At times I have been so grateful to have Nigel’s companionship over this period of isolation, at others, I have wondered whether Rentokil ever deals with husbands.
A particular low point was the day when I was trying to
write a short story at my desk close to the front door and Nigel decided he
would fix the doorbell. It involved
testing the doorbell repeatedly over a long period.
I went into the hallway and said, ‘You know, yesterday I saw
an interview with Margaret Atwood. In
2019, she lost her partner of many years, Graeme. It’s very sad and she clearly misses him….But
do you know what she doesn’t miss at all?’
‘No?’ said Nigel, ‘What?’
‘Him playing with the bloody doorbell for hours on end. Apparently it in no way helped her to win the
Booker Prize.’
Leaving him with a thoughtful look on his face, I retreated
back into the office.
But, for the time being at least, the social drought has
ended and both the joys and the frustrations of one’s life partner will be
diluted to safe levels by friends and family coming for a cuppa in
the garden. And probably a good thing
too.
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