The Quack is the Culprit, Again.

So, after a week of nothing happening, the hold-up in my exit process has been identified. It was, no surprise, my quack, Dr. Helen Reynolds. Now, things are underway. It is about damn time. Sometime soon, I will be sipping coffee and eating pizza with dear, old friends. I miss home as much as I miss traveling right now. I need a good, long flight to mellow me out. I always zen out when I am in transit.

The locals have been confusing. Some are actually friendly, now. Liverpool is finally starting to get its head out of its oversized backside on topics of me in my company. Just when I was about ready to bash heads in because the people here were constantly rude to me, they started to warm up. Huh, they are beginning to treat me like a human just in time for me to leave. It had to happen eventually. Let us hope the warmning trend continues.

Imaginary Daniel was just in town to see me. We celebrated his birthday and spent some long overdue time catching up. There is something addictive in good company; I absolutely did not want to let him go.

Today, I went to visit a couple of former patients of the Windsor House Quack Ward. Tomorrow, I am having coffee with a fellow inmate. Friday, I am seeing yet another former patient for some social time on the town. This has been a week of good, new friends... Let's hope we all stay in touch.

I now have eight hours a day to spend out and about off of the ward. Right now, I am at the public library typing these lines to the world and posterity. I am going to try to hunt up some live music this week. Liverpool is supposed to be known for its music, isn't it? Why is live music so hard to find, then? Wish me luck!