An Emotional Roller Coaster

What a massive ten days it's been! The job I'd been waiting for became vacant and was advertised briefly on the website with a short closing date. I spent a long time (why does it always take me so long) filling in the application form and writing my Statement of Application. I dropped the application form in in person and crossed my fingers. Later that day, mourning the loss of my darling Archie Cat, I howled out loud in the car on the way home. Hope and sorrow all in a matter of hours. I had 4 days to wait until I would know if I had been shortlisted for interview.

Sure enough, Thursday afternoon brought good news via email. My interview was the following Monday at 8.15am.

By Monday I had a hideous cold virus, I haven't felt so ill for a long time. However I dosed myself up on Ibuprofen and Paracetamol and off I went for a whole morning of interview, I felt as though I was talking through a plastic bag but got through it all the same! I came home and went to bed.

At 3.30pm my phone woke me and I was offered the job! Wow, I could hardly believe it, I texted everyone I knew! It was only a week since Archie left us, what a roller coaster of emotions. That was last Monday.

And today I said goodbye to my old job, my colleagues, and what has been the hardest of all, the pupils. I hoped to slip quietly away but word had got around and I ended up on stage being presented with flowers and having to say my thanks in front of over 300 children, staff and parents. Not really what I had visualised!

The last day of the summer term is always emotional as we say goodbye to all the year 6's who are about to start senior school but this year was more poignant.

When I started this job Small Sprog was only 5 years old and I had no idea what upheaval was in store for us all. Everything since then has changed, except my job, but now that has gone too, a new leaf has well and truly been turned over and it's all very exciting...

The Visitors

Magpies. A whole family of them. I watch them from the kitchen window, they are playing, at the bottom of the garden, on and under the new 'steamer' chair that I had for my birthday, one hides underneath and one pecks from above, they seem to show great delight in the game.

At the same time another one has worked out how to get seed from the bird feeder -meant for the little birds which I have tried to encourage for the last year or so. The house is new, and the gardens all non existent when the owners here moved into their new homes over the last year or so. However at the bottom of the garden is a rugby field with many mature bushes and I can hear the little birds well, so I know they are there, so far only a few have ventured into the new garden that provides only a little shelter in bushes that are still not mature. Anyway the clever Magpie birds, though much too big for the feeder, have worked out how to climb onto the stem if the feeding structure and then push the feeder so that it spills a little of its contents (to be eaten later) and, at the same time, when the feeder swings towards them, they climb on board and can balance for an instant - just enough time to grab a seed or two as a prize. The are clever birds, a delight to watch, corvids with brilliant bird brains!

I have become fond of them and put out food for them most days. However they have no scruples! I looked out yesterday to find them, the whole family, shredding my bright orange nasturtium flowers. They were shrieking with delight in their scratchy voices and making a complete racket. Each piece of flower that they had shredded they carried in their beaks as they strutted confidently down to the patio to let go of it in the breeze. As the petal strip started to blow around they would each chase it in turn, like a dog with a ball, as it blew across the slabs. They were amused, they had made up a game, at my expense; though nothing much is flourishing in the garden in this unusually wet summer that we are having. Typical, I thought, I feed you all and this is how you repay me. That and waking me up at the crack of dawn calling to each other with their scratchy little voices and 'laughing' loudly in the new light of dawn.

I am considering putting something shiny outside for them to explore, perhaps it will divert them from their flower wrecking ways?!

Gone

Such a beautiful boy,

The smallness of his little life snuffed out in an instant as the needles' contents infuse slowly into his leg.

Gone in a second, his body lies empty, a case, a shell with the essence lost suddenly from within him.

It seems so amazing (as I gaze upon the empty body) that we are all made up of something we cannot see, for when it is gone the body is but an object.

Where did it go, that essence of him?

Is it in that small place in the garden under the rosemary bush or behind the fennel where he used to nap?

Or in the corner by the fence where he would bake for a while in the sun?

Or is it on the landing where he found comfort last night?

Or on my bed, that lovely warm lump curiously heavy, by my legs in the waking hours of the dark?

Everywhere I look there is a trace of him, a memory, a feeling and now a loss.

I clean out his bowls for the last time,

Gather up his toys

and store them away.

My beautiful boy, at peace now.

Don't leave yet Archie...

This is Archie, my beautiful Burman cat - known rather unkindly as Stinky Cat due to his litter tray habits.

