Barton and Beyond
25 May

Well the drive northwards along the M11, A1 and various minor motorways went OK - in fact, it was all a lot easier than I had thought it might be. Still, I was completely anxious when I arrived at Chris's where Ross has been staying mostly over the past few months.

There was a little initial awkwardness but then we had our first hug and there was that familiar electricity. I could sense an energy that ran from my heart to his breast and from his to mine. Sometimes, I am so sensitive to him. I seem to know from changes in his energies as to when his mood changes. And I wonder why I am so convinced that there is still a lot of history to pass between us.

Chris's house is a semi-derelict house Coast Guard's cottage dating back (I seem to remember) to the 18th century. It is very historic, has a lovely setting (when you can't see the Humber bridge which overshadows it) and will no doubt be very nice when it is finally done up. However, I couldn't possibly live there at present. I have definitely embraced middle age and the middle classes. Ross is fine there but then he is 21 and I no longer am.

The big news of the weekend was that he is feeling considerably better and is now thinking of coming back to London in the autumn to start up his course again. It was a bit of a bombshell and not one that I had been expecting. I had rather thought that I might have to play the role of trying to get him to do more. Still, it's a good thing. The downside, mind you, is that he wants to store his things at my house til he is sorted. I want to help. More than that I want to rescue. And I know there is something wrong there. Unusually for me, I asked Ross for time to think about it. I don't want to rush in and make commitments here.

Meanwhile we are shagging like crazed polecats again. It is good - more than good. The final shag of Saturday night is quite spectacular - Ross with his legs over my shoulders, his spunk pumping over his stomach whilst I shaft him deeply. Then I pound his ass right royally whilst he gasps and groans til I roar with ecstasy as I flood inside him. And then there's half an hour of doggy style on Sunday morning that leaves Ross alternately panting and biting the pillow.

I love this but it's just too good and for me there are contradictory messages. I can't be casual about my lovemaking with Ross but to show the depth of my feeling when I also know that we need to spend time getting on with our own lives presents me with difficulties. Still, they are difficulties that many people would give their eye teeth for.

Sunday afternoon and it's off to the Rotherham/Doncaster area where we sit in on rehearsals for a play which Ross is doing posters and programmes for. It's a beautifully hot day. The setting is idyllic. Lying in sun together, Ross sketches. We are lovers.

I feel brilliant on the way home. The journey is all too simple. Ben from next door and his girlfriend Mia (short for Maria) have been house-sitting but have already left by the time I return. She is leaving for her homeland of Sweden shortly so they have had a final few hours of privacy together. Somehow, whenever they've house-sat for me the duvet always ends up rotated through 90°s. God only knows what they get up to.

Anyhow, their departure gives me some time for me, which is good.