#i went months only eating plain white rice and drinking meal replacement drinks because they were the only things i was certain wouldnt hurt

[decrepithag]

Someone, about me being really ill last year: So are you like...okay now? You’re at school more now so are you like, fine?? Like you found out what was wrong and its got treated and now you’re good?

Me: Oh, no I’m actually in the process of being tested for crohn’s disease :)

Them: Oh crohn’s isn’t even that bad. You just can’t eat seeds or drink wine or sometimes eat red meat.

Me, no longer being able to eat red meat, nuts, peaches, broccoli (aka my favourite food), cauliflower, raw carrots, onion, anything with a lot of fibre, too much gluten at once, tomatoes, anything slightly spicy, corn, potato skins, garlic, pop/soda/anything carbonated or anything oily/fried without having extreme abdominal pain for many hours after I eat and now having anxiety surrounding eating because I don’t know what will trigger me and cause my to have a horrible flare up and shit blood so I barely eat which is causing me to lose a lot of weight, not having enough spoons to properly deal with this person: haha yeah it sucks :’)

[discordandglory-blog]

Consolidation || Callum and Cat

Callum and Cat discuss the finer points over a meal at a Touch of Class.

Cat sat waiting for Callum. She was in her usual seat, a bottle of Malbec and Pinot Grigio had been waiting for her and she had helped herself to the red. The table was on the edge of the terrace, giving the occupants of it a beautiful view over the lake. Yet all Cat could think about was how just a few days ago they had been fighting an inferno a few kilometers from here. However, she was determined that this meeting go well. She had chosen a secluded spot where no one would overhear their conversation. She had even dressed to impress, where a sheer black dress that hugged all the right places and showed off all the correct parts. As Callum arrived, she rose from her chair to greet him, he had to lean down for her to kiss both of his cheeks -- much like the French did. “Callum,” she cooed, “I’m pleased you could make it, sit, have a drink.”

Callum had received the invitation from Cat whilst doing a drill with his Cohort. Even after a devastating fire, life at Camp had to go on. Being invited to dinner with Cat had intrigued him, why would the Centurion of the First Cohort and a member of the Cult summon him to dinner?  Nonetheless, he had decided to accept her invitation. He arrived at the said meeting place, the restaurant, A Touch of Class, and notified the host that he would be joining the Karavarda party. He had chosen to wear one of the only suits he had, which consisted of maroon trousers, a plain white button up shirts, no tie, and a navy blazer. He greeted her and then took his seat, unbuttoning his blazer as he sat. “Of course I would make it. I always have time for a fellow Centurion.” He replied, with his signature smirk on his face. He poured himself a class, and held it up, swirling the wine inside. “What can I do for you, miss Karavarda?” He didn’t normal address people with such a formal tone, but the energy of the restaurant had influenced him to do so.

Smirking at his address of her, Cat couldn’t help but reply in kind. “Well Mr Hayes, aside from joining me for one of the best meals in New Rome, there were a few things that I’d like to discuss with you in private. Believe it or not I’ve been taking a keen interest in your activities for a while.” She sipped at her wine and analysed him. He was dressed appropriately which was always a relief, and he seemed to understand what it meant for him to have been invited here. Yet at the same time there was something about the son of Cupid’s personality that set her on edge. He was too good at what he did sometimes and that worried her. She could play this game with all of the centurions and she wasn’t convinced that many of them would be able to play along with her. However Callum had the potential to make or break this situation, it was important that she won him over. “So, if you’re interested, I think that there is a lot that we could do to benefit one another.”

