No Room for Surprises

23rd June 2011 Thursday

The house feels odd tonight without the pussy cat. There’s a breathing space in my head where he usually lives. I’m imagining him in the cattery where he’ll be for a week while we are in North Wales. He won’t be out hunting now.

There is another empty space - on the brick wall by the front door. Today my husband took down the brass plaque there with the name of his company on it. His filing cabinets are empty too. The man came this morning and took away all the files - piled them into the back of his Landrover and drove away. It took less than an hour.

I ask my husband what it feels like - this ending of his career. He smiles and says it is a relief - he feels positive, hopeful about the future. I feel numb and just get on with getting ready to go on holiday. My head is a jumble of things I must remember to take - Scrabble and flapjack, olive oil and sun cream, flipflops and walking boots.

I think I’m trying to cover all the bases - if it pours with rain or if we have a heat wave - have I got the right clothes? I realise I don’t like being unprepared for all eventualities. No room for surprises then. No wonder I’m tired - like that little Dutch boy with his finger stuck in the hole in the dyke. Trying to keep the deluge at bay.