Since we rescued him in November he has 'blossomed'; his fur looks healthier and he has a sort of cat smile, he is content and has enjoyed the garden since the weather has got warmer and on a rare sunny day he will doze outside under the fennel bush for hours which, for an old boy, is hopefully bliss.

But recently he has become fussy with his food and then at the weekend he stopped eating altogether. He has stopped playing too and become quiet. So yesterday I took him to the vet. It was the first time he'd been in the car since we brought him home and I hoped he didn't think he was about to be abandoned again, it's such a shame that we can't tell them what's going on and vice versa, as he might be able to explain what was wrong.

The vet was the most wonderful person, so genuinely caring and I felt we were in very good hands. Archie was the model of a good cat because there's not a bad bone in his body. She checked him over and took his temperature (ooch!)

To cut a long story short, she gave him some antibiotics and a pill to improve his apatite to start with. If he doesn't improve it could be something much worse and I am stealing myself for the worst. I really can't remember life without him now and I have had a chat with him and told him that it's much too early for him to leave us all just yet.

So today he has eaten, which is good. He has eaten sporadically and little and often and is drinking too -mostly from puddles outside the kitchen door! But there's something not right... The cat smile has gone; he looks uneasy, agitated in a way, he can't settle, he curls up but moves again fairly soon and his breathing looks just a little more laboured than usual - or am I imagining that?

I am not sure how long the pill for his apatite will last. We have an appointment on Friday to see how he's doing so I will just have to wait, but in the meantime I am wishing for his contentment to return.

Work Experience

Tall Girl has just completed her week of work experience. She went to an award winning florists shop in an affluent part of the city, this is the frontage - not a good photo from my phone but you get the general impression.

She looked so grown up in her new 'work' clothes that we bought before hand. She had to wear black and she doesn't normally except for school. Anyway, she looked about 19 and completely ready for work.

I am so proud of her work ethic, she has worked very hard, lots of cleaning and scrubbing but it didn't put her off at all! Every evening she would come home and be excited about returning the following day, although by the end of the week she was quite exhausted, 9 to 5 is such a long day compared to the time she usually spends at school. The company have been so good to her, giving her lots of varied jobs to do and taking her to the flower markets and on deliveries to posh places! The staff were all so friendly too, they put her at ease and my shy baby blossomed and became a confident flower, it has been lovely to see.

I had a fantastic week with my first born. Small Sprog was at school camp and Lovely man was working away so we had some quality girly time together eating, drinking 'mocktails' and watching films. We met for lunch too (her request) and took sandwiches to the 'Downs', sitting in the sun watching the world go by. I shall always remember our time shared together, it was rare and precious.

Small Pleasures

When I moved in here about 15 months ago the garden was pretty much empty apart from weeds/wild flowers - depending on perspective, and a few survived, the Chamomile, Love-in-the-mist and Violas are still nestling amongst the more cultivated plants. 

It has been an unexpected delight creating a small garden, and although there is still lots to do, I realised, this week, that I have already fulfilled one of my goals - to be able to pick flowers from the garden to bring indoors.

Roses and lavender.

The lovely thing about gardens is the way you gather the plants. I have bought a few things from the garden centre but have been given far more plants from friends and family; unwanted plants from overcrowded boarders, cuttings taken with care, presents for birthdays, seedlings, all have their own story which I can tell myself as I wander around checking on growth and progress (I am quite an impatient gardener) and hunting for slugs!


 


So here are some photos of flowers recently cut. Now I can't cut swathes of beautiful bunches yet but I can pick poesy's. The red rose bush was a present from a good friend for my birthday last year and were in full bloom on my birthday this year. Somehow it felt very indulgent to cut them, place them in a vase that belonged to my Granny and put them on my bedside table on my birthday.

 The sweet peas seem to have taken ages to bloom - see I told you I was impatient - but I guess the weather hasn't helped, there's not been a vast amount of sun and if I was a sweet pea I think I'd be reluctant too. Anyway, so far only a handful of buds have opened but there are masses yet to come so loads to look forward to.

I have planted quite a few nasturtiums over the spring bulbs which faded back in May. They too have loads of buds but not many open flowers yet.

So there you have it. I love to go out every day and see what changes I can see in the plants around, it cheers me up. Each little  bright bloom..small pleasures indeed.

