Wednesday, March 31, 2004

Oh how we deceive others and ourselves.

Met the in-laws for what is possibly the last time as 'son in-law' tonight. Ostensibly to show the amicability with which this is proceeding.

External: "Yes, of course we'll all still be friends. After all, we have a 15 year history."

Internal: "I never have to speak to you EVER AGAIN. Can I get a Hell Yeah? Oh, and you smell of cabbage."

This christmas will I be:

a) Sitting at a table, wearing a paper hat, and pushing dried-up turkey around a plate with all the enthusiasm of a person about to undergo colonic irrigation (which, considering the consequences of consuming the food on offer, is not far from the truth)


b) Drinking champagne while skiing down some sparkling alpine slope

Answers on a postcard to:

"I bet the answer won't be A" competition
Somewhere in the UK
Onto serious stuff...

Here's a question. 2 year seperation, or 'quickie' unreasonable behaviour?

Can't go for adultery since the two young lovers work for an organisation that frowns on that sort of thing, and I really need them both to keep their jobs.

But what should the unreasonable behaviour be? Toothpaste squeezed in the middle? Toilet seat left up (or down)? Assanination of Arch-Duke Ferdinand, thus touching off the first world war?

Decisions, decisions.

I shall be having my first 'proper' chat with a lawyer tomorrow. Oooo...
Found myself sharing a shower with many women today. Unfortunately, this was the communal shower at the local pool. Even more unfortunately, the majority of them dwarfed me both in height and girth.

The sound of the water hitting this vast expanse of lycra was not unlike being inside a marquee on a rainy day.
Temptation proved to be too great.

I bought some rubber-wear today. With the aid of some talc, they slipped on smoothly and feel like a second skin. They even have some rather naughty ribbing.

You can't beat a new pair of marigolds for doing the washing up.

Tuesday, March 30, 2004

And that was that.

It was with tears and the inevitable flow of snot that first-born received the news. And then she moved on. I've no doubt she'll make a therapist very wealthy in 15 years time with the fall-out from all of this. Or maybe not. She may start her own blog, get optioned by some filmmaker and make her fortune.

Beats auditioning for Pop Idol.

Life has meaning again.

New episodes of Monkey have been uncovered

Please take a moment to allow the importance of this find to sink in. From this day on, March 29th will be known as Monkey Day

I thank you.

And now, I really should be getting some sleep.

Monday, March 29, 2004

Hedonism update:

I have branched away from the usual salads and instead purchased some deeply unhealthy pre-packed curry things from the local supermarket. And some chips.

Surely worth a 2 out of 10?

Unfortunately, I have to subtract 5 because in the same shopping session I purchased some oven cleaner and industrial strength sink unblocker. At least I restrained myself from buying a new pair of marigolds.

Failed again. Tch.
Today I invested about 70 pounds sterling in the mighty Lego corporation by taking my daughter to Legoland Windsor.

Being 6, she has yet to acquire the world-weary cyncism with which I regard these places (and the suspicion with which all food that has not been hermetically sealed must be treated.)

And of course, she had a wonderful time. Made more wonderful, I suspect, by the knowledge that the first ride we went on left me soaking (and her dry) for the rest of the day. March days in England, and water-based rides do not make good bedfellows. Every now and again she'd prod me to ensure I was still suffering from all-over dampness and giggle like, er, a little girl.

These are the good times. Tomorrow I have to tell her that I will soon not be living with her mother. That will probably be a bad time.

Song of the day: Shoot The Messenger (Catatonia)

Sunday, March 28, 2004

Hedonism update:

Whirlpool baths. 4 jets, or 8 jets and lighting?
Well that was relatively painless.

Far from the "See a marriage counsellor" response I was expecting, the family have taken a more pragmatic "Yeah - she's a nutter. You're better off indulging yourself in consumer electronics and empty, meaningless sex" approach.

Ok, strip out the second part of that sentence and you're closer to the truth. The thought of my aunt coming out with a line like that actually leaves me faintly nauseous and will, I suspect, result in some very distressing dreams tonight.


Judging by the harsh comments regarding my dress sense over the last decade or so, it couldn't have been through any intention of sparing my feelings.

So, dear reader, if you know someone who really needs to be told their relationship is in a bad place, tell them. They may not like it at the time, but it will mean fewer diaries like this popping up over the internet. And that can only be a good thing. Really.
Breakfast today:

Tesco Melon Medley ("Refreshing Sweet Pieces")
Tesco Fresh Fruit Salad ("Sweet Ripe Moist")
Diet Coke with Lemon

Debauchery score (out of 10) : -3

I can see I'm going to have to try a little harder at this hedonism thing. Although that description on the fruit salad pack did leave me feeling faintly queasy.
In the interests of pursuing hedonism, I decided to order a pizza last night from that esteemed establishment Dominos (mainly because they do Internet ordering and I am a child of the connected age/too damn lazy to pick up the phone.)

I also took my life in my hands by ordering some chicken drumstick things. I live life on the edge, me.

Shortly after, I received a call from a harrassed sounding chap:

He: "Are you sure you live at xxx?"

Me: "Yes, of course. I'm standing in it right now"

He: "You can't be. I'm at xxx and the door has been answered by a little old lady who doesn't look a Dominos kinda gal"

At once I was struck that, bearing in mind Deloreans only need to travel at 88mph to traverse time and Dominos drivers go far faster, maybe this chap had travelled to the future and was talking to my wife as she is in 30 years time (I have yet to move out, you see)

Me (hopefully): "This woman, is she bitter and twisted? Regretting the love she tossed aside for a few mere baubles? Bent down by decades of loss and loneliness?"

He: "No. But she does smell a bit of wee. Oh - hold on; that would be your pizza"

As it transpired he had merely gone to the wrong address.


Saturday, March 27, 2004

Tomorrow I break the news to the family.

How to do it? Jolly and cheerful: "All those in a stable relationship, stand up! Now, you're probably wondering why I'm still sitting down..."

Or maybe gothic and maudlin: "God - she's left me. I wish I was DEAD"

How about cold and calculating: "Yes, she may have met someone else. But statistically speaking, they'll both be dead before me. I have only to wait..." (insert appropriate cackle)

I'm not sure. Option 1 may not go down too well. Option 2 is just tosh, and Option 3 is a bit too sinister.

I'll let my friend Beer decide for me. He's never normally wrong. Well, not until I sober up in the morning and start gnawing on my knuckles.
On Sunday, March 21st my wife of 11 years (and girlfriend for 4 years before that) announced that she was seeing another man and that it would be jolly nice if I could bugger off.

Our young daughter was out of the room at the time, otherwise fireworks may well have ensued. As it was, I sat in stunned silence.

The fact that this announcement came on Mothers Day (in the UK) demonstrated that fate does indeed have a sense of humour. The sort that pours custard down your trousers while honking an amusingly shaped red nose.

After a week of generally feeling sorry for myself (and boring my friends with tales of heartbreak, sadness and other tediousness) I've decided to record my first few months of being single again in this diary (I detest the word 'blog' - sounds like something you'd flush down the toilet) in the purely selfish hope of getting some closure, and in the altruistic hope that anyone else in this situation might benefit from my experiences (aside from the hedonism, I'll note how the divorce proceedings are going, what the costs are, and how it all plays out.)

Hedonism? Heck yes. I am still young, having married young and now repenting at leisure. I've often speculated what life would be like to be 18 again, knowing (and earning) what I do now. Now I'm going to find out.

Could be a bumpy ride. Grammar is optional.