It was always easier when I could pretend that Alistair was not reading my blog, but he had to go and make it Crystal Tipps clear, didn't he? How on earth do I write exactly what is on my mind now? No matter how hard I try, on a subconscious level at the very least, things will be affected.
I have decided that I will attempt to press on. I can't help wondering if reading this has altered how he feels about me, us, all of it? Mostly, I am not actually that bothered, since I stand by all that I have said. To be sure, some of it was written in the heat of the moment, but it was real at the time. He says he looks forward to my next post, but I have to go rearrange the kitchen cupboards first.
I should probably explain the picture. If Alistair was a dog (well... hmmm... hang on...) this is the kind he'd be. Scampering along west London streets with his little nose in the air.
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