In my shed. Listening to the Westminster Hour on R4, with half an ear. Bedding on the floor, water by my side, precious things in the suitcase, ready for a runner.
Options - stick it out, it'll blow over, we've been here before.
Run away, slowly. Give everything that's left to Pol, think of a place to go, leave, on foot, with my world on my back.
Find a room in Coggeshall, and live there. Arggh! I'll have to get my own broadband.
Kill myself. I wouldn't mind, I don't think. Children and some friends might.
Actually I'd rather not. I'm quite excited about Top Truck Storage, Top Cars, even Top Trucks Transport. I'd like to see if they work out.
Surrender. Go to AA meetings, stop drinking, beg, be really good, hope that does the trick. But in my heart of hearts, I'm not sure she gives a fuck, she'd just like to see me out of here . . . or I'd just like to be out of here.
I think I'll watch the Promise Pt 2 and go to bed.
Watch this space . . .