Big News

Things move apace. Today, Fisher and I were in Edinburgh looking at a flat she'd spotted. Actually, I think Koi saw it in a paper and passed it on. Anyway, I was away at the time, and when I came back I was sort of sideswiped by the news that she'd not only found a flat she liked, but was hoping to put an offer in.

I know this is all my idea, but the sudden overwhelming fear this inspired was almost breathtaking. I saw myself in this house without her and it became so real, so unbelievably solitary, that I went cold. And she kept talking about it, and I just shrank into myself, all the while knowing I had no right to feel this way. She wanted me to come and see the place with her, give my opinion, and I just nodded and kept saying 'yes'. I'm not sure I heard most of it. But after a while the feeling sort of solidified into a little section of my mind and I was able to cope.

So, today, bright and early, we headed into Reekie and looked at the flat. It's grand. Spacious, full of potential for development, and with a view of Arthur's Seat. There's a park for Baffie, who's going to live with Fisher, and room for Fisher's work space as well as a 3rd bedroom, after development. Perfect. So out in the car, she put her offer in, and all that was left was to wait.

We were pretty starving, so we went to Urban Angels off Broughton Street. See Scran for details.

After that, I wanted to visit Waterstones and get a book on Leonardo da Vinci, with whom I am recently enamoured. Thence to the National Gallery, where I gazed on the self portrait of Rembrandt with genuine awe.

Rembrandt van Rijn, Self-Portrait Aged 51
The moment I saw it, I said to Fisher how sad he looked. And she told me how he'd been suffering great personal and financial loss at the time. This is what I love about Rembrandt. All his people speak. You can hear them. Their faces are full of words. Upstairs in the Italian section I looked at Raphael and was just left cold. His faces don't seem real at all; they're like air-brushed models posing with expressions of grace and tranquility, but feeling nothing. Still, I'm not going to base any sort of opinion of Raphael on the couple of paintings hanging in the National Galleries in Edinburgh. I'll just have to go to Florence and see more.

Fisher, by this time, was wandering around with her phone in front of her face, desperate not to miss any call from her solicitor. But it wasn't until we were on the way home that the call came.

She got the flat.

I was really, genuinely happy for her. It's such an exciting prospect, and so good that she's moving on. Of course it will be hard, and of course it will take adjustment - but it's progress. We must both remember that. And I must remember that I chose this, and I think it's right, and that the first priority with me is to sort my life out. For me. For no other reason, and in light of no other people - relationships or not. My loch-swimmer is so far from a safe bet I can't even think of more than the next time I see her. I fully expect to end up with my heart ripped in two - but if that's the case, then I'll put it back together with duct tape and go on enjoying the life I've made.

Now I just have to make a life. I'm thinking a job would be a good idea. Maybe just 2 or 3 days a week to start with. Maybe something in the food world - host at a restaurant, perhaps? Anyway - I'll wait and see what's out there. Considering my criteria of 2/3 days a week, I'm thinking I'll have to take what I can get!

That's all from me for now. Hope all are well.