recruit in waiting

I’m tired of waiting.  All the waiting is adding up, making me stressed and also making me doubt the decision that I’ve made, not only to join, but also the process of returning home to join.  It’s frustrating. 

I thought that the time I’d taken with my application, in an effort to be thorough would pay off, however I’m not sure that it is going to help in any way.  I think that it would be a little more comforting to know that my application could progress even without the fingerprint clearance from Canada.  At least that way I would know that as soon as it gets back I could get into the Academy.  I’m just frustrated and disappointed.  I just want to get on with it.

Friday at last

TGIF, but it’s not even as good as it sounds.  Friday this week is the first day of the sale.  Work on Saturday is the second.  It’s hard to imagine a more difficult end to the week; particularly after the trials of today.

Gym this morning, it was good, but I didn’t feel anywhere near as strong.  I’m really feeling the difference of adding weight each session, through to the end of the week, my final session before the two day break nearly kills me.  Push ups were absolute shit today.  12, 7, 4 was crap, and a lot worse that I thought I would perform, but I think that it’s a result of pushing harder, or having to work harder on the bench.  I certainly felt that weight on the bench more today.

5 x 5 A

Squats @ 35

Bench Press @ 32.5

Inverted Row – 12, 8, 8

Push ups – 12, 7, 4

Reverse Crunch – 3 x 12

I got a letter today, from the police about my previous residence in various countries overseas.  Turns out I need a finger print check from one of those countries.  I looked up current processing times and it turns out that it takes, or can take, in excess of 4 months.  Fucking bullshit.  Every single thing that can be presented as an obstacle is being presented as an obstacle.  I’m not sure if I can deal with this anymore.

rut diving

I’m officially in a rut, golf wise.  I didn’t think that things could actually get much worse than they have been over the last week or so, but again my expectations have been exceeded.  Although this time not in a positive way.  Today was awful.  There are no other words to describe the sheer atrocity that was golf today.  Train wreck.

The back nine wasn’t so bad, and neither, I guess was the front 4 holes, that we played after starting on the 5th.  The 5th to the 10th was awful.  Just awful.  I really felt that even though I wasn’t hitting the ball all that well, and that I was just mishitting a lot of short chips, in terms of distance, that a lot of the cookie crumbs just didn’t fall with me.  A few putts hit the hole then passed it, most probably should have dropped.  I drove to the middle of the fairway on the 2nd, aiming that way and it kicked left at about a 45deg angle down to behind the trees, where I normally come from.  I chose the right club, Gap as it was shorter than normal, and hit it well and right to where I wanted it to go, and it went off the back.  I hit my P from the tee on the 7th, and it wound up about 35 m over the back.  When do I ever fucking hit the P 125m??  Just nothing worked today.  Driver was going ok, better towards the back 9.  Putting, although not all that great, was better.  32 but that isn’t reflective as I putted in twice from off the green.  I seemed to find that a lot easier than controlling my short chips today.

I just don’t know where to start in fixing it.  Perhaps it’s time for some lessons.  It was also really slow today – not as slow as NI; but pretty bloody slow for a par 64 course.  The slowness definitely reflected in my AHR & Cal for the session

3:33:33 (conveniently enough)

743 cal, 53%

AHR: 103

MHR: 142

The gym after wasn’t so bad.  I actually felt as though it was a good time to run.  Running didn’t hurt my shins at all, even though the medial side of my left calf was a little tight.  There was absolutely no pain down the shins at all.  I’m trying to run, more on my toes, rather than having my heel go down first on footstrike.  I’m striking with the ball of my foot and just in front of my hip.  I guess that by using this form I’m trying to eliminate the primary concern for me, and shin splints – impact through the heel.  I haven’t been running for a few days, so the rest may have something to do with it; but I think the altered running form, regular icing (almost nightly) and stretching (not nightly, but getting there) are helping.  I wore SKINS Powersocks to bed the other night.  They weren’t uncomfortable at all with the exception of a little bit of tenderness in the morning when I woke – from the firm upper cuff.  Today I thought that my legs weren’t as fatigued when just walking, before golf.

Run Intervals – endurance

walk 2 mins

run 5 mins @ 9.2, walk 1 min x 4

10 mins cycle – random program (climb) – level 5 to finish

37:40

505 cal, 15%

AHR: 170

MHR: 189

I surprised myself a bit with the run today.  I don’t know why I did longer intervals, it just felt like the right thing to do at the time.  I did the first couple fairly easily, but the second two of the 5 min runs were tough, but I did them.  I honestly surprised myself with how well I run them, I felt comfortable all the way, not like I was overly stressed – although my heart rate certainly was higher on the last two of the four that I ran.  It didn’t really get above 186 though which is good.