Callum uncharacteristically hadn’t taken a sip of the wine yet, not because he didn’t trust Cat, but rather that he wanted to stay sober for most of the conversation. He knew who Cat was, and by what Jax had told him, and with what he had seen with his own eyes, he knew that she was definitely a force to be reckoned with. This had made him a bit anxious about what the meeting would be about at first, causing him to think back on all the acts of mischief he had done in the last month that might have upset her. But when she said that there was something that they could both benefit from, Callum dismissed his list of things that he might have done wrong and instead, started making a new list of things Cat had in mind. “I am interested.” He said after a short pause, giving her a quizzical look. He thought back on how useless he was during the fire, thus concluding that the only thing that Cat could benefit from in a partnership with him, were his specific abilities. “But what could you benefit from having me involved?”

Of course he was interested. Cat didn’t need to be a genius to see that even before he had admitted it. She could read people and she had been taught to notice these things. Her father had been grooming her for something like this for years and this was almost second nature. “I know you’re a member of the cult, I know you’re a son of Cupid and I know what you can do. I don’t plan on remaining a centurion forever, but to get anywhere in this city then I’ll need some help.” She bit her lip gently, watching the wine in her glass for a moment as she considered what next to say. She was about to continue when they were interrupted by a waiter who had come to take their food order. Glancing at the menu, she shooed him away and asked him to return soon before continuing. “However, that can wait, have whatever you like, the meal’s already paid for, even if you say no, at least you can still enjoy a meal here. The waiting list is seven months right now, though it fluctuates of course.”

As soon as the words ‘I don’t plan on remaining a centurion forever’ left her mouth, a grin replaced his quizzical look. Callum watched her facial expressions, seeing that she had more to say, but was interrupted by the waiter. He sat up straight and picked up the menu, slowly paging through it. “You know, I can’t be bought.” He hummed. ���I’m not materialistic, so none of that would interest me, and neither would food. However, I won’t say no to a free meal that isn’t from the camp's kitchen.” He respected Cat, for the powerful woman she is. He knew that she had great passion for this city and the people in it. If she asked him to help her climb the ladder, he would probably do it for nothing in return but respect. “On that note,” He looked over at her, making eye contact, “I don’t know what you’re going to say next, but whatever it is, I’m in.”

Raising an eyebrow gently. Cat made a note of Callum’s mistake. She’d never have committed to something without knowing what it was that she had committed to. As the waiter return, she ordered herself a steak with salad and rice, she couldn’t abide by deep fat fried potatoes, even if they insisted on calling them fries. Waiting for Callum to order, she watched the waitress stride away. “Well that was easier than I thought it would be, although I wasn’t planning on buying you, it is good to know that your loyalty doesn’t have a price. All I will say to you, is that if you stick with me, then you won’t be climbing the ladder alone, you’ll be given access to resources that you could have never even dreamed off and I’ll provide you with anything you need.” She shrugged. “The truth is that if we’re careful we’ll be able to rule New Rome without anyone even noticing it, I just need you to trust me and I need assurances of your loyalty.” She sipped her wine cautiously before waiting for Callum’s reply.

Callum looked over the menu, which was pointless as he had no idea what half the meals were. He always ordered the same meal, regardless of where he went. It was a meal that he and his mom used to get together. He ordered a cheeseburger without fries. The burger bun was enough carbs on it’s own. He listened to what she had to offer him and nodded. He liked what he heard. He felt that this city had so much more potential that the senate wasn’t accessing. He also felt that a lot of the resources were being wasted on people that didn’t belong there. He knew Cat to be a woman that knows how to take charge, and that when she wants something, she gets it, one way or another. “The reason I said that I’m in without you telling me what it was, is because I know you to be someone that strives for greatness. I assumed that it would be something along these lines. You have no need to worry about my loyalty, I fully trust that you have this city’s best intention in mind. This is why I will help you, because this city is my home too, and I believe that you , miss Karavarda, have the passion and strength to turn it into something so great, that it would make history. “ He raised his glass and made a cheers with the air.

