hour care, certainly not from Leo. Shane was in hardliner Daddy mode and he made it plain that the matter wasn�t up for negotiation. So, I was packed off to Leo�s. I�ll write it up in more detail later. I�ve actually been doing a lot of writing lately. Geocities closing down has made me think about what I�d do if the site were deleted without me having any kind of back up to it. I wouldn�t like it all just to vanish into the ether. I�ve kept copies of most of my autobiography chapters but a lot of the day-to-day diary entries, especially the early ones were just written straight onto the web page. I�ve been busy downloading copies of everything and I�m now organising it properly prior to transferring it to a new site. I�ll give my new web address just as soon as it goes live. We�re having a late lunch today so I�d better shift my arse and get on with making it before the men folk start bawling about being starved. |
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