reintegration

When we get home I miss breakfasts. There are lots of people to see, who seem to not believe we are back until they have seen for their own eyes. Odd that, it's only been a fortnight, people we usually see less often than once a fortnight who we saw before we went. I am glad to be home, but have a while of feeling as if it was all a dream I need to reassemble in my head, and that takes quiet.

Part of me wishes I didn't have reservations about having parties. There has been so much to do there hasn't been time to take in getting married; I consider having a party and it seems like saying look at me. My problem with parties is the assumption of them. Something like having a party is like assuming people are bothered, it's a celebration of yourself, to have a party you have to be confident somehow. I am not. I don't want to be any bother to anyone, take any of their time, I don't want to seem presumptuous or an inconvenience so we decide against the idea. I am amazed at how pleased my mother is about the whole thing, well done she says. What I am thinking is I haven't done anything, just got married and even an idiot can do that. Funny, she was a lot less congratulatory when I told her I had a book coming out, or that I won a competition. It's good she is happy, but I'm not sure I understand people at all. She complains about my refusal to change my name, but I stick to my guns. It is not that I love my name, more just that it is my name. I will continue to be myself.

We buy ourselves new sheets and a stove top kettle to celebrate to ourselves, and make plans for a camping trip to the lakes when the weather improves. One day we say, we will get a new bed. We don't say why.

I like it here. The herbs have taken off, and when we walk through the front door I am surprised at how tidy I left the unfinished hall. I think about all the pictures I took down when I painted the walls, and wonder which ones will go back up.

I get on the scales with my fingers crossed, somehow or other (even with so much good American fayre) I have managed to lose 6 pounds. I am temporarily banished from Slimming World, since they charge you £4.50 if you lose more than three pounds than your target weight. I see the group leader's car in Asda car park and am momentarily tempted to try and find her, to look in her trolley and see what she buys. But I know if there are no chocolate biscuits I will be disappointed, so I leave the thought there.

My ankles are cold. I look at the sky and wish for sun to wear 3/4 trousers again.