Parrot, Protest and Vomit

Tim the parrot is currently sitting at the top of one of his ladders, watching me type. Neelam dropped him off yesterday and he’s just started to relax a bit and trust me enough to take food from my hands. Considering what a stressful couple of days he’s had (vet, car ride, stange new house, no mum) it’s good progress. Tim is a cockatiel and we’re parrot sitting him for a couple of weeks while Neelam is India visiting her family.
I went off to an anti-war protest outside the American Embassy yesterday and met up with Dave (harvey) and family. There were probably more police than protesters sadly, but it wasn’t publicised very well – and next week is the big one. We’re going to try and bust the record of the last one – biggest wartime anti-war demo in history. The government have to know they haven’t won, and they won’t be forgiven. People are more angry now than ever – good.
If you have any doubts about the true nature of this war, then please try and find a copy of “The Money Programme” from last week. The college library has a copy (video 13823). It’s called “The War for Oil” and it consists of the major players in the dispute, together with reps from the oil companies openly talking about how Iraq had to be put under American control if the oil-based American economy was to have a future. There is no question it is a war for oil and all of that bollocks about liberation and human rights is simply evidence that Blair, Wanker and the rest are cynical liars and murderers.
Our troops are being insulted…and they’re starting to realise it. Several of them refused to shoot innocent civilians, and have been imprisioned.

Support our troops – bring them home!

before the trigger happy U.S. cowboys kill any more of them.
After the demo, Dave and I sat in the Spice of Life and passed a pleasant couple of hours with a pleasant couple of pints. A nice day all in all. In the evening Michele and I played with Tim and watched a video…it was all going so well..
…then Michele came down with food poisoning…badly. She hasn’t slept all night and I can’t begin to describe what she’s been through. She’s lying asleep now, looking whiter than a Tunde Arungundade snowman and NHS direct have disallowed her any water until 9:30…ooh its that now – I’ll get her some…
She’s looking a lot better – the woman from NHS direct is going to call back in a while to see how she’s doing.
As Michele was “up and down like a dog at a fair” all night, my own sleep was turbulent. Horrible dreams. One part that stands out was hearing gunshots. They were obviously coming from nearby because you could even hear the cartridge hitting the ground. Looking through the window of the room I was in, I could see a young guy, probably around 15, standing on a balcony adjoining our house, firing a semi-automatic pistol at a crowd of peace protesters. There was blood everywhere. He looked insane and appeared to be shooting indescriminately, so everyone in the room lay down on the floor and hoped he wouldn’t see us. We were sure he’d run out of ammo, but he didn’t, shot after shot and no sign of letting up. Eventually he ran into the room and started shooting us one by one. We were playing dead and so there was no noise but the gunshots. As every person was killed, rather than seeing it, I saw their lifes work – an author was killed and I saw her books – it was like watching a film – everyone was quiet, hoping to be overlooked. It was my dream, so I should have been killed last, but I wasn’t – I felt the gun to the back of my neck, heard the shot and felt the pain – but then I became detached, like a ghost.
That wasn’t the most surreal part of the dream, but probably the most disturbing…I can’t remember a lot more – and it probably wouldn’t make any sense if I described it….just thought I’d share that….please don’t call a doctor.

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