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October 17th, 2018


Lucy's Dad.

His sister Kim, who was my best friend (she's since died of cancer), tried to blind date us after we'd both come out of LTRs. We both refused. I attended her wedding with Mark, my ex (now gay) as my plus one, as he knew her and her husband, although we were split by then. He's Lucy's Godfather by the way.

At the bar was a 6 foot 3 inch very well built handsome chap. Who was slightly pissed, working the bar. He made some appreciative comments and then suggested I came home with him. I declined, rudely. Later, whilst assisting Kim with her petticoats in the toilet, I relayed the story. That's when I found out he was the older brother she'd been trying to fix me up with.

The next morning, flowers were delivered to my home, with an apology.

Shortly after, Lee turned up, and we went out. Twice, then he broke his leg playing football. His biggest worry was George, his beloved dog. A friend drove the dog round to me, and I dogsat George until Lee was able to walk him again.

I spent most weekends in his place in Egham, Surrey. Fridays we stayed in, Saturdays we went out and Sundays I watched him play vets football. Often the only supporter, through sun, wind and snow. In fact, on the coach, there was a song, titled "All women are cunts except Paula. The team was The Thin Yoghurts. It was a pub team that used to be named after the pub, but when they played St Ivel's Prize Guys, the new name was born. I had two jobs. Shouting abuse and shucking the prawns in the pub after the game. I was considered a risk, because the other girls weren't allowed out on the Saturday nights. But Lee insisted. And I kept their secrets. The team captain, Paul, is Lucy's other Godfather.

I got pregnant very quickly, just as my career was soaring. I didn't find out until it was too late - no periods since I was 17 anyway, and my weight has always been up and down. Lee was quite literally, over the moon. We got engaged straight away. The first ring, was so awful, I would wear it. I still have the diamond solitaire we exchanged it for. After 3 days of not speaking.

We tried very hard at the relationship, but there was no spark for me. He's a lovely guy and will do anything for anybody. But I couldn't carry on. When Lucy was 12, we split. I sold my house, and gave him the profits, because Lucy wanted to stay in Gravesend, and I didn't. He piddled a lot of it away on expensive golf clubs, motorbikes and holidays. But looked after Lu really well, and I had access whenever she wanted to come to London or when I went to Gravesend, so it was all grand. When I moved into the flat in Camden, he came round and decorated it for me, top to bottom. He was heartbroken, so all the more poignant.

Then he met a lady and married her, which is great. Except she got a little flea in her ear, and decided they should go for custody of Lu. Who lived with them anyway, carries his surname (my choice) and I paid maintenance for. That was a Very Big Mistake. You should never try to separate a cub from the lioness. Three sets of solicitors, and a great deal of his money later, he capitulated. I hadn't spent a penny, I represented myself. He came to my work and made a personal apology. But the damage was done, and my trust in him was broken. That was the second, and second worst of the 3 major betrayals I have had. We haven't really spoken since.

On Friday, he was taken into hospital with severe chest pains, they say it's stress and they want to scan him. He's a bull of a man, I've seen him stroll with a washing machine in his arms. He is a lovely bloke, just not the bloke for me. I will keep him in my thoughts and hope he rests and makes a full recovery. He deserves a long and happy retirement, having had a massive work ethic all his life. And Joyce doesn't deserve to loose another, two is enough already.


Call me Madam

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