It's been a month...

Since the last draft was published. And a hell of an emotional one.

The big trip home turned ? spontaneously, it felt like ? into a major turn in life. I didn't think it'd quite go like it did, which was amazingly. I feel like I know the people in my life who I was close to ten times better than before. And although Mum & Dad will worry (even though I asked them not to), I think relations with the family will be easier than before. I'd spent the last few Christmas, Easter and other holidays home feeling like I needed to distance myself from them, rather than open up and be frank. I just couldn't bring myself to drop this particular emotional anvil on them.

And then circumstances made the way easier, I think, with Dad's general unwellness giving him a calmer nature, and it certainly has helped him to come to terms with the fact of the matter.

The three weeks in between leaving Belfast and telling Abi (it was important for me to start the process with telling her, even though she said she wouldn't have been pissed off if she'd found out other than face-to-face) were really shit. some of the most gut-wrenching weeks of my life. I left wanting to cling onto the flagstones outside Ryans. Gerry and James had made the whole process not just painless, but actually uplifting. And telling Niall, Colin, Carrie and Cathy was a priority. Almost as much as telling Peter, whose reaction in the Clontarf Court was hilariously out-of-step with everyone else's general surprise "I know". Unable to smoke cigars in Connolly's Sheds. Life-changing moment meets Dáil �ireann legislation... Ha ha!

Anyway, I arrived back in England with literally no-one over here having a clue (with the possible exception of Peter, Sarah & Kieran and/or Catherine), and unable to sit down and talk with anyone because I was in a panic about preparing for COSPAR. I couldn't possibly resent the 9 days I'd had at home. Thinking back, that was probably one of the best weeks of my life. Up there with the week before I left. Then the massive emotional swing to the isolation of working all the meagre hours that were free. Ali started, and I had to take him shopping on the Monday with nearly no warning, and get him moved in. Then spend Tuesday getting him started. Our new postdoc position's interview was on the Wednesday, and then I had Thursday and Friday to get ready for a talk for which the results hadn't yet been measured. I never want to be that stressed, and have that much going on in my head, ever again. Life was not only not normal, it was just unpleasant. Not easy to be that cooped up inside this head sometimes.

Then, when I got back, Abi went off to Marseille. I was out with Fletch & Fluff on the Tuesday (just nice to get back to living in the town I live in), and with Jumper and FraserOffOfHazel on the Friday after. That got a bit dodgy at times, as I refused to not invest in any more bullshit. (I was already bored of doing that when Sharon asked me back in May.)

Last Monday, Ben called round post-'Spoons. Was a cool night, although we did end up finishing drinking after 4am. And pulling out the sofa bed for the big man. Nearly said something that night, but he might've been a bit freaked out after that much booze, and I promised not to tell anyone, least of all Abi, drunk (either me or the recipient).

So the next night: in the end, Abi's reaction was great. Like I said, she wouldn't have been annoyed if I'd told others before her, or she'd even found out indirectly, and some of her first thoughts were "is there anything I can do to help?" (fantastic) and feeling bad for how long it must've been pressing on me (a bit like Mum). I may hold her to the making cups of tea for me if I'm in bad mood offer...