Blodeuwedd's Blog

Today I celebrated what would have been mine and his 17th anniversary....alone.
That 'alone' is not a bad thing, by the way. It's just a different thing. I used the day as an opportunity to celebrate the fact that it would have been 17 years, but it wasn't.
I wrote our names and the dates of our official getting together on a piece of paper, lit some candles,then burned the piece of paper and dumped it into a jar.
This isn't mental. It's a way of letting go.
I made a dinner of quorn sausages, chips, peas and sprouts, followed by chocolate pudding. All washed down with champagne. In the pudding I inserted a single candle, to symbolise our relationship, which I blew out. Trouble was, I bought relighting candles. Typical of the cack handed way our relationship went.
I guess it's about three weeks since he moved out, at my behest, after dumping me in March.
It was a messy exit. Instead of hiring a van and putting all his stuff in it, he ferried to and from his new home with car-fulls of stuff. He moved out over four days.
Not only that, he roped in his best friend to help after failing to see how awkward this would be. Or failing to care. I basically made myself scarce for the whole time until Sunday, when I told him the way he was doing his removal wasn't very fair on me.
He agreed to let me know what he was doing the following day and when he would be picking the rest of his stuff up.
Instead, I heard nothing. When I returned from work I found the house empty of his things, which was a shock and upsetting. No phone call, no text, no note.
On the Friday of this weekend, his friend let him down with the shifting boxes help, so he stayed one last night here. We got drunk, ate pizza and had bad sex.
When I asked him on the Sunday why he continued to sleep with me, he said it was habit.
Funnily enough, I felt used. When I questioned the way he dealt with his final day of moving out, he denied agreeing he would call me to make arrangements.
That is so lame. I'm convinced it's a lie.
Thinking back on the way the last year or so has gone, I feel sad, thinking how he would avoid coming to bed, constantly blaming my snoring or that he fell asleep downstairs.
I think he probably just didn't want to sleep with me any more. Thinking about it in retrospect, I felt repulsive, which is hypocritical of him, considering he was, and still is a big, fat lump.
He used to go on and on about me snoring, even recorded it once and played it to me, as though I did it on purpose and playing it to me would make me change.
Duh!
He did his best to make me out the be the bad person. It was like a pathological obsession for him to be the good one, who suffers, although he always denied it.
For quite a long time, I was the bad person. I was mean and horrible to him. I bullied and I picked on him. I genuinely think I wasn't very well and had poor examples of how to deal with men.
One day, I kicked him in the ribs during an argument where he pushed me onto the floor. I kicked out in defence and broke a rib.
I realised I had gone too far and got help from the doctor.
I think I had a hand in killing our relationship, but I think he did too.
Now he calls maybe once a week. At the moment I don't want to talk to him, because of the way he left things. He talks as though nothing happened, as though he didn't leave badly, didn't deprive me of the chance to say goodbye.
Am I supposed to pretend I'm ok with that? Because I'm not. My sister says he's a coward and wanted to avoid a confrontation. She's probably right.
I don't want to talk to him about anything. The book I'm reading says you should find a way of letting go. The last time he rang, he didn't even ask how I was. I don't want to be full of anger, but I don't want to tolerate his behaviour. I don't like the person he's turned into.
He's not my problem any more, yet he still left his crap behind for me to clear up.
I need to move on. I want to move on. I feel lonely, but I'm ok with that. I need a more balanced life. I need to make an effort with other people, rather than passively waiting for people to like me.
I need to get used to living alone. Lots of people do it.
I want to get stuck into things, but I don't want the renewed attention I'm getting from men. I don't blame them. I was a lot fatter than I realised and now I'm a bit more normal looking.
I need time to work out what I want. I need peace and I need a plan. I I feel very vulnerable and I think I should tell people. Just not everyone, all the time.
It's a brave new world and I want a piece of it. That's what I have to remember.

