Where's that Countdown theme when you need it?
Today is Dr B.'s last day at work. He will be clearing his desk, saying good-bye, negotiating that ridiculously complicated magic roundabout for the very last time and driving back to London – for good.
As of next Monday, he will be working in Canary Wharf, 2.8 miles from home instead of eighty.
I am happy to give up having all those lovely quiet mid-week evenings on my own. I do not mind too much not being able to hog his side of the bed as well as mine, sprawled out starfish-style.
But – Christ! – I'll also have to be silent in the morning, every morning, and that is going to be a challenge.
If you have noticed the time this website gets updated most frequently, you'll easily understand that I am up early and get active quickly. My window of efficiency, clear-thinking and energy, as far back as I can remember, has always been the couple of hours before everyone else wakes up. I write emails, balance my accounts, tidy up, get ready for work (I even used to do my homework) before you even hit snooze.
As a consequence, come daylight I am usually so fed up with being on my own that I vomit the outcome of my dawn ramblings on a not-fully-woken Dr B., and this will have to change.
I will demurely sit in a corner with a mug of herbal tea, smile and nod. I will not jump up in a caffeine rush, take my earphones out and stick them in his ears because he simply has to listen to the song Belarus chose as a last-minute replacement for its Eurovision entry.
I will change my breakfast to something that can be cooked in advance and does not have to be crunched (mmmh, hard boiled eggs – yummy!), so I can eat without waking him up. Then, if asked, I will gladly make him a cup of tea. I will not offer him a choice between three cooked and perfectly balanced breakfasts that I have been planning at the crack at dawn, and could not wait for him to wake up so we can eat together.
I will be like a well-behaved child of the Victorian age and 'be seen and not heard'. I will speak if spoken to, and only volunteer such information as 'Shall I leave the shower on for you?' (our the water heater is a bitch and if you are lucky enough to get it running in the morning you'd better make the most of it). I will not ask challenging questions such as 'Are you in for dinner tonight?' until much later in the day via email.
Come to think of it, I might just as well get out of the flat as quickly as I can and show up at work one and a half hours earlier.
Oh, here it is: the Countdown theme. Is it just me or is it sounding ominous these days?