Lava

Excuse my writing. I can’t promise this will be coherent or logical or valid, or even rational.

I can feel the anxiety and emotion and angst bubbling like lava in my solar plexus. My breathing is shallow.

I’m writing to get it all out. To purge it from my system in the hope that clarity will remain.

I’ve learnt enough about myself recently to know that this has been a slow build: a collection of evidence and concerns that my brain has stored, just waiting for the last piece of the mismatched puzzle.

And it will be mismatched. I’ve learnt enough about myself to know that, too.

It’s been the two months of being on edge, not knowing if my actions have ruined my relationship.

It’s the two months of him being on a cycle of busy and ill and therefore, just that little bit distant.

It’s the fact that he won’t commit to a time for me to visit.

It’s the fact that the plane prices are rising.

It’s the fact that my friends don’t seem to think he will ever commit to me.

It’s the fact that he’s different on the phone. Just a little. Less smiles. Less talking.

It’s how I’m beginning to lose hope. My dreams dying.

It’s how, I can no longer imagine a time when this works out.

It’s because I see my fb friend struggling in her marriage with a man from Wildcard’s country.

It’s because my London friend contacted to say her three year relationship is over.

And it’s because, nothing has changed about how much I love him. I still want him. And I fear deep down, that I’m going to get hurt.

I’m tired of the unknown and the anxiety and the overthinking and he think he is too.

*******

I called after work as I always do. He was fine, we were fine, and passed the time of day. He told me his brother had just called and wanted to know if Wildcard could take a week off in the summer so that they could all travel to a holiday resort in the North of his country.

This is going to be hard to explain, so stick with me. I’m going to sound paranoid and selfish too.

My immediate thoughts? Well, there goes the time he would have spent with me. He will use his holidays with his brother and will work when I’m there. We won’t go travelling. I will be in the house waiting for him. I’m an after thought, I’m not important. His life with me and his relationship now come second to what his brother wants. And maybe, that’s because – as I have long suspected – he doesn’t feel like I do. There’s no urgency to see me. There’s no missing me or wanting me. I feel like he could wait no end and not be bothered. (I’m crying again, btw)

So of course, as he says this, my eyes fill up. I try to hide it, as I always do, and fail also as I always do.

And he got moody. What was wrong? Why was I getting upset?

How to explain… how to get across how I feel without painting myself in a terrible light?

I just said, I was nervous that he would have no time for me. That he would have no holidays to be with me – (keeping in mind that he had 9 days off with his brother in February. He took 3 days off when I was there in January. )

He started by saying he had plenty of holiday left, then got angry and said what was the problem if he had to work? That we just stayed in his town and he worked and I stayed in the house?

And I felt devalued, again. Not important, again. And part of me knows he’s testing to see if all I want is a holiday, not him. And I know he’s in a difficult position. But why can’t our life together come first? Why can’t his brother fit around us as he was there less than a month ago?

And why was he angry?

At the same time, he talked through times when I could come and didn’t rule out my holiday in May. He wants me to come in summer, it seems, but I got the impression that was because he wanted to travel, but now that might not happen as his brother will supercede it.

He ended by telling me I had interrupted his programme and he was going, followed by the usual niceties.

And here I am.

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Beginnings and ends, part 1

Today I am in no man’s land, numb. Makes a change, I guess.

I’ve spent the last 6 days in bed on the whole . Covid has wiped me out.

My last post was in a moment of uplifting. It didn’t last.

So this…from this point on, is either the beginning of the end or, the end and a new beginning. And whilst I am not in complete control, my decisions from this point could potentially sway it either way.

I’ve really hurt and upset him this time.

He’s not faultless, no. But my reactions and my irresponsible method of dealing with everything…well, that has caused this issue.

Let me tell you what happened.

Two days ago, I was feeling a little better – not needing to sleep all day, just pockets of it. At one such semi-awake moment, I decided to get my laptop to watch something as I had uncomfortably survived with my phone the day before.

As it was loading, I realised that I hadn’t used it since before my trip to see Wildcard. Sure enough, as it started, Messenger opened.

In the week leading up to Christmas, I’d had an issue with my phone draining when I plugged in the charger. This had led me to downloading the app on my laptop. The issue, is that I hadn’t deactivated the status button.

If I see someone is online but hasn’t read my message, it unnerves me – and that goes for anyone, not just Wildcard. Admittedly, in the early start of a relationship, I find this particularly hard. With him, to be fair, there have been very rare occasions when he hasn’t replied quickly. He always replies and usually in a good time. But, undeniably, not being able to see when he is active has helped me manage my expectations of this. It’s been turned off for over three years and for good reason.

