M and I had a row today. I was in a foul mood and flew off the handle at a meaningless slight. Then, much like Attila the Hun, I told him to go f**k himself, and stormed out, slamming the door behind me. I was incensed. Then, as I drove away, I thought about how he must have been feeling, and I almost ... almost turned back: but I'm nothing if not bloody minded, and drove on. A mile up the road the phone went off ...
... and all is well in the garden, Chancy.
We went for a great walk on the beach. Weather bleedin' 'ot, and narry a cloud in the sky.
I'm not good with rowing. In the past we've not talked for months, but now we're ... umm ... an item!? I guess I have to be more mature, and less of a kid about 'stuff.'