Dear John

It’s amazing how quickly loneliness cuts in.

Years ago, when I lived alone as a student in Birmingham, I particularly hated early Sunday evenings, when everything was shut and I was bored with nothing to do.  It was a horrible time, the worst time for loneliness.

All the time I was with you my darling, I never had that loneliness.  Sundays were always busy.  Either going out somewhere with you – into Central London, or to a pub, or going away for a weekend.  Or even if we were just at home, lots of housework to do, food to cook, television to watch with you, conversations to have.

I always thought that that awful early Sunday evening time needed to be filled with people – society, busyness, conversation, sex maybe.  So that it wasn’t that dreadful lonely time again.

But even in the hospital weeks, I suddenly found myself feeling it again.  5 or 6 pm on a Sunday, cold dark evening, no shops open, no darling husband to cuddle up to.  Back so soon to that horrible Sunday loneliness again.