Fish is getting married. (not to me). I feel strange. Someone else is going to be Mrs Fisher. And have blond, sunlight-hating, faintly autistic children. We’ll never build our own house in Australia. His mum probably likes her better. And I have a nice boyfriend, an Oli. Not sure if it’s going anywhere, but we’re trying, though I'm beginning to suspect we might both be a bit broken.

I feel annoyed because I thought Fish was the more messed up one, on balance, but the evidence would suggest otherwise. He’s moved on properly. Found proper love. They’ve been together about three years. We were together, on and off, about seven. I feel ok. Not looking forward to the inevitable build up. Nor the awkwardness of my friends who will all be going. But actually do feel ok. I suppose I should after so many years. It’s been about seven since we were together. The bit that hurts the most is that some of my memories with him are so intensely happy – and it makes me feel silly that I suppose his feelings for Helen (who’s annoyingly nice btw) must be so much more intense. All these years I thought it was both of us who were in this intense relationship and actually maybe it was just me.

Why it ended (as advised by the internet) 

He stopped loving me.

I felt angry all the time.

I felt he wasn’t there for me when my dad was ill.

It was always really hard because we were just so different.

It was hard to break up because also we had a lot of things in common.

He made fun of me a lot.

He made me feel stupid.

He was irritated by me and he showed that a lot.

I was angry that he wasn’t better at supporting me emotionally. I was angry that he didn’t get help for his depression. I wanted him to be a different kind of person. I think he wanted the same thing for me.

We stopped getting along in all the small things.

It felt like the balance between us tipped his way and I still don’t know how or why.

He picked away at my self-esteem.

I let him.

Ugh. Anyway. I am attempting to recover from a quite annoying cold/throat infection, as this week is full of many big conferences, and have thus skipped out on our big #HachetteShowcase (hell yes there's a hashtag, for publishing is down there with the masses and the kids on the street where they live (as long as its in Zone 1) don't you know?). It turns out Bob Geldoff was there, which does make me very sad to have missed it, but also I really do feel rubbish. Have cancelled my plans tonight (Shawarma with my friend Ben) and am just determined to have a voice back for the rest of the week and for our upcoming conference on Thursday, where I'm presenting various things that I haven't yet written and probably should. Wow, that was a long sentence, wasn't it? Today I've been reading one of my author's new books - it's not very good, I don't think, but it's hard to tell as it's a few down the series and she's also extremely funny, so I keep forgiving the lack of story owing to the occasional flying bobcat...

I have cooked today - once I failed to get on the train to the #HachetteShowcase, I instead bought everything healthy within range. I've made wild salmon in little foil packets with radish, spring garlic, shallot, satsuma juice (sounds odd, works v well), tarragon and lemon zest. Also roasted vegetables with mint, tarragon, lemon and rosemary, and made a mustardy sort of salad and some crispy salmon skin (nice, but too salty and needs an oil that isn't olive oil). Actually has really helped, even though there's still a lot of me that just wants to curl up in bed again. And I'm happy I've found this blog again, if deeply embarrassed by just how much of the ex there is in it. I wish I knew why it took me so long to feel better. Also, I'm now bare inches from being a childless 35yr old - as dreaded in a previous post - but happily am not bitter about it. A bit worried about inevitable ageing and death and the lack of state support, but not bitter, so that's something, I suppose.

My dad died, also, at the end of 2017. PSP isn't a very nice disease, so in a lot of ways I'm glad that he didn't have to suffer the end of it. In fact, I'm really glad, particularly for my mum. who would have lost years more of her life to caring full time for Dad. He was a really lovely man though, and although we'd spent a lot of time grieving him even while he was still with us, I find I get sudden waves of sadness, rather than a continual ache. On the plus side, my brother is getting married, which will be fun.

Goodness it has been a long time since I wrote anything on this blog. I don't know why - sadly nothing terribly exciting has happened. Ooh - I bought a house, which I'm currently sitting in. My friend Emily and her other friend Amy and I all went on it together. It's pretty weird, tbh. It made a lot of sense (was completely sick of living with my frenemy Sam) and also it's only £500 a month of mortgage (for now, cheers for that Brexit) instead of £1000 in rent. And it's a proper house. With stairs and everything. It is, however, in Norwood. Zone Four. Still London by the skin of its teeth, but Croydon lurks only a few minutes away. We have to do all kinds of work to it (moved in in April) and there's lots of odd bits of furniture. It can be rather lonely as the other two are away quite a lot, but the idea is to sell it in a couple of years, and in the meantime we all have a bit more freedom. Am currently in the dining room. The Dining Room. It leads out to the Patio. It's weird. But nice to be able to have the piano.

