The fact that we are actually in the same country at the same time has certainly increased the intimacy of our relationship. But it’s somehow added to its poignancy too. Because when I’m not swooning in his arms knowing he’ll love me for ever I know something else entirely. I know I am a lonely middle-aged woman who he wouldn’t even look at. I know that even though he is on the same planet and in the same country, we will probably never even meet.
But I’m not going to let myself dwell on this escapist nonsense any longer. It’s a waste of time and time is precious because one day we’re all going to die. It’s important to remember that and it’s surprisingly easy not to. So now I’m trudging down Pembroke Road and looking at people’s doors and doorbells and the windows with lined curtains and the dirty ones without lined curtains that are most likely rented. I’m trying to live in the moment – to be aware of each green leaf and footstep – but my mind keeps going back to Anne’s remark about my not having changed.