March 29, 2008. The day my partner of 16 years and former fiance told me he no longer loved me.
I was absolutely gutted. I knew there were problems. The difference was that I was prepared to see a counsellor. He didn't see what it would change.
This was the culmination of several months of....not so much arguing as getting on each other's nerves and having regular blow-outs. I've usually been the one to shout. If I'm not happy, I say so. Him? Could be days, weeks, years.
Yes, I regularly said things I shouldn't. I think I was trying to provoke a response.
Anyway, on this day, I blew up at him, furious about his lack of oomph. I had been waiting around for him for hours, for him to perform a simple task, which should have taken minutes. I stormed off, came back later and tried to narrow down what was going on, when he said he'd been thinking about what he loved about me and how. It dawned on him that although he loved me, it wasn't in the same way as before. He was unhappy and it couldn't be depression because he wasn't depressed any more.
I guess I dragged it out of him. Well if you don't love me, you don't want to be with me. Then I guess that means we should split.... Apparently, yes.
This had been brewing for a while. It still shocked me to the core that he didn't want to even try to see if there was anything to save.
He's always had this knack of making things seem my fault. All my fault.
So, since then, we've been sharing the same house and, until recently, getting on rather well, since the complications of being in a relationship were removed.
Yes, we slept together. I needed something and I imagine he did. I didn't ask. New rule for me. Don't analyse, just take it for what it is.
That all came to an end at the beginning of September, 2008.
There were a few occasions in between, when he was unreasonably mean to me. And I let it go. I tried to be understanding.
But this. Unforgivable.
He made arrangements to have a lads' night out on his birthday. He said he thought his birthday was on a Saturday, when it was actually on a Thursday. I set him straight. No, his birthday was on a Thursday and although I hadn't booked anything, I was going to take him out for a meal. Anyway he made arrangements to have a lads' night out on the Thursday and, given they were pencilled in, 'is that going to be a problem?'
What do you think? No, we're not together any more, but we still share the same f'king house. It just made me realise how unimportant I was to him.
He thought we could do something over the weekend, but I had made plans to visit some relatives. I was going to go a day later, so I could fit his birthday in.
I tried to make a compromise and suggested we do lunch on that day or I meet him for a drink after work and he should decide, according to his schedule.
I realised later what a pushover I'd become and the only option was to visit my relatives earlier, on his birthday.
True to form, he didn't make any suggestions until I was about to go out the door. Too late, son.
So I gave him his pressies, wished him a happy birthday and left for the weekend.
Did he really expect me to sit at home, while he caned it with the lads?
Thankfully I found some self respect.
For the record only one person made it to his 'lad's night out'. Serves him right.
It made me realise how I'd let things slide. Yes, invite me for a drink and sleep with me, whenever it suits you. I decided this had to stop.
So, I've a week to go, then I'm going to offer him a wad of cash to move out.

The newspaper I work for got a phone call to tell us that a letter written to and printed in the paper had been read out on Radio Four's Newsquiz. The writer of the letter was responding to a letter sent previously to the paper, bemoaning the amount of publicity given to Bruce Forsyth's 80th birthday.
It criticised the original sender for wasting time in sending a letter to the local paper at all. The writer of the second letter failed to see the irony that she had taken the time and trouble to write to the paper to express this.
The caller to the paper also failed to see the irony of her phone call.
Beautiful.

This is my first crop of carrots, which I have been growing in pots in the garden as it is due to be dug over, so I can't plant them in the ground. I have learned that I need to plant them in deeper pots, or otherwise they will corkscrew at the bottom, like these in the pics. But they did taste nice, although they were paler that shop-bought ones.
Another result of the not planting deeply enough is that the tops seem to push out of the earth and go a bit green.
Still, not bad for a first try.

There's an inherent sadness in my life and I wish I could do something about it. How can some people have mindless fun and not think about what or who is missing in their lives?
I wish I could capture that without any effort.
Things are no less complex, depressing or anything else for me than for millions of others the world over.
I'm not asking for any special treatment, although sometimes I think I secretly, subconsciously expect it. I've suffered, so give me a break. That's the upshot of it.
Why can't things be simple? Why can't people be nice to each other?
Why can't I stop grieving for the things I've lost and let pass me by and appreciate what I have?
I wish I knew, but right now, I've never felt more alone and cast adrift than I do now.

I don't know if it's her voice, which is more annoying than the noise created when you try to break up a piece of polystyrene, or her innate ability to say 'wow' at the drop of a hat,but June Sarpong's recent venture into factual television made my blood boil. Co-hosted by Vic Reeves, Pirate Ship Live, on Channel Five (May 27) was a feat of incredible boredom-inducing nonsense. June, live at the studio grilled experts with her incisive interviewing skills, fortified by a head scarf which matched her dress.
Could she hold an interview? Er no. The best she could muster was a coquettish cackle, which filled a few excruciating minutes.
How I longed to take a knife to her throat and put us both out of our misery.
Clearly June and Vic, live on the dive ship, were out of their depth, if you pardon the pun.
Whoever commissioned this show should be roundly chastised. It was a good idea executed badly but it had no redeeming features.
June should be relegated to the annals of Channel Four hangover television, where her fanbase can happily lap her up. I can't see the attraction as the mere mention of her voice makes my hackles rise.
She is inept, shallow and pointless, and lacking in any personality.
I know where the woman is usually going to be (televisually speaking) at any given time and it really is disconcerting to find her out of her box and on another channel.
Vic showed his discomfort and hopefully will NEVER attempt anything of the like again. Has he a new agent who is advising him badly?

We can only hope this is the last we hear of this show.