I don’t know if I’m seeing results or not.  Some days I am, some days I’m not.  I’m back at the 5 x 5 tomorrow morning, squatting might be hard, but it’s only 35.  That’s what I’m up to now.  I can’t wait to do overhead press again as I think, when I get to the top and hold briefly, I look like I’ve lost weight in that position, although my eyes could be fooling me.  The Aunt seems to think that I’ve lost more weight, when questioned about my legs due to the work shorts dilemma.  I hate trying to lose weight, but I’m finally feeling as though I might be making a little bit of progress.  Mostly down to food choices I think – eating right and making sensible decisions, with my head not my mouth.  But then again, wtf do I know?!  Socks on again tonight, we’ll see how the morning goes.

depression

I seem to have hit a low point.  And what a low point it is turning out.

I’m not sure what’s wrong.  I’m not sure if I could even hazard a guess.  I don’t think I would have any idea where to start; or I do know where to start, just I don’t know if that, or these issues, are the major contributing factor of if they’re merely a coincidental side or lesser issue.  I just don’t know.

Over the last couple of weeks it’s been something that’s been constantly there.  I thought that it had something to do with needing some alone time – before the housemates went away for a holiday.  That seemed to do the trick for a bit.  While it was just me it was grand.  I was grand.  I really had a good week and a bit; but then boom…straight back into it when they returned.

Yesterday afternoon was the first time that I’ve really considered depression as a source of all this anger, emptiness, hopelessness and loneliness that I’m feeling at the moment.  I really don’t like to think that I’ve depression; and thinking about it, pondering my life, while on the beach yesterday afternoon I googled it.  None of the signs & symptoms immediately rang a bell with me, but today things seem different.  There’s a whole new light on things, particularly since I cooked an awesome meal for dinner.

Yesterday was terrible.  I was so irritable and temperamental.  I literally could feel an almost overwhelming sense of frustration or even internalised anger.  I was like that all day.  Like I wanted to do something to get rid of the pent-up anger and frustration; perhaps even energy that I had in my system, but there was nothing there that could or would help.  I was washing up and burnt my hand twice on the fucking kettle cause it’s a tiny sink and it’s kept in the wrong fucking place.  I remember shouting ‘fuck’ very clearly and very loudly and I’m sure that everyone outside would have heard it.  I just didn’t care that people heard that.  I wanted simply to go away and not have anyone bother me.  But that wasn’t happening.

Today wasn’t so bad.  I suppose the ginger didn’t whinge as much this morning; and things were a little better at work today.  I don’t know why my moods are so up and down.  Perhaps I’ve bipolar.  I just don’t fucking know.  Anyway, I got sent home from work early, with instructions to make dinner, which I did.  The dinner was delicious.  All was good after dinner just involving watching telly & checking some emails.  On the way to bed I heard the patient get up and do something.  Wondering if I’d forgotten to turn a light off, or the computer or something I went round and asked exactly that.  They both stared blank faced at me & then he said that he got up to shut the front door.  Both of them laughing saying ‘I’ve no idea what she was talking about’ as I turned and walked to the shower nearly had me in tears – I just slammed the bathroom door (unintentionally) and got in the shower.  I felt as though they were laughing at me; not even considering the though behind the question that I’d asked.

It’s so isolating.  All the little jibes directed at me, about me, or about something I do.  It makes me feel alone, isolated and worthless.  Like I’m only here to wash up and cook and for them to have a common ground as someone to pick on or make fun of.  It’s like I can’t take a joke about me anymore.  I think that the only reason that I’m like that is that I feel at the moment as though I need to be a bit on the defensive cause there’s no one else here that will stick up for me.  And there’s not.

I’m not happy.  I don’t want to do this anymore.  But at the moment I feel as though I’ve no choice.  I just have to stick this out until I get the call that I start in a month.  As soon as the testing’s done and my start date gets set I’ll be off – probably just chilling and training somewhere.  But that’s the issue.  I get more training done here than I do anywhere else, the only exception being Vegas; but Vegas is a money issue at the moment.  It’s just more in the lifestyle here.  But, long-term I think the decision about coming here for the FYC is made – I’m going to ask for Vegas, and hope like fuck I get it.  If not, I’m not sure where I’ll go next.

