Tragedy looming

L seemed determined to get me drunk last night, offering me a glass of red wine almost as soon as I got in and we had finished the obligatory extended hug. As it turned out, she knows nothing about red wine - seriously, even less than me. When I took a sip, it tasted a lot sweeter than I had expected. She had bought M&S mulled wine! And poured it cold. Bless.

After dinner we curled up on the couch and watched Apocalypto. She chose it from a selection I had brought with me at her request, but in retrospect, that was probably not the best she could have chosen. She was distracted throughout, getting more and more tipsy and melancholy. Today she and her daughter are driving up to visit her old friend who has apparently got meningitis, although her symptoms are not fully explained by that diagnosis. I have asked her to call me later to let me know how she is.

I have never met her friend, but L is important to me. She is such a fragile soul. This looks to be the most recent chapter in a particularly tragic last 5 years that started with the death of her brother. Another good friend died just a couple of weeks ago and now this.

I hope L does not completely self-destruct; I won't know what to do. I want to be there for her and to help her as much as I can, but we cope with death in completely different ways. I can accept tragedy head on, deal with it and move on. I did when my brother died and again when my father died. Mourning, for me is a brief period during which I try to work out the 'hows' if not the 'whys', assess what the implications are for the future and move on.

L has been mourning her brothers death for 5 years, and to this day cannot help but feel down whenever she is reminded of him.

I fear this may be a difficult time indeed for her. Any tips on how to help would be gratefully appreciated.

Down

I have been feeling a little down lately.

Mostly that has to do with my prick of a boss. He's a self-important, condescending, patronising interfering pompous ass who I am really trying to get along with just to make my days bearable, but so far it's been only partially successful.

I am not getting anywhere in my current company, and I hate the way things are going there, so I have decided to leave. I haven't resigned yet, but I have passed my CV on to an ex-colleague and I am interviewing there next month. So I should be excited, right? Well, not yet. Maybe I will be if and when I get the job. In the meantime, I'll be unhappy if I want to.

My mood was not enhanced by going to see Rendition tonight. It's a thought-provoking film, let's say, that left me wondering about the state of the world, of governments, and mankind in general. On the way home, I got stopped at temporary traffic lights at some roadworks and while I was stopped I switched my phone back on to find I had a missed call from Mary. Not too long ago, I would have called her right back, but knowing that he would be listening to our every word made me shut the phone. She left no message so it couldn't have been important. I no longer have to speak to her; it just doesn't matter any more.

Finally, to cap it all, my good friend L sent me a text:
"U free to chat?"
"Sure," I replied.
She called me a few minutes later. Her friend from college, who she's known for 27 years, has meningitis and doesn't recognise her own daughter. L is very sensitive to these things and she's devastated. She talked about her friend in the past tense. As if she's already dead.

It put my petty feelings into perspective, that's for sure.

She invited me round to her place to keep her company tomorrow evening.

Wrong number

I had hoped that we had resolved the communication problems that existed between me, Mary and Neil, but apparently we haven't.

First there was the silly little thing about changing the phone number, then when that had been resolved, she wouldn't tell me her mobile number. Last week, though, I get a call from a mobile number I don't recognise. It's Mary, so I update my contacts accordingly. Okay so far, yes?

Well today she phoned me from home. We chatted about letters to solicitors, about G and half-term holidays, and her dog and the 5 new puppies; all very cordial and friendly. Some time later I sent her a text message:
"Nice chatting to you earlier. Good luck with the puppies."

Ten minutes later she phoned back.
"Did you just send N a text message?"

Ooops. Well, no harm done, right?

"Look. If N asks you, you didn't speak to me earlier, okay?"

What? Apparently speaking to her husband is not something that N can readily accept. His insecurity is still there and gnawing at him.

So when a text message arrived asking if my message was intended for my son, it was obviously from N. I pondered for a minute or two. What do I say? Do I lie and say Yes? Or pour fuel on the fire by saying 'No it was intended for my wife, and I thought that this number was hers'?

I decided to compromise and sent: 'Sorry'.

I have a perverse desire to make matters worse by contacting her more often.

Mary in tears

When G picked up his phone and answered it, even I could hear the voice of his mother in tears. He had been playing on the PC and had his phone beside him. I tried to listen in but although I could hear her distraught voice, I couldn't make out the words. I asked him to say I wanted to speak to her and eventually he handed over the phone.

Mary has a friend from back in the days when she and I were experimenting with seeing other people. Mike (not his real name for obvious reasons) is wealthy and well-connected. He knows about her recent history, because she apparently asked him for money to pay off her debt. He has apparently responded by offering her a job as his PA.
It's an amazing opportunity. She was a PA when she committed her crimes, but this would give her an opportunity to re-launch her career, to meet famous people and earn a very good salary. The downside is that it would undoubtedly involve long and unsociable hours and a lot of hard work. But she would be good at it, perhaps very good, and she would really enjoy herself too.

