But there have been some compensations…
I met Dougall on eHarmony a couple of years ago. The site where ‘you get what you’re given and you don’t get down from the table until you’ve eaten the lot.’ You fill in reams of questions about your lifestyle and preferences and then find you’re matched with a farmer in the Outer Hebrides. At least he was single and my age.
A week after we started emailing, he flew down to London to meet me. Which was nice. We met for dinner and I came home the next morning. Shit hit fan. Internet dating is hell but it is double hell if you still live with your kids who will suddenly metamorphose into a mixture of Judge Jeffreys, Mary Whitehouse and Putin. A week later, I flew up to stay with him, ‘What if he murders you and buries you on his land? Why do you always go for blokes who are weird or live miles away? Or both? You’re so irresponsible.’ You’ve seen Ab Fab? Yep.
It was an whiskey and red meat fuelled romp. I helped to birth a lamb and bought some very attractive tweed.
But after a bucolic frolic in Edinburgh, he came back down to London and my dog ate his jacket. And I realised that I would have have cirrhosis, bulimia and a very bad back if I tried to keep up with his appetite.
I have also realised that I will never finish my novel because I can’t make up my life.