Mellow Small Sprog

Small Sprog was his usual animated self at the dinner table last Thursday night. "You need to be calm" He said to his sister "like we were in REP." (Religious Education and Philosophy)
"What did you do in REP then?" I asked him, so he went on to describe how they took their shoes off when they entered the class, sprayed something on their hands - apparently the lemon scented one was the best-   and took 5 deep breaths before working calmly through the lesson. "Wow!" I exclaimed, thinking that the teacher was quite brave trying to get a whole class of 12 year olds to take that seriously. "Did everyone do it properly?" I asked.
"Yes" he replied "Even George the Gypsy"!
"Really?" Now that was impressive!

Feeling Blue

Delphinium in my garden

It was my birthday last Wednesday. I awoke to the sun streaming through the curtains and a familiar warm lump by my feet; Stinky cats favourite place to spend the night. He looks at me and I know he is thinking instantly of his breakfast. We walk downstairs together, he does that familiar weaving in and out of your legs thing that cats do, sometimes I wonder if he's plotting my demise, but then who would feed him his favourite food?
I flick on the kettle and feed him hastily before he yowls the house down. I take my breakfast out into the garden and sit in the sun for a precious few minutes before I need to get ready for work. Stinky cat joins me, rolling around in the beginnings of the heat of the morning. It feels strangely quiet, the children aren't home until the afternoon and Lovely Man is working away...and Mum is not talking to me...

Birthday lunch

At lunchtime, after work, I eat in the garden again, Stinky cat follows me like a dog - I am never sure if it is just 'cupboard love'. I relish the last hour of quiet yet I have a small ache somewhere inside me; I check my emails every 30 minutes in case she sends a Happy Birthday message like she usually does on my birthday...it does not arrive.

In my garden

After picking the children up from school we follow our normal routine; I make sandwiches for the next day and dinner for the evening. Lovely Man returns, we eat and go to bed. Every now and again I remember it is my birthday and then I realise why the small ache is still there.
Sleep takes a while and my eyes fill with tears. It wasn't the day I'd planned, though maybe that's because I didn't really plan anything and I have learnt over the years that if you want to have a good time then you definitely have to organise it first and not just expect it to happen around you but I didn't have my heart in it this week. I could have suggested we go out or do something fun after school but actually I just felt a bit flat.

The Country Show

I am a complete sucker for farm animals, so at the country show - seeing as I couldn't smuggle any out - I couldn't resist photographing some. Hope you like them?

This sheep below was sporting a cool and trendy fringe.

These two appeared to be friends

Inscrutable sheep with attitude

(look at his eyes?)

Piggies in love

I fell in love with this cute highland calf, she was adorable-they all were..           

Alpacas, always look quite ridiculous!

And this beautiful bunny, what an amazing colour?

All in all, despite the rain, we had a great time.

For more animal pic's go to Tall Girls Blog !

Fathers Day

About 4 days ago I bought 2 cards for 2 fathers both, in some way or another, belonging to me (fathers not cards!).

Every year I scan the offerings in the shops; "Best Dad in the world", "You're a Star", "Do you remember when I was young?", all totally inappropriate to send to either of them, I end up buying two blank cards, one funny (for step father), one with cats on (for natural father, who has passed on his cat loving genes to me) Blank cards, in the end, were the only option, with Happy Fathers Day, scrawled in my own large handwritten letters. My natural father left when I was eight years old, it was almost 30 years before we saw each other again, I like him, and we are quite similar, but he's not really like a dad to me, I guess he's never really had the chances. Step father... well there's bits about it dotted around this blog...save to say some step fathers cannot be trusted with little girls. Anyway neither of them have really ever been 'proper' parents, which makes it quite difficult -not just to choose a card but -to understand what it's like to actually have a relationship with a male parent. It's difficult to understand my own children's relationship with their father and on dreary evenings like this evening, I feel quite sad that I will never know what it's like to be loved by 2 parents at the same time. In order to feel what it's like I live vicariously through friends and Lovely Man and from this end it looks very safe and secure, and I am glad I can see how it should be.

I am writing this at a time when I have also had an upset with the only real parent I have had (almost) constantly in my life and when there's no brothers and sisters around either (I am an only child) it feels kinda lonely.

I received an email today from her saying that she won't be reading any more of my emails before she goes on holiday - next weekend- which means she has no intention of being in touch on my birthday, which is the middle of next week. Our emails have been fairly blunt over the last week and she says she doesn't want to be upset before her holiday. And there was I thinking that my imminent birthday may bring about a change, it's been a very long time since she's not acknowledged my birthday.

Meanwhile the children have spent the weekend with their father. Small Sprog carefully made a lovely card before leaving here on Friday and Tall Girl winged it by taking a blank one from the cupboard to decorate at some point prior to the event! Somehow too I have bought -and concealed for them in their overnight bag - presents for both children to give to him this weekend, some things never change, and he will not suspect of course. I hope he has enjoyed his children this weekend, I think, perhaps, that he has.