So, the Messenger screen opened automatically as I clearly hadn’t shut it down before Christmas, and I could see that he’d been active 15 minutes ago. He’d last spoken to me over an hour before.

It shouldn’t matter, should it? Who am I to dictate who he speaks to and how? But, when that shock rolls through your body and you feel sick and scared, you’re not thinking of that.

I shut the laptop and stewed a little. He uses his sim/normal phone to message and call his parents and work colleagues and main friends. One brother uses WhatsApp to call. The other does use Messenger but not at this time of day, usually in the evening.

Listen to me trying to justify and catalogue what was normal! But that is what I did.

So then the adrenalin built, my negative thinking built and collected and spiralled. Who was he speaking to?

I opened up the laptop again. He was now active again. He was supposed to be in work.

I franatically searched for alternatives. If he was on Facebook, would this mean that it would show as active even if he’s not on Messenger?

I’m building desperation, I messaged my married friend. I knew that if he called me anytime soon, this irrational behaviour would just burst out. I didn’t even want to speak to him at this point.

She was calm, she was rational. She went through the unreliability of using that little green button as proof from her own experiences, as well as pointing out that it could literally be anyone.

I calmed a little but my head was buzzing. I decided to journal.

It was the worst thing I could have done. I wrote him a non-letter. I poured out every anxiety and fear, everything I worried about and kept inside – even things I haven’t written on here. By the end of it, instead of making me feel calmer, I felt worst. I’d built a spiky defence of accusation and hurt around myself, not released the demon thoughts into the ether. Everything negative was now up front and centre in my head. I even tried to counteract by writing a positive one but I couldn’t, the negativity was now like a loaded gun.

Yes, I did keep checking. I watched him go offline and later come back on again.

I managed to keep hold of myself when he called after work. Maybe still having Covid helped hide what was threatening underneath.

Unfortunately, when we had a usual evening call, that was not the case.

Trip 6, Day 8

I was tired this morning and I’m not sure why as I slept well. Maybe it’s all the overthinking – that has to take up some energy.

He came, we cuddled. In those moments, just lying there as I often am, you really relish the soft touch of his lips on your cheek; the strength of his arms around you or the sensual touch of bare feet on bare feet. It’s my favourite time, even if there was no love-making, like this morning.

After breakfast, I showered and then we took another stroll on his roof terrace. The sun was bright and warm and I love chatting with him up there. He told me we would be going to his city that afternoon.

We’ve been to the city about three times across my trips. Today though, we did more of the touristy things. Being a Friday, a lot of the shops and market stalls were closed, but enough were open to make it enjoyable – more so because with less stalls and less people, you could really get a feel for the place. We saw three of the main historical and architectural wonders his city is famed for and we took some beautiful pictures. It was good to be out in the sunshine too.

I was surprised and really touched when he bought me some beautiful leather sandals from the market and enjoyed watching the sunset as we drove home. Stopping to buy my favourite fruit from a farmer on the way home- even though they were expensive – was also a kind thought.

We were soon home and eating a delicious dinner. His parents soon went to bed but, unlike last night, there was no tension or undecision of what to do. It was my last night so we were staying up.

Not long after his parents left, I leant over his knees and asked for kiss. Then I told him I needed one. Either way, I didn’t get. He was engrossed in deleting old photos from his Google account making room for the beautiful photos we had taken that day. Being the high-maintenance craze-pot that I am, I of course was a little nettled by that. There was a little banter back and forth and eventually the phone was put down and the teasing commenced. Like the previous night, he would beckon me forward and, when I did, would exclaim that I misunderstood. After a while and under threat of me sitting back down in my place at his feet, he took to holding me there by my clothes or hair, an amused gleam to his eye (which I will freely admit now that I love) and a smile on his face.

Never to be outdone or skimp on the jesting, round two involved him pressing his lips together most invitingly for a kiss, then moving away when I tried. I’d ‘give up’, he’d hold me in place and then it would start again.

Round three was war of the noses. He’d let me close enough so our noses touched but that’s it. Amusing yes. Frustrating, ridiculously. Enough so…you guessed it by this point I emotionally couldn’t see the funny side and as ‘this is the last evening you will have time kiss me for 5 months’ screamed through my head, obliterating all sense and reason, I started to cry. AGAIN.

