Blogging? Again?

No way! How could I be blogging again? Not here, though! Privately. Elsewhere. In shadows and secrecy. Delicious, isn’t it? Until we have jumped another hurdle successfully, I will not feel secure enough to post the contents of my head here in the public domain. Maybe one day I’ll show it to someone else. Until then, it remains between me and the camouflage duckie that’s staring at me unreservedly. Nothing personal, you understand.

If, however, other stuff arises that I want to put in the public domain, then perhaps it will be placed there. Like, my horse-riding progress (exciting, huh?), or the fun we’ll have with the dog that speaks American English. He might even get his own blog. We’ll have him speaking proper English and drinking tea from bone china in no time. He must be educated!

A day out

So, I’m being treated to a day out in London by my awesome sister for my birthday. Photo time!

First up, the Imperial War Museum. Not exactly a cheery birthday celebration but we both like this kind of stuff. Morbid, huh? The Holocaust exhibition was really quite harrowing. I’m glad we did that first. No photography allowed. Spoil sports.

But we got to see the airplanes, and the HUGE guns outside. Stopping for lunch. We chatted too much to walk through the Blitz experience! About boyfriends, funerals, life, dogs, soup. Yeah, we talk for hours, me and sis.

And then for my birthday present proper. Birdsong. Starring Ben Barnes. I read the book for exams when I was 18. I don’t remember much. I just remember that it never lived up to expectations. I was expected a book about the Front, and was presented with a mixed-up love story. I guess thats why I was disappointed. I didn’t know what to expect with the play. Hell, I didn’t even know Ben Barnes was in it until I was queuing outside and my sis told me. So, I was stoked but a little hesitant. Would it be what I remember the book being? Just a love story which happens to have crossed through, under, over a war?

Well, it was a love story. But not JUST a love story. It was a Love Story. And wonderful. It transported me, us, to the exhilaration and racing heartbeat of the initial love story, then plunges us into the filthy mud of the trenches, amongst the oh so pure men. I was torn from what is initially presented as idyllic  French countryside to the uncomfortable insight into a love affair which every sense in me whispers is wrong, yet screams that it is so, so right! Perhaps its because I have given my heart so totally to someone as Stephen and Isabella did. Somehow, the Love Story spoke to me, sang to me in a way the book didn’t at the time.

Even the way they managed swift stage changes, with maids and soldiers, was engaging. There were few breaks, so by the end of each act, one is left feeling exhausted yet stimulated by the experiences. I felt the Flanders mud between my toes, felt the artillery growl through my chest, and felt the looming presence of death, everywhere. Even in the beautiful, peaceful French town, he hovered around the corner. One knew the love affair was doomed. And the love affair was representative of the apparent peace and naivete of the peoples involved before the war, and subsequent war, shattered and broke that. It reminds me of William Blake, whom I also studied for exams. He wrote “Songs of Innocence and Experience” in which the first half of the collection is full of idyllic images of innocent childhood. The last half is full of poems about the loss of experience, and how this is inevitable as you pass into adulthood. Perhaps that is the song the birds sing that Stephen loathed so. However much you fight the passing of time, the endless deaths, and watching Yours Truly fall in love with another, life still flows onwards, the birds still sing and you grow older, more experienced. Although Stephen fought this, remained true, even he found hope at the end of the play. Even he found beauty in how we move towards this state of knowing. He let go of his ‘childish’ views that love wins out in the end. He let go of memories that he gripped, refusing to let go, to move on. He finally finds the beauty in the birdsong he feared, that represent the passing of time.

As the audience, I was invited along this path; indeed, I was pushed along it, witness to the terror and fear that Stephen, and all his comrades, were submitted to. It was exhausting but lyrical, electric and harmonic. The very end, with the slowing revealed scene of poppies, blue sky, bird song and Stephens gentle, free laughter, is the memory that I take with me. Thank you to the production crew, cast and, of course, Sebastian Faulks. And a final, big thank you to my sister for knowing me so well. You are my twin soul. Without you, I’d be lost. Thank you, all, for a great birthday.

The fragility of life

It wasn’t long after I finished my last post that Peanut showed me a message he’d received on Facebook saying that a friend of his had passed away on New Year’s Eve. It seemed he had a massive stroke, and had quite suddenly slumped sideways in his chair, and just died. He was 40, just turned.

