I'm all set for the benefit tribunal on Tuesday. I've still got a letter to collect from the doc's. My doctor is usually pretty good about this sort of thing but I saw a different one to ask for a copy of part of my records and a covering letter. I got the covering letter but not the copy, and was charged £15 admin fee. It also took rather a long time and I've missed the window for submitting evidence for this particular letter. I'll just have to take it with me. The last month has all been about seeing advisors and collecting evidence. It's been a monumental task and I've had very little energy for anything else.
The stakes for Tuesday were raised when I got a letter last week saying they had withdrawn my Disability Living Allowance, based on the (flawed) medical assessments I'd had for Incapacity Benefit and Employment and Support Allowance. As it turns out, I was wrongly advised to apply for ESA which is ironic because they've used the assessment I had against me. If it goes well on Tuesday and they overturn the IB decision we'll be ok and I'll have much more ammunition for my DLA appeal. If it doesn't we will be in a very difficult place, but I am trying not to think about that.
I don't take much solace in the idea that we are not alone in this. And I rather think it's all going to get much worse before it gets better - for the country I mean.
Meanwhile, in a little pond somewhere in the West Midlands, dozens of tiny froglets are preparing to go out into the big wide World. I'm fascinated by our pond and spends hours just watching it.
Those white lines are actually next door's cat's whiskers. He likes to drink out of the pond and doesn't seem too bothered by the frogs. And they don't seem too bothered by him.
Aren't they dinky? About the size of a fingernail.