| The Warky Report: Cambridge United (A) 12:05 - Feb 5 with 1470 views | Warkystache |
She came back last Wednesday.
It's delicate though. The house has the atmosphere of a Middle-East peace process. One wrong word, move, mis-step or general act of engaging mouth before brain and either party is liable to pack and decamp. Well, not me, I suppose. This is my home.
I've watched various 'My husband the Killer' type documentaries on Netflix in idle moments and marvelled how people can reach such a point. Now I kind of understand. The house, my house, used to be clean and tidy. Now it's like I've been invaded by teenagers. Wet towels, laddered hosiery, the odd fag end litter in places where only the hoover nozzle has been.
We've talked. Obviously. I wouldn't say it was completely her either. She stated what she wants and then negotiations began. I can't say I agreed with a lot of her demands. The living room rocked with a few well-chosen if obvious profanities from her and then we talked in more reasoned tones and then she cried (a lot) and then looked at me through her fingers, as though I too should be a human Niagara. And then the face set hard when she realised I wasn't and Lo. The tears dried like magic and the tone became less emotive.
Truth is, I'm done. Separate bedrooms (I'd cleared the spare luckily before she came back - nostalgia overtakes even in those hard-headed moments as I rediscovered old Town programmes and paraphernalia I'd long since conscripted back to the junk - inflatable banana anyone? Or perhaps a nice pre-1985 Terry Butcher Shoot poster?) and separate lives, hers lived around Maldon and Morrisons and her mum, mine continuing much as it did before.
You all know my feelings on Blake, her ex. Well, I began to feel pity for him last week. I know. Yes, it's been as bad as that. I understood why, post-break-up, he'd felt the urgent need to leave their rented Loughton Love-Nest. Don't get me wrong, the snake-eyed Oleaginous little prick is still just that. But it is true. There are two sides to every tale.
I recall Terry telling me, in a drunk moment of clarity several years ago, when the Town were crap and the football felt hopeless, that Paula had a tough side. He'd noticed it a few times, mainly when he'd appointed her shop manager in his absence and returned from holiday to find assistants fearful of fouling up and everything managed into unusual and hard-to-find spots. He'd seemed proud of this in pre-drink times. Now it all came flooding back and the picture became wide. She's a control freak with people. Take that away and you dig out the determined chav from the nice, level-headed woman you thought you knew. The glamour and the brittle exterior melts. Then God help you.
I nearly turfed her back to Heybridge. I've come closer still; last night was truly bumptious, with talk of having children interspersed with feigning tears and bitter accusations that I've somehow used her. I'm glad we never had children. More glad of that than I've ever been of anything, mainly. The conversation provoked and, in my rising anger, I nearly paved the yellow brick road to the witches' castle in Heybridge. Except she doesn't like the woman she stayed with, now.
She talked mainly about selling my home so we could both enjoy somewhere rented, me locally (christ knows where when local rents would be treble my monthly mortgage) and her nearer Maldon. The face went hard again when I said no. She amusingly reminded me of Gollum in Lord of the Rings when Sam Gamgees bore the brunt. Then it softened and she cried again. Truth is, she can't afford rent on her wages alone. So I'm stuck with her. It won't be for much longer though. She's now made plans to move in with her sister in Harwich.
Tel, well. We've met but for how much longer that will be the case is anyone's guess. His bungalow is back on the market. Mrs Tel wants Braintree. "'Ad an 'art-ter-art like an' she's smitten. Bin garner see Sandy shoppin', they've bofe joined the local slimmin' world and they've got the swimmin' bug again.
So we're on wiv a new estate agent, like". He accepted this as his lot in life and swigged his beer back with the look of a man who, although not totally reconciled to his path, at least happy in the knowledge that this is what his beloved wants, so by design, it's also what he wants as well. Mrs Tel hasn't been well lately so the feeling is that he should do what she wants to continue his own life, almost by proxy.
He's a good bloke though throughout all of this. I haven't told him everything yet but he knows there's a problem and he knows it is fatal and unlikely to be resolved. We still drink and chat desultory rubbish and dine in the local Indian and compare indigestions and back spasms and general wear and tear, but the core of the previous relationship is somehow frayed and I feel he's consciously backing away, to save the hurt of a final parting. He knows his life isn't here any more, so his only causal factor to the pain of leaving is me. His isn't the same relationship we once knew and that is a sad fact. I'm damned if I'll end up with the fallout though.
Oh and as if by magic, our automatic promotion hopes melt like ice in a warm pint. Sheffield Wednesday next Saturday and Tel's not bothered, I bought him a ticket but he's off to Braintree with Tone and Sandy and the wife. He and Tone are playing snooker in a local club. He declined the offer with a regret that was felt, but which said "It's over" in all but words. The spare ticket went to a friend. We're meeting up for a few before and after. It's his first live game of footy. He's usually a rugby man. Oh well.
Paula works all this weekend and she'll be living with her sister thank heavens by next weekend, so all is quiet and I'm busy for an afternoon of cleaning and watching the football. I've asked for, and been given the spare house keys she had. She seemed surprised and taken aback that I asked. I don't want to find the house has been mysteriously added to the housing market in my absence in Brum next week. Unlikely that she's THAT devious, but you never know. Maybe my time here is coming to an end, just like everyone else's? I'll let you know. Or I might not get a chance?
I've had more local walks. It soothes the soul. I saw a Red Kite, two pheasants and a kestrel yesterday. And got the legs of my older jeans muddy. It wasn't as cold as it has been, which was nice, although it's hard to gauge clothing in the current climate, and I sweated for once. I reckon I'll be sweating some more before the end of the week.....
Take care.
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| The Warky Report: Cambridge United (A) on 12:35 - Feb 5 with 1385 views | J2BLUE |
I'm sorry to hear things have reached this point mate.
Really glad you have figured this all out before making any drastic changes with the house/marriage/kids etc.
I hope you find happiness very soon. |  |
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| The Warky Report: Cambridge United (A) on 16:27 - Feb 5 with 1167 views | Westover |
| The Warky Report: Cambridge United (A) on 12:35 - Feb 5 by J2BLUE |
I'm sorry to hear things have reached this point mate.
Really glad you have figured this all out before making any drastic changes with the house/marriage/kids etc.
I hope you find happiness very soon. |
Very sorry it's all gone wrong but I also hope you find everything your looking for in the near future. [Post edited 5 Feb 2023 16:28]
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| The Warky Report: Cambridge United (A) on 18:39 - Feb 5 with 1064 views | The_Romford_Blue |
Sorry to hear Warky. Sadly in recent months your reports have made this sound like it was probably coming (from your side anyway).
Tel won’t be gone properly. I know you think that but he would miss you just as much as you, him. |  |
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| The Warky Report: Cambridge United (A) on 18:49 - Feb 5 with 1037 views | BanksterDebtSlave |
Wasn't there another woman (work?) who had your attention?
Sounds like new beginnings all around in Warky world, keep walking and see what life brings your way. |  |
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