In a World Gone Mad: Thursday 14 May 2020...1

Thursday 14 May 2020

I don’t know how much more I can take. And I’m worried about Max’s state of mind and insomnia.  I didn’t sleep again last night. It was a carbon copy of the night before and I feel at breaking point.

After a long day with Max’s family, we settled to watch telly in bed at ten thirty. He promised that he’d turn it off by midnight.  At eleven Arthur got up and ranted. It was one of his standard money meltdowns.

‘Some money’s gone out of my account. I’ve been looking in my bank book and all my money’s gone out of my account. They are going to come and take this house off me. It’s gone. I’m telling you all my money’s gone, it’s been stolen.’

He hasn’t got a bank book and certainly doesn’t have online banking. Because he loops that his bank card had been stolen, we gave him an expired card of Andy’s—they have the same real name—and believe me, that’s an issue in itself. He has no access to his money. Kevin has a bank card and we have one, but to release any money we have to go through Kevin first. I insisted on this because a current theme from Arthur, is that we’re always stealing from him. I stole all his money to buy myself this house. Same old story, same old shit.

We have this or a crazy session very similar ten times day, but Max is at the end of his rope. He isn’t sleeping and because he’s so tired everything is getting him down.  He went downstairs for half an hour and came back up. He went downstairs and came up to use the bathroom. He went downstairs again at half one and came back up at four thirty.

He’d seen his ex-wife, seventeen years my junior and half my size. Was that playing on his mind? He misses the three children and granddaughter that he hasn’t been able to see until yesterday, that upset him. I lay awake from one until half four worrying about him—but I was angry too. Try going back to sleep when you’re fuming mad, nothing wakes you up faster or keeps you awake longer. This is the second night without any sleep.

I know he’s got a lot on his plate, but this isn’t a new thing. For three years he’s been preventing me from sleeping. Before Arthur, I had the spare bedroom.  I’d go to bed with him until midnight, and then leave and get in the spare bed to get some sleep away from that flipping telly.

Now I’ve got nowhere to be. I love Max and our relationship is strong, but how many couples have a partner that retreats to another room night after night to get sleep? It feels like a broken partnership when it isn’t. If I sleep downstairs on the sofa-bed he bought me when Arthur moved in, I have Arthur bursting in on me all night—and I hate an old man coming into my room when I’m trying to sleep. There is no lock on the lounge door.  It makes me feel vulnerable and I have to sleep with clothes on which restricts me, and the menopause means that I’m like the Karate Kid with my quilt on-quilt off, all night.

Sometimes, I feel as though I don’t belong –not often, but when I’m tired and down. The spare room was only mine as long as we had no visitors. As soon as Belle and Ocean stayed, I had to give it up for them. When Arthur moved in, it was his room.

Andy has a room; Arthur has a room and Max has ‘his’ room.  They are family and I’m the outsider, I feel as though I’ve got nowhere to ‘be’ and that I’m the lodger. I’m a bedroom nomad, moving from place to place to try and sleep and I’m whining because I’m tired.

Max and Andy are sleeping like a babies. Arthur is trawling, and I’m in an out of the office to see to him every five minutes.

I got up at four thirty to write and I’m meeting Paul again in half an hour for our Skype editing. I’ve forgotten the name I gave him in previous diaries and can’t be arsed going through old books to find it.

The good news is, I’ve been productive.  This morning I put the last three hours into Jimmy’s football book and got it back to him with a million apologies about how long it took me to complete. I’m glad it’s done but all I feel is guilty.

We’re going to see Pam this afternoon.

And I have another book in to edit that came in last night.  I love the work; it stops me from going last braincell insane. If I hadn’t started writing again, and didn’t have my editing work, my life would be consumed by Arthur. This is my escape, and I’ve coped with him better in the two weeks I’ve been writing—until he’s aggressive with the animals or hawks in my sink.

Yesterday plans had to change on a minute by minute basis when Belle decided they were coming through for the afternoon. It was good to see her and Ocean, I’ve missed them. I’ve only properly met Annie twice and Krystal will only speak to me enough to be polite.  We spent part of the afternoon in the garden and Andy, Annie and Krystal went for a walk for a couple of hours, leaving Belle and Ocean with us.

Annie cheated on Max in a horrible, public manner. It was the old adage that Max was the last to know. She wipes us out financially. And she’s a snob and despite having two very screwed-up offspring—she has a Mother Superior attitude and can do no wrong. She’s re-written history to paint herself as the victim and lays ten year’s blame for a terrible marriage on Max. He played his part and is far from blameless, but her attitude toward him stinks.

We met a few times before Andy moved in—that is, we’ve been in the same space but have never spoken. The first time Max and I went out in Windermere, her sister was in the same club. She took a video of us dancing and a lot of cruel and nasty things were said about me.  Max and I salsa, and we’re not bad, we’re not ready for Strictly, but we know what we’re doing and hold our own. We love dancing. Because of our age and my appearance, they were very unkind.

In our first year, we went to a beach party for Kila’s birthday. I was shy and awkward.  Annie, with her sister for bolster, and on her home turf, made a point of putting her blanket in front of us and showed Max what he was missing. It was pointed and cruel.

Last year, at Oceans Birthday party, I was determined to say hello. Annie has her boyfriend; Max and I are together, and the animosity was stupid. I disagree with what she did to Max, but I have no personal grudge against her.

We walked into the room and I had a smile all prepared and ready to go.  They were lined up against one wall like a firing squad, Annie, Krystal, her Dad, Bob and Mum, Janet.  They turned towards us—and stared. I had a three second window of opportunity. If I didn’t say hello now, the moment would pass, and the awkwardness would ramp. I bottled it and we spent the party lined against opposite walls. Max, myself and my youngest set of grandkids and them, turf wars.