annanotbob's Diaryland Diary

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Watch them run down to platform one

Very, very tired and feeling a bit cut off from my online friends. I can’t play scrabble as every time I try to go there it kicks me off the internet as do some diaries and some notes. Boo hoo, poor me etc. Didn’t make it to the pub either, so I’m still at the mercy of the neighbour’s wireless connection. I think I must be at the very edge of its range. The cable company are sending us a new modem but they’re not likely to consider it urgent.

All a bit weird. Sam’s birthday. Sam being my partner, perhaps, once, maybe – all too hard and complicated. We met at 14, became best mates at 19, but both married other people, several other people. We always saw each other, always talked endlessly, and finally got together in 1990. Totally brilliant for a couple of years but on the Monday after the weekend we moved in together, he was made redundant and it gradually went a bit tits up. Took us ages to admit it wasn’t good, not till it was really fucking awful. I threw him out in Dec 06, fully expecting to walk away with a spring in my step as in previous break-ups. Instead it was terrible, unbearable. It took us another nine months or so to recognise that we both felt the same, that there was blame and regret on both sides. We kind of hope to be able to live together again one day, but can see that we’d go straight back to the same old shit. Does anyone manage to have a good intimate relationship after rape, do you think? I’m not being coy when I say intimate – I don’t mean sex, or not just sex, but intimacy. I don’t even know if I know what it means – I just tried to find another way to say it, to avoid using the word three times, but my mind went blank on me – that’s how far away it is. Intimacy. Ooh, scary stuff. I do love him but I hate him quite often as well. As indeed he hates me. He’s going to check the oil in the car before we go tomorrow and he helped me get new tyres. After forty years we’re inextricably entwined – I’m just drivelling on now, so I’ll fuck off.

I’m off to Dorset tomorrow, via the M25. Really looking forward to sleeping out in the fresh air, in my dear little tent.

12:34 a.m. - 23/07/2008

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