Gentle reader, do not be concerned at the silence from this particular corner of paradise. In truth, I've been a bit busy with affairs of the heart, or at least, the fallout when they go sour.
Those of you who know me well, will be aware that I've been in mid-divorce for about three years now. The decree absolute came through two days before the General Election, which would have been immaculate timing on the part of my ex, had it not been for that fact that I didn't find out for six weeks...
And so the financial wrangling began, leading to a hearing just five weeks before the local elections this year (are you detecting a pattern here?). Even then, I thought that things could be wrapped up and I could carry on with my life. Sadly, I was wrong... and the whole charade carried on for another seven months... until this week, which saw the final court hearing. Or not, as the case might be. We'll probably know next week what the judge has decided, I'm told.
So I've been a bit occupied, all in all, with lawyers, estate agents, pension advisors and the entire legion of people who you might want to have a beer with occasionally but not necessarily want to deal with professionally. It could all be rather depressing if you let it.
Curiously, though, I'm not depressed, although I am a little saddened. I am a hopeless romantic, albeit not the most expressive of that ilk, and I had rather hoped to mate for life, optimistic though that might sound.
The curious thing though, is that the chorus to 'Simon Smith and His Amazing Dancing Bear' kept echoing through my head afterwards. "Oh who will think a boy and bear could be well accepted everywhere? It's just amazing how fair people can be..."