It’s something that draws into stark relief how fragile and fleeting life actually is. And it draws your attention to missed chances. We’d been invited to his surprise 40th birthday party, and had passed up the chance because our weekend was already booked. His death stirs a small amount of regret that maybe, if we’d known, we’d have gone to the party and seen him. I’d been messaging him on Facebook via Comments only a few weeks before New Years Eve. It’s strange, from where I sit. I barely knew him, and had never met him, but I cannot deny that I felt sad when I saw that message. And still do.

Of course, we can’t get hung up on “What if”‘s in our lives, can we? If we knew many things were going to happen in the future, would it alter our paths? Should it? I’m a great believer that things happen for a reason. We don’t know what the future holds for good reason.

Mostly, though, my heart goes out to his family. There was no real rhyme or reason to his death. If he’d died in another way, then blame may be apportioned. Although this doesn’t bring somebody back, sometimes it aids the grieving process. But they have no one and nothing to blame. It was random, truly. If you were religious, you might ask why would God enforce this on a loving family? Why would God force parents to bury their child? If you aren’t religious, it’s still a question you’ll probably ask. Why? Why him? Why now? They’re questions which will never be answered. My heart, our heart, go out to his parents and his family in this most difficult time of all.

Welcome to 2011 – Goodbye to 2010

Good intentions pave the road to hell, right? So, no more “I intend to write in my blog more often”, or “I intend to write more often”, or “I intend to do…….. anything, actually”. Screw that. Here I am, blogging, for the first time in a long time, and it feels good! I blame one wonderful woman, for her brutally inspiring blogging, which kicks me up the arse and makes me want to blog like mad.

2010 has been……. *sigh*……… a year, truly, of ups and downs, and some really BIG ups and some HUGE downs. Materialistically, it’s been a good year and a bad year. But, psychologically and emotionally, it’s been the year that I found out just how strong and resilient I, and other humans, can be.

This year, we’ve moved house twice – actually, 3 times each. For my family, even that is an amazing thing. We were in our first house together all of 3 months before we got our notice to move again to the other side of the country. Well, wasn’t I thrilled? However, it did mean moving back to the counties I spent a lot of my teenage years in (you know, SO many years ago!) and I was kinda looking forward to that. It was also slightly anxiety-inducing because I hadn’t been back there since I left and that was not a good time for me. I suddenly knew what a friend of mine had meant when she’d said that going back to that area was going back to see a lot of ghosts.

We somehow managed to move, and to the lovliest area in the quaintest little house. It suits us down to the ground with it’s real log fire. We now live in the kind of place where you don’t lock your doors or windows when you go out or to bed. Some people don’t even lock their cars. Compared to the last town we lived in, it’s like living in a really big, open safe-house. We LOVE it. It’s also not very near where I used to live, so I don’t have to live in fear of running into old ghosts. Although that statement makes me question why I fear them? But I can’t be bothered to analyse today! Just reminisce. It’s a beautiful country, truly. Flat as a pancake and the soil is black as the ace of spades, but I adore it.

A few days before we moved house *again*, my Main Man, Peanut (I believe I called him something else previously but haven’t the energy nor the interest to find out what it is now that I’m mid-flow – just keep up), decided he fancied a trip into hospital. 3 days and one gall bladder later, he was dismissed, where we promptly drove to another hospital to be jovially informed he had non-aggressive prostate cancer………… You can bet we were simply THRILLED. And the next day, we moved house! Don’t we lead exciting lives? Can we slow it down now please?

Well, he had surgery for that a few weeks back and, even though he was recovering, it wasn’t that bad so we had a lovely Christmas. It was quiet and for the first time, I didn’t go to my parents. We had a lovely Christmas Day with Peanut’s Dad and a friend of mine whose husband was elsewhere. The food was lovely, the company was better and the TV was crap. Christmas Day complete. Then, we travelled to my parents, and have spent New Years here. Tomorrow, we go home.

So, 2 new houses, 2 hospital trips which I’d rather not repeat, ta. But, more importantly, my resilience has been tested to the extreme. I feel I’ve done a lot of growing up this year. Can an adult continue to grow up? Of course. Or shall we call it evolving? Maturing? Whatever. A rose by any other name.

I was sinking, drowning and floundering under the emotional weight we both carried – because of the cancer, because of Mrs X (the afore-mentioned She Who Shall Not Be Named, who I shall now call Mrs X), and various other factors in between. The stress it was putting on us must have been immense – and, to some extent, it still is. It was straining our relationship.