N was working today so she phoned him to tell him the news. He, though, was not impressed. He doesn't trust Mike, nor indeed anyone else, and doesn't want her to take the job. They argued, and he ended it by saying he wasn't sure he wanted to come home. It was a petulant display, and of course he did go home, but he showed - again - that he is a possessive, jealous young man.

Later, as I reflected on the conversation, I felt pleased that the man who supposedly makes her so happy was showing his true colours, and hopefully sowing the seeds of doubt in her mind as to whether their relationship will last. At one point I asked if she wanted me to go and fetch her back here to be with us. She declined, saying that if N even knew she was calling me, he would be even more upset.

I find myself strangely hopeful that she will reconsider her relationship with him, that she will reconsider this divorce and at least give us a chance.

Is it sad....

... for a middle-aged man to:

* have a profile on an internet dating site?
* spend his evenings with his two good friends Ben and Jerry?
* go to the cinema on his own,just because he wants to see a particular movie?

Is he really?

Ok, I'm sad.

Driving

I'm not sure why but I felt apprehensive on Friday afternoon as I drove out to fetch my son for the weekend. I am still not sure why, but I needn't have worried. We had a good weekend.

I took him to Mercedes Benz World where he was able to get behind the wheel of a real car and drive it round a small test track with cones marking the route. Seeing him cruising slowly through the slalom or round the roundabout, reversing into an alley-docking manoeuvre, filled me with such pride, yet at the same time a tiny twinge of regret - my little boy is a little boy no longer.

Papers

The papers arrived today. No, not the newspapers, the divorce papers.

Now that it is finally official, I am in two minds about it. On the one hand, I know that what we had is over. That chapter is closed and we cannot recreate the early days when we were both so happy and so in love. Too much water has passed under that particular bridge. She is apparently in love with someone else who makes her happy. And I no longer do.

On the other hand, I have all my fond memories and I am finding it surprisingly difficult to just let go. I suppose I have not yet come to terms with losing her. After all, as I said to her the other day, I guess I never believed her when she threatened to walk out all those times, so when she finally did it came as such a shock. And she never even considered reconciliation.

Also, the divorce petition makes me out to be the bad guy, and while I accept that I hurt her and caused her to leave, I had just as much reason to leave her. But I hate the idea of losing. I have lost enough already without having to pay for the divorce costs, and all the other things the petition lays out in direct contravention of our earlier verbal agreement.

I don't really know how to proceed. First thing I am going to do is contact a lawyer. I need some advice.

Fedora

A couple of months ago, I picked up my good friend L and we went to a modern pub/restaurant close to where she lives for dinner. It was one of those places where you go up to the bar counter to order your drinks and your food, and they deliver the food to you. Loads of them do it, but this place was slightly different. Usually they want you to pay for everything up front, but this place said they would give us the bill when we were finished. Except after a few drinks and a relaxing meal, we got up and left... without paying the bill.

I remembered about half way home, and phoned L to check whether she had paid it. She hadn't either so she went back the next day to pay it.

So I owed her a dinner. And for the embarrassment.

So I was delighted when L finally agreed to come out to see my place on Friday. We went to dinner at a lovely little continental restaurant in a sleepy village 15 minutes drive from my place. They served pumpkin soup appetisers in little fedora-shaped bowls. We ordered what turned out to be some of the finest, tenderest, most succulent medallions of lamb I have ever tasted, and a £33 bottle of wine that was among the cheaper on the wine list. It was a fabulous meal.

L and I chatted the way good friends do. We talked about friends and family, about triumph and tragedy, about dilemmas and bad choices, the past and the future. One of her friends had just that evening died from multiple organ failure. She had been ill for some time but it was still a tragedy. Our conversation was subdued, and when we got back to my place, neither of us felt like sleep. I opened another bottle of wine and we stayed up until well after one in the morning.

I don't know what either of us would do without each other right now.

We are forever different

Life is something that you wear like a favourite pair of jeans. So comfortable you might as well not be wearing them at all, and you find yourself wearing them at every opportunity.

In life, we get so accustomed to things that we start taking them for granted. Our families, our careers, our homes. We wear these things and we get used to them. We can't imagine life without them. Until they are gone. Until we lose our jobs, our marriages, our homes...

When we experience a life-changing event, something in us changes too. For ever. We are, forever after, different. Like it or not. We no longer do the same things, behave the same way, say the same things, go to the same places....

The routine that used to drive my life has gone. I have a new life now.