How does he put up with it? How does he put up with ME?

Last night, it was nearing half past nine and after we'd washed up and put the kitchen back in order, he suggested we go to bed early and read for a bit. We have no telly, see.

What an early night this typically involves is me sitting in bed, watching him get undressed and making appreciative comments about his legs/buttocks/dimples or just wear a naughty grin, because this show is my nightly treat. I've watched him take his clothes off and walk naked around the room before climbing into bed next to me almost every single night for the past two years and I never, ever get tired of it. Sometimes he gets into bed first and watches me take mine off, but mostly I am already down to my undies by the time he gets to the bedroom (and I make sure to take my time to get out of those undies if I'm wearing something particularly eye-catching that day. It's rare that I'm not coordinating) so I get into bed first and can sit back and enjoy the show.

After he gets into bed, he think it's time to read so he'll grab his book. I typically have other ideas (no, not that - or at least not necessarily and certainly not all the time). I don't feel like reading. Instead, I like to amuse myself by finding all the hidden nooks and crannies of his I don't usually have access to. A favourite is the crease where the buttocks meet the thigh. Or the thigh itself. Or underarms. He puts up with it in silence until it gets too ticklish. Throwing his book down, he'll ask "haven't you got a book to read?" and it's only then I realise that I'm actually being incredibly annoying to him. He's been reading the same sentence for the past 5 minutes because Ive been tickling areas of his body that even HE has never seen. He's good natured about it but every so often he does turn to me and laugh.

So last night, after having been admonished twice, I resolved to let him be. He's not a toy and I can't go touching him willy-nilly as it, er, were just because I find having his naked body right next to my naked body too much of a temptation. I resolved. I made a personal pact. I vowed to allow him his personal space.

I lasted about 7 minutes.

It snowed for a bit this morning. I do likes me some snow. Shame it wouldn't settle.

Also, I dreamt last night that I was dancing with Gorgeous Landlord. While we danced I told him I no longer wanted to be just a cycling partner who he could sleep with. I was tired of being his f-buddy.

erm. WTF?! We've never been f-buddies and he's been nothing but an attentive, adoring, faithful, loving boyfriend for the past 2 years without fail. He's been the best thing that's ever happened to me and knocks the spots off anything I've dated before. I've never had it so green this side of the fence.

But it's only a dream. Although, if I just switch my brain from 'quiet and calm' to 'over-analysing hyper' setting *click* There we go. Now I can stop pretending I'm a-ok and oh-so-reasonable. So here goes.

Now that I'm set to over-analyse mode (used to be default. Landlord found the switch) I suspect it's the 'kids' issue. It's been something I've been thinking about recently and my family ask about.

First up, let me be clear that I'm not feeling clucky. I don't wistfully gaze at kids in pushchairs and wish I had one of my own (kids, that is - I could get my own pushchair any time I like, if I really really wanted one. And it would come in handy when shopping. I could drape 17 kilos worth of shopping bags over the handles and when I let go, the whole buggy flips backwards onto the floor. I would have to do without the catapulted child that you normally see when that happens to other people). I don't even dream of buying baby clothes or imagine bouncing one on my knee. I know I really don't want kids right now. I'm studying, plus I'm terrified of the life-long commitment having offspring represents. I'm afraid I'd invest time, emotion and care into someone who could turns out to be a vile human being, a mass murder, a religious fundamentalist, or even a person who would walk about in ugg boots.

I don't even like babies very much. To me, they're just poo producing food and wind bags that have to be kept clean and held the right way up and can't be kept in a cupboard when they becomes too cumbersome to carry around everywhere. And they have sessions of random, high volume noisiness that the parent has only a limited capacity to control. Having babies has never looked like fun to me. Kids don't become interesting to me until they can walk and talk and utter an opinion.

In short, the thought of having children scares the bejebus out of me but a part of me wants them, or at least wants to know it's a possibility. That same part of me also wants to have his and only his. Trouble is, I'm afraid of bringing this up with him because he's been so clear on the matter (no kids. I'm too old). And I can't say he never told me. In fact the very day after we first kissed he said "maybe we should stop this now, because we want different things. You say you want kids, I know I don't".

Well, too late, Mister. I was already completely in love with him. I'd been in love with him since we met a year before; a year during which he'd repeatedly told me he wasn't cut out for relationships - a nugget of wisdom he has since proven was a bluff.

I can't make him change his mind about children. He's entitled to never want or have them. I too am, of course, entitled to have them. I heard his warning but I wasn't prepared to call it off. I was already in love with him and did not know where I stood on the kids matter myself. Why dump this man whom I love for something I don't even know I want? I may never want children.

But.

I don't want to drift along and eventually find out I did want them and it's now too late. I don't want to come to resent him and myself for wasting my time. I don't like that I'm too afraid to talk about this. What kind of a relationship do we have if I can't bring it up?

first day back at work and normally I just bumble my way through it all, since no one is doing much work, either. It takes everyone a day or so to get back up to speed.

In my case, that was a luxury I could not afford. Claim is due today and the courier is booked for 2pm to collect it, so I had my work cut-out there. But instead of being the normal woolly-headed me whenever I come back from a break, I was sharp as a tack and completely into the swing of it, like I'd never been away. It helped that I had managed to get most of it done and ready before Christmas.

The last day before the Christmas shut down, everyone else had buggered off home at midday, while I was still at my desk at 19:30 finishing it off, grumbling under my breath that I was clearing up other people's mistakes and slapdash approach to paperwork. it did serve to remind me why I had handed in my notice in the first place, so it wasn't all bad.

Anyway, it wasn't until I had faithfully promised to the receiving end that the courier had been booked and that all was well and I was well on course to getting it finished and to them by this afternoon that I realised the courier had NOT been booked and I was putting together a monumental claim that would go nowhere. So the woolly-headedness from a long break away was with me, after all.

Lastly, I appear to have gained 3Kg. I am now heavier than I have ever been in my life. I'm not all that worried though, since my new job involves a 13 mile round trip on my bike every day. It won't be long before I have thunder thighs that are solid rather than thunder thighs that are blubbery*. My main concern will be how not to get run over at the Lewes Road Gyratory, where homicidal (or plain stupid) motorists come into close proximity to cyclist who might have to actually change lanes to go right and be in someone's way for 10 seconds (heresy, I know!)

* I'm resigned to the fact that I will always have thunder thighs but I can at least alter the muscle to fat ratio through