PCR TEST AND THE WORSE DAY OF ALL.
I simply woke and brushed my teeth without toothpaste and drank a scalding cup of tea then scrubbed my cheeks and my horrifically yellow furry tongue, then swilled my mouth and spat the ghastly build up of gunk from my tablets the night before. And before I knew it, a knock on the door and the test had arrived.
I make no bones about this, I left the woman to fill in all the crap and forms I was refusing to do anything in my state of mind. I told her I couldn’t get it near my throat and she soothingly said just the cheeks very gently and kindly, and the nose I said? I can’t do the nose, she just indicated literally the outside of the nostril. So basically I was home and free with nearly nothing but I still retched and gagged with the process. The barcode attached to my paper special form (don’t lose that or you’re not going anywhere she urged) and a screenshot of the gov registration form ‘confirmed’ the process was over. Sadly to say though that once done it weighs heavily on your mind. You have until the next day to receive the results. Now considering I’ve done this three times before I know that stress. My day was to go spiralling down into a black pit of hysteria.
I ate a tiny bit of my breakfast, tidily puked it up, made ginger tea and tried again with the curse of the WiFi blackspot that is my room. With ‘mechanics’ failing me I went back to bed again. There’s a lot of bed involved in prison. I can see further along the line you start with the exercise and build up your muscles and your strength, then later the tats (tattoos) come along (I will have one of a dead bird) but for the first shocked days I’m sure everyone just wants to curl up and die. I went downstairs many times for the medics, Paul (disappeared) and cigarettes. Walking on the grassy knoll held no attraction to me. Thin lipped I went back to my room.
No amount of explaining the frustration of not being able to sort out the internet will ever be sufficient. All attempts to take my mind off the constant walkie talkies of my prison guards, buzzing and crackling and blurting out the room numbers of people coming up or going down in the lifts, could not be eradicated. My situation was crushing my soul and something had to give.
It gave at around five o’clock. I shattered into millions of pieces. I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t breathe, my heart was booming and fast in my chest and I ran from the room to go downstairs, I cared not for the fucking protocol and they let me. I staggered out of the lift crying and sobbing and a lady guard came up to me and held onto my arm as I careered down the short route to the outside. I stood crying and my face was uncontrollably twitching, I sobbed and just couldn’t stop. I think it went on for about an hour and when I attempted to go back in I started again. This time a lovely lady guard put her arms around me and walked me to the green. The tears wouldn’t stop as I blathered my woes including not being able to even buy myself a drink to calm myself down a bit because they wouldn’t take cash and the exemption man had evaporated into thin air and I was sure that I would shortly start seizing.
She was truly kind even removing her mask from her nose and talked me down from the very high cliff I perilously stood on. Going indoors again after a while she said that she would buy me a glass of wine and the manager came to me saying they were all frustrated for indeed this was nothing more than a prison, his words not mine. He then came to my room and attempted to sort out the damn internet and finally although unsuccessful with that saw I had calmed down so took his leave after a glass of red wine arrived. Never has such a small deed of decency been so appreciated.
As I slowly drank and my sobbing calmed I climbed back into my bed and lay there depleted but at least felt the benefits of the kindness and the wine.
In my life I have never been so hysterical and felt so betrayed and abandoned by the system, and the last dregs of love I had for our so called democratic and free nation, finally was lost. The scales had fallen from my eyes.
Trust is a thing hard earned, my father fought in the second world war but later in his life also began to question what was really happening behind closed doors. The trust I have now has been shattered. I will only trust those who also have seen through this terrible long planned charade. I will never trust the system in this country again and I’m glad I had started with an inquiring mind and smelled a rat at the outset of this global tyranny.
Paying nearly £2,500 to be locked up and have tests forced upon you that are not fit for purpose, for a virus never isolated is a thing of such outrageous scheming and a thing you can do nothing about from the confines of this fascist scheme.
Whether you agree with me or not is of little importance to me, as a human being I would never treat other human beings like this.People in here are missing cancer treatments and like me are suffering terrible physiological damage as a result of this huge lie.
OVER AND BLOODY OUT
Soho art offices and my sculpture in London, then my old film work amd fashion modelling. Check it out.