Degrading …

Yesterday’s was one of the most painful poems I have written ever.  After a long time absent, I went to Chester in the afternoon, and at first was fascinated by the changes I saw.

But then wife and daughter began to zero me out; as they frequently do when together; as they never will recognise when challenged.

And I am afraid no longer will I tolerate this.  My daughter is delightful when conversing with me by herself; the previous Tuesday in Pret in Liverpool One was a fabulous example precisely of that.  But my relationship with my wife is now so degraded that she, that is to say our daughter, instinctively – perhaps all too understandably – sides with and defends absolutely everything her mother will say.

And this is not my way.

And this has been all I can do.

And if I emerge from this once wonderful year by the skin of my teeth, with what little of my sanity that’s left even so still reasonably and sensibly intact, I shall count my blessings and the real value of whatever McJob I end up in, for the rest of my sore and oft unsightly life.

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