Rain

Today it is raining.  Again.  It’s been weeks and weeks of persistent rain, all day and all night. The grass outside is soaked, I can feel the squelch as I walk over it towards the pond.  The pond is overflowing with water and nothing else, no fish, frogs or newts.  I like newts, but not this year.  Who’d have thought they’d not like too much water?  Last year I had three of them, all gadding across the rocks, like Charlie Chaplin.  And I’m like Gussie Finknottle.  But not this year.  Janet, John and Topsie were their names.  I wonder what happened to them?  I hope they’ve found another pond.

This year I’m not sharing the pond duties with Emily.  Emily went away and left me with the overflowing pond, the crumbling house and the soaking grass. The weather reflecting on my soggy new life this year.  I get by, like the newts, gadding about in my small arena, smiling and laughing and jollying along as if I’d done nothing wrong.  Which I didn’t, I have to tell myself, I didn’t.

Just like there was an odd number of newts in my pond, one female (according to Emily) there is an odd number of events which led to Emily’s departure.  If it was an even number, then she would still be here.  I lost 2-1 in other words.  She accused me of sleeping with Lucy (1-0, but I didn’t) then I accused her of not believing me (1-1) then she accused me of fancying Joanne (2-1 : I did).  Fancying her, yes, but Joanne was not at all interested in me, as she pointed out at that party (‘that party’ came up again and again) rather loudly to all her friends when someone - not me - suggested she did. Lucy fancied me at the time though, ironically.

I’m obviously better off without Emily because I think just fancying someone shouldn’t wreck a relationship, as long as fancying is as far as it goes. And the relationship was pretty much on uneven ground, like my soggy grass. Oh, and Lucy is married with babies before you ask, so I’m not going there.

I was having a nice time at the party, as I recall.  But perhaps partook of too much imbibement, and I was flirting with everyone, including Brian.  It was fun, and I thought Emily was doing the same.  It certainly seemed that way to me. Brian was having all the luck that night.

Emily flounced out of the house the Sunday morning after the 2-1 game the night before, and I’ve not seen nor heard from her since.  Brian, Lucy and Joanne are no use. They won’t tell me what Emily is up to, but insist she’s doing fine, which is a comfort at least. 

I look back at the house from the pond area and wonder if any of our dreams for the place will ever come about.  I hope so. I hope I can do it all myself, or perhaps some other Emily will come along to join in the plans.  It all seems so much of a waste. We had a good time conjuring up rooms and cupboards and baths and tables and floors.  I had thought we could do it anyway, even if Emily was not living here, just as friends, but Joanne laughed at me for that idea.

The pond, though, does really need looking at first, so that is my task for now, draining part of it and shoring it up.  Or something.  I’ll Google “Pond Maintenance” when I go back inside to dry off.  Because I’m soaked.