Sanity Returns

Well, I spoke to C again this morning.  He is coming back in his own boat. He’ll go to Corfu first and then island hop here, so it’ll be a week or so.

I went back over the blog and deleted most of the ridiculous stuff I had been posting, sometimes two or three times a day. The hysteria did me no credit, and the result was embarrassing. I’ve just left in the couple of entries I’m not too ashamed of.

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Good News -What a relief

I heard from Carfilhiot. It was terrible reception, as usual. Apparently there was some kind of problem at the Albanian end, but it’s all sorted now and he’s coming home. On the phone I think I was angry with him. I was a bit drunk as usual. But when I pressed End, I just burst into tears and screamed and everything. It was the first time I’d broken down since he went.

You see, I’d begun to suspect that it was all a put-up job, and that he’d done a runner to get rid of me. And you know how that feeds on itself.

Thank God.  Thank God.  That’s all.

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At my wits end

Now I’m at my wits end, because I went to Albania. It’s very nice there really, and people were quite helpful, but they looked at me a bit funny, as a lone female.

I found the address and tried to get some sense out of them, but they just shrugged and looked stupid. I got nowhere at all. I came back the same day having achieved nothing.

I went back to the British consul in Corfu. He was very nice, but, as he pointed out, it was hardly his problem, as his embassy is in Athens. But he relayed a message to his counterpart in Albania.

I called Alexis. He hasn’t heard. I didn’t expect him to have, but I had to ask.

I don’t know what else to do. Carfilhiot’s mobile still doesn’t answer and I’m getting very distressed. I keep drinking too much. I just sit in the bar and order drink after drink until I can hardly walk back to the room. Frankly, I think I’m going a bit peculiar again because it’s very dangerous to be a drunk woman by herself in a hotel.

I’m going back to our own island and wait there. At least there’s Alexis who’s just as anxious. I suppose I could contact the Press, but Carfilhiot would be furious, I’m sure, because he wants NO PUBLICITY.

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Oh God… What to do.

I am kind of forced to start blogging again, because Carfilhiot has disappeared since his most recent blog entry on 3rd April.

As you will see in his own blog, he set off optimistically enough, but he just never turned up again. We were going to stay in touch by cell phone because Albania has GSM coverage, it should have been no problem, but his phone was switched off. Of course I left loads of messages.

I was in Corfu a week before I did anything, because Carfilhiot has warned me that absolutely everything takes absolutely ages.

I went and spoke to one of the guys he’d been in the meeting with. He knew nothing.  He just looked gloomy and said he hadn’t heard. I pestered him until he gave me an address and telephone number in Saranda which rang, but mostly didn’t reply and when it did nobody spoke English.

I contacted C’s lawyer in Corfu that came to us when they were investigating Ginger. He evidently regards C as a highly suspicious character, which with C’s history, I guess you have to sympathize with. He was just totally unhelpful.

I wasn’t sure how Carfilhiot would regard it if I involved the British Consul in Corfu. I mean, I expected to hear from C every hour because he knows my mobile number, so it seemed a bit alarmist. Even if he dropped his mobile overboard, they have telephones in Albania, don’t they? But maybe his phone’s bust and he only had my number on his SIM…

Anyway, what I decided I told the consul I was going to Albania looking for a friend, and if I don’t turn up again, will he send out a search party, please. He kind of grinned at that.

And now I’m telling my readers, if any, that I’m going tomorrow. Please set up a hue and cry if I fail to post, say, in a week.

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Hello, again!

Well, here I am, in sunny Greece again. Soon as I could, I just took a flight to Athens and then went back to the island I was at last Easter. I guess more in hope than anything else. It took me several days to pluck up courage to go to Nikos’s Taverna, by which time – I had lost track – it was New Year’s Eve, and there he was – Carfilhiot, as I must call him here, with a young nerd called Alfredo who was well on the way to oblivion already. I got a fantastic welcome from everyone. C. in particular but also Alexis and Nikos who I never expected to remember me.

And the best thing – no-one asked why, when, whatever. I was just accepted. And I’m living with him now. Carfilhiot. It was a bit crowded when Alfredo was there, but he went three weeks ago. We’ve been talking about moving to a bigger place.

The funny thing is.. I’ve lost the need to blog. Blogging must have been some sort of sign I was miserable.

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Free at Last

Finished the rehab a couple of days ago. It was dire, but I don’t intend to go into that. At least I’m looking a bit better. They say I’m cured. I’m not so sure. I had a lot of time to think in the clinic and I realised that Amazon Harlequin is not for me. I kind of liked Damp Patch, but the only good thing about Amazon Harlequin was the money.  Joe Goldman is still trying to put the band together, though Xaviera, who was in the clinic at the same time as me, seems like a broken reed now. She looks and talks like an unemployed lavatory cleaner. It’s pathetic, really.

I got my own lawyer, and we talked it over with Joe Goldman and his brief. Joe wasn’t exactly upset to see me resign. If the band never plays another note, Joe’ll die rich on the CD royalties. But he put up a show of resistance and there was a bit of haggling about the money, but at the end of the day I won’t have to work for a few years, though I’ll never get a cut of the royalties to which I was never really entitled. Fair enough.

The best news of all is that Martin has “copped a plea” as the expression goes, and I won’t even have to give evidence. So, I’m free at last. I think I’ll leave the country as soon as I can pull myself together.

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Well this is the first serious entry here for some time and my head is clear I think for the first time since July. Due to having been banged up in the nick for the last day and night. So it’s not all good. I looked in the mirror a few minutes ago and I look awful. I mean, skinny, and my face is all drawn and I look like an addict.

Of course, that’s exactly what I’ve been, even though I didn’t say so here before.

The thing is. Martin has turned this place into a drug supply warehouse.  All the happy visitors were buyers. OK, Martin kept it exclusive, but it is a crime to supply class A drugs after all, and I can’t pretend I didn’t know what was going on. I just trusted Martin and the janitors to keep it discreet, which they did pretty well at. In return I got what I wanted. Thank God I was satisfied with just a little. I imagine it could have been worse. I saw such sights among the punters who turned up here.

In any case, it all came to an end when the cops rolled up and searched the place and arrested me and Martin and a couple of customers. You may already have seen it in the papers. It looked pretty bad for me, but Joe Goldman got me a good brief, and, in exchange for ratting out Martin, which didn’t hurt at all, I wasn’t charged.  I also have to move out of the apartment, of course, and go into rehab.

Just so everyone knows, I feel pretty low.

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