It's late Saturday night, and after another rainy day, I'm wrapped up and cosy on the sofa with Parky's familar manner comforting me through through the satellite transmission.
I fear that my relationship is collapsing around me. I don't really feel ready to write much more than that at the moment other than to say that I'm okay.
Luckily for me, I can escape to my imagination when times get a little tough. Yesterday whilst listening to my ipod on the way to meet friends, the lush tones of Ella Fitzgerald transported me to a smokey bar, with an Ella like figure seranading the crowd from the stage. I would be wearing a figure hugging, floor length satin dress with my hair swept up and deep red lipstick. As I sip my champagne and smoke a cigarette, I'm gently disturbed from my reverie to be led to the dance floor. The music sweeps over me and I spend the rest of the evening being held tight in the arms of a man who loves me.