No. No, no, no, no and NO.
Today has been a day of tears. Oh, it started well, and proceeded happily. Then, one of those appalling quirks of obscene, devilsome fate that seems to hover over my partner's wellbeing (in much the same way as a vulture hovers over one near death) threw its grubby mischief into the mix.
For reasons unknown, each house in my road was this morning supplied with a copy of a local newspaper, for which one normally has to pay at least seventy pence. This paper has NEVER been delivered to us before, and it is not a weekly normally purchased by my partner.
All innocent so far, you may think. But no. On the inside front cover was a small piece covering a recent local sporting feature. A sporting feature concerning a team game, which normally totals twenty-two men on the field of play - how many of these are usually named in a small report in a local paper?
Can you guess, dear blog, what unhappy fate befell my partner? In a local paper, randomly, unexpectedly delivered this sunny Saturday morning, in a little article about an insignificant game played between twenty-two men, which PARTICULAR man do you think was one of only two to be named in this report?
Yes. Our old friend, BC.
Dammit, dammit, dammit. Dammit all the way to Cerberus at the gates of Hades and back again.
My partner was innocently perusing the paper at lunchtime, poor girl. I happened to approach just as the first tears fell. There were many tears at the table, tears at the computer as she checked her emails, tears at Abbotstone this evening. The scent of broken heart is everywhere.
It was my intention to use this blog to complain about Ewan, the trip to the vets, the finger, the new bottle of eye drops, the re-appearance of the Abbotstone Stalker. But none of this now matters. My beloved is in turmoil and she requires my careful and tender affections. Her friend Dolores is out for the evening and no-one else can help. Should she text him? Should she ring? I know what I'd do if it was up to me, but my partner prefers BC with all his body parts intact, so that option is blocked to me.
I must go now. She needs me to remind her that I still love her above all.
Fate is a sick, sick creature.