Married life part 2 final

Slept OK on the floor of my shed, but woke up at 4.30 needing to pee. Back door locked (Megan woofed when I tried the door). Slight drizzle. The King's Speech has won Oscars. The water I spilt on the Marrakesh carpet has run dark blue into the pillow case, sheet and brown carpet - strange how intense it is when the carpet itself looks so faded.

Thinking about what's ahead. Do I go to Gillian Bence-Jones tonight? Or to AA in Halstead? I really don't want to give Pol the satisfaction (or easy out) of saying it was all because of my drinking again, and I suppose there is a connection. I didn't notice her getting any easier to live with when I wasn't drinking, but maybe I was coping with her better, and we did seem to be getting on really well until a few weeks ago. She seemed fine until she went to Berlin to look after Elly, but something wasn't right when she came back and the three sluts all seemed to be in a huff on Friday evening, especially Laura, who went in to one of her horrible sulks. I might have said something vaguely disparaging about the FO, and Pol kept telling me not to talk so loudly. I'd been driving the bus, so didn't get back til quarter to eight.

Finished the WCCM newsletter (which is why I'd spent all day in the office, when Pol stomped in after her expedition to Frinton with Elly "because I knew you wouldn't want to come", which was true - I'd already decided after her giving out the orders for gardening on Saturday afternoon, that I'd be doing precisely what I wanted to do on Sunday). Filled in the forms for Braintree. Would it have made much difference if I hadn't been drinking whisky out of a pint glass when she crashed in to the office? Managed to get her out of the place without using force; I was so pissed off, and with myself for not locking the door - I felt really outraged that she should feel she could just barge in to my office (not her shed) - bad enough that she does that when I'm in the shed in the garden and she's in a strop (usually about my being in the shed and not walking, gardening or otherwise entertaining her).

Anyway, I'm very pleased with the newsletter - I feel it's the best one yet, very meaty and nutritious and with plenty of pictures too. Shame it's about 6 weeks late - I've called it March 2011, winter's over now.

and I've not been meditating as much as i should over the last few weeks - sometimes not at all, or only once, and I think that's beginning to tell. And yes, the drinking's been getting out of hand too. But I'd really like to just stop, not say anything to Pol, not give her the idea that that is all that this is about . . . until I do stop, and realise, that really, deep down, it is what all this is about. And the sense of deja vu - the logistical difficulty of getting to an AA meeting (bus to Braintree or Colchester?) - just like after my motor bike accident. And blowing Top Trucks and Cars just as it's all taking off.

So maybe I do have to eat humble pie, say I'm sorry, and start going to AA meetings again. It would be nice to be able to talk to her, honestly and openly. That was the disappointment with Bob not working out - I wanted someone to talk to, but he wasn't interested unless I was really committed to AA, and in any case, it would have all been about alcohol.

Meditate when I've finished my tea and go in and finish the newsletter.

My unhappiness when leaving Flost in Genoa, which I thought was concern for her - maybe that was fear for myself and what was / is to come, and why Flost kept asking me afterwards if I was alright, that she was worried for me as well. My "wisdom mind" speaking perhaps - see http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/spiritual-wisdom-secular-times/201102/wisdom-mind

Married life

In my shed. Listening to the Westminster Hour on R4, with half an ear. Bedding on the floor, water by my side, precious things in the suitcase, ready for a runner.

Options - stick it out, it'll blow over, we've been here before.

Run away, slowly. Give everything that's left to Pol, think of a place to go, leave, on foot, with my world on my back.

Find a room in Coggeshall, and live there. Arggh! I'll have to get my own broadband.

Kill myself. I wouldn't mind, I don't think. Children and some friends might.

Actually I'd rather not. I'm quite excited about Top Truck Storage, Top Cars, even Top Trucks Transport. I'd like to see if they work out.

Surrender. Go to AA meetings, stop drinking, beg, be really good, hope that does the trick. But in my heart of hearts, I'm not sure she gives a fuck, she'd just like to see me out of here . . . or I'd just like to be out of here.

I think I'll watch the Promise Pt 2 and go to bed.

Watch this space . . .