'Tis Done

Dear Dobson,

It's taken me a few weeks to get over the frustrating disappointment of an adjournment, but I can feel a gentle shift in attitude beginning to happen. I never expected to feel optimistic about the impending new year, yet that seems to be where my mood is heading.

The 'C' word has been and gone, and it seems to have been something of a success. Mes enfants were happy and grateful; I don't know that I could have asked for anything more than that. I'm relieved. I've never much enjoyed Christmas, the pressure to have fun and feel close to those I love on one particular day is suffocating. Anyway, it's over and it was okay.

Tomorrow will mark the one year anniversary of my relationship with The Man ending. Yes, there is still unresolved business to deal with but that needs to be parked until May. I have plans to hang with some jazzers all day and all night - it will be joyful, the complete antithesis of what was happening this time last year.

Tomorrow will also mark seven months exactly since my first date with SG Guy. He blew me away with the Christmas present he gave me; beautiful, exquisite, French lingerie. I can't wait to 'try it out' when he returns to London in the new year. Things are good. It's lovely and easy.

I was reflecting on the past year last night - I think it's inevitable when a new one is on its way - and I came across a picture of The Man that had been posted on the internet. I wasn't looking for it, but perhaps I was meant to find it. He appeared more 'ordinary' than I remembered. His hairline seemed to have dramatically receded. He was smiling, but looked dead behind the eyes.

Perhaps I was meant to find it?

Frankie

Round Midnight

Dear Dobson,

The title of this latest instalment is a song I'm currently learning for gigging purposes.  It was suggested to me by someone else, but man...  It's screamingly appropriate right now.

Sarah tells it like it is and no mistaking.  I'm meandering through my days in fierce denial.  The trial is almost two weeks away and I've a feeling that, no matter what the outcome is, it's going to feel shitty. You know it's not how I wanted things to be with The Man.  Nevertheless, it's the way things have gone so a pragmatic and practical approach is required for the time being - if only to get me through the dreaded day itself.

In other news, alcohol is proving to be something of an emotional buffer for me.  I know it's not a healthy way of coping with the situation, but the way I see it, the 'situation' will be over soon.

It hasn't all been doom and gloom though.  I've a nice little earner coming up in the form of a dinner / dance gig.  Although not the most satisfying in creative terms, these 'dos' always prove to be quite lucrative.

And there's more good stuff...  At the weekend I was a willing participant in some gin research and discovered some real corkers.  I think I can safely say that Brockmans, Monkey 47 and Cadenhead's would all be up your straße.  Especially Cadenhead's; it's Scottish and 50% proof.  What's not to like?

I continue to spend wonderful evenings with SG Guy.  He's uncomplicated, generous and has the most sublime touch.  His apartment has become something of a haven for me, a rooftop escape from all the sewage down below.

Time for me to attempt sleep.  These days it tends to be disturbed by anxiety inducing dreams, but I have a feeling things might be a bit easier in a month or so.  Goodnight Dobson.

Frankie

The Arrival Of Apathy

Dear Dobson,

I am sure you could look back on your many years of teaching and nothing would come close to the huge surge of pride you, no doubt, felt on handing out green pens to your class for self-evaluation...  I get the feeling green wax crayons might have been more appropriate?

The thaw of the Ice Queen is changeable given the cold north easterly winds we are currently tolerating.  I remain unsure as to the best course of action; ‘To feel or not to feel?  That is the question.’  Part of me knows from previous experience that if you open up and allow someone in, it can be a wonderfully enriching and fulfilling adventure.  Conversely, past endeavours have also taught me that the business of feeling can leave you exposed to hurt and heartbreak.  I will think on’t – and perhaps witness the joyful resurrection of the '4am Terror Club' in the process.

On a shallower note – the place where I am happiest – I am relieved to have found the perfect frock for my next gig.  A veritable gift of a dress; it flatters, it’s stylish, it reeks of jazz and I will be able to wear my pearl necklace with it, which will certainly bring a smile to my face.

It’s only just 10 o’clock and I’m already thinking of retiring to the boudoir for some literature and light masturbation.  There are worse ways to spend a Tuesday evening.

Bonne chance with the inspection tomorrow.  Tell them I think they’re cunts and you’ll go far.

Frankie

Be Still My Throbbing Hand

Dear F,

I do enjoy the drivel so worry ye not. I too have a sore hand, but from marking.  Marking, marking, always marking.  I knew it was the beginning of the end when I was made to stand at the doorway of a drama room and give out green pens for self-evaluation...

How is the thaw going doll?  At time of blogging I know you have a gig tonight. And next week. And a visitor from afar. And a potential bloke. And an unresolved musician issue. Plus course. I am impressed with the magnitude of it all...

Can't wait to see you. I may reblog tonight. Supposed to be looking after Mia and marking and getting ready for inspection on Wed. Oh and a gig. FFS.

Big love.

Dobson