Bedford August, Saturday
On The Road September, Saturday
Blackpool September, Sunday Night
Bedford September, The Following Saturday
BEN’S DIARY
I’m 36 years old; handsome and fit, with a shock of rich, dark hair and a pair of kissing lips to die for. I’m not as tall as I’d like to be, nor am I rippling with chest muscles. But I reckon I’m a dead-ringer for Hugh Grant, (only I do believe I’m a far better actor than he is, on account of I played a hippo in All Creatures Great and Small in the school play. Anyone with brains knows how difficult it is to play a demanding role!).
So, having explained what a real catch I am—will someone please tell me why it is that today my divorce became absolute and I’m out in the cold?
The dreaded Laura doesn’t want me any more, but doesn’t want anyone else to have me, so now the women who are aching to make a play for me are all too nervous to make the first move, in case Laura rips out their eyes. The plain truth is (though it rankles me to say this) I have been well and truly dumped! And to be honest I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or starve the cat for a day…actually no, scrub that last one. (Like all felines, she can be vicious. The last thing I need right now, is for her to leap on me claws out, from a great height.)
I’m so humiliated. I feel that everybody’s laughing at me. You know when you walk past somebody and they pretend not to have seen you? Or you walk away and the sniggering starts? I’m feeling paranoid!
Huh! Call themselves friends, I don’t think so!
Somehow or other I have to regain my confidence. So, with that in mind, I made a list of things I had to do:
1. I will not sign on at the gym. (Firstly, because I’m a bit short of the old readies, and secondly, I was told that too much exercise can ruin your love life.) Mind you, what does Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants know about anything?
2. I will smoke cigars instead of cigarettes. I’ve seen that old film with Jimmy Cagney; smoke curling up and away, one eye half shut like he’s winking. (Truth is, I reckon he can’t see a damned thing through that smoke!) No matter, because does he look the cool dude or what?
3. When the opposite sex look at me in that certain way… (you know, when they’re eyeing you up!) I shall cunningly avert my gaze and play hard to get. (The real reason being that I’m a bit short-sighted, so I need to look where I’m going.)
4. I will take two vitamins a day: one evening primrose, because apparently it makes your skin smooth and your eyes bright. Oh, and one large ginko biloba tablet. (Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants said he sprouted hairs on his chest after only one course.) I’m not worried about a hairy chest, but if I’m lucky, who knows what else might pop up?
5. I will avoid contact with Laura. It’s my right! After all, it wasn’t me who did the dumping!
6. Oh, and because I’m not attending a gym, I will admire myself in the mirror every morning, and do a bit of flexing and puffing, and whatever else I might need to, in order to keep up my macho image. (Yes, that an’ all!)
Right! That’s enough making lists. I have to concentrate my mind for the trauma ahead.
I know for certain that Laura is laughing behind my back. I sneaked past the house earlier on today and judging by the massive placards and banners plastered all over the front of the house, on the gate and down the street—she’s having a ball, proclaiming to all and sundry in large, colourful letters that she is:
Newly Divorced And Up For Anything
‘Up for anything’. What’s that supposed to mean, as if I didn’t know. This is her way of taking a snide jab at me, the spiteful cow! She’s never forgotten that one miserable time when I lost it…if you know what I mean? I tried to explain it to her, but she was having none of it…you know how women can whine when they want to…‘You just don’t love me any more, that’s the truth isn’t it?’
And, no, that is not the truth! The truth is, I’d been out with the boys and drunk myself under the table…well it was Trevor’s stag-night after all, and besides, I reckon Wayne spiked my drinks because his wife fancies me. (If truth be told, it’s the same old story of jealousy and spite!)
All the same, if I thought Laura still had lingering feelings for me, I might lie through my teeth and tell her I deserve everything she throws at me, and that I’ll never go anywhere without her again. The thing is, I still love her you see…or I think I do. Or maybe I don’t. God, she’s right! I’m just a hopeless mess.
I’m no angel. She knew that when she married me. I’ve never claimed to be anything other than an absolute rogue, and I won’t apologise for that. In my book, women have a role to play in the home and bed, while every man on God’s earth has a God-given right to play the field if he wants to. I mean, where’s the harm, tell me that?
Would you believe, she even went so far as to suggest I might be unhinged. Well, I’ve got news for her. It’s not me who’s unhinged, it’s her!
Talk about over reacting. I mean, when she found me in our bed with another woman she threw me out! I suppose it was inevitable. Mind you, Laura didn’t even give me time to explain. Y’see, I didn’t know who the woman was. I couldn’t even recall whether I picked her up at the pub, or rescued her from the bus stop when her bus was late. Anyway, suffice to say we ended up in bed, and Laura found us. Worse luck!
There was no way she would listen to reason. She just threw all my clothes out on the street and me with them. I don’t know what happened to the girl, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she wasn’t dead and buried under our garage floor.
Honestly! Laura just went crazy. Totally and absolutely out of control, like frothing mad. It was really off-putting.
And it was the coldest night imaginable, and there I was, stark-naked except for my odd-coloured socks (that’s another thing! How she manages to put four pairs of socks into the washing machine and lose one sock from each pair, I will never know).
I kid you not! That night, I saw a side to her that I’d never seen before, and never want to see again. It was not a pleasant sight.
I