What does Fathers Day mean to you?

Jubilee weekend on the water!

It was fun!

I think the children will always remember where they were 

for the jubilee!

 Tall Girl was mistress of the lock key!

And boy there were a few locks! 

(though we ran out of time to do this lot - the longest flight of locks in the country )

Sitting on the roof was great fun.

It was a shame to come home, but we shall definitely go again one day.

How was your bank holiday weekend?

Canal holiday

We are off on a canal boat for the weekend, everyone is excited. Tall Girl has an idea that she will lie out on the roof in shorts and T-shirt but the weather man says it's unlikely! Small Sprog has plans to drag his net along in the water and gather whatever he can catch in a bucket. He also has plans for a rainy day and has packed the game called 'Risk'. Tall Girl refuses to play it with him, Lovely Man has shown some enthusiasm. Lovely Man is already on the boat with his family. By the time we get there there should be bunting around the boat, which I can't wait to see. Photos to follow hopefully.

On the way home in the car tonight the children were talking about their plans. Tall Girl said she thought Small Sprog would look like a 'k'nome with his fishing net.
" 'k'nome?" I said as she had emphasised the 'k' sound at the beginning "do you mean gnome?"
She looked sheepish "I forget which silent letter it is!" She wailed while Small Sprog and I laughed until tears ran down our faces- the clue being in the title 'silent letter'! Poor Tall Girl. Dyslexia is a way of life around here, isn't it strange that she should think about the spelling when she says a word. It's a fascinating way of being, if sometimes just a little bit strange!

What are you doing for the jubilee?

Single mothers

A few weeks ago Small Sprog brought home his school report. Contained within were his 'levels'. The government is obsessed with 'levels', all the children at school know what level they are on (even the youngest) and what their target is for the year. All well and good if you are a bright and confident, not so great if you are comparing yourself to those who are very successful.

Anyway, I digress. I was happy with Small Sprogs progress and told him so. However I couldn't help comparing his report with Tall Girls one at the same age, at the same school.

Now I know she's a girl and perhaps this accounts for some of the discrepancy but although his levels were similar to hers at the same age, his predicted grades were much lower. Tall Girl has exceeded some of her targets this year and some are going to be roughly what was expected. But do you know how they are worked out? It's not just about her, 'they' take into account family circumstances and whether she's on free school meals etc.

When Tall Girl was in year 7 she lived in a nuclear family. Small Sprog at that same age does not. Small Sprog is registered for free school meals because of my low pay, even though I make him sandwiches every day. (The school benefits from extra cash if you register your children even if the children don't have the dinners.)

It seems that Small Sprog is not expected to do so well at school because he lives with his single mother. His scrounging single mother who apparently lowers his life chances. Is this fair? Is it fair that he shouldn't be expected to do as well because he comes from a 'broken home'? Is it fair that women who live alone are portrayed as non working scroungers with little or no education themselves, who have, in turn, no interest in their offspring's education or future? It makes me mad that his levels are expected to be lower now that he lives outside of the accepted required norm.

Recently I have neglected him I must admit, but only because I have spent every night for the last weeks -though it seems like months- helping Tall Girl revise for her GCSE's. And all that effort will be his in a few years - is his now when he brings home work from school.

I am determined that they will get the same results as they would have if we were still living in a family unit. In fact, I think I am better placed now to give them more help than when I was in an unhappy place.

Tall Girl completed her Science GCSE today, she has worked incredibly hard -though physics baffles us both! So fingers crossed. I hope, desperately hope, that I can continue to support them in their education until they no longer need me to. The only thing that might interfere with that is if I have to work 24/7 to support them financially and then there will be little time for our family life, but perhaps that's what the government would prefer?

Thoughtful

Here she is putting daises in her buttonholes;
grown up on the outside but still a little girl underneath

Tall Girl is very tall now, taller than me and very willowy and grown up looking. Her manner is becoming more mature too and I am enjoying watching her grow into a lovely woman.

This week I went for an interview for a possible job. The job isn't available yet, I just went along to see the school and talk to the Assistant Head. It felt like an interview though. The man I met was very pleasant but had quite a deadpan face and I still have really no idea what he thought of me or whether I will get an interview when they actually advertise the position.