About to try and head out to a film club on my own. Sad state of Norwood affairs involving a rat called Terry, a house I bought with a friend who then had the temerity to find an immediate and very serious boyfriend. She's doing her best, but essentially I've ended up living semi-alone in a suburban house with four bedrooms on the outskirts of London, almost in Croydon, with a potential rat problem and a near-certainty that I'm never going to have sex again. On the plus side, the mortgage is only £500 a month so, there's that.

I have decided that I'm no longer going to be this sad and alonely. 2017 is going to be a better year. Yes, the friendship situation is not ideal at present - pretty much every nightmare I've ever had on the ex front has come true in glorious, technicolour, intelligent, blue-sequinned form, but I work with some nice people. And we can sell the house in a year or so hopefully. Also now I know how to re-pressurise a boiler. And sand things. Although power tools remain a terrifying, surprisingly heavy mystery, I'm adulting all over the place. Everything's coming up adult. And yes that is about as depressing and frightening as it sounds. My father... He's still suffering from PSP. It is not a nice disease. My mother is unhappy and angry but not wanting to really understand how much that is the case. My brother's going travelling in about a week and a half for six months, which I'm disgustingly jealous of, but do get to go and visit him, which will be fun.

Most of all, I am not going to allow the horribleness of 2016 to defeat me, or all the scary things about the world, both Trump and Brexit, and much more selfishly the rubbishness of being very, very single at 32 when it is cold and wintery and all your friends and your general life in London feel very far away.

capers

Made a ham, courgette, garlic and basil salad tonight - it was pretty delicious. Had a ham broth from cooking the ham yesterday, cut the courgette very thin and added loads of lemon juice and also fresh coriander. Then heated up the jellified stock and put a dollop of the salad in the middle. Oddly, the final part made it come together: cherry tomatoes. Next time I should definitely leave out the capers though - there's just something about the little green bastards I find really hard to resist.

Sat downstairs in our living room watching a bit of Archer, having just sent off some thoughts about a book that, realistically, we're probably not going to promote very much. Eugh, I MUST LEAVE THIS JOB. Soon, I'll not be able to speak without automatically seguing into '...hugely enthusiastic and we see great potential, however unfortunately I'm not able to offer a lot of money upfront.' Gah.

I'm a bit stuck still, to be honest. I'm semi-dating a man I don't really fancy. Well, to be honest I definitely don't fancy him, but he's quite nice. The only person I actually feel something for has a girlfriend (though he did try to kiss me on Saturday night while very very drunk, so perhaps it's not just me). Being thirty, frankly, not all it's cracked up to be. Also, I've not had sex for over a year. A YEAR. *sigh, I can't tell who I fancy because realistically it's, well, everyone. :(

Now I am 30

Called in sick today owing to evil period pains and just generally feeling completely exhausted. This weekend was my 30th birthday party, organised by the lovely Lucy. It was so nice of her but I admit I actually found it really, really stressful, partly cos I could see she was stressed and partly cos I always find birthdays hard. She hired a rowing boat to take me to  a picnic! It was amazing, so sweet, but I felt a bit embarrassed - when we organised things for her it was because she was getting married. I'm just turning 30, which is slightly less exciting all round, if we're being honest. It ended at a supperclub, which was hilarious - the most disorganised chef I've ever met, but lovely food. However the star of the evening was certainly the hostess - wildly, wildly inappropriate, groped everyone (including my brother), stole the cream obscenely from my dessert (hrrrghh), invited some people back to her house, invited someone else to a tranvestite party, gave my poor, very reserved friend a 'beard massage' (at least as creepy as it sounds) and offered me cocaine. It was quite spectacular for a single evening's work. 

Now I'm 30 and need to make some decisions about the following:

1) What  do I want to do? Not happy in my current job. VOLUNTEER and have a think about where you can go next

2) Dating. Do it. Join Guardian soulmates tomorrow. 

3) Find a challenge: creative writing course or choir (trying choir on Thursday)

4) Save up for a place of your own

Took myself to dinner this evening as reward for getting through the day of period pains. It was a bit expensive but amazing, amazing food. L'Entranger, with this menu: http://www.etranger.co.uk/royal-albert-hall-prepost-theatre-menu/. The  steak tartare... god. It was amazing. Slow cooked yolk on top, this unbelievable, truffley, cheesy 'caesar dressing' (was more like puree), crispy, soft polenta chips, a pickle sorbet/cream thing, all the pickles and onions in gorgeous rows next to the steak... god it was good.  Oh, and the mandarin and coffee creme brulee with white chocolate ice-cream was to die for. I don't mean that metaphorically, I actually think I'd die for it. Or at least kill someone I didn't like very much for it. Sharp, creamy, bitter, sweet...I moaned a bit when I first ate it and had to reign it in as I was already the crazy lady on her own in the corner of the restaurant with the black stain on her top (still don't know where that was from, but I had been wandering round London attempting to accomplish several chores without success).