Raising perfect eyebrows, Cat listened carefully to Callum’s proposal. He could see her obvious worth. So why couldn’t her father? She pushed that thought away as they waited for their food to arrive. “Well it is always nice to receive a compliment like that. But you’re not wrong, I will make this city great again. I promise that you’ve got nothing to worry about. However words mean nothing, actions are what will prove whether you are truly loyal, so I want you to swear your loyalty on the river Styx and then we can really get started.” Twisting her hair through her fingers, she waited to see Callum’s reaction. “You don’t have to decide now, but once you have decided I won’t take a different decision.” She waited for his response, knowing that this could be the start of something great. However they were once more interrupted by the waiter, bringing them their meals. Picking up her knife, Cat slowly began to cut into the steak.

At the suggestion of swearing on the river Styx, Callum hesitated. He thought about all the things this could lead to and what the oath would force him to do. All he had to do, was swear his loyalty to her, did that mean that he had to follow out every order she gave him, or did it just mean that he couldn’t work against her? He watched as the waiter placed the burger in front of him, but refrained from eating just yet. He watched as Cat cut into her steak, still working everything out in his head. Would he ever want to be disloyal? Finally, he had made a decision. He picked up his knife and fork, and cut into his burger, which was weird as he normally ate burgers with his hands, but he felt that this wasn’t an acceptable place to do so. Before he placed the piece of burger in his mouth, he swore, “ I, Callum Rey Haynes, swear on the river Styx, loyalty to Cat Karavarda, as long as she does her utmost best to make this city a better place and follow the terms that we agree on in the following conversation.” He ended the oath by biting down on his fork and dragging it through his teeth, purposefully making a scraping noise. “Does that work for you?”

Smiling gently, Cat bit into her first mouthful of steak as Callum made the oath. She wasn’t sure if the steak was extra good, or maybe it was knowing that without much effort she had just made an ally and a friend, yet regardless she was all but convinced that the piece of steak that she had just enjoyed was more tender and juicy than any that she had ever tasted. She allow silence to hang in the air, chewing on the steak before swallowing. She sampled the wine before smiling gently and nodding. “Well, now that that is out of the way, we’re free to enjoy the rest of the evening. I’ll contact you when I need you Callum, but for the moment we will have to remain focussed on the senate house and its re-construction, that must be the priority right now.”

Callum, who had now almost completely devoured the burger, nodded in agreement. At the mention of the senate house reconstruction, he remembered something that he had been thinking about lately. “When it comes to the re-construction of the senate house, it would probably be in our best interest that we ensure a roman is placed in charge of the reconstruction, and not Annabeth.” He stated, washing down his now finished burger with the last of his wine. “However, I look forward to working with you in the future.” His smirk returned. He had become quite serious during the conversation, and now that the formalities were out of the way, he felt a lot more like himself.

[gaiatheorist]

Food insecurity.

This is me, this is my over-planning, and self-denial, in the face of the absolute mess that is Universal Credit. My ‘work coach’ intimated that the six-week minimum waiting period for the first payment could be reduced for new claimants, which is good, but doesn’t help people like me, who are already ‘behind.’ There’s also advice being circulated that claimants can ask for an immediate call-back, to avoid being charged for the 0345 number, that’s progress, but in my experience, you’ll have been on hold for a fair while before you even get an advisor to pick up, so you can ask for the call-back.

Nobody should be ‘better off on benefits than in work’, I haven’t had the TV on, to watch the Terrahawk respond to everyone’s favourite allotment-uncle with that, but I’ve picked it up on Twitter. Excuse me, I just need to rotate the champagne and caviar in my American-style fridge the size of a wardrobe. I’m being sarcastic, I’m not rotating the fridge-contents, because the second shelf of my fridge is held in place with a lolly-stick, some duct-tape, and a jar of chocolate sauce from when my son was here over the summer. 

