After Ziggy and Zelda left last night I lay, comfortable and slightly stoned on my sofa watching the Christmas tree lights twinkle, I thought back to this time last year. Things couldn’t have been more different then. I was ill all through last Christmas, one bug after another ensuring I missed the whole of Christmas and New Year. Still, not as bad as the previous year that involved out of hours GP’s for antibiotics, or the year before that which was highlighted by A&E on Boxing Day. This year has been wonderful. I’m incredibly grateful.
Christmas Eve was the time as friends we had planned to meet at Jen and Peter’s to eat and exchange gifts. Toes was to drive, giving Fruitrock and I a lift, but had a hissy fit shortly before we were all due to leave, telling Fruitrock to go without him, which she and I did, of course to receive a phone call from Toes about 20 minutes later wound up to the point of sobbing when he found out we’d taken him at his word and gone anyway. Despite Toes efforts to wind himself and everyone else up we all had a lovely, if brief time before leaving so Fruitrock could drive Kate home. We had driven past beautiful old Georgian buildings set in wide roads, chatting idly about how life might have been in the days they had been built, once so proud and strong, now so run down and dilapidated, some say deliberately so, engineered both by owners and government to enable the destruction of these glorious, strong homes for the more profitable, weak and ugly areas of ‘urban regeneration’. Once into the hideous regenerated areas with nothing to look at and certainly no room for children to play out of the darkness we saw this house, incongruous amongst the dismal darkness.
We got out of the car to take photos, laughing, obviously too loudly, despite the relatively early hour, as the householders came outside, we apologised and wished them a Happy Christmas, putting some change into the charity boxes and hurrying somewhat nervously back into the car, conscious we were in a very rough part of town, and being watched by other hidden eyes. Fruitrock drove away quickly, doors locked, on through increasingly dank and deserted streets, as we tried to find our way through the city and out the other side to the jarring contrast of the picture postcard country village Kate lives in with her parents.
It took less time to drive home, both Fruitrock and I being more confident of the navigation. Once back we chatted about the earlier row with Toes whilst Fruitrock helped me to prepare the few bits of food for the following day that I’d not been able to buy ready chopped or peeled before she returned to her parents.
Christmas day was equally enjoyable. I’d invited Geordie for dinner as he was also alone, on the grounds that he was my kitchen bitch. We were joined by Fruitrock in the morning, and later Zelda and Ziggy in the afternoon, which was a relief as I couldn’t have coped an entire day with Geordie’s bitterness. Despite that, and his being the primary source of my upset and paranoia over the Captain, it really was a fantastic day.
On Boxing Day I went to dinner at a neighbour’s house. This neighbour is in her 70’s, but far sprightlier than I, and had her son, who is no longer her son but her daughter staying with her through the holiday period. It certainly made for an interesting occasion! Her son’s sex change, from male to female has not been successful and has resulted in all sorts of physical problems, quite apart from the psychological issues and devastation to the entire family, his ex wife and children sadly refuse to have anything to do with him.
The following day saw The Captain back from his travels. He was on the phone almost immediately he stepped off the plane, unfortunately I was still asleep. With my phone on silent. Not the best start after the communication problems we’d had last time. I’d sent texts thinking he’d get them before he left the UK. He didn’t. He sent emails to an address I didn’t think to check. Both of us thinking for several days the other had changed their mind. Happily I woke up before too long, and was able to reassure him I hadn’t been ignoring his calls. We had enough time together for me to realise both that I’ve finally found the man who’ll dance with me in my own living room. And that I can’t dance. He’s gone again now, to dangerous places, to do frightening things. Once again we lost ourselves in each other's company, although we did make time to talk practicalities, but I’m still not sure what scares me the most, him being real, or not. He’s as though someone crawled into my head and found all those elements of my perfect man, putting them all into him. I suspect my lack of self esteem needs to think he couldn’t possibly be true.
This New Year I plan no resolutions, just to carry on trying to mend my life. 2007 for all it's difficulties, for me has been overall an incredibly happy year, a time when hard work has started to pay off. My hope's for 2008 are simply that it should continue. I wish the same to you all.