Now I'm going to watch the next episode of the superb Orange is the New Black (the main lesbian couple just FINALLY  got together, which was pretty exciting, though only plotwise, which shows me again how completely and unfortunately straight I am. I think I'd be much better at picking up women, so it's a shame.  

NYC

New York is exhausting, but incredible. I have no money left, but finding it hard to care. It's been about 10 days now. Spent the first week in hefty agent/editor meetings, which were extremely useful for the most part,, and terrifying occasionally. Sometimes I manage to forget how much publishing is about knowing the right people and (probably the reason why I forget this) how few of the right people I know. Worse than that even, sometimes I know the right people but don't know they're the right people. My favourite editor, the wonderful CZ, turns out to be horribly senior. I know that's sort of good, but then I become aware that it's good and it somehow turns our friendship a bit sour. I will sum up the meetings but now I am very tired, in my amazing tree/time themed room at the Carlton Arms Hotel (google it immediately, anyone reading, then book a flight to NY and come and ogle all the artwork. Until about five minutes ago, a cat was also sharing my bedroom with me. I love this place. Today I have...

 - Gone for brunch in Park Slope, Brooklyn - I had pastrami salmon (I know - weird in conception and if I'm honest, underwhelming in execution - there's probably a reason pastrami seasoning is used on beef not fish) and some excellent filter coffee.
 - Taken a load of books to the salon where I had my nails done a couple of days ago (I know, how Legally Blonde am I? Still fail to bend and snap though). Turned out my nail lady was a psychology student, and I was reading one of the books various agents had given me. Finished it while I was there and offered it around - I couldn't carry it home and it's quite a good book (SE Phillips being moving and funny as usual). The first lady was visibly confused, but the student got incredibly, gloriously excited - books are apparently very expensive in NY and she was overwhelmed to have an HB for free. I said I had lots of others (more agent submissions that I've now read) and that I'd bring them to her if she'd like - it was very nice to see somebody get so incredibly happy over books again - it's sometimes very easy to forget that books can still do that to people.
 - Bought a beautiful vintage scarf and got M&M a boardgame as thanks
 - Got the subway to Carlton Arms and claimed my room (they let you pick from whatever they've got so you can choose your favourite artwork)
 - Went to the MoMath (I know! It was a MATHS MUSEUM!!) So cool, very sadly only got there for the last half an hour so missed loads, but basically loads of really cool exhibits and games. Did rather miss the ex as he'd have loved it so, so much and been able to actually do the games, but it was still really fun.
 - Went to a scary bar, was about to pay 16 dollars for a cocktail in a place that charged 15 for 'carrot tartare' and called salt 'saline' when thankfully Maisie texted and I left the bar of overly-priced-shit for an abortive attempt to get to yoga
 - Ended up (somehow) in the Museum of Sex instead. Very enlightening. Not sexy, sadly. Did you know there's a slug that has a penis larger than its own body? After sex, the female eats the penis of the male. Sometime the male eats its own penis, just for fun. The penis does not grow back. I didn't know that until now either, and I was ok with my ignorance. There was, however, a rather fascinating, if grimily titillating exhibit on Linda Lovelace. Rather infuriating to watch the smug male pornstar glowing with life and satisfaction (short of wearing a massive billboard announcing 'I have hit the male jackpot!!  I get paid for sex! Yes! You understand me, my massive 70's moustache and my shouty billboard correctly! We actually get PAID for people to touch our penis' there was nothing he could have done to make the matter clearer) talking gleefully about Linda's difficulties and watching her downfall and general victimisation. Why must women (generally) feel so soiled and men so triumphant after having sex with many people? Bees indeed, hush The King and I.
 - Decided to go on a mini-Japanese trek - tried three different restaurants - highlights were white tuna (no idea, didn't think it existed), some amazing salmon roe, some tuna sashimi, and the crispy bits of a grilled squid. Nothing completely brilliant, though which was a shame. Lowlights were the tuna I'm sure had been frozen then defrosted and Tom, the rather-too-hands-on 57yr old drunk Italian man, who apparently is 'haunted' by Jewish women and who asked my age and length of holiday time twice, with different reactions each time.

Had intended jazz or comedy, but after probably a bit too much sake, realised I basically wanted to come back, lie on my bed and watch the third episode of Broadchurch. If anyone asks, I'm enjoying the awesome jazz quartet I'd looked up at Smalls jazz club. The thing is, going to things on your own in the evening is oddly tiring - think you have to really be in the mood. Everything's loud and the attention you most easily get isn't usually the kind you want.