I spent some time this morning researching the local food-banks. We have two in this village, and there are possibly others that aren’t ‘advertised’ online. I’m not planning to use them, I just know that some of the families that end up going there are going to be completely flummoxed by the 3-day parcel contents, and I feel I should try to help. There’s a skills-gap, that the Daily Mail and such like to pounce on, that poor people don’t know how to cook from scratch. Some don’t, my mother didn’t, ‘food’, was something that went straight from the freezer to the oven, the microwave, or the ever-present chip-pan full of solidified lard. The exception was ‘Sunday Dinner’, which was done in the pressure-cooker. “A bag of carrots is only 40p!”, well, I’m a canny cook, and I’m not sure how many meals I could get out of said bag of carrots, I do, however, know that demoralised parents, with demanding children will know that own-brand chicken nuggets are around 60p, and that the kids will eat them. If there’s credit on the gas or electricity meters to cook them.  

I’m used to ‘this’, to tins with plain white labels, and waiting until the pensioners have finished picking over the ‘reduced for quick sale’ section in Tesco, move aside, Gladys and Alf, you don’t like the look of that ‘foreign stuff.’ I’m used to going into the ‘bashed tin shop’, and trying to find the smallest piece of cheese they have, and then slice it REALLY thin. I’m used to food that isn’t really food, in that it will fill your belly, but provides no nutritional content. I’m used to going without, at first it was the ex who had the larger portion, the ‘better’ bit of the meal, and then it was the boy and the ex, I’m used to putting myself at the very bottom of the food-chain. I’m so used to being hungry that I don’t even notice it any more, years of just-not-eating as a teenager, and years of ‘saving’ food for other people have whacked my appetite as much as the brain injuries have cocked up my sense of when a ‘meal time’ is.

I’ve reverted back to that, to ‘saving’ food, even though I’m the only person in the house. “Don’t eat all of that.” is becoming a problem, in classic ‘Mum’ “You can’t have that, it’s for Christmas!” style. “Don’t eat that, what if the kid, or my weird visitor check the fridge?” “Don’t open that, you won’t use it all!” The irony here is that my cupboards and freezer are packed full, because I’m barely eating. I have enough money, between what’s left in my bank account, and the paltry Universal Credit payments, to last me a couple of months, so I’m ‘storing’ food, rather than eating it. I’m going to make myself ill, and I’m more worried about the other families in the village not knowing how to cook rice than I am about myself. Bottom of every list.

The other families are used to having their various benefits paid weekly, or fortnightly, they won’t have month-cupboards like mine, stuffed with tinned pulses that taste of nothing, and dried beans that take hours to cook. There’s tinned meat, and fish, I’m ‘saving’ it, and that’s my problem, I need to stop doing that, because I’ll make myself ill, nobody wants to read about a woman starving to death in a house stocked with food. I’m well-stocked because I’ve been buying a little bit extra of things that will last a long time. The other families won’t shop like that, when you’re paid weekly, you shop weekly, here’s no ‘big shop’ once a month, on pay-day, it’s a drip-feed, a trickle of whatever you can afford. We have one supermarket in this village, the next-nearest is roughly 2 miles away, and the ‘budget’ supermarket is about 3 miles out. For the ‘helpful’ people who like to comment that food is cheaper from market stalls, the nearest market is about 10 miles away, the return bus-fare is £4. The ‘standard’ element of Universal Credit, for bills, and food, and such, is £317 every four weeks for a single person, I don’t know what ‘family’ rates are, this system is less transparent than the old ones, I tell a lie, I’ve found it. https://www.entitledto.co.uk/help/Universal-Credit-Rates but try working that out if you have limited internet access and your literacy and numeracy skills are poor. I’ll work on my situation, because that’s what I’ve been doing for the last six months. (I’m over 25, no idea at all why the system differentiates on an arbitrary age-difference, technically a person under 25 might still be developing, hello future osteoporosis, and perhaps a resurgence in rickets and scurvy.) 