Anyway, not long after I got home Tall Girl texted me in her lunchtime. "How did you get on in your interview?" She asked. Now this may sound strange but I thought that this was very grown up. She has never shown an interest or asked anything like that before. I was so pleased she had remembered and bothered to check, it felt really good to be thought of and it meant a lot to me.

It's funny how we develop all these little social skills over time. Just one little text or phrase can cheer someone's day -something to remember I guess. Who have you cheered up lately?

Markers of time.

"Gardeners question time will be coming from the Malvern Spring Show..." Listening to the radio today I was suddenly taken back to an earlier time. My first date with (now) ExHusband was at The Spring Garden Show, its at the same time every year so a particular marker of time. It's not a thing I think about these days, although in our former years together we would often visit annually as an anniversary sort of thing - we were happy then, but the sudden mention of it did make me contemplate for a while.

On that morning I can remember being ready early. I remember feeling slightly nervous and wondering if I was dressed appropriately, asking the cat what he thought and getting the usual pedigree disdain! We sat together, cat and I, on the kitchen work top, waiting expectantly; it was the bast place to sit in order to watch for cars.

When he arrived he came in for a short time while I went upstairs to get a jacket, meanwhile the Very Bad Cat threw up a fur ball in front of him, leaving him helpless and wondering if he should have intervened. You can't beat a cat's sense of timing when it comes to vomiting or depositing a semi dead rodent when there's guests around.

The memory made me smile yet the memory seems a lifetime away.

This weekend - 17 (or is it 18?) years later- it is Lovely Man's 40th birthday and we have 'Plans'. How strange it seems, that we can look back in time and know what was happening in that time and space so long ago. So lucky that we can't look into the future and see what is in store for us on certain days at certain times. Markers of time, good and bad, are always a fascination to me. Do you like to reminisce?

Hot House

I took this photo a few weeks ago. I'm quite pleased with it.

When I look at it I feel more cheerful, perhaps

because I can still imagine the warmth despite the current vile weather!

Dear future employer

Dear Future Employer

Please will you consider me for a job? Any kind of job will do. I can cook, clean, iron, sew, communicate and smile. I can sort out arguing children, teach dyslexic students, design house interiors and I have a First Class hons degree in Social Policy and Sociology. At the moment I work in a job that I enjoy but no one notices me. No one says please or thank you and no one is valued. We are all just numbers. We are all dispensable one way or another; if our contract is permanent then we can just be made to feel worthless until we find something else. At the moment I work in a job that pays so little that I don't pay tax but that doesn't help when there's not enough money coming into the household in the first place. At the moment I work in a job where I can't get any more hours even though occasionally there are some spare, they never come my way. Should I ask why? Should I ask what I am doing or not doing that means I am not considered? If I do, will I be singled out for more of the same? Or am I taking it all too personally? At the moment I am working in a job where I work overtime for free at the drop of that hat. I am very willing to please. I only need 5 more hours per week paid work to be able to benefit from tax credits which I desperately need, I am happy to work for £1 an hour just to be able to get this help. Dear Future Employer, will you consider me?

Sick as a fish!

Small Sprog has quite a few 'going to bed' tactics, I'm sure you can imagine? So when he says he feels sick, just as it's time to turn out the light, I'm often just a bit sceptical. It's the 'I need a drink of water' syndrome.

Last night, just as we turned the light out, he felt sick. "No you don't" I say
"I really do" he replies.
It's a bit 'cry wolf'.

I start to become exasperated. I tell him he can come back downstairs but only for a moment. I go off to find a bucket just in case - just in time in fact - Small Sprog is sick, poor thing. At least he is a good aim.

Consequently he is at home today, right as rain and slightly bored, which is a good thing, I don't want him to think taking a 'sick day' is fun.

So as we go to get Tall Girl from school this afternoon we have a conversation about fishing. He was watching a programme about fishing on TV last night to take his mind off feeling ill. "Did I tell you?" He says "That my friend has a fishing magazine and there is a picture of a boy with a massive carp that looks just like me?"
"Oh Small Sprog" I say sympathetically "You don't look anything like a big carp!"
He gives me a withering look. "No, the boy" he says "I look just like the boy holding the fish"

I giggle. He may have thought I was being silly but actually I was deadly serious. Hey Ho! I'll put my madness down to sleep deprivation. How do you account for yours?

The New Boy Band

Small Sprog and friends have created themselves a band. They are allowed to use the music dept facilities at school during lunchtime. His recent Facebook pic showed the four of them together with the words 'The Band With No Name'. In the comments one of them had said "Thought we'd got a name?"
"Not yet" said another "Thought of 'The Nutters' though"! Too true I thought. And so it begins..