At this, he pushed his lips to mine and his kisses were…out of this world. He was generally shocked by my crying AGAIN, I can’t understand why, as that it pretty much all I’ve done. He asked, did I not like his playing? Which I replied, I did, but I guess the blubbering mess of my face suggested otherwise. I told him I loved him and then,

“Do you hate me?’ One because he had every right to and two, because that was what he said to me most of all – his way of professing his love in a way that I only know and he can pretend he hasn’t just blurted his heart out.

“No.” His voice was deep and emotion tinged and I lifted my head up in surprise to look at him.

“No? Tell me you love me then.”

And he did, although I didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked away right before the end. So close though.

After more beautiful kisses, I decided I emotionally couldn’t cope any more. I got up and got us both some water. Placing his bottle on his table, I turned to go and saw such a look of pain in his face. He was surprised I was going and looked genuinely hurt. I’ve never, ever seen that look before. I lay back down with him and he held me. He said he didn’t understand me. We hugged, we kissed, and soon it was time for me to go. He didn’t get up to walk me to bed.

I went into my room, sat down, and let it all out. Why do I keep doing this? Why do I ruin everything? He’d be better off without me.

After a moment, I went to the bathroom to clean up but then I went back to him.

He made room and I held him. He said again, “I don’t know why you do that. Why do you cry every night?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m not good for you.”

“OK.. so..” and that was all he said. He buried his face into my neck and we just held each other, his sentence unfinished…mine missing.

Before long, he roused enough to tell me to go to bed. He walked me to my door, kissed me, and said he loved me.

I didn’t sleep well, as usual. I woke a number of times, full of self loathing and fear. I’d never seen him so hurt before, so dejected. What could I say? How can I explain?

At 4.30am, I admitted defeat and went to the bathroom. As I walked through the hallway, I thought I heard the TV on from his room, but on the way back it was quiet. I lay back in bed, trying not to imagine he hadn’t wanted me to know he was awake. Either way, I needed to try to sleep.

Within moments though the door opened and he asked me to switch on the lamp. He told me he had had bad dreams and now couldn’t sleep. He crawled into bed beside me, and locked me within his arms. Before long, he was asleep and I lay there, thinking of course.

I barely wanted to move in case he left. Time passed by and eventually, I too fell asleep.

Resilience is relative

Just so you know, I hate that word. With an absolute soul shuddering passion. 

It's a word some people use to dismiss other's feelings and make them feel weak and unworthy. It tells them that they should be stronger, not show their emotions. It hints that you're being perceived as lesser, broken.

I really don't know if this is just British culture - stiff upper lip, you know what I am talking about - this idea that we should all be built with some innate iron strength to cope when life really is the pits.
 

Resilience is relative though, isn't it?
 

Someone losing their job with a bank full of savings and a spouse on a decent income is different to a single parent losing their job up to their eyes in debt. And yet, both will feel the strain in their own way, relative to their situation. Therefore, telling someone to be 'resilient' really annoys me. You, on your high horse...you have no idea how that person feels it's not your life, your context, its theirs. Just because you can cope in those set of circumstances but in your context, doesn't mean they can. 
Show them love. Show them care and empathy. Give them a little strength to find their own path to survival. Don't tell them to be resilient. 

I saw my cousin last night (his wife is who I’d taken the pot rose to a few days ago).  He told me I was brave for what I had done in leaving my career. “Or stupid,” I replied.

“No.” He said. “You’d have been stupid to carry on, feeling like that.”

*****

It’s another beautiful autumnal day. Golden leaves are falling now. I’m sat outside in a short sleeved t shirt and whilst I’m not warm, I’m liking the slight chill to the breeze that’s rustling the leaves.

My mind was full of Amy last night. I didn’t know her well – knew her little son more who played with my son and niece and nephew – but knew her enough to say hello and stop and chat. I looked at her Facebook page and saw pictures of her happy little family and the gratitude she had for them.

Thinking about that little family’s loss now, things get put in perspective.

So what if I actually shampooed my carpet, only for it to go smelly, leading me to cover it in bicarb (Internet hack) which won’t vacuum up so I now have a cow patterned carpet?

So what if I left a job that left me soul broken? So what if I don’t have spare cash anymore? I have my life and my kids and my family and my Wildcard.

There’s so many clichés to say here….life is short, you only live once, you could die tomorrow.

Clichés are almost as bad as the word ‘resilience’. They are poignant and important but deemed irrelevant by over or improper use.