In the shower tonight I was thinking about the isolation thing, and if it is in fact what is causing me all these problems.  I think it is.  I think that being lonely cause I feel like there is no emotional support there is driving my frustration and anger.  I want a girlfriend.  I want someone who cares about me, and I want someone who I can talk to while I know that they will support me, not continually pick at things that I do – and only focus on any mistakes that I might make.

It probably doesn’t help that since their return the ginger porker doesn’t want anything to do with me.  He doesn’t want anything to do with anyone but the patient to tell the truth, but it’s ridiculous.  He takes absolutely no notice of me – today in fact he stopped in his tracks at seeing me on the lounge chair.  The little fucker.  That actually made me feel really bad.  The patient said something to him about not liking me today so I said ‘well, the feeling is mutual’ and was promptly told that it was not a very nice thing to say.

How the fuck am I supposed to react.  Before they went away he was perfectly happy to be around me and now he fucking doesn’t want a fucking thing to do with me.  What am I supposed to feel about that, and how the fuck am I supposed to react to that.  I said to the matriarch today that I can not be bothered persisting if he continues to show no interest whatsoever in communicating with me, or being near me.  She said that was a shame cause he was ok before they went on holidays.  It seems as though the terrible twos have hit – and he’s exploiting every single second of it.

He’s going to end up so spoilt.  His screaming has escalated since he got back from holidays with his parents.  He isn’t hurt, or hungry or thirsty – he’s screaming, and it really is just a scream; a fucking awful scream, cause he wants the patient to pick him up.  And sure as night follows day, that’s what happens.  He seeks out the patient and stands, screaming at his feet.  Initially the patient might say no, but guaranteed within about 20 seconds he’s given in and is bending down to pick him up cooing ‘what’s wrong sweetheart?’ at him.  He’s fucking 18 months old.  He can’t understand, let alone answer you.

More seriously though, he’s rewarding this inappropriate behaviour from the ginger.  Although he might not see it as a reward in terms of ‘here, have this for doing that well’ he’s providing positive reinforcement for the behaviour by providing a positive outcome (attention/being picked up) when the stimulus behaviour (screaming) is turned on.  I think that the Aunt has tried to get the patient to see this, but it’s not working.  They end up having a massive row over it with the patient saying ‘he’s my son, I’ll pick him up whenever I want to’.  It’s just spoiling him; and he’s starting to be a little fuckhead.

It’s basic fucking psychology.  If you reward bad behaviour it’s going to teach him that he gets what he wants when he behaves badly.  And how hard is it going to be to get him to stop when he’s 3.  It’s not going to happen.

my brother. the arsehole.

The title says it all I guess. I’m not sure there’s anything more to say, other than to give reasons for the above statement.

He’s become so hard and seems to have lost his heart. He’s being an arsehole about Christmas. We’re having a massive family Christmas this year. Everyone’s excited about it, me particularly cause it’s my first Christmas at home for a couple of years. I’m excited to get together with everyone and to give gifts and share the experience with everyone.

I’m particularly organised this year and have most of my presents mostly done already. My brother’s getting a book. The exact book that he asked for. He had asked me a couple of days ago what I wanted. Today I sent a text back to him saying that I’d like a Scotty Cameron putter cover. I told him what colour I would like, where you can get them and also how much they cost. Then I sent one saying that if it was too much hassle or if they were too expensive (around about $50 – so not really all that expensive) that he could just get me something else, something smaller. I got a reply saying ‘lets not worry about presents. Can we just buy for M & D and let secret santa (our family-wide, keep the costs down gift giving experience) take care of the rest?’. I sent a message back along the lines of ‘no, that’s not what I or my sister want to do’. It escalated from there. He doesn’t want a present and doesn’t want to give one. I’m not sure if it’s laziness or tightness. It can not, rationally, be tightness when he’s no issue with going out at the weekend and spending $500. I said that I didn’t understand, but thought that it would be difficult to understand the meaning of Christmas, and the gestures associated with gift giving and receiving, unless you’d had one or two Christmases away from the family. That has made Christmas more special to me.

His drinking is also out of control. My sister lives in Vegas, round the corner from him. She can not even get him to come and help her put together her new flatpack furniture. That’s really shit. He didn’t come over cause he was too hungover, when he got there he stayed for about 20 minutes and she said he spent the entire time on the phone. She was ultra upset cause she overheard him talking to his friends about how he’s banned from the Normanby. That isn’t the most upmarket place about, but they don’t ban you for nothing.

