The last installment of this journal.  Sorry it ends rather abruptly but that's the British weather for you.

I got up this morning with a right head on.  In the depths of my subconscious, something must have been gnawing away at me overnight because I woke up clenching my teeth so tight my face hurt.  Not being in the mood to analyse it, the first half of the day was spent flopping around in PJs, drinking tea, reading, writing and eating an entire packet of chocolate digestives.

Some of the great pleasures of living on your own are doing things like walking around the house in just a t-shirt, dancing with the cat and eating cheesecake for breakfast - although I wouldn't recommend that as a daily occurance.  Just sometimes, however, I think it would be nice to have someone around simply to share the experience of cheesecake first thing in the morning, or to dance with.  The t-shirt?  Well, that would depend...

This, of course, brought me right back to thinking about past relationships and it occured to me that I had never done any of the above with any of them.  Uh, not entirely true, I had a mad, bad time with Boyfriend No.2 for the brief five months we were together.  I knew from the start he had made plans to travel America on his own so we made every minute count.  Yeah, it still hurt like hell when he got on the plane but, on reflection, how many people actually get to have the perfect no-ties, no-baggage, no-holds-barred relationship?

I can understand why Boyfriend No.2 had such an urge to do his Route 66 "thang", although for him it seemed to more of an escape, trying to avoid hitting forty without having done something unpredictable in his life.  I wonder if I was part of that plan.  However, I was never entirely convinced he was embarking on this adventure purely for himself; it seemed more like a two fingered gesture at a world that didn't think he had it in him.  I hope that's changed for him; I hope he doesn't care what the world thinks and that he regards himself more highly.  In hindsight, I don't think he like himself very much because he was always measuring himself by other people's standards.  I hope he is happy.

Too much thinking is never a good thing.  I've decided this isolation novelty is starting to wear a little thin and yesterday's encounter with the werewolf probably triggered my flat mood.  What I'm really missing at this moment is jumping straight into conversation, without the introductory preamble and the politeness of strangers, with someone who laughs at my jokes and isn't afraid to tell me I'm talking crap.  It's going back to the cheesecake; what's the point of having all these

wonderful experiences if you can't share them?

If you do something on your own, did it really happen?  Amazon minus falling tree equals sound?  The world is full of givers and takers but not nearly enough sharers and, today, I'm really in the mood to share but there's no one here!

I used to love going to Scotland on my own with just the dogs (pre-SD) and not speaking to anyone for days because it was "getting away" - back in the days when I had stuff to get away from.  But now there's nothing I want to escape from.  I like my life, I like being me and I like the people in it.  Good grief, I think I'm a little homesick.

A warm, woolly head came to rest on my knee.  It was enough to drag me off my backside and out into the drizzle.  The weather was appropriate for both my mood and the first day of November but the watching the Small Dog bound recklessly through puddles and hedges never fails to fill me with his infectious joy.  I trudged happily along behind him through the mud.  By the time we got back to the cottage, I felt like I was carrying three counties on each foot.

Looking at the morning news, it seems I visited Worcester in time.  Today it was under seven feet of water and still rising.  Lovely as the cottage was, just a few days seemed to be enough to switch off and re-charge.  So when a delivery of sandbags arrived at the main house, I wasn't too sorry to pack up the car and head for home.

It's true, you know, if you live in Bedford, you know you're home when the shapes of the Cardington Hangars loom into view on the horizon, even though you may still have a couple of miles to go.  I was instantly filled with a deep feeling of contentment borne from the knowledge that whatever direction I'm facing, there are so many options, so much to look forward to and yet so much to come back to.

Yeah, life is good.

What I Did On My Holidays - by Small Dog, age nearly 3

Looked out of car window, walked up and down the back seat, slept.

Ran around like a loon, slept, ate.  Found a paperclip, found a pond, found numerous twigs, sticks, branches.  Drank from muddy puddle, lay down in muddy puddle.  Discovered geraniums are a tasty snack.  Chased a wide variety of bugs, ate most of them.  Met a sheep-thingy - not impressed.  Guarded the wheely-box from the criminal fraternity.  Slept.

Not allowed to sit on sofa, not allowed to sleep on bed, not allowed off lead after minor incident with aforementioned sheep-thingy, not allowed to eat the geraniums.

Looked out of car window, walked up and down the back seat, slept.