Late on parade, but hell, here I am.

Today would have been my 39th wedding anniversary. I suppose it still is, strictly. But I’m not married any more.

This saddens me. I hooked up for the long haul. I didn’t bugger about. I was all in. Mrs Swallow, hmm. I KNOW she faffed about off field from time to time. I let her get on with it, but don’t think it didn’t smart. Yet she always ended up in our bed, with me.

I thought I’d managed to put her in the ‘lesson learned’ filing drawer after we separated and eventually divorced, reasonably amicably.

But no. I keep dreaming about her right now. And when the shit hits the fan, as my shit has done, I find myself talking to her, though she was even less sympathetic than is Susan. And that is saying a lot.

Still, 22 years isn’t a bad shot is it? I’m still sad.