Just for the record

A bit of a break from my usual policy of steering away from anything too personal today. Sadly, my divorce from Tudor has taken an unexpected turn towards acrimony. Despite having made an agreement several weeks ago that we were going to divorce amicably without solicitors, and having agreed a financial settlement, Tudor has now instructed a solicitor and it looks like he's backing out of the financial settlement we agreed. This means I am almost certainly going to have to pull out of the flat I'm buying, which, as I've already moved out of the flat I've been renting a room in, leaves me homeless at present. This action is, apparently, due to the fact that an anonymous friend of Tudor's has been reading my blog and has told him that I've mentioned David and have been boasting about my 'new wonderful life'.

Just for the record then, I thought I should fill you in on my new wonderful life, which consists mainly of:

• Crying for a large proportion of my time, sometimes so hard I think I'm going to be sick
  
• Finding the guilt of how this has all come about almost impossible to live with
• Painfully missing Tudor and so many aspects of our 12 years together
• Discovering the delights of insomnia for the first time
• Finding it increasingly difficult to drag myself out of bed in the mornings/early afternoon
  

Probably a jolly good thing I don't drink I reckon, or I'd have daily hangovers to add to the list. As it is, the constant feeling of nausea and vague panic I'm suffering anyway will suffice.

Sorry to be a whinger, been trying hard to put a brave face on it all, which is why this blog has clearly given the wrong impression about how great, or otherwise, I'm feeling. Have a feeling just writing this will make Tudor more angry. Well, I don't suppose I can win either way. Anyway, despite recent events, I still intend to do everything possible to make sure this divorce does not turn into a fight. I don't see how either of us come out winners if that is the case. So out of respect for Tudor, and a desire to minimise the damage, I shan't be posting for a while guys.

I have a little sign that I carry around with me at the moment, which rather aptly says 'This would be really funny if it wasn't happening to me'.

Well good Lord, so much has happened recently. London came under attack and we at Charlotte's were put on 'high alert' for unplanned homebirths with people who couldn't make it into London hospitals, although we didn't have any. Well, I didn't anyway. And then David and I went to my dad's villa in Lanzarote, Blue Marlin, for a week, which was very nice indeed. The weather was fabulous and I managed to get the best tan I've ever had. Shall post one or two pictures as soon as I get round to downloading them from my camera... The week was however slightly marred by me being ill, as is always the way when you get some time off work, isn't it? It was a real pain actually, as it was just one thing after another. Started with a cold developing the day before we left (just on its way out now), had one night of indescribably painful heartburn (for the fourth time this year, despite never having had it before. Why? Is it just something that goes with being over 30?) then culminated with a lovely stomach bug, which hit me hard on the plane on the way back - not really the place you want it to happen, as I'm sure you'll agree. It was definitely a bug rather than a foody thing, as David developed it two days later. Then, to top it all off, they lost my suitcase on the way home. My own fault of course, as I was standing by the carousel explaining that I'd never had any baggage go missing at the time... Anyway, it turns out they'd sent it to Amsterdam by mistake and, although they know that, they still haven't managed to get it sent back to me, despite reassuring me daily that it's now at Heathrow and should be with me by the afternoon... Beginning to get a bit desperate now as it contained all my pants (so I'm having to do a nightly wash, which is pretty irritating) and, far more importantly, all my make-up. For those of you who know me well, you can imagine what distress this is causing me. Thank God I've got a good tan and an emergency mascara but still... Amazingly though, despite all that, the holiday was still pretty good.

While we were away, the survey was done on the flat I'm buying, which came back all good, so it's still full steam ahead, thank goodness. And the mortgage has officially been approved too, talk is for a completion date sometime mid-September so fingers crossed everyone!

Finally of course, the big news of the week. The release of the sixth Harry Potter book. We were away when it came out and scoured the whole island to try to find it but no luck, so on our return on Friday morning we ran out to buy two copies. I finished mine a day and a half later. Now, obviously, for those of you who have yet to read/finish yours, I shan't post any spoilers but SWEET BABY JESUS AND THE ORPHANS. I laughed, I cried, I cried again. Worth waiting for, but the resultant wait for book seven, which will undoubtedly be very different to all the others, given the ending of book six, will be AGONY! Please email any theories/insights to me direct, in order to avoid giving anything away here...

Salad In 'Delicious' Shocker

I've always considered salad to be some kind of punishment for all the nice food I really want to eat. I'll eat it, sometimes it even tastes okay, but, come on, let's face it, it's not the most exciting of foodstuffs.

But then came Spinach, Watercress and Rocket Salad. Drizzled with olive oil and - and this is the real secret - balsamic vinegar.

I can't get enough of it. I've eaten it every day this week. And REALLY enjoyed it.

Marillion Rocks!

I had two tickets to see Marillion - my favourite band as you are probably aware - on Thursday. I asked several people if they wanted to go with me but, for various reasons, no one was available to come with me. And no, it wasn't that they all thought they were rubbish, stop being so rude about my boys. I had asked David if he would come but, as a gentleman rather more partial to the blander side of the music scene (e.g. Jamie 'like listening to a slice of white bread' Cullum), he said something about rather eating his own spleen. Eventually however, when it became apparent that I would be rocking out on my own, he agreed to come along, under duress, to keep me company.

The concert was fabulous and I sang my little heart out. Which of your so-called modern-day popular beat combos would do a full-on gig followed by TWO encores with a total of SIX songs? Pah. You can keep 'em. Give me Steve Rothery looking like he's having an...ahem...rather pleasurable experience whilst playing his exquisite guitar solos, Mark Kelly, dark and brooding at the back, like an evil warlord secretly surveying his minions, Pete Trawavas bounding around like a hobbit on speed, Ian Mosley so laid back whilst playing extraordinary complicated drum fills that he looks like he may be finishing off a particularly nice tapestry at the same time, and of course H, filling the room with his presence and impossibly pitch perfect with every single note he sings ANYDAY.

Just before the last encore, David leant over and said "ok, you win. I will never take the piss out of them again. I'm converted." He then spent the yesterday wearing his newly-purchased Marillion t-shirt and asking when the next gig is.

In your face!