£317, for four weeks, it ‘should’ be possible to live on that, shouldn’t it? We’ll take out of the equation that was probably what I earned in a week when I was working, yes, I’ve ‘tightened my belt’, and ‘cut my cloth to suit’, and such. The £317 isn’t £317 in my case, because the ‘housing’ element, that replaces Housing Benefit for UC doesn’t cover my rent, I’m essentially ‘borrowing’ from the ‘standard’ element. Borrowing the shortfall, of £150 per month from the £317, leaving me £167 a month for bills, and groceries. £41 a week, or thereabouts, I’m not going to calculate it properly, that has a more instant effect on my guts than only eating once a day, because I have to factor-in the energy cost of heating the food I already have stock-piled. I’m still on direct debits for my energy costs, a lot of people will be on pre-payment meters, take at least £10 a week from the £41 a week, to top-up the meters, and you can see where this is going. Another £10, for mobile phone credit, to comply with the ‘Claimant Commitment’ of daily internet job-searching? Gods help them if they have to phone the 35p/minute helpline. 

The assumption that everyone knows how to budget monthly is going to hit a lot of people very hard. A trip to the local pay-point shop, to top up gas, electricity, mobile etc, I’ve been in post-office queues behind people. Now, if you think ahead, and put four weeks credit on the cards/keys at once, that takes one hell of a chunk of your available budget. I’m only having slight palpitations when I check my bank balance, if this continues for a couple more months, I’ll be worse than that. (I’m waiting for the tribunal on my disability claim to go through, so I know how much of a reduction in hours/income I can stand, committing myself to ‘any suitable’ full-time job at this point is a risk I’m not willing to take, for me, or other parties.) 

I am cautious, I’ve had extended periods of my life where there was more month than money, I know about the factory reject shops, and the tricks to pay lower delivery charges than the bus-fare would cost. There’s enough canned and frozen food in the house to last me for months, it won’t just be ‘me’ for one of those months, when the kid is back from uni. (leaving lights on, and doors open...)   For people that only bought food week-to-week, there isn’t going to be that stockpile, and the job-coaches delivering the ‘budgeting advice’ have never been as dirt-poor as we are. (My job-coach doesn’t do her own grocery shopping, her husband ‘deals with all of that’, she has no idea of the cost of anything.) ‘We’ are being lectured about buying essential products from convenience shops, about buying in bulk being more cost-effective, about cooking from scratch being more cost-effective. Yes, a sack of potatoes is more cost-effective than pre-packed over time, but I’m not going to use a whole sack of potatoes, and the £1-odd is easier to bear than the £6 to £10 for a 25kg sack, when you have £40 a week for bills AND food. (I have 2 potatoes left, that’s how poor-conscious I am, I could probably list how many/much of everything I have left in the house.)

I’m watering down my shower-gel and washing up liquid, I’m wearing 3 jumpers instead of turning on the portable heater, because, even on the lowest setting, it uses 67p/hour. The kettle uses 35p/hour, the washing machine £1.47, and the oven £1.53. I’m rationing my hot drinks, both due to the kettle-cost, and the fact that £4 for a jar of coffee, or £2 for a box of tea-bags means something else I can’t-have in my grocery shopping. Yesterday, I un-did my online grocery basket, juggling, balancing what I already had in, because I haven’t used it, with things I’d put in the ‘basket’ on auto-pilot. This is the reality of Universal Credit, we know it’s not supposed to be nice, that’s the deliberate disincentive, if I COULD have ‘just’ secured another job straight away, believe me, I would have done it, but I’m still battling my way through the NHS, and the PIP system with my brain injuries, Ken Loach would have a field day with me, I’m missing-meals ‘Katie’, and disabled ‘Daniel’ in one.