I would have thought the ‘getting the shit kicked out of him, arrested, charged and fined’ incident from earlier this year would have taught him a thing or two about respect and not acting up when you’re out. Obviously not.

the f word

I’m told, by my FT 60 that this is to be an easier training week.  I wasn’t really all that sure why cause last weeks’s stats were down on what I considered to be an easier week, although I have smashed my training and body in the last few weeks.  No wonder it’s telling me it’s time to dial it back.

I’m grumpy as anything today and consequently saying the f word quite a lot.  I could eat the face off anyone who annoys me.  And nearly everyone is annoying me in one way or another.  I’m just grumpy.  This girl at work is an idiot.  She’s an idiot at the best of times but today she’s being particularly annoying (perhaps I’m perceiving that she’s more annoying cause of my lowered bullshit tolerance level) today, and she’s doing it on purpose.  FARK!!  Just laziness, and immaturity – she would rather ask for help before looking herself of trying to do whatever it is that she has to do. 

She’s 16, so I guess that explains the immaturity.  She quit school and moved out of home just a few months ago.  Her father also died earlier this year, and I’m not completely compassionless to that; I’m sure that it would be one of the things that I would most struggle to deal with; but that’s no reason for her to leave school.  Her english, and spelling, is terrible.  She really should be at school still, learning to spell and speak english properly.  I cam so close to telling her that she had the english of a 10 year old when she was pronouncing badminton ‘bat-minton’.  Idiot.  She’s a classic case of an occa who needs more education.  She also needs to be corrected when she says the wrong words, like ‘how are yous’.  Yous is not a word.

Anyway, she’s annoying me today, so much so that I needed to come to the other shop to get away a bit.  I think I’m also annoyed at my own performance last night.  I drank too much and didn’t sleep at all well.  Not cool.  We spent all weekend fencing – tearing down one fence and putting up a 6 foot colourbond fence in its place.  It was hot all weekend, and save for little bits here and there we were out in the sun all weekend.  Although I didn’t really do that much work with the crowbar I still felt as though I was tired – and in need of a drink last night.  The frosty beers were good too.

smashy smash

I’m not overly sure what the hell I was thinking when I decided to do a crossfit style 300 workout today.  I must be insane.

The workout

20, 5 for time

16 laps

squats

push ups

db bent over row – 7

crunches

10 laps

db thrusters – 7

db to shoulder – 10

reverse crunches

db swings – 10

1/2 burpee

Time: 11:10 for 20; 14:30 for total

5 k cycle – level 1 – 8:48

As I said.  I’m not sure what the hell was going on in my head.  It hurt.  Like hell.  It was some form of redemption for the shit that I’ve been doing to myself since I left NI; but there’s still such a long way to go.  Thinking back, and looking at my polar stats and previous workouts on here I’m fucked.  I’ve nothing on what I had.  So much training was let go.  And now it’s going to be so much harder to get back.

26:33

378c, 12%

AHR:176

MHR: 190

I don’t know how on earth I got through it. I know when I’ve worked hard.  I literally laid on the tiles for about 5 minutes, listening to whatever was coming out of the ipod.  It was literally just on whatever it wanted to be on – I didn’t care.  I was just sorting myself out, wondering if I wanted to throw up.  Wondering if I was going to throw up.  Not wanting water, but then not being able to stop drinking it.  An hour or so later when I headed out to the range I was still feeling as though a big old rainbow yawn might be heading my way at any time.

I’m so so tired now, I just want to go to bed, although I’m afraid to go too early for fear of waking really early, again.  I’m exhausted, but there was a switch flipped at golf today…I’m now motivated.  It came back again!

Zzzzzzzz

insomnia

Golf today.  Last night was horrendus – 3.30am I was still wide awake.  I’d shifted posts, from my bed to the couch in order to create a mind numbing effect that I hoped would put me to sleep.  No such luck.  I finally drifted off to sleep at about 5am; then woke with a start, in a panic at 6.20 to my alarm.

