I'm not your friend anymore

My main motivation in life is knowing that, at most, I only have to work eight weeks in a row before I can go on holiday. Most people I know look forward to spending huge chunks of their free time painting their homes a different colour and matching soft furnishings. I march to a different beat and believe it doesn't really matter that my house hasn't been repainted in a decade because I'm basically only ever in it to sleep or to pack for my next trip. This addiction to travel is well served by my parents who live in a stunningly beautiful part of the Algarve and whose views from their balcony are:




And



It makes a bit of a change from my house in Leeds, where my front room looks on to a wall of leilandi and from my attic eyrie I have an unparalleled view of a gas holder.

I also love coming here as it gives me a yardstick to measure my son's life by. Last summer he was just starting to swim and in deep dread of the deep end. This year he can snorkel and throws himself in the deep end with wild abandon. Last year he was too shy to play with other kids, now he has spent the afternoon splashing and screaming with other boys.

Well, until a new 'friend' turned around and informed him 'I don't want to be your friend anymore'. He was just devastated as I think this might be his first experience of those poisonous words. He was very tearful and wanted to leave the pool for the sanctuary of Nana's sofa and CBBC. He's very sad because he doesn't think he's done anything wrong. We've all told him that tomorrow it'll all be forgotten and they'll play together happily. But right now he's feeling rejected and dejected.

As the days tick forward to my decree absolute and my divorce becoming final I can understand his feelings only too well. I remember the astounding rejection of being dumped and then the tears. For a while I sat in resentful silence and then was vociferously angry on this blog. But the silence which fell over this blog for months was because I'd stopped feeling hurt and my ex and I are on really good terms. When he came over last week to get me to sign the consent order for the divorce he said "this doesn't mean anything to you, does it?" and I honestly answered that it doesn't. I feel nothing: no relief, no resentment, nothing. It carries no more emotional weight than changing my gas provider.

Over two years ago my ex said he didn't want to be my friend anymore. At the time it hurt like hell. But time passed and oddly now we are more friendly than we were for much of our marriage. My son will feel a bit sad tonight until he's eaten a big Sunday roast and had a sleep. And tomorrow he'll be friends again. And I might buy him a huge and fantastic inflatable toy to make him irresistible to other kids at the pool. I think the past few years have taught me you make your own luck.

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That modern world

Hello. I'm blogging from bed on my iPhone which makes me all louche and modern, doesn't it?

This weekend marks a year or so since I met my boyfriend. We actually met on the 17th July 2009 but it was a much more important event - the end of term do for the 6 week holidays. And this weekend school broke up for an unacceptably shortened 5 and a half weeks. Having been together a year I felt it time to undertake the most perilous journey a couple can take: a mooch round Ikea on a Saturday. The objective was to get a new bed as we were sleeping in the world's tiniest 'double' with a mattress that was undulating and downright bumpy. We are both 6 foot tall and whenever one of us wriggled in slumber the other's quiet rest was severely compromised. So therefore we went off to Ikea to buy a bed.

3 hours and the best part of a grand later we'd chosen and ordered a huge superkingsize bed with memory foam mattress and bought new duvets, pillows, sheets. The whole caboodle. And it was all done without any stropping or sniping or downright arguing in the aisles. He even laughed when 10 minutes drive from the store I 'remembered' that I'd forgotten to buy fitted sheets and had to return (alone. He sensibly went to the pub instead).

On Sunday my boyfriend undertook the Herculean task of constructing said massive bed whilst I took my son to a pop festival. And then I came back home to a lovely new bed and a surprisingly unstressed boyfriend. As he said to his parents on Saturday night, we've never argued yet. This is because he's sensible and backs down and I've learnt from my past behaviours to avoid being provoking and not to sweat the small stuff.




Today I made another small but significant purchase - a DAB clock radio with two docking stations: one for my iPhone and the other for his iPod. That's very symbolic, isn't it?


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Cupboards abound in old poems

Velcro Feedback
(to her son starting Reception)

Forensic examination:
What, where, why, when,
How, who?
Is he happy?
Never an answer.
Glimpses of a new life:
Shards of experience -
Assembly (quiet music).
I reconstruct from hints:
Stickers. And stains.
Half-sentences.
Velcro is a harvester of
All life's business.
Dry grass, carpet threads
2:43 story time on carpet.
New shoes, secretly scuffed.
Velcro feedback.


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Other poems found in cupboards

Clutching on to metal
Fingertips gripping,
Clinging, the comforting
Coolness dissipating into
Familiar unwanted warmth.
Corners to trap fingers and
Resistance of valves.

The taste,
Testing batteries for charge
Hesitancy as you wait
For a faint shock but
Tasting like an old spoon from
Nan's pantry drawer.

On playing, the image
Of the person now unmelodied
Plays in the mind of
The listener. Almost beyond
Reach. Like a shadow
Flitting past a window.


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Poems found in cupboards

Katrina Jazz

Unable to hear the sea
Ever-present, unnoticed
Until the deluge.
Below the surging brine
A disintegration of the American Dream
Diluted. Dissolved.
What should be a trumpet blare of rejoice
Now a Last Post.



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Let's stay friends

Two blogs on one night? I'm spoiling you.

So, I just got off the phone with my ex as we were supposed to be discussing arrangements for our son's birthday. But he couldn't talk long because he is putting up an exhibition.

My ex is an artist and he's had a commission for a big show for 2 weeks. But he hadn't told me. I have to say I felt disappointed because I thought that we had stayed on friendly terms. But apparently not. Whilst I don't expect, or want, an invite to the private viewing I am sad that he didn't tell me at all. We have a shared child and I thought that would mean we would discuss our successes and failures.

Apparently not.


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Malicious and delicious

My blog has been rather light on content of late as my steam-powered laptop takes far too much time to fire up and I can obsessively check my Twitter and Facebook from my iPhone. But, until tonight, I had not blogged from it.

However, as the ad would have it 'there is an app for that' and so I can tell the world how my world has changed.

Firstly, I met my ex's girlfriend. Maybe a year ago I would have been hurt that he left me for her, cos she's short and quite old. But since I am now 4 clothes sizes smaller, in a good job and loved up I kept my feelings under control and warmly shook her hand. Thinking all the while 'nice anorak'. Malicious but delicious.

Secondly, I now own my house 100% and am an independent woman. I like the fact that I am beholden to nobody and I have an asset to myself. I am getting divorced in February and I await the opportunity to be truly independent with anticipation. And I am planning a big divorce party to celebrate that phase of my life starting.

Finally, I have become aware that a couple of my friends are separating from their husbands. And, whilst I understand the pain and the heartache, I can promise that the grass is greener on the other side.

I am unrecognisable as the person who first started this blog. And it's a wonderful feeling.


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