Break away from awaiting a slow killing via NHS.

Remember, at our final quarter, that this is shit: this is the end of life as we know it. It can't provide for any future. The wheels keep rolling but the path is running into scrub. Away for me. Six months until my first Diagnostic session (on Wednesday) and now another month barely alive waiting in line for the next appointment. It's in my bones. So cold I feel in this world. It was made by me, but how? Why did I put myself at 43 in such a preposterous place vis-à-vis people? The next bus heading West. It is a common drug: barren of truth. Coffee has not been in my veins a week and I didn't miss this. I missed the bus - another X99. Lots of sections which I can't deny. Oh to walk through a portal and be there without my mind hitting meltdown. I've been hidden since October. So I guess I should "come out" for what it is worth. I am for Zadar; what are your brutally loud crawling bodies of youth, mothers and fathers, belonging to Purgatory, for?

Bus time return inwards: regardless of corrosive tinnitus. Ravedeath 1972, Piano Drop is allowed within to hide my peace from grammatically challenged girls. Up the stairs the views over to the Wharfe and Saint Oswald's church to my right. More slaves to my left. Five more years of being led by lying robots. When do politicians stop on the treadmill. When do they wake up to the black lies painted, veneered, varnished and graffit'd over hidden from all but a few eyes? The rain falls grey and sullen on supine bleached bodies laying icy to the touch.

Memorials where legions dead do watch blinking disbelief that this pain is still lingered over. Buried in a corner of a forgotten field but recalled whenever a distraction is needed. I thank you for your unnecessary deaths, but I don't appreciate homage to those that are beyond hearing. Seventy years since the carnage Churchill, Wilhelm, et al, metered out 1914, ended in two angry strikes against those in paper houses where only rocks were needed to break bones. Go you to the Somme and shake a fist at the vicious elite for whom the bell should've tolled. It never did. They walked through halls at Eton, Winchester, Harrow all and never apologised to those shoved down mines, riveted to ships or threw-up bilious over bloody mud rotted fields. Blame those ancestors of your 'better's' for death in the 100millions.

...

Leaving Leeds Station I have to reflect that I really love the faux friendly beer culture from Duncan Street to New Station Street. I love the huge welcome as I arrogantly decide the fate of various beers IMHO. More Ravedeath, 1972 because I can't catch eyes. I am so frightened of a look. Am I so unworthy? This seems so. If only I wasn't so afraid. Shit!

...

It was worth all the interlocking craps from X99, Train, bland Airport lounge - free grub and coffee, the blue and bland Ryanair RyanAir Lionel Blair. Number two on the door. Huge bed. No complains, except the depressurization didn't cure my tinnitus.

...

The bells ring out in Zadar. It is Sunday morning. The birds talk amongst themselves from the bower beyond the shuttered windows, vines shady and cool in the summer. Peace hangs lightly and silence is there between the bird song. Last night I left the main bus terminus and headed away right for two blocks, before asking for directions. Jakob and Ivan walked me to the football stadium, and I was told to listen to Black Sabbath Live Evil at all costs, from there it was along Mostarska for two minutes until I found this large double bed at number 8 (£12 Airbnb). It is not on the Old Town, which is where the majority of the bus catchers (25 Kunas) were heading, but I'm fine with finding my way from here; apparently there is a "sea organ" so that might disturb the solitude?

I walked for two hours around the promontory, where the ferry departs for Ancona, found the Monastery (but will call in the in the morning), changed money, was shouted at by a Croatian imbecile, tried the asparagus being sold in the market square, found local wine from a tap and now dwell in cafe bar Pod Bedemom - small coffee.

The sun is out! You must wear sunglasses: it's compulsory. Now I return to soup, salad, Riesling and siesta. Finding my way back through numerous tenements, disused zones, sports courts surrounded by rusty fencing and passed a lo-fi supermarket precinct. The locals are happy for our tourist money. This house in the suburbs is vast and empty and it makes me wonder who had the financial acumen to build it and live here. Three generations live here, but it is a million miles from the hastily formed tenements across the road.

Time for a beer. A local dark beer.  The south end of Zadar is full of twisting passages. It's not far from the sea. On the corner Ulica Simuna Ljubavca. Tomislav Crno Pivo. Local is Zagreb. Strong(7.2%) doppio malto. Only 15kuna. An alternative joint. US west coast Red Hot Chili Peppers sort of establishment. Sympathy for the Devil, Spanish putas caress coffee and cigarettes. Talk with Spanish language Croats, they leave me to Guns and "fucking" Roses. Considering staying in Zadar, but looking over at the island in the morning, and it reminds me of the Barrio Gothic: much tiddlier. No one is fat here, but they are primarily on crack, smack and coffee. Second beer, one too many Nirvana, one Guns and Roses and a barking Jack Russell and Rolling Stones. Give me a cuppa Stone IPA instead. Staring I to the horizon hoping for a suggestion, a hint or a plan.

I've come here to be less invisible, reclaim the past and not worry about the mess. So far I've attempted twice to be visible. Eluded. After this I am heading back. Outta sight - return to number eight.

So walking back through the citadel and straight to the Beer Geek Shop (opposite the bus/train stations). Two bottles of a Robust Porter, local - Zagreb - now this is a microbrew. Perhaps the only one. There was a selection of Austrian and Italian but I plumed for local. Much less Kuna too - £2.50 for two. Toothpaste - I stole a spot last night and my teeth have been hanging yellow today! Cheapest fluoride evilness. Zmajska Pivovara - I have walked a lot so hell! Why not?