Think I have royally screwed this one up...

Shit! I mean really: shit!
Why the friggin heck do I not learn to keep my mouth shut and myself  to myself in matters of the heart?
Before yesterday things looked like they would work out somehow. Being friends seemed manageable, feelings locked up, stored up and starved of oxygen. Then I make a stupid comment, really designed to be flippant and get shot down in flames. The two word reply struck harder than a slap in the face.
Then came the apology, which was fine I guess. A few more exchanges and the words that cut like a knife:  "my friend."
I know I agreed that being friends was better than nothing, but that hurt. It felt like none of what I thought we had was real. So I blew my top tried to explain how I felt for once. I don't want to just lie down, be the walk-over anymore that I have been for 13 years.
Now there is silence and silence is bad. I don't know if it's because of what I said or how I said it. All I know is that I want to cry.

Well fuck this for a game of soldiers!
At least he responded to my email. That's something, I guess. Spent the whole fucking morning moping, then went for a walk with some angry rock music punishing my ears and now I wish nothing more than that this was thirteen years ago, and the Zeche was close by!!!
Come to think of that, I wonder if I can actually get a last minute flight today to Berlin and just gate crash Freddie's place. Something tells me that isn't that good an idea but man do I need a change of scenery, and a friendly face that doesn't tell me that long distance internet relationships are always destined to fail and that they aren't real to start with.

Pretty Shit Year

Another year and another disaster.
What is it this time? Where to start?
Pats has died. I am single again after 13 years. I am on my own. Yes, it was me who called it quits, I couldn't bear being nothing but a flat mate anymore. Nor could i face another night of sleeping in our bed while he spent time with the booze in the living room. I have had enough of being taken for granted. No more being a doormat.
AS a result, I have been relegated to the big bad evil, because I moved on. I made the decision and that automatically means that I am to blame.
Our friends claim they feel awkward. In fact so awkward that I am no longer welcome in our usual pub when they are there. They, get this, said we were selfish in breaking up because of the impact it would have on them. This being the same friends who practically encouraged me to do this because they noticed I had been unhappy for a while.
And they don't want to take sides. Yet they clearly are. He has told everybody and thus I am the big bad who needs to be ostracised. Even asking them for help constructing  wardrobes for just half an hour elicits only the suggestion that maybe a book could do the same thing for me. Quite frankly: screw you! If that is how react when a friend asks for help , then clearly you are no friend!
All of that is not exactly designed to make me feel cherished, welcome or anything remotely like being appreciated.
then this morning came the body blow i feared was coming, but had hoped was just my paranoia.
THe one person I had my heart set on, the one person, who stood by me, the one guy whose messages, pictures and emails made me ready to face the world, told me we had no future as a couple because there was an ocean and a continent between us, that it was better to stop now and try and be friends, rather than face the harshness and heartache any ill-fated long distance relationship seemingly inevitably must end in. 
I do not deny that having a long distance relationship across the Atlantic and the US is tough going. I know that physical contact is important in relationships, believe me, I know. I know we only spent fleeting short moments in each others company and I know that they were not enough, that I wanted more

FUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKK! Why am I doing this to me?
I should just have let it lie. Bumping into John accidentally and feeling butterflies is one thing. I won't claim it was unavoidable but it it was a chance meeting. And it felt good. Did I have to then email him and say that it had been good bumping into him? Did I have to suggest meeting up for a chat when he was next in the area? Probably not, but I didn't think, couldn't stop myself, it felt right. Then, when he got back I couldn't make it, didn't want to upset Frank, it was his week off after all.
Then Wednesday, John's email. "I'm possibly coming through on Friday ... does that work for you?" And after deliberations for half the morning I said "yes". Had even concocted a lie for Frank. Then you phoned. The plan changed. Instead of an evening meeting, it was 2 o'clock at the station and a long walk in Pollock Park. Suited me well, in fact it was better. Lie one was followed up with lie two, my friends had canceled, he was none the wiser.
The day came, I walked to the station took the train waited, listening to the Sisters of Mercy crying out for "more". We went to the park and after slightly awkward beginnings of re-acquaintance things went smoothly. A nice afternoon. Me mainly silent, John telling me of the place he went as a child, his friends, dead and alive, Ralf, Kerry, Lee. Had food. John thinking deeply, as always, me feeling slightly inadequate, having lead a sheltered life compared to him, nevermind Ralf. I've never met a more beautiful person than you. No wonder I'm still smitten. Which makes me feel awful. And I cannot talk to anybody about this either, which does not make it any easier. There is a reason why Larry Brown called his short story collection "Big Bad Love".

Had a lovely afternoon out in Pollock Park and now have lots to think about again.Also want to go back and finish reading "Fay" or at least read some of the short stories in "big bad love".
Listening is a very well-worth activity, if done with care. Don't quite know how I feel just now other than that I feel very happy for Ralf to have John. I also feel I want to go for a stroll with Frank more often, we don't talk a lot when we're in the house but I feel we should.

The things you come across accidentally...

Ages ago, when my friend had just moved house she invited us to her flat warming party. Being the nice person that I am I decided to bring along some food. It had to be easy, make an impact and be simple to transport. The answer: quiche.

Like I said, it's been years and I had all but forgotten about the recipe, a bummer really given that I don't tend to use recipes. In fact, the only part of the recipe that was written down at the time was the basic short crust pastry recipe I pilfered from some cookbook. Sadly, what make a quiche is not the pastry casing however, it's the filling.

Well, today, while looking through some paperwork, I found my fillings, at some point I must have written them down after all.

 

The wet ingredients are the same in all cases:

2 whole eggs and a tub of double cream. After that it's pretty much whatever takes your fancy.

 

Classic Lorraine: 1 leek, finely sliced

200g bacon lardons or chopped slices.

Fry the bacon, add the leek and lightly fry until the leek has softened. Season with fresh nutmeg, salt and pepper. Leave to cool then either mix with the wet stuff and transfer into a blind-baked pastry shell , or pop it in first and pour the wet mix over.

 

Spinachi:    ½ red and yellow pepper each, chopped finely

2 cloves of garlic sliced or crushed

        4 spring onions, alternatively 1 medium red onion

bag of baby spinach leaves

        1 tsp Italian/provencal herbs, salt, pepper

Lightly fry the peppers, onion and garlic in some olive oil in a pan, when the peppers start to soften, put in the spinach and let it wilt. Watch out the garlic doesn't burn. Take of the heat and transfer to a colander to drain any spinach juices. Once dry and cold give the mix a rough chop , then mix with the wet and into the pastry case it goes.

 

Broccoli     1 head of broccoli in small florets

        1 punnet of cherry tomatoes/ small tin of sweet corn

        1 red onion

        Bunch of basil leaves/ 3 slices bacon, chopped

Blanch the broccoli, then shock under ice cold water to retain its colour. Saute the onion , bacon and sweet corn in a little olive oil. Mix carefully with the broccoli, put in the casing and pour over the wet mix (season it well with salt and pepper, and maybe some finely chopped red chilli).

 

Pop the whole lot in an oven and bake till set and lightly golden on top.

Inverbeg Trip

ain't this great?