So, we got some help. We went to see a consultant and talked for an hour and a half. I owe her my sanity. We got to vent and rant and rave about everything that was bothering us. Importantly, we were given the opportunity to cry, unreservedly and without judgement. And we did. We cried an awful lot. And those darn fluffy tissues made Peanut look like Santa Claus. That woman helped me so much to come to terms with Mrs X and the stress she causes me and Peanut. 3 things she said will stay with me for a long time yet: “Forgiving is not saying that what someone did was OK”, “Resentment is like taking a spoonful of poison each day and hoping she dies” and “From your point of view, she has all the control, but from her point of view, YOU have all the control”. I learned that although Mrs X has done horrible and terrible things to Peanut and to me, I can forgive her. I can draw a line under what she has done, because I can see that everything she does is out of fear. She’s alone, raising a child by herself and watching her ex-husband having a lovely life. She is trying to keep her control over what she can, which, unfortunately, is the child. Baby Bear (the kid) is a bribe, in a very crude form. Mrs X can punish Peanut by withdrawing Bear. It’s simple behavioural conditioning. Unfortunately, that means Bear suffers. It used to frustrate me so much. But our consultant also said something else to me – you can’t control everything. You should choose your battles more carefully. That way, you won’t feel completely out of control by fighting battles you definately cannot control or influence. At present, I can’t influence that battle. I learned to let go of that.

I feel like I’ve now stepped out of the strange, dark corner I was standing in, refusing to move, and have now set out on a path. Hell, it’s even a path with a bridge because I’ve crossed it! I’ve no idea where it leads ultimately, but I know that, along the way, I will grow from strength to strength. As my inspirational friend said, I’ve dealt with a lot of shit this year – but it has made me much stronger and resilient than I was before I knew Peanut. I have forgiven Mrs X for her actions, because I can see how resentful she is. She is taking that poison and hoping we die. I have let go of my resentment towards her because it did me no favours. Two wrongs don’t make a right. I will let her resent us and do what she needs to do to satifsy her short-term needs, and hope that, ultimately, she finds the peace she so desperately needs. Mrs X has a lot of issues, not just from Peanut and recent events, but from her childhood and her family life. Those are not issues that I can help her with, and I doubt she’ll seek professional help. But I sincerely hope she finds what she’s looking for, and I hope she finds her peace. I will continue to hold her in the light as I have been, in the hope it will continue to work.

What will this year bring? Hopefully, no more bloody hospital trips (please, Peanut, can we stay out of hospital?) except for the next one in a few days to find out if he’s in the clear. It won’t bring another house move! Awesome! I start my law degree this year, which I am so excited about! My brother is getting married – another great thing to look forward to! I will continue to trace my family tree, and Peanut’s, and my future sister-in-law. I’m having such fun doing that. Peanut gets to start work in earnest (for a change…..). We’ll sell our car and maybe buy a new one. Peanut’s going to start his fitness regime in earnest too – which means I get to, as well. Hopefully, he’ll get a bike so we can cycle through the nearby forest. Maybe we’ll get a pussy cat! Maybe. My parents will probably be moving house – with any luck, it will be to their own house. I will learn to speak the Queen’s English! And I will kick everyone’s ass at Hula Hooping on the Wii Fit.

Resolutions? I will learn to sew this year, and hopefully get myself a sewing machine. I’d like to be able to adjust my own clothes and already have a lovely skirt which can be my first project. Other than that, I don’t want to make resolutions until I am more aware of what I need to resolve myself to completing. There are many things I’d like to do, but they are too general to make a resolution from.

Happy New Year everyone. I hope this year was better than your last, whether your last was awful or wonderful.

Long time, no see!

Yeah, it has been a long time – way too much has happened to write it all in one blog post without boring any readers to death.

I’m forever reading in various magazines about the success enjoyed by women all over the world who decide to give blogging a go. Wouldn’t that be nice? Isn’t that something a few of you want? But, I don’t think it can be achieved without telling the truth. The story, the unabashed story. It’s not something I normally tell, because I don’t really trust that, somehow, miraculously, unwanted eyes are reading this. But, I figure, if the things I put in here are not realised, then those unwanted are particularly stupid eyes too.

Anyway, quick update!