Away with me, I ‘should’ volunteer to give budget-stretching advice, and cooking demos at the local food-banks, and community centres, but my medical condition fluctuates so much I can’t commit to that. Also, the number of times I cut/burn myself preparing food might be a little off-putting for the type of people who would rather slam a tray of sausage and chips in the oven. (And remember they’d done it, not wander off, then wonder why the smoke alarm is going off.) I’ll do what I can online, signposting and such, and try not to get too annoyed at the ‘luxury’ ingredients that creep into the ‘love food, hate waste’ website. I don’t have ‘leftover’ lamb, thank you very much, I did manage to snag a tray of stewing lamb chunks out of the yellow-sticker area a few weeks ago, and it WAS a treat, the ‘stew’ was watered down on the second day, and on the third day, it was essentially soup. 3 meals, out of £1.46 of lamb, a bag of frozen casserole mix, and a handful of dried beans. I made a tin of tomato soup last 3 meals this week, by throwing a scrambled egg into the ‘other half’ on the second day. It was so disgusting I couldn’t eat half of it, so that was the third day sorted.

‘No evidence of malnutrition’ on my PIP-assessment, to be fair, I’m still carrying a little fat from the inactivity, but it’s impossible to evaluate ‘malnutrition’ based on a visual assessment of ‘appeared to be of a normal weight.’ We are going to see malnutrition return under Universal Credit, the foundations are already there, in the frozen-chips-skills-gaps. This food insecurity presents oddly in me, due to my lack of appetite, I acknowledge that, I’ve had so many years of food-avoidance that I don’t have much of a ‘hunger’ trigger any more. The brain damage making food taste ‘odd’, and all the new difficulties I have preparing/cooking food have just exacerbated not-wanting-to-eat. It will present differently in other people. Skipping meals will lead to irritability, arguments, domestic violence, potentially worse. Lack of money for food will lead to shoplifting, to burglaries and street crime, once all the pawn-able good are gone. 

This system is a mess, and it is my opinion that it was the intention for it to be. A life ‘on benefits’ shouldn’t be a life of luxury, everyone acknowledges that, nobody ‘needs’ chocolate, and Sky TV, obviously, I have neither. The ‘waiting period’ will catapult some claimants straight into zero-hours contracts doing anything-at-all, then they’re not the government’s responsibility when they have 40 hours one week, and 4 the next. The claim is held open for six months after employment is secured, the system knows that people are going to bounce between temporary and zero-hours jobs, but, hey, they’re not unemployment statistics. The influx of ‘seasonal’ work will mitigate the figures for a couple of months, they will spike again in January, as the full roll-out is scheduled for next April.

It isn’t working, other than to further divide this already fractured society. ‘Just’ get a job, ‘just’ buy own-brand, ‘just’ pull your socks up, and get on with it. The system isn’t just, and it isn’t justifiable to assume that thousands of vulnerable people, some lacking skills, can navigate it. I’m lucky, my phone and internet are still connected, I can limp by from home, rather than having to drag myself to the Job Centre or library every day, to check-in on a system that my job-coach told me this week there was no point bothering with, due to the frequency of technical issues with it. I saw a little old man painstakingly writing down contact details from one of the two-of-four terminals that were working this week, I can’t see anywhere in my Job Centre that provides a phone to use, though. 

Poverty line? I can’t even see it from here. Nobody is ‘entitled’ to be ‘kept’ by the state, but these systems, like many people’s food situations, are not providing any level of security. Some of us will quietly starve, some will be unable to access medical treatment, some will be victims of violent crime, as the insecurity widens, and, whether through poverty, or mental illness, or pure, abject inability to cope, neighbours turn on each other. This village has areas where ‘undesirables’ are re-located after evictions, or fleeing domestic abuse, that estate will be the worst-hit, but not the first-hit. The first-hit will be the more affluent areas, because some people who can’t afford to eat will break into houses, and steal goods to sell-on. In the middle band, I’ll be hit by that, because my contents insurance premiums will rise, there’s nothing of value here to steal, but I still pay the insurance, in the same way I paid tax and national insurance from the age of 18. (Possibly a little before that, I can’t remember if there were deductions from my part-time wages between the age of 16 and 18.) 

Today’s menu is chicken soup, the same as yesterday’s, I suppose I ought to freeze the rest, to reduce the risk of being sanctioned for not work-searching if I get food poisoning from re-heating the same food for three days in a row.