I lie in bed feeling like shit. I eventually get up, wander round the huge, silent house. The weather outside smiles through cloud. Insie, my weather feels more like grey cloud.
I think, absently, abuot the days that lie ahead, trying to insert markers. What I would like would be to see my friends Alison and Geoffrey and their dogs. I send a tentative email.
It's familiar territory that I left 10 year ago for a relationship. Time is like a map with an empty landscape, it needs features, but the right sort, not too many. The features need to be attractive, ones that can be looked forward to. To go out to dinner with the Youngs would not be right as they have invited me so many times. It would be lovely to see A and G, but I mustn't push... etc.
I'm finding that I'm thinking less abuot D, and more about the fact that I am alone. How it is true that when one is married, one has an inbuilt social life, decisions of preference are more about does one really want to go to that obscure concert etc.
Yesterday was a lovely day, spent with S, although Tie Rack (for gloves for self) caused tears. Coming back in the train, I did think about how I would have to face going back to the house without Derek, but mercifully, I had to do a quick turnaround as when out to church film club.
Perhaps this is all a nightmare, and I will wake up early January to find that Derek is recovering from 'flu, and not descending the dark path to ALL
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