It doesn’t bring out the best in me. I like and need order. And he, for all his care, and for a decorator he is careful, brings disorder. It makes me tetchy, scratchy and emotional. And he responds in kind. It was ever thus. And we bicker. And he can hear. It is a grubby business. And I wake feeling blue. It will pass, he won’t be here for ever though his daughter’s illness has delayed things somewhat. Bless her. I hope that she isn’t too scared. And I know it’s only a mindset but it all seem like it’s unravelling – the rain lashes the window, my studio is cluttered with piles of books and extraneous matter from other rooms, my body hurts in numerous places and I don’t know what to do about the application. I don’t truly. Will it all become clearer?
