i feel quite sad reading the above posts. I had really hoped i could establish some sort of friendly cyber relationship with you ladies but it seems that you're just mocking me. I know i am fortuneate, and i know that my life sounds like a rural idyll, but beneath the veneer of living a gilded existence, with oodles of money and a huge manor house, i'm actually pretty lonely.
It's easy to scoff and mock me, but i'll let you in on something. I see James 2 nights out of seven. That's all. The rest of the time is spent rattling around this house on my own with only the dogs for company. There are regular power cuts and i hate the dark. The last time the lights blew i slept with my lurchers in the kitchen. There is no man about to mend the fuse box, or give me a cuddle. On the odd weekend JJ is home from school, he's invariably at a friends house.
I have panic attacks, all the time, i still haven't quite recovered from post natal depression, and when i finally pulled myself from the all consuming hell of misery, i discovered that my Husband of five years, and the love of my life, is having an affair with his P.A. Its been going since Christmas 2009. I even had her and her husband to stay one weekend when we organised a shoot. I know where i wish i had stuck the barrell of MY gun, the shameless slut. Sorry, to be rude, but almost drunk the bottle of wine now.
I discovered the affair when the receptionist of the Hotel he took her too, called his mobile and asked for Mrs -***.
"Yes-speaking" i replied.
"It's just to let you know that you left your diamond bracelet behind Madam. Shall we send it recorded delivery?"
He arrived home later that night bearing armfuls of flowers and truffles.
I had spent all day in A&E with JJ who had fallen off his quad bike.
I gazed at this man, my husband, who promised he would love and protect me forever and i thought "where did you go?" I thought of the nights spent alone, the days spent preparing his home coming supper, entertaining his horrid sleazy clients who would grope me shamelessly, the evenings spent in a fug of tears and wine, weeping into my glass, wracked with the ache of longing for him.
Whre did you go, i wondered.
He sat there looking handsome in his pin stripe suit, stretched out in front of the fire. laughing about something that had happened on the tube that morning.
I looked at him. I imagined them togeteher. And then i flipped.
Oh god, sorry for rambling. i suppose its cathartic in a way, a release. Sorry, i'll pour myself a quadruple Smirnoff. Neat. Always does the trick. So sorry to bang on.