I’ve had a very lucky life, compared to some.   I’ve had a difficult life compared to others.

What I do know is I’ve spent a large part of it unhappy when I didn’t need to. Either because my head was stuck in the negative or I failed to change my life when I should have. No more.

Life is short but…

Life is beautiful. Life is Love.

If you let it be.

Try

My days plod on.

My brave face lens is working most of the time. I may have to ‘gee’ myself up, but after some time I have been taking action.

I’ve cleaned my bedroom. I’ve phoned and emailed my son’s school and dealt best I can with an education establishment that appears not to care. Tomorrow, hopefully, he will go back.

I’ve contacted the agencies. I’ve been sent application emails. No, I’ve not yet dealt with them. But I will.

I’ve got out of bed every day. I’ve tried.

My brave face appears to be working with Wildcard. Things, on the outside at least, seem to have slipped back to where they were. Almost. Kind of. I’m not sure, really.

It’s hard not to question everything in this dark place. Is it me? Is it him? Are we just not meant to be?? Should I give up? How would I cope if he leaves? Should I back off so he misses me? What if he doesn’t? Am I actually happy or not? What the hell is going on?

Yesterday, my sister and her friend came round. We ended up discussing my business idea – my sister’s friend has experience in this line of work and was a great motivator. I was nervous and scared at times but hope began to blossom again.

She said… she said it appears that a lot of my fear is because I’m doing something for myself. That hit home. A lot of my angst about leaving my career was around how I’d let down others, not bringing in that managerial wage. This business is for me…except, my business is to help others. It is a risk though. In today’s financial climate…

I’m back to feeling a little indecisive…about the big things anyway.

But I’m trying. And that’s the best I can do.

Trip 5, Day 2

I’m so full of the most delicious food. The weather is scorching. And I’m totally relaxed.

Ok, not completely.

I have written before about Day 3 wobbles. Yes, I know it’s Day 2, but I need to understand why they happen. My previous theory was that the build up of adrenalin, anxiety, excitement finally dissipate on this day, leading to an emotional outbreak.

That still may be the case. However, I’ve had a new revelation.

Last night and today have been as magical as ever. We’ve laughed, we’ve loved. We cuddled, we’ve relaxed.

And it’s in these moments, these moments of absolute bliss, that my heart just swells fit to bursting with love.

Today, he asked for the ring I’d made him. I’d brought it but hadn’t given it him as … well, because it clearly meant more to me than him. I asked him where mine was – he said he didn’t have one.

But he asked for the one I had made, and I gave it him. He asked which finger and we had the whole engagement finger discussion, just like time I was there. He did the whole pretend proposal thing too. I’m not fooled. But he’s kept his ring on and I caught him showing his mother too. He’s worn it all through dinner too.

So, Day 3 wobbles are about fear. Fear that these big feelings I have are not reciprocated. They start earlier than Day 3 and build. It’s disappointment that he’s not showing his big feelings like I am (like a woman to be fair).

I promised myself I would be positive, and I’m really trying to be. I trying not to let expectations or conditions ruin my trip. I’m trying to be the best me I can – happy and relaxed.

But, I can tell you this. Everytime I see that silver ring flash on his hand I feel a pang of some unnamed amalgamation of feelings. I want it to be real, so badly. I want to belong to him, and him to me. I long for it. It hurts that it’s not real. It’s disappointment and fear that it never will be. It’s hatred for myself that I’m not good enough for him to ask me. It’s disillusionment- there is nothing I can do.

Expectations have a huge part to play in this. I knew this when I was stood waiting for the train. My Expectations cause my pain. Hope causes me pain.

So I go back to my affirmations.

I’m here with no expectations. I’m going to laugh and love and relax. I’m going to enjoy his company and not put any pressures on me or him or our relationship.

I’m going to appreciate every wonderful moment without letting unrealistic expectations cloud the good I have.

One said he loved me

One said he loved me, but played me like a game,

One said he loved me, but loved another just the same,

One said loved me, but later laughed upon my face,

One said he loved me, then disappeared without a trace.

When you say you love me, don’t be surprised if I do fear.

When you say you love me, speak to my heart not just my ear.

When you say you love me, say it loud so the world does know,

For perhaps when you say you love me, I won’t be afraid you’ll go.

Trip 4: Day 3, why?

A night of thinking and postulating, again.

Why, why do I do this? Why do I have to cause problems? Create problems? Why can’t I just take each day as a gift and be happy?