• Moved into my new house with my not-so-new but still wonderful fella.
• Getting ready to again in LESS than 6 months – yah, 6 months. The life of someone devoted to their partner whose occupational hazard is being nomadic.
• Oh, moving my parents the weekend before I moved – I’ve moved twice, effectively, in two weeks. Beat that! This is house 24 for them.
• Seeing my closest and most wonderful friend again after almost a year.
• Missing a new job by a hair’s breadth. There’s always next year.
• Moving into my new house – wait, did I mention that? Love it!
• We’re still going on holiday in September – I feel a holiday blog coming on for that one. That’ll be a new experience.

OK I think that’s about it! On a more personal side, no progress with that at the moment. Well, since I last posted there has been progress – bitching and nit-picking. Sometimes, I marvel at the cheek of it. I said before, I never thought anyone could be so evil, but I think I have met evil in human form. I mean, really. But, perseverance and how solid our relationship is will get us there. You don’t need the details – and I don’t want to moan. It’s boring. Sometimes, it gets about as exciting as an Eastenders episode, which, I must admit, is not something I find very interesting. But, if the rumours about us were true, I think we could start our own soap.

Ooo, I joined Twitter! Why? I haven’t a clue. But, I’m on Facebook, message boards, blogging, so why not Twitter? Just stretching my metaphorical legs on it. Now I’m all moved in, I’d really rather like to start writing again. I’m home alone tomorrow night for the first time since moving in – aside from bricking it and trying not to check the locks 5 times before I go to bed, I’d like to flex my writing fingers and write something small. I missed my writing groups’ deadline because I was moving and I need to make up for that. For sure.

A night to myself

The man’s out watching rugby with the other menfolk. Our friend’s wife is away so I thought I’d let those two (and another man) have a manly night together, drinking beer and talking in manly voices. It means I can sit and chill out. However, I called Ruthie instead! We chatted and caught up – or rather, I mostly chatted towards the end! I don’t like to – but we needed more time to talk about everything. I’m calling again on Sunday so we can talk again. I can’t wait to see that girl again. We’ve been friend for more than ten years now. That’s a long time in my life. Friends have never stuck around so long when I’ve moved with Dad again. Ruth’s gold dust. Steadfast friends who don’t need a phone call each day, but can go for months with talking, then suddenly, boom! You just call and talk for three hours! It’s nice Love her! Love you sweetie!

I also decided to try Natalie Goldberg’s First Thoughts chapter in her Writing Down the Bones. The idea is to access your first thoughts, before they are tempered by your conscience and morals. It’s hard. Really hard, I find! My mind always wants to try and control what I’m writing. But, then, you gradually start to realise you can spell words wrong and not have to cross out, and miss full stops, and just say something like “We went for a walk ice cream park swings.” It’s just thoughts as they come to you. It’s great for bringing out specific details which you might not otherwise think of as important. But, as she say, detail is very important.

First thoughts sounds like a great idea for dealing, internally, with a lot of my emotional baggage which I haven’t really faced since they happened. I’m very good at putting things in a box, locking the box and moving on. I get top prize for moving on. I’ve found that things I haven’t really thought about for a while have suddenly surfaced. Things like my old best friend. My ex. All sorts. Things I haven’t had to think about properly for years. So, I’m going to use first thoughts to deal with it all, in it’s raw form. It will also be a great way, I think, of dealing with my man’s ex (A.K.A. She Who Shall Not Be Named).

Talk of the devil, I have to go and pick the blokes up from the rugby match now. Until next time.

Finally!

I finally started writing again! Yeehaw! I’m ecstatic. It’s only small, but it’s me, writing, again. Did you get that? Elated! Let’s keep this up. Same time tomorrow, I’ll be here, tapping away. When I get my mitts on another suitable notebook, I’ll start hand-writing.

I’d like to start a writing group. Vyx, you’re my lady for that. In the meantime, I’m getting my nose stuck into Writing in the Bones (it arrived today!) and finding my inspiration and motivation,nay, just the motivation to write regularly. I have plenty of inspiration, surrounding me every single day. Some might argue – but maybe they should just open their eyes.

I got my bonsai tree care book today too. Hopefully, this one will live and last me a long time. It will probably outlive me, if I take good care.

Oh, and I’m listening to Ludovico again. Adoration doesn’t cover it. My main man has booked tickets to go and see his only tour night in the UK, in the wonderful Albert Hall. I cannot convey how excited I am!! Although it’s probably advisable to take a pillow – his music chills me out. At the same time, it utterly excites me. How confusing is that?

