I've been up north in Hull - a place I spent four happy years at university and, if the basslines on the lowered Vauxhall Corsas flying up the road are to be trusted, a place where the delinquents still embrace happy hardcore as their road-thumping music of choice.
Most of my conversations this week have been with dogs and / or children under 10, work from The Writer has been non existent, so my brain has been lapsing into one which listens to outraged villagers calling into Radio 2 and nods in agreement with their views on the plight of the Post Office. Ahh, I'm living the quiet Yorkshire village life. The dogs aren't like mine, these ones poo on the pavement and after seven days of walks, I now pick it up without a cringe. I maintain there is probably nothing more attractive than the sight of a young girl walking along the road nonchalantly swinging a bag of canine excrement in her left hand.
And I've been thinking. Thinking a lot. Alone time in the place where I spent the best four years of my life means a lot of reminiscing and feeling, well, a bit sad. Every road reminds me of him. Every place, shop, house, pub, bar, crack in the pavement or lampost around here links to him in some obscure way; whether it was the location of a particularly epic drunken argument ("YOU BASTAAAAAARD!") or the grubby student rooms where we lay in bed all day watching Family Guy.
It's official: two polar opposites, Hull, the UK's worst town (2003) and Love, the UK's biggest killer - are no longer mutually exclusive. This week, driving through the main student area where we'd both lived, the emotion suddenly hit me like a slap on the proverbial. Before I knew it I was blubbing away to the sounds of my old iPod and a playlist I'd called simply "Hull". Screaming chavs and car chase noises didn't feature, but the tears were slightly increased by the sight of a young girl throwing her empty crisp wrapper out of the bus window next to me.
Despite my best efforts (and truly, they have been mammoth efforts on my part lately - busy isn't the word, I jet off for another adventure on Monday) - I miss him. I miss him, I miss him, I miss him. I think about him every sodding day. I miss him. There, I've said it. Admitted it. I. Miss. Him. Phew, that's a weight off my shoulders. I'm not supposed to say it out loud, you see. And it seems I'm not the only one:
"Why did you break up with ExBoyfrieeeeennd?" asked the ten year old I was babysitting for yesterday.
"She didn't break up with him, they broke up with each other" chipped in his younger sibling, aged seven.
"Oh. I liked him" continued her brother, "He was cool."
Eyebrows raised in surprise at the exchange going on in front of me, there was only one thing for it. I needed a sure-fire distraction, and fast.
"Right. Who wants McDonalds?"
Cheap tactics, but it worked.
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7 comments:
Aw it takes time. So bloody much time. And yes, sometimes places trigger a really bad rush of remembrance. Funnily enough I got that in Oz cos I had planned it for years, when I was seeing T and there I was and there was so much I wanted to tell her - how things were different. Oh just crap stuff I wanted to say and stuff no-one else would be interested in. I had a few sobby moments there - my first for ages.
And before I went there I thought I truly was over her.
But now I am back I have moved a stage further forward and can honestly say I barely think of her - maybe once every couple of days. This time last year (7 months after we split) I think I thought of her every 10 mins!!
So it is jerky progress. But you'll get there. You will - honestly. I do know how much it hurts. So big hugs.
And enjoy your hols.
xx
Oh dear :(
Maybe you'll feel better for not being in Hull with all the memories? It sucks but you do eventually learn how to live with it... x
i feel for you. being in a place with so many memories can't help. are there any places you could go to that would remind you why you're no longer together..or even better leave hull?
Tough times. The one glimmer of hope I can offer you - disguised though it may seem - is that yes, it is hard, it does feel a bit neverending, but that's okay because that is normal.
In other news, is it wrong that I thoroughly enjoyed my one night at L.A's? (student night, obviously)
oh :( you'll have bad days no doubt, but they get easier. I had a bad one on Wednesday, I just cried like a baby in my car. It felt good to let it out.
Everyday is a day closer to being free ... you were doing well, keep going x
Hull = relapse city. Steer clear for another year or two.
You are a fab babysitter! I like the tactics!
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