It’s clear to anyone who reads my blog (thank you by the way 😊) that I am deeply in love with Wildcard. I’ve told you that he is everything I want and dreamed and yet my all-encompassing fear of losing him clouds the good that we have.

Last night, I got upset. Again. I hate myself for writing it and saying it and feeling it.

After a moment of perfect intimacy and love, fear took over.

It seems to be a pattern.

I get excited, so excited.

I arrive. I’m so happy.

And then I realise, despite it being impossible, that I love him even more than I thought. Every moment of being close; his joking and teasing, our laughter; our talking and eating and sharing every moment; our love making….my heart and soul swell like they will just burst. And as soon as I feel like that fear comes rushing in.

He doesn’t feel the same. Always that, always.

Where is my evidence? Well, my brain, trying to protect me in this very vulnerable state, finds it. Seeks it out.

Of course now, after sleeping and more love making, I see the idiocy and error of my ways. But at the time? At the time I feel like my world is falling apart. I even looked for an early flight home. Ri-di-cu-lous. As if I could tear myself away from him.

Expectation is the route of all disappointment. I know this. Yet I fall for it whether I want to or not.

I seek out evidence of him feeling like I do, constantly forgetting that as a man, as a man from a completely different culture, he will not show it as I do, how I expect, or even how I want. So when I don’t see it, I let that goddamn tsunami of fear sweep over me, obliterating rational thought. Every. Time.

I need to find a way of explaining this to him so he doesn’t think me completely crazy. I’ve tried to explain that these are my problems, not his and that I recognise that and apologise for it (thank you Tony Robbins).

But. He isn’t entirely innocent.

I suspect, and long have, that he has his own set of demons and past relationship trauma. Whilst he tells me and shows me he loves me every day, he’s never allowed himself to be truly vulnerable around me. He’s never completely let me in. And it’s no good asking him – the more I ask, the more he refuses. He won’t be forced to say anything unless he wants to say it.

I don’t dislike that about him. I would rather something was said heartfelt than half-heartedly because it is forced. Unfortunately, that doesn’t help when I’m drowning in the anxiety-tsunami.

He’s at work now. Things were OK, good, between us this morning. He text me to ask about a deleted message I sent last night. It simply told him I couldn’t sleep. He knew it wasn’t just barking dogs.

Another issue, is that whilst a part of me knows I am being unreasonable, and tries to hide this from him, he always knows. And then I have to try, but often just avoid and then fail, to explain in any way where I come out positively.

And so, here I am. 12 o clock on my 3rd day here and I’m nervous that he is well and truly fed up of me. Because even if my initial thoughts and worries were false, they have now caused an actual problem.

So what could change this ridiculous cycle? I have no idea. Last night, after he repeatedly pressed me to tell him and I repeatedly avoided..we had a tickle fight, he refused to tell me what I wanted to hear (in his head he’s thinking, why? Why do I need to say it again – have I not just proved it?) I was sad, and then he held me and kissed me over and over, telling me he loves me. He loves me.

Harry

It’s still less than two weeks since I came home and left Wildcard. It feels like months.

But it’s OK. I’ve got myself a new boyfriend. He is called Harry.

Harry was kind of foisted on me. I told him repeatedly that Wildcard was the only man for me, but he was insistent.

He makes me laugh from the moment I set eyes on him. He is loving and gentle and open. He says the things that Wildcard implies but only rarely states.

We decided to call him Harry because it’s an English name. The original name was ‘Carlos’ but that didn’t sound right either.

Visually, he is a little freaky. Big, almost white-blue eyes that stare at you from behind black circular glasses. Wide, rounded cheeks and a double chin. He has a dark beard and dark hair like Wildcard though…. His voice is higher, and whines.

Regular readers, have I confused you? Let me explain.

Wildcard makes me laugh like no one else has ever done. My family has always joked that I have no sense of humour. Apparently that isn’t true – I just hadn’t found the right person to make me laugh.

Wildcard and I talk on Messenger. And on Messenger, there are filters which get updated regularly. My sides have split over his pizza face and when he was a corn on the cob. It’s not just the filter of course – it’s what he does and says. He is hysterical.

With or without filters, he knows how to make me laugh. The things to say, the faces to pull…the silly dances, the jokes.

With this new filter though, he has created an alter ego. Harry is the romantic person that Wildcard won’t be.

