Well, folks, today marks one year since I married someone who I thought was the love of my life. It's been an... interesting 12 months.
If you'd told me, on 18 December last year, that THIS is how my life would be now, I wouldn't have believed you. Despite everything that had happened to that point, I still thought somehow things would turn out alright. Well, I guess they are, just in a dramatically different way to what I was expecting.
I thought I'd be celebrating my 1-year wedding anniversary. I'm certainly not celebrating, or at least not in any "happ-happy-yay-we've-been-married-a-year" way. Instead I'm alone, no husband, reflecting on the year that's passed and trying not to think about what could have been, if he'd just been honest.
This week I've realised that, while it's not exactly common for a marriage to not last a year, I'm certainly not unique. I was chatting with the receptionist at the imaging place where I went to get an ultrasound this week, she told me her first marriage barely limped to one year before they separated, and another lady there said her first lasted 10 months. Both say they are now happily married to other people.
Yesterday I shared a table, and a cuppa, with a lovely older lady and her husband, John Nugent, ex-mayor of Ipswich. Both simply lovely people.They've been married for over a year now, it's a lovely story.
So, it appears there's hope for me. There is hope I'll get it right. Eventually.
And sorry I haven't posted much cooking or eating out lately. Let's just say I haven't really felt like cooking much for a while. Or going out. But that'll change, promise.