The end of yet another glorious day. There are definite benefits in being housebound whilst the weather is so wonderful, and whilst there is Wimbledon to watch on the television.
Yet - it means there is an awful lot of time for introspection - and for going over time and again the cesspit of a marriage I have just left behind, and one's hopes for the future.
To be quite frank, if I was brutally honest, my marriage was a disaster, from start to finish. The philanderer was totally unable to be kind, or faithful, right from the start, and I am just as much to blame, because I should have recognised what an incipient car crash I was involved in and should have bailed out years ago.
If he had just been a gentleman, and perhaps chosen something other than scrubbers, out for what they could get, and maybe perhaps made me jealous, rather than pissed off and furious I might feel a little better. I hug myself whenever someone tells me what a tart his latest woman is, she has slept with half the county, and certainly has made it her business to home in on every divorced and widowed man, plus any married man who has taken her fancy, and usually it has ended in tears. Sordid. She certainly is stuck in a seventies time warp, bleached blonde hair, bad roots, and no dress sense whatsoever. But - I handed her to him on a plate, it probably is not such fun now it is not clandestine.
There is so much discussion in the public domain at the moment about couples divorcing in their sixties, and how it is mainly the women who instigate it, although there are an awful lot of sad middle-aged men who think the grass is greener, and get a nasty shock.
I find it immeasurably sad that at a time when we should have been enjoying a gentle retirement, our home is to be sold, he has marched off with a huge chunk of our joint pension fund, and most of the money, and seems impervious to the chaos and hurt he has caused to the family, especially our daughters. A Pyrrhic victory, I fear, and I doubt in his quieter moments, he feels proud of his behaviour. I cannot believe she is a substitute for his girls - and as most of our friends do not want to see him, he has a whole new circle of acquaintances to get used to late in life. And - oh joy, one couple who seem to be his new best friends, he always for twenty years, said he could not stand! Yippee.
Bitch, bitch, but a catharthis! Sometimes it is necessary to purge the venom. Bring on the leeches!
My Bill has just rushed in from the garden - I love him so much it hurts. Today I managed my first little walk since leaving hospital - Bill and Maud were so excited, and leapt and snuffled about the track along the perimeter of our field. Dogs are so intuitive, they haven't left my side since I was discharged, and what a joy they are, so loving and responsive. When I am lying on the bed thinking my evil thoughts, they both lay their dear heads on my laps and gently reproach me. We have an adventure ahead of us, where to go, we could go anywhere in England, should we move away and make a fresh start, or should we stay around here, where I hsve many staunch friends? Who can tell, who knows? Karma will kick in I feel. The chance of a fresh start is seductive - watch this space.
Finally - my e-mail is up and running again, what a shambles. A dear friend in the village who is a computer whizz is coming soon to coach me in the finer points of coping with my laptop - a bit of barter going on here! Maybe the pull of this village will be too much to relinquish. How kind everyone has been to me over the past two years. I feel taken care of in a way that I have never experienced ever in my life before.
10 hours ago