Further to my first para, above, I thought I’d give the thanks where it is due. Thanks for inspiring me back into writing. Thanks for making me feel like I’m not an erratic writer who simply scribbles feelings and emotions down. Thanks for kicking me up the arse in such a gentle way, because I needed that. Tracy, I am indebted.

Resolve

I’ve never set much stock in New Year’s resolutions, but this year, i’m inundated with things I really want to do.

1) Be a better friend than I have been, keeping in touch regularly with my friends in real life and on the Northlands.

2) Start writing regularly, with an aim to start my novel.

3) Improve my penmanship! So people can read my writing for a change.

4) Trace my family tree.

I’m looking forward to starting these in earnest. I’ve ordered, under an indirect recommendation from friends on the Northlands, Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. But the door swings both ways – I have to help myself too. My main man has promised to help me. I’d like to also write memoirs, of a sort, about my experiences recently with his past. It might not be original, but I might never publish it. For now, my main project to get published is my main RPG. No spoilers

I’d rather like to try my hand at writing children’s books. My grandfather on my mother’s side wrote books for his grandchildren, and I thought it would be rather nice to do a similar thing. Another hard task! But one I feel I’ll thoroughly enjoy.

As for tracing my family tree? That should be a barrel of laughs! I, unfortunately, only have my nan’s sister left on my dad’s side. Neither of my mum’s parent’s live, so it will be hard. But I’d like to see if one of my family myths that I seem to remember is true. It doesn’t help that I can’t afford subscription to ancestry.com.

So, I have found resolve. I’d like to improve myself, as a person and knowledgebly (is that a word?). I feel my resolve will be worn down over the year from a certain snake-woman, but we must remain straight and true. It’s a long road, but it’ll be a hell of a journey. One I am very much looking forwad to.

The beginning?

Another (late) update! My excuse? Christmas! What other excuse is there at this time of year?

What’s occurring? Ugh. Where do I start? With the good stuff!

Christmas was awesome Truly great. I had my whole family (plus the extras ie. girlfriends) around me, which I have always had. Why was this year better than all the rest? Because I had my main man with me! My wonderful, amazing, kind, and loving man was sat next to me during dinner, during most of the family games (who the hell invented Lyric? It’s so difficult! Unless you happen to be a music encyclopaedia.), whilst we dried the umpteen million dishes, made the tomato soup (that was yum, if I do say so myself!), and even while we blew up the airbed and slept in the living room! It was just lovely and magical. He liked his presents from everyone, and I loved mine. It’s been a fantastic Christmas. Everyone agreed. I’ll relive that any day of the week!

To New Years? It’s never been that much of a great thing for moi. We’ve had some wicked parties though in Oman But here, not so much. It’s nice to sit in and have a quiet evening with my parents though. I don’t see them as much as I used to when I lived with them permanently. But I feel that I appreciate them more now I’m not there so much. Funny how these things happen, eh? I call and talk to them more often, and just generally like to be around them more.

So what will the New Year bring? Uncertainty, and a new beginning for my man and me. Uncertain because he is due to move in May/June and if he moves, I’ll try and get a job near him; or if I get a great job, he’ll try and move with me; how will his divorce pan out? 6, or 12 months? How much more will she try and milk him for? Will he get further accused or ridiculous things? Will she make him look worse than he already looks? Thankfully, the solicitor he has is really good. She’s fighting his corner good and proper. When will he next get to see his beautiful daughter? Also, when will I get to see her, and meet her, give her the birthday presents I got her, and get to cuddle her and read books to her? I’m so looking forward to it, I love the thought of our little family together, hopefully next Christmas. An odd little family, brought together by destruction and suffering. But we will all hopefully be a little stronger because of what we’ve been through collectively.

Enough with the moping! It will be another year with my lovely, another year or our highs (and our lows), another year of spoiling each other, enjoying each other’s company, waking up two minutes before him to watch him sleep quietly, a holiday in the States (woohoo!), all sorts!

New Year’s resolutions? To improve my handwriting (it’s alright, but my penmanship could be better!), to be a better friend and to stay in touch, to start a novel (in earnest), and to start scrapbooking (as well as all manner of crafts I’ve always wanted to do but never had the time). What are yours?

