I arrived in Plymouth a little while ago and feel comfy and safe in my guest-house room. It was a long old drive from Kent but the sun was shining all they way and with each mile my spirits lifted; a new adventure and hopefully a little money and security for a while.
The only blip came when driving past the exit I would normally take for Glastonbury. Each sign post brought back so many memories - of other drives home from my daughter's house, to be greeted with a steaming sunday dinner or a small puppy, wagging an excited, scruffy tail. All gone now.
My mind was taken right back to the beginning - of meeting my ex and the move to Somerset and the subsequent problems, revelations and heartbreak. I have been asked several times by readers of this blog, to share those experiences. To share how I came to be penniless and homeless. I'm not sure - friends have warned about the dangers of airing one's dirty linen in public and the repercussions that may come. What do people think? It is my itention to write a novel about my experiences - it's the only way I can legitimately kill TT (rather than calling him the twat, I've shortened it) and get away with it!
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