Friday 22 June, 2007
You know how it goes when you’ve a sticky tape to pull off your arm? It’s a small, silly hurt but somehow it’s one that gives rise to trepidation, and which is put off until the last possible moment. Some people lift a corner of it and then pull as slowly as possible. Others, me among them, grab the corner and rip, to get the job done quickly. Either way, the tape has to come off and the skin underneath be exposed to the air once more.
It was a bit like here that today. Graham’s departure day for the three-and-a-bit months of the summer season. We put it off to the last possible moment. I sat on the sofa in the caravan, sipping a large glass of water slowly, to savour it and the moment. And then, like ripping off a piece of sticky tape, I jumped in the car and came home.
He’ll be home Sunday night for the first of his weekly breaks, and I’ll be popping over for lunch one day during the coming week but today, well, today I nursed the place where the tape came off.
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