Hello. I haven't emailed for a while. And before I launch into a list of my experiences of the day, I would like to thank you for your support when I emailed you before.

Since my last contact, I have visited my new GP, twice, and have discussed my feelings with her. She is a wonderful woman, very positive, encouraging, and she doesn't appear to think I am wasting her time, which was my biggest fear when I went to see her initially.

I am so used to being composed and shielding my hurt feelings from those around me (family, friends and colleagues at work) that I was overwhelmed when I went to talk to her and found myself not only in tears but unable to speak for the majority of our few minutes together.

She has referred me for counselling at a local practice, but I have to wait until August until my sessions start.

I understand that the service will be oversubscribed, and busy. And she is continuing to offer me support with appointments as often as I like (currently these are monthly, perhaps mainly because I don't feel comfortable taking up much more of her time). The appointments are made by me, so I could see her (or another GP) more often if I wanted.

Talking about my feelings, especially my feelings of depression and worthlessness, is a very new experience for me. I am usually the listener. I feel I am there, offering support, for the majority of my close friends and family, but not in a position to ask for any myself.

At the bus stop this afternoon I was tootling on my harmonica a bit, trying to work out how to play 'Sittin' on Top of the World', an old blues version I know with mass-whistling. While I was playing it this old, old white-haired guy with a handlebar moustache and a short ponytail came to the stop, so I soon stopped, because I don't like playing when there are random strangers around, especially when I'm just trying to figure out a tune.

A little later though, he asked me 'Were you playing on a mouth-organ just then?' and when I said yes I was, he told me how he remembered when all the kids had them, back in the 30s. 'Beautiful music!' he said, keenly. Some of them had Jew's harps too, he said, with a little twangy motion of his hand in front of his mouth in case I didn't know what he meant. He had tried it himself, in his youth, couldn't get the hang of it though.

A bus pulled up driven by a guy with a really quite spectacular beard. 'He shouldn't be driving a bus with a beard like that, should he? Can't see over the top of it, it's like a hedge!'

When my bus arrived I thought he was going to get on it, but then he didn't, so I didn't get to say goodbye properly. Maybe we'll meet again...

Usually I go to the top deck of the bus, but for some reason I didn't today, which I suppose is why I was exposed to the full rowdiness of the after-school crowd, usually contained somewhat by the geometry of the upper deck. Giggling, teasing exuberance, personalities broadcasting and clashing. I smirked a little when one of the girls asked the boy behind me (dyed-orange hair, attention-grabbing) if he was going out with the girl next to him (natural redhead, ponytails, unsuccessfully attention-avoiding), and then, when he stubbornly ignored her and kept listening to his MP3 player, asked him again MUCH LOUDER so that everyone could hear, MP3 player or no. No, he said, he wasn't seeing her.

The asker and her accomplice switched their interrogation to me: Why are you laughing? Where are you from? Are you just on holiday up here then? What music do you like? Do you like classical music? I don't. How old are you?

The red-haired girl got off at the same stop as me, asked me where I lived in Edinburgh then, if not round there; confided that those girls are pretty annoying, and the boy with the 'fake orange highlights' is 'weird'. I think she kinda likes him though.

Remember, remember the Karl Rove November
votestealing, treason and plot
I see no reason why votestealing treason
Should ever be forgot.

George Bush, George Bush,
'twas his intent
to take down Saddam and his Government.
9/11 abused for justification
into war was dragged our poor blinded nation.
God's providence cited as reason on both sides of the fight
For dark plans and dark words, and foul things done in the night.

Holloa boys, holloa boys, make Congress ring
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save George the King!

Hip Hip Hoorah!

Unlimited power for the NSA
The GOP Congress to save them.
Halliburton grown fat on war,
Special appropriations feed them.
Impeach him in a tub of tar.
Indict him as a blazing liar.
Convict his office from his head.
Then we'll be done with ol' George as read.
Hip hip hoorah!
Hip hip hoorah!

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