An end

I’ve been pondering what to do with myself with my new found freedom from work. The first thing of course is DIY; the bathroom’s had a lot of long overdue work already. Then of course a rigorous exercise and study regime; and the whole flat is going to get thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom.

Of course at the same time I suddenly get a lot of business; I have a couple of ‘big’ clients who retain me to provide financial advice to their clients and employees (one is an insurance company and the other is a construction company that is making quite a few people redundant at the moment) and I’m working with a couple of charities that are merging and need a new website, new systems, financial arrangements etc. It’s going to be tough to juggle for the foreseeable future. But, I like a challenge!

Writing of which… Harry called on Tuesday after we’d exchanged some emails and I explained I’d seen the doctor and what was wrong etc. I was surprised at his reaction – though I suspect I’ve put myself in this position, and only have myself to blame after keeping him hanging on.

He said he was not interested in discussing it or meeting me as arranged until I guaranteed that he and I would continue our relationship indefinitely.

After a moment or two of shocked silence I mumbled something about seeing how we go which seemed to satisfy him. But as the conversation continued I became quite cross, with myself and him, at this attempt at emotional blackmail and my reaction to it. So I made my final, final, almost final decision to end it when I saw him on Thursday.

So Thursday comes and we meet up in Piccadilly at 7:30. Unintended, I arrived very early, but took the opportunity to find a nice quiet place where we can sit and talk and I can get my total-bastard-moment out of the way.

Having never given notice of a break-up before I found it very difficult (the least one would expect, I would suggest). I explained how I was feeling and that I couldn’t really be a good boyfriend under those circumstances. I also explained I was unwell and that made quite a significant difference to the outlook for ‘us’. In return Harry, though a bit upset, explained he would prefer not to see me while I was ill but that he hoped when I was better I would look him up and we could try to hook up again.

I guess that worked out for both of us, then…

In medicine there is a condition that affects otherwise healthy babies called “failure to thrive” and I think this is what happened to us here. How odd when you consider all the wonder and joy I felt at the start.

I do feel like a real hick though. Booze… I must… have… booze.