I'm sorry that I haven't written for ages, it's a combination of my recent bereavement, which I've no doubt cousin Margaret has elaborated on, and the fact that I just can't find the correct words to say, but I'll have a go. The funeral and all of the aftermath went as well as could be expected and the upshot is that the mortgage for the house has been paid off, so I can stay without fear of being repossessed. I feel a bit numb really - the death of one's estranged spouse is somewhat difficult to deal with because there's so much bitterness mixed up with the grief. I returned back to work soon after the funeral and I've now taken a fortnight's leave to enjoy the last year before I'm constrained by school holidays.
I'm holed up in my parents' seaside bungalow with Seb, who loves nothing more than throwing most of the stony beach into the sea at regular intervals. Nick's coming to visit on Wednesday which will be nice. We may venture out to the local museum, a place which boasts a series of rotting fishing nets, some plaster figureheads and a great deal of material about bathing machines. I suppose it will be of interest after a short interlude in a briny seaside pub beforehand.