In the back of my mind I doubted the saneness of presenting myself for golf running on about an hours sleep.  I questioned my ability to concentrate for 18 holes, particularly while carrying my clubs.  They get heavy when it’s hot.  Surprisingly it was all good.  I honestly questioned my ability to keep focus through 3 hours, or more of golf, when I was tired; or suspected that I was going to be tired.  I wasn’t tired at all really.  My average heart rate was up for the session, probably a little to do with fatigue, but other than that I thought my concentration was fine.  I was hitting my gap and 60 well, but Mr 5 Iron isn’t working so well at the moment.  May head to the driving range this afternoon to do some work on that.  Also some chipping and putting – it can always do with work.  I putted quite well today – 35 putts for the 18 so that was good.  I had 4 x 1 putts and a couple of 3s, but was happy enough.  I kissed the hole quite a bit, and nothing really wanted to drop, but I was giving it a chance at least.  There were really only two holes that I lost concentration with my putting – think the rest just came down to whether the 2nd putt dropped or not.

End of the day I came in with 77 off the stick, which was +13 for the 18 holes.  I was shocked when I realised that I’d come through the back 9 only 3 over, but that included a nice birdie on the 18th (not at the end of the day due to the shotgun start) from at 5 – 6m putt.  Nice.

3:45

1484 c, 47%

AHR: 116

MHR: 153

Something, somewhere deep down in me switched today.  It was like I had my eyes opened, or considered another possibility, analysed performance differently and suddenly was aware of this massive factor that I’ve been happily omitting from all golf analysis.  Fitness. I’m certainly not the fittest person in the world.  And I am certainly not the least fit person waddling around.  I’ve been thinking I get about alright, carrying my clubs and managing still to do ok.  While talking with the spy (so named cause I’d bet that she was one; in a recent life), discussing my round on Sunday I realised that it’s the back 9 that usually causes me grief (with the exception of today, given that it was a shotgun start).  It’s not as though I’ve been completely oblivious to the whole golf and fitness thing, I guess I just didn’t really recognise the impact on my game until I thought about it in comparison to my performance.  Looking back at my polar results from when I was playing in NI, even though I wasn’t playing as well, I don’t think that I was hitting the hump until later in the match – usually about the 17th.  Comparing that to my training later in the day (yes, this is an update of this morning’s blog) I was so much fitter back then.  I also used to carry a full set of waterproofs with me, every single match, and much more food/water than I am at the moment.  Indicative of higher fitness levels.

Went to the driving range this arvo to teach Mr 5 Iron a lesson.  Didn’t really work.  Was shagged from my mid afternoon session, and still not really sure whether I wanted to be sick or not.  My body just felt fatigued, and I had to work really hard to keep my ‘technique’ tight.  My average heart rate was also higher, despite standing there whacking it, and not carrying any clubs anywhere.

1:29:45

630 c, 44%

AHR: 120

MHR: 144

And I’ve decided I need some stats on my site.  Not from all up, from now – this time round.  Aussie golf.

the long and the short

Wow.  What a big couple of weeks.  It must have been about that long since I’ve posted.  I don’t know why, and I don’t really have a reason.  I guess laziness, perhaps tiredness, maybe just not feeling it.  Not feeling like sharing.

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been up and down a bit.  I think the training has caught up.  I feel tired, constantly tired.  Like my body just needs a rest, like I need some time to unwind.  I always feel as though I could just close my eyes and go to sleep.  I wish that that would make it all go away.  I can feel it more in my demeanour than my muscles.  A frustration settles over everything and I’m less able to deal with shit.  Like if the smallest thing goes wrong, or doesn’t go the way I plan, intend or want it’s all over and I get the shits.  Not that I react, verbally or physically, but in my head it’s like everything’s about to come crashing down.  I take the hump and go quiet, or resentful.  I guess that really reflects exactly how I feel about some stuff where I’m living at the moment.  The patient like mentality is really getting me down.  At times I feel like a maid.

I’m not sure if it’s the isolation that I feel at times.  That I’m feeling a bit at the moment.  At times I long for a NI winter’s day with nothing on – a day when you can sit inside all day and eat, or sit by the fire and chill out with your friends.  I guess that is the isolation that I’m feeling coming out – right there, in that statement.  While I’m in with those I know, I’m not ‘in’, which at times makes me feel out.  I’m not right in the middle of the group, not that I need to be, but I feel at times as though I do not belong.  At times I feel unwelcome, and unwanted.  I guess it’s good that there are some holidays coming up – that I’ve some time to myself.  That’s what I’m looking forward to most about tomorrow night – coming home to an empty house.

I’ve really backed off the training this week – this twice a day thing has really taken it out of me.  So I do plan to do an easier week this week, although tomorrow will be (maybe) a run, then swim, then gym in the evening – I’m just not sure.  It honestly feels as though I need the rest at the moment.  I guess it probably is bordering on burnout – I thoroughly spanked myself over the last few weeks, burning 4500, 5000 and 3800 cal per week for the last 3.  I guess that the way to look at it was that this is my week off – but I fail to do that.