I was reading a blog post of a friend of mine, Tracy, at Imagine the North. I liked it, although I feel for her greatly. I think I’ll carry that message with me:

“Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass but learning to dance in the rain”.

My man and I have acknowledged that things are going to get worse before they get better – the storm is gathering on the horizon and will probably hit when I meet his little girl. Or when his solicitors get in touch with hers. There are lots of opportunities. But, I’ve always enjoyed storms (literal ones) and find the sound of thunder and rain relaxing. However, as relaxing as real storms are, this metaphorical storm is the total opposite. I do not sit on my windowsill, staring into the dark sky, listening to the rain and thinking nothing when she is involved. Nor does my man. So, my other New Year’s resolution is to learn to dance in the rain better. I’m not one to wallow on the negative side of life. There is an end to this, I know it will come to us eventually, but in this situation it is sometimes hard to see. I know my man certainly struggles to see it sometimes, such is the gravity of his feelings at having left his daughter in that household. This year, I will endeavour to keep the goal in sight, and dance a little longer and a little more enthusiastically in the pouring rain. Then, I’ll enjoy the sunshine while it’s around.

Which isn’t for very long in the British summer!

Oh, and I’m seeing Tracy and Dom tomorrow. Stoked! We’ve not yet met, but we’ve been friends a long time through the Northlands. And various other forums before that, too many to mention! They’re in London and I have the time to go and see them! Seriously stoked Hopefully get us some good snaps. And get a few presents at the same time for my loved ones.

This post is long enough, right? Shame on me. Gods alive do I write long posts. Sorry. Another resolution? ’till next time!

Update time!

Well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Lots of stuff has happened, good and bad, but I don’t think the ins and outs should be entirely public knowledge! Aside from boring everyone to death, it’s not something I wish to dwell on right now. But this weekend has been fantastic. Me and Mr Fella took Thurs and Fri and today (Mon) off, and have just had the best time. It’s been real “us” time, again, do you know what I mean? Despite spending so much time together (“stitched at the hip” as my sister calls us), we haven’t had proper together time, where we aren’t thinking about anything else but us. And we had loads this weekend and it was great! It felt so loved up, it would make everyone else sick, but I don’t care! Because we were just so happy And I could have made a really big sign and held it above my head, everywhere we went, telling everyone I was in love, with a wonderful man, and we couldn’t be happier.

This weekend also was a nice kick up the arse for him. Things are finally moving ahead, after weeks of talking about it. He heard what he needed to hear from the horses mouth, so to speak, and the penny dropped. He knew then he’d have to do something. So many people have said similar things, but to hear it from someone who has been there, done that gave him the kick up the arse he needed to take control. He hasn’t had control for 6 years, and hasn’t yet taken it back. By leaving, he exercised some control, but then, rather than remaining in some semblance of control, he buried his head in the sand, preferring to have peace and quiet. But, now, it has changed. She has dealt the straw that finally broke the camel’s back, and he isn’t having it anymore. We had a moment of quiet weakness, where he contemplated seeing if she’d like to talk civily again. All I could see was visions of a replay of our awful weekend. I said such, and today he thanked me for telling him that. So, when he was told by someone who has been through this crap before to make the final decision, he took that leap. Things might start to turn around. It will get worse before it gets better, we acknowledged that today. We’re waiting for the fall-out phone calls now. I have my hard hat all ready and waiting! Bring it on!

I’m glad it’s been done though. We both needed this weekend, he more than me I feel. Now, he can finally start living his own life, out of the grip of her talons and poison. It’ll be great. She said to me once she was going to leave us to get on with our lives – I remember thinking to myself at the time “I’ll believe it when I see it.” And, guess what? It didn’t happen. She’s still interfering, and being a hypocritical control-freak. But I am, in a sadistic way, wishing I could be a fly on the wall when she finds out what he’s not doing anymore. Some things would be somewhat amusing to watch. That’s one of them.

But some part of me feels sorry for her. She pushed a fantastic man away. She will never find anyone more wonderful than he. And it makes me realise just how lucky I am to have him. The circumstances under which we met were miraculous. If one thing had been slightly different, we probably wouldn’t be where we are now. I’m grateful for the way things happened every day. I think he is too Who’d have thought, me settling down so damn quickly? After I said “no way!” But I’m happy, so who cares?

OK, after I promised not to bore everyone to death, looks like I did. I think it’s time to call it a night, sort out things for going back home tomorrow, then sleep! Happy days!