I would love to say that our breakfast trip to Wetherspoons on Sunday morning was in any way as entertaining as Saturday. Sadly, it wasn't. Our Saturday evening was rounded out by a trip to a Harvester, where Nic and I, despite telling each other that we must not be allowed to have pudding, both scoffed ice-cream. Nic's sister's baby was as good as gold when were in the Harvy; she just sat in her pushchair, chilling out whilst we all ate. She's a very cool kid. We got back to the hotel and parked in a variety of non-spaces before deciding to stick the car where it had been the previous night.
At Wethers the following morning, we were maintained by blokes talking about football. Very, Very dull. However, we did spot a female couple who were SO trying to not be seen as a couple. They basically sat on each other's laps and mirrored each others movements meticulously. It was sort of cute in a tragic sort of way. They were both very middle class looking; they could have both been teachers at a private school or something. I was most tempted just to sit there and write their life story really...
'Just two friends having coffee,' that's what she thought. They both looked respectable; Sheila in white and cream, pearls and cashmere, Diane in black; smart trousers and a woollen coat. Two friends having tea... And coffee, in a nice, respectable pub. A family pub.
She would have preferred china. The tea came in pottery cups; mass produced rubbish. Tea should always be in china.
Diane sipped her coffee and smiled. "Not everywhere, or everyone, has the standards that you do."
It was Sheila's turn to smile. "I know." She wanted to tell Diane that she knew her too well and that betraying that fact was betraying them. No, she thought. She didn't want to say that. It was fear that made her want to hide. She was hiding herself as well as them. It made her scared that people would know and what they would think. She didn't want to answer the questions.
"Have you heard from Jerry?" Diane asked, clearly concerned. She was a solid warm strip along Sheila's side. They were sat too close. They always sat too close.
"No... Well, not really. He wants to know if there's someone else. He thinks we can get through all this, unless there is... Someone." Sheila squeezed her lips tight shut, not wanting to say, 'I don't want to have to tell him. I don't to say that I'm with someone he can never be.'
"So tell him the truth."
Sheila nodded, sucking her teeth before she realised, redrawing her face into a picture of calm. Diane said it so simply, so...
"I can't hurt him like that. I'm not leaving him because of you, I'm leaving him because..."
"Because you stopped loving him a long time ago, because you've changed as a person, because the kids have grown," Diane replied, exasperated. "I know, I know.... Why can't you just tell him the truth?"
"It is the truth," Sheila replied, squeezing Diane's hand under the table. A reminder; they were in public. A warning; not too loud. A need to reiterate to Diane, 'I love you'.
"But it's not all of the truth," Diane said softly. Softer.
"I know," Sheila agreed. "But it's all he needs to know." She said it knowing it wasn't the truth. She knew Jerry would never stop thinking that they could get past it and go back to normal. In five years time, even if they were still apart, Jerry would still think their relationship could be mended.
Diane sat back and took a man-sized swig from her coffee. Sheila looked at her tea. They sat. In silence.
My desire to write is quite strong at the moment, but my time to do so is lacking. Severely.
We went and saw Nic's sister and then headed home. It must be said that the weather was bloody atrocious... the M25 in driving rain and snow is not a fun place. In fact, it sucks.
We have received a few of the shots from the photo-shoot; I apparently look like an angel in the photo of me from the contact sheet. I think I look like a circus freak with enormous arms. I may share one later.
I also have noted that over the weekend, someone has changed a road sign for the village of Padbury. It now reads 'Badbury'. This is not the sort of behaviour one expects from locals of Buckinghamshire villages! :)
I have also discovered the joys of Pot Noodle GTi's... dirty, dirty food but so very good.
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