I am now installed in the new house, and it is good. My room is so nice, and it has lovely things in, and my bed is beautiful and comfy and it feels like I'm in some kind of fancy hotel even though I've been here over a week now.
At the weekend I went out with one of the girls from work to a couple of the pubs in her village. It made me a bit homesick for Woodhall Spa, because everyone knew each other, and it was all cosy and friendly, and safe. Even though we had a fun time gossiping about work and drinking pink wine and talking about boys, in the back of my mind I was wondering what S was up to, and whether he was wondering what I was up to. And in the morning we saw each other again and it got fruity, and the rest of the weekend stayed pretty fruity, and by Sunday evening I had decided in my very tiny mind that we actually do love each other after all and we should totally just go back to dating, like we did last year, and live apart, and see each other a couple of times a week, and we'll realise that we should be together, like boyfriend and girlfriend, and it'll be okay, really.
It is amazing how I can convince myself of things that are utterly ridiculous when I am at my lowest.
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