Well, it's been another of those weeks.
My car failed its MOT and it took over £300's worth of repairs to put it right.
This all took time so I missed the paintballing on Saturday (and I seem to be missing an awful lot lately despite the way I write it up as a riotous progression of unmissable events).
Earlier the World AIDS Day concert was a disaster at UCL so Chris and I went for a drink and a meal and another drink. We ended up at our bar The Matrix where we variously encountered a young man who may have been called any one of three things but who was probably called Keith and may well have worked in a hotel, a Glaswegian with an Irish name who was a trained psychiatric nurse and was in to mind games and a lovely guy whose name I, embarrassingly as I asked for it twice, cannot remember who worked for Channel Four. The four years olds were out to play. We snogged briefly, once.
Thursday I didn't go to healing because the car wasn't ready.
Friday I was on my own as Ross was up in Barton dealing with past events and giving a good account of himself it turned out. He was back by Saturday afternoon so I saw a little of him before I headed off to see Handel's Alcina - if it's Saturday, it's opera at the moment. Yes Ok. Singing fine, production mostly capable, some stunning sound but it just really isn't my thing even if I can acknowledge how well it was done.
Tense Sunday. We should have talked but we didn't. There was a sort of crisis. Not a matter of rending apart. Just a reassessment such as all long term relationships must go through. I'm just getting too much of the spiritual nourishment that I need from other than through Ross at present. And we have to find some way of letting each other know what we mean to each other in ways the other can hear. By tonight, Tuesday, we're talking on the phone. It's a little start.