Breakfast time blues

It is Saturday morning and inspired by the senior daughter's gastronomic blog posting, I have just had a delicious breakfast in the early morning sunshine. A very self-undulgent breakfast, not good for the waistline. I shall describe it in detail, as I am a copy cat! A glass of clementine juice, two hunks of toasted sourdough bread, with goats cheese, dribbled with a little of the most wonderful runny organic honey,brought back from a recent trip to an Italian vineyard near Verona (likely to be my very last holiday) rounded off with a large mug of aromatic coffee, made from freshly ground beans. Heaven. This sybaritic breakast was a necessity as I am having a low point in my new journey, and it is a family habit to resort to tickling the taste buds in times of stress. As I said, not good for the waistline, but possibly good for the soul.

Strangely, as if to acknowledge my depressed state, there is no birdsong at all this morning, and the dogs are very subdued.

Its funny how, like a line of dominoes collapsing, lots of little things seem to turn into one big misery. School terms are ending, the holiday season is under way and all the newspapers and magazines are full of articles of the most idyllic places for a summer holiday, lists of recommended holiday reads, beauty tips and all the paraphanalia required for an imminent and much anticipated break in the sun. Except - for me - that is not going to happen. After over 40 years of wonderful holidays, business trips, and car rallies, it is as if my life has hit a brick wall, and I no longer exist. A pragmatist would say, hey, you have been to more places than most people can dream about. True - and one day I will appreciate that. Not now.

Tonight I have been invited to a drinks party in the village. Suddenly I do not want to go - after nearly a year of feeling like a freak in the show at the end of the pier, I cannot face it any more. When I do, rarely, go to parties, when I arrive I feel an almost imperceptible intake of breath, and a sense of embarrassment, and often people's eyes slide sideways, and there is mo point of contact. What is so embarrassing about a marriage exploding? I may be on my own, but I pulled the plug, I took the decision, why does everyone find it so uncomfortable. What has never happened is someone coming forward to welcome me and make me feel normal. I stand around with a drink in my hand before deciding who to approach. That is when the eyes slide sideways!

I ask myself hourly, is life better now than before? Of course it must be, at least I am a person in my own right now. I consider myself to be an intelligent person, but oh boy, was my life a nightmare, and why did I allow it to happen? I was married to a serial adulterer, a Walter Mitty, a man who could only feel good about himself if he controlled and then destroyed others. A man entirely without emotion, wno negated everything I held dear, felt deeply about, and achieved in my life. Even so, life is tough on my own, he has taken my life and destroyed it, and has no conscience or sense of responsinbility whatsoever. The only thing I hang on to, is that the woman he is with now, is a schemeing marriage wrecker who will truly be his nemesis. As he postulated when I chucked him out, he had not intended to leave me for her and how dare I chuck him out of the family home! My mistake in the past was to always take him back but this time, somehow I found the strength to give him his permanent marching orders. So, dear readers, life must move on - and I must teach myself to stop looking back, and when the memories flood in, to close the dam.

The sun is out, my dogs are looking lovingly at me because they knowe a walk is in the offing, and the first of my sweet peas need picking. My garden now is like the Curate's egg, good in parts. Too much sun, warmth, and the occasional shower, mean that the roses are dying, and the weeds are truly triffids. But - as with all gardens, there is always something new emerging from underneath the chaos. And - all you kind, concerned dog lovers out there, who supported my daughters and I when Violet had her terrible accident, I have contacted the lovely woman who bred Violet, and found me Violet's husband, and put in a request for her to find me a puppy, closely related to darling Violet. Billy still misses his mother, and a puppy will help the healing process.