I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. The last few posts have been quite upbeat. The reality, though, in my head, is quite different.

I am, to be frank, scared shitless. I move on Wednesday. The movers are booked. The gas and Electric and Telephone have all been sorted (although we are in Italy so it doesn’t actually mean that it will all happen without any hitches). But none of this matters.

V has been extraordinarily nice recently. And yet, as I write, he has nowhere to move to and has made no alternative plans. And, in spite of the niceness, I am pretty sure the lies continue. I’m not sure he will actually really believe this is happening until I move out. It should have been him moving first.

I am waiting for something – but I have no idea what. Something that he is going to say or do, at the last moment. Now, with everything arranged, it does not and cannot change anything. And, perhaps, that is what scares me so much. There is a finality to it all.

I remain polite and try to be friendly. I succeed most of the time. The Final Question was asked and agreed to but it became harder to achieve – but not because I didn’t try. However, it almost seem irrelevant now.

This weekend will be packing, for certain. There are many things where it has not been decided who has what. This must be resolved – and this weekend.

I am also very sad. It hit me, again, whilst I was away. For the first time since I can remember, I had no one to phone/text. Little things, I know but, overriding all that was that no one was waiting for me to come home. It will only be the dogs that keep me sane.