And welcome to the past.
Well, my own personal past, anyway. You see, as a happily married man, I’m used to living alongside another human being. I’m used to making room for another set of sensibilities, taking into account the habits, foibles, and, dare we say it, eccentricities of another living, breathing human being.
And tomorrow, for a sliver shy of 48 long hours, all that will be gone.
Past Present
Yes, Tina, my Superspouse, is getting on a bus and heading down to the big smoke, there to meet up with my step-daughter, Sarah, and take full receipt of the Christmas present said child bought her last year.
A night out at the O2, to see Sarah Millican. Which I’m not jealous about at all…Much.
No, I’m content to sit here, at home, with my third of a bottle of Buffalo Trace Bourbon, a massive kebab, and the cats (That last item is not for consumption, you understand). The dog will be snoring in the back room. The telly will be mine and mine alone. If you take out the pets it’s going to be fairly reminiscent of my bachelor days.
Worry Not
This isn't about me, anyway. Not in any way. Tomorrow will mark the first time since her break down (more about which you can read in her own words, HERE) that she’s embarked on such a solo flight. It will be a big thing, a red letter day, for her to wave me a fond (I hope) adieu, get on that bus and take the four hour journey alone, and it will, until I get a text or a call, be something I won’t be able to help myself worry about a bit.
Not that Tina isn’t more than capable of taking this step. In fact, as gainful and fulfilling employment looms, it's the right time for her to redefine her limits, grab hold of her personal power with both hands, and realise the potential that trauma, depression, and anxiety has so sorely robbed her of. I might worry tomorrow, but I’ll also be amazingly proud of my amazing wife. I already am.
Worry Not
This isn't about me, anyway. Not in any way. Tomorrow will mark the first time since her break down (more about which you can read in her own words, HERE) that she’s embarked on such a solo flight. It will be a big thing, a red letter day, for her to wave me a fond (I hope) adieu, get on that bus and take the four hour journey alone, and it will, until I get a text or a call, be something I won’t be able to help myself worry about a bit.
Not that Tina isn’t more than capable of taking this step. In fact, as gainful and fulfilling employment looms, it's the right time for her to redefine her limits, grab hold of her personal power with both hands, and realise the potential that trauma, depression, and anxiety has so sorely robbed her of. I might worry tomorrow, but I’ll also be amazingly proud of my amazing wife. I already am.
Of course, any concern I hold will be banished as soon as I hear she’s reached London, turned the right way out of Victoria bus station (we managed to get a little lost last time, even though Victoria Train Station, where we habitually decamp, decompress, and caffeinate before continuing our journey is just over the road) and met up with Sarah.
Me Time
And that will be it until the next day. There’s no need to disturb the ladies night of comedy, booze, and suitably raucous fun. I’ll text the following morning, not too early, to see how things went, then wait to hear she’s back on the bus home, but until then I’ll find solace in a Bourbon and Coke, wait for my mahooosive kebab (maybe with some bhajis), and try to find something to watch on the box. If there’s no footy, I might find the kind of car chase-y, shoot-y, blowing things up kind of film that fits a boys (or boy’s) night in. From there, I will sleep soundly (I won’t actually, not without my bed partner, but you know what I mean), safe in the knowledge Tina is safe, sound, and enjoying herself with both Sarahs.
Until next time…
#
Hey, there! If you enjoyed reading any of the above, why not take a look at some of my published work? Below you’ll find links to a number of short stories I’m lucky enough to have included in anthologies. I’d love to know what you think
New Tales Of Old
Death Ship
Pestilence: Drabbles 1
Reaperman: Drabbles 3
The Musketeers Vs Cthulhu
Eldritch Investigations
Me Time
And that will be it until the next day. There’s no need to disturb the ladies night of comedy, booze, and suitably raucous fun. I’ll text the following morning, not too early, to see how things went, then wait to hear she’s back on the bus home, but until then I’ll find solace in a Bourbon and Coke, wait for my mahooosive kebab (maybe with some bhajis), and try to find something to watch on the box. If there’s no footy, I might find the kind of car chase-y, shoot-y, blowing things up kind of film that fits a boys (or boy’s) night in. From there, I will sleep soundly (I won’t actually, not without my bed partner, but you know what I mean), safe in the knowledge Tina is safe, sound, and enjoying herself with both Sarahs.
Until next time…
#
Hey, there! If you enjoyed reading any of the above, why not take a look at some of my published work? Below you’ll find links to a number of short stories I’m lucky enough to have included in anthologies. I’d love to know what you think
New Tales Of Old
Death Ship
Pestilence: Drabbles 1
Reaperman: Drabbles 3
The Musketeers Vs Cthulhu
Eldritch Investigations
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