I know that my diet hasn’t been spot on, that I’ve wavered too much.  I do find it difficult being in a household where I don’t have control over what food gets cooked.  The way I’ve dealt with that in the past (the first few weeks that I was into it) was to really ‘concentrate’ during the day in lieu of being more lax at night, although I don’t know what’s happened – I’ve slipped.  I think it’s getting out of the working routine that’s put the breaks on my diet and food consumption.  I’m planning to be spot on with it while I’ve the house to myself – I guess I’ve just got to find a way to implement that to the family situation.  I do find it hard when, when asked what I want for dinner, I give the option of ‘chicken & vegies’ or ’steak & vegies’ and then get told that I’m not very imaginative.  I don’t know why that annoys me so much.  I know that it’s boring; but I also know that it’s good for me.

I’ve also been having doubts about the results that I’m seeing.  I can, or could, see changes in my face – it’s getting leaner, but the rest of my body is taking it’s sweet time in catching up.  I know that this happens to me -  that I lose it from my face, shoulders, legs and arms first.  It’s ALWAYS something that gets me.  And I believe that it’s something that really stops me from achieving my goals.  What if I just held out – if I hold out another 5 weeks, worrying only about the processes, not the results – I wonder how much difference actually would be made.  I’m also trying not to weigh – but I had to the other night for my application form – nothing.  Nil.  Nada.  Zilch.  Zero.  That’s right – flogging my guts out for 3 weeks and there was no actual change in the scale.  Yes, I may have put on muscle, and my muscles may be holding onto water – but I’ve fucking lost nothing.  I can not believe that, and it is so disheartening.  I just don’t know what to do about this.  I know stopping is not the answer; but I’m not overly sure what I’d be saying if I was my client.

Actually, I do know.  Take a body fat test I’d be saying.  I guess I should do that.  One day when I’m home alone.  Will swim tomorrow – if I can find my adidas togs, but I feel as though they’ve gone missing.  In the car maybe.  For now I need to sleep to get this emotional crap out of my system.

The trouble with love is…

That at one point or another, due to one cause or another, one leaves the relationship that has been built between two people.  It happens to the best of relationships.  Even the longest lasting, most strong relationships come crashing down when one person leaves; usually through death; but not always.  I feel that I’ve developed a few relationships while in Magheralin and then end drew up on Monday when I left for London.  This morning she asked my why I left ‘them’ anyway; them being the Northern Ireland bunch.  How do you explain the need to leave?  Or the reluctance to be thrown out?

 

I know that in the end I will be ok; but I think a little part of me will always wonder what what might have been if we had of met under different circumstances.  I will always think of her fondly; and regret the chance that I had to have her.  I have found myself thinking about what would happen if I had stayed longer – would she really have fallen for me and left Davus?!

 

Just off the phone to her there.  She has seriously considered leaving Davus for me; that’s the only thing stopping her.  She was disappointed to find that she wouldn’t be able to get a visa for Canada cause of the age thing but said that I’d have to forgo it and head straight for Australia.  I wouldn’t even think about it; merely suggest a long-ish holiday before we head home.  She said she considered how much cash she could get access to and all the things she’d need to sort out.

 

Did she feel she knows me well enough to make that sort of commitment – i.e. just to up and leave for the other side of the world with me…?  She’s not sure she knows me well enough, but she would give it a try.  I said that Nat had asked me the same thing and that I said that yes, I’d be happy to make that decision.  Oh god, why did we start talking about her leaving Davus for me.  Now that’s what I want; that’s all I can think about.  In a way it sort of gives me hope when it shouldn’t be like that.  I shouldn’t be feeling as though there is hope for me and her cause at the end of the day I strongly doubt that she’ll leave her husband.  They say the mistress never gets the man; I wonder if that rings true for the woman who’s having an affair – does she ever leave?

 

We laughed about what people would think.  Actually I said that I thought Mum would fall over if I took her home and was like ‘This is Kate.  You’ve also inherited 4 step-grandkids; but they’re still in Ireland.’  Kate said that she didn’t think that my Mum would think much of her in that case; but I would like to think that Mum would be more accepting than that.  I would like to think that all of my family would accept her and approve of our relationship.  God, this is going to fuck my head up!!