Final night of my week living alone again. Not really a week, more 4 nights. But its strange to be back on my own, coming into a cold dark house after work, feeding the fish, making my own supper. Watching a bit of George Gently on the TV, to practice my Geordie again. When I wrote my first year long blog, I lived on my own. As I had done so for 20 odd years. A trio of long distance relationships over that time meant I migrated hither and yon over the South West. But during the week, I was mostly alone with my thoughts. A scary prospect many would say. But now I'm used to slippers in front of the fire and a hot meal in the oven, it seems strange being in the house on my own. Not bad, not good, just odd. Not to worry, Mrs Dawes, better known as Dodge, will be returned to the folding of my besom brush and cohabiting peace will return. As long as I do the washing up and don't leave my socks in the hallway. As if?
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