This morning, like all mornings, I awake, being faced with the decision, to either go out begging on the cement, or keep feeling these hunger pains. I have decided to starve to death, rather than face begging. I just don't care any more. I am working, I shouldn't have to beg, just for food. Any kitchen, in any country in the world, offers their staff food, but not GB. Tax Credits? Gone. Naturally, seeing as how I am poor and working, it does not make sense to support a single male. I should have signed on the dole or mEnTaL benefit, but I am not able to, because of pride.
I read the Tax letter, they want over £655 "Liable To Recovery". How on earth am I able to pay that, when I am starving to death?
I have made arrangements to go and live with Didier and Maxime in the Vosges. I cannot live like this. No food. No future. Just the spectre of debt-recovery and eviction hovering over me as a frozen wraith. The housing Corporation have not fixed the big hole in the roof, for months, all winter. Today, I am going to march down there, and just tell them, until they fix the hole, I am going to spend my wages on food. This will cause another court case. I just don't care, I am going to cut the paintings out of the frames, smash up all my instruments (except Arion), burn my books and leave, never coming back, to this hell-hole.
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