It’s true that whilst I laugh readily at Harry and his antics, his appearance is a little quirky. And yet, I’ve grown to love this romance and affection. He says what I want Wildcard to say.

Harry has been around for about a week now. I’ll admit, my overthinking, over-analytical brain considered why Wildcard can’t say these things- he’s created Harry as his opposite. He must know that is what I want him to say. Why can’t he say it?

Well first, he does say it. He says it when it is right for him. Second, he is saying it. Which made me question why he needs to be in character to do it.

Why is he afraid to be readily open about his feelings?

I guess there is only a couple of reasons why. He isn’t like that – not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve.

And I suppose the other is fear. Fear of opening up. Fear of getting hurt. Over the past two years of being together, I’ve pieced together that his first girlfriend hurt him. He loved her. She pushed him to marry and he wasn’t ready so she went and found someone else – her ultimatum didn’t work and suggested that she found this man whilst still with Wildcard. I’ve deduced that he has never really forgiven her despite still being ‘friends’. She knows about me and has questioned him about our relationship. She has hinted about leaving her husband and being with him. He told me he can never forgive her.

It explains a lot of his jealousy and paranoia and his reactions when he has believed me to have done something wrong – like the getting a lift from my ex. I’ve always know he is less secure than he makes out he is. Perhaps now I have reason why.

Power

I’m lying in bed and I have tears streaming down my face. Some are through pain and some through laughter.

Wildcard is definitely moody. But he won’t talk about it.

So I’m not sure if it is the fact my ex (and my daughter) drove me home or the fact that he thought my sister had, and now knows she didn’t. It is probably both.

He is still calling me at the usual times. There is an awkward atmosphere occasionally. Other times he talks as normal; I swear until he remembers he is supposed to be annoyed. He won’t tell me he loves me though, or kiss me goodbye. I expect that now, as after 18 months I know his m.o. when he is annoyed with me. Yesterday I managed relatively comfortably with it, somewhat secure that it will probably pass with time.

Today has been a little different.

I was heart warmed when he messaged me first thing with ‘Good morning my love.’ I hoped this signalled he had got over it and would be back to himself. He had quite a stressful day on today which I know had been bothering him so I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t respond to my reply for a while.

His contact today has been limited though. He eventually called me at lunch when he was at a restaurant with his parents. The call was brief and he had no headphones so couldn’t talk much. As requested, he did call me back to show me what they were eating- and I had asked for a picture because it was something traditional I had not seen before. But still, no love you, no kisses and no response when I questioned it.

Since then my mood has dipped. I’m already anxious about this relationship and things like this don’t help. I took myself off to bed and wept a little.

My ex is angry I’m with Wildcard. Wildcard is angry I got a ride with my ex. My daughter would have been upset if I had got a hotel. I can’t win.

I lay in bed feeling the despair of uncertainty all over again. No news from the union. No call from Wildcard. No sign of any decent jobs.

And so I prayed. I thanked for the life I did have: my family and friends, the opportunities I’ve had, my health. But then I asked for help. I asked for strength. I asked that I could stop worrying and be happy and enjoy my relationship. I asked for guidance.

I swear to you, within minutes Wildcard called. He was visiting family. The call was brief but at least he called. He messaged then to say he was tired, it was very hot and we would talk later.

I lay back down and thought. He must have seen that I looked a little upset. But at least he called. I could see he was tired after a stressful day and a lot of travelling so now was not the time to air grievances. I felt a little better but was still anxious to move on.

As my eyes began to close again, and considering this was only five minutes after Wildcard’s call, the phone rang again.

This time it was test and trace. They’ve called every day. I wasn’t in the mood but knew I had to answer. A youngish male voice answered and started his spiel. I interrupted and asked if I was going to be called every day. He replied yes, and that I would probably know the script better than him by now and should he continue at speed?

I told him to continue, I would listen and I.knew he was only doing his job. He then proceeded to speak as quickly as he could, meaning I was laughing hysterically down the phone. He paused, asked if I was crying or laughing, then started again. Amidst laughing, I answered his questions. He retorted that he could tell I was at home from the echo of the room – was I residing in a Palace? Did I have any further questions?

I replied no, but asked if he could call me tomorrow as that had been the best call I’d had so far from Test and Trace.

He said it was probably the worst then told me he would say the next part slowly so I could hear him properly. He then proceeded to read at speed again, and I was laughing once more.

He finished the he wished me a good day and said he hoped he would get to speak to me again.

The call ended with a smile and I thanked the power of prayer and laughter.