Today Small Sprog gets into the car. "We've got a name"
"Oh good" I say "What is it?"
"Dynamo"
"Good name" I say, thinking I must try not to get it mixed up with my lawn mower -Flymo- or worse still the nick name that Lovely Man calls the lawn mower (Spazmo, which I know is very politically incorrect and I hope I have not offended anyone here).
"Who thought of it?"
"Me, but Alex thought of the slogan 'Hot Chicks And Rock And Roll'!"
"Oh!" I say "Do you know, sometimes there are things I wish I didn't know Small Sprog!" Goodness me they are only 12.

Anyway, he persuades me to let him leave his guitar at school so they can continue to practice. I agree and am secretly pleased because he really needs to practice loads more, it's not until later on in the conversation that I realise another boy is playing his guitar (his mother, sensibly, won't let him leave his guitar at school) and Small Sprog is vocals. So much for the guitar practice then, but he does have a good singing voice and it's way better than his guitar playing.

In the back of the car I ask him what they are currently rehearsing. He starts to sing, which always makes me smile. "Have you downloaded the lyrics?" I ask
"No, I know them all backwards"
"Go on then" Says his sister
"Go on what?" I ask confused
"Sing it backwards" she says with a 'duhh' sort of voice
"No" I say "He doesn't mean really 'backwards', it's a figure of speech"
"Oh" she says disappointedly and then, loosing interest, she asks "Can I have the radio on?"
I look at Small Sprog and raise my eyebrows, sometimes she just doesn't get it!

From the past (with explanation)

(Afterword: Having read a couple of comments below, I thought that perhaps I should explain that these events, spaced across 6 or more years, at the time did not feel catastrophic, dramatic or even on ordeal. Life just lurched from event to event, good and bad, intense and less so. Perhaps it was because I was so young and had nothing to compare my life with, perhaps it was the time itself? In the early to mid '80's I had never heard of 'Domestic Violence' I don't think the phrase had been realised back then, it wasn't on the news, on advertising hoardings or seen between TV programmes, it wasn't in my vocabulary; things happened but that's just how it was. I didn't share these events with my family - can you imagine the fuss, things were complicated enough? But then again, as I have said, there didn't seem much to tell. It is only now, now that I put it all together - and condensed here even more so- that I realise I was a victim in a way. But I prefer, like many others, to think of myself as a survivor - and that is a survivor of life in general, not just of Domestic Violence.)

"Guess who touched me on the arm in the supermarket yesterday?" She says in an animated fashion. I shake my head. "M!" she shouts with glee, "you know, your old flame?" I nod my head and she continues with enthusiasm. "He asked after you". She is pleased to have seen him and I look at her in amazement.

She is talking about a man that she didn't really approve of all those years ago, he had tattooed arms ( I was instructed from an early age to "never bring a man home with a motor bike or tattoos!") and long hair - though no bike - and she had said that he had no table manners at all. She thought he was lazy and not suitable (despite owning his own company) and "was he seeing someone else?". I will always remember that line because I was never quite sure myself. Yet here she was talking about him like an old friend (though she had warmed to him over the 6 or more years we were together.)

"I just happened to have some photographs of you all, I'd just collected from Boots" She continued. Goodness me she has shown him photographs? "He has 2 girls now you know?" I did. "He says tall Girl looks just like you"
"Poor thing, everyone says that to her." I reply as I make a swift mental calculation and realise I was hardly 3 years older than she is now when I first met him.

As she carried on I began to remember parts of those 6 years, or was it 7. The images flashed through my head at speed, like a film-strip flicking on a stark white wall superimposed on the current view of my mother sitting in her conservatory. Each scene played for only seconds but were none the less vivid: The fist through the car windscreen, from the inside; the blue room, in a fairly grim B&B in Dartmouth, and the searing pain of sex, as I lay silent and he ground down on top of me without my consent; the view from the back of the ambulance as we sped to hospital to have pills pumped from his stomach; the promise I made afterwards - how many others had said those same lines?

"He says he thought he saw you the other day" She smiled as she delivered this piece of news "and I told him you'd love to have had a chat" I smile back, remembering better times, times when he could talk me out of a black mood and make everything in the world seem so much better, just with words. The time he stroked my head until an agonising migraine had passed; his last note to me - everything will be alright.
"He says he often thinks of you kindly" She finished

How strange, until now, I had never thought of him at all.