Thursday, 6 January 2011

The Old Diary

The next morning everything has changed.When i awoke i was back as the fat controller again. While we'd planned for Kelly to draft a complaint letter in time for her oncology appointment my brooding masculine presence (!) was now an irritant. the old complaints flooded back in: I had frightened her, she didnt trust me, I had hurt her with the violence of my words and we needed to see a third-party counsellor. It was as if my apologies, my acceptance of these transgressions, my willingness to do anything to fix the problems in our marriage had been forgotten and, in fact, a new scenario in which I had not only done all these things but then, point-blank, refused to apologise, to do anything to help and laughed melodramatically before sending our hungry marriage out into the snow, had been built up over night. We were exactly where we were a week ago.I sighed, fatally. Kelly had been policing my breath for weeks now, every sigh blowing up like a depth charge in her ears.

I was banished again. I am writing this from the impersonal and poorly soundtracked pit of the Olde Dairy. Still on the Earl Grey

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