Yesterday I rang Hugh and ended things. It was one of the most majestically un-fun things I've done in a long time and managed to get dragged out for some 30 minutes. Telling someone you don't want to see them anymore - rejecting them - is not an art I'm familiar with, so, when he kept asking if I'd consider waiting a few days and seeing how I felt then, I almost said yes just to keep from prolonging the unpleasantness.

I am, of course, a complete wimp and played heavily on the distance card, but things haven't felt right for me for ages and have partly been why I've felt miserable for some weeks now and devoid of any proper joy. A weight has definitely been lifted and despite shedding a couple of tears I slept very soundly last night.

I also met up with my ex-boyfriend on Wednesday after work (the one I used to refer to as the New Bloke and bumped into randomly at Glastonbury this year). He was incredibly flirty as in 'Oh, you have a piece of hair on your face *strokes my face to remove it*', 'Let me look after your scarf for you,' and lingeringly holding my hand after requesting to look at a small burn I have on it (oven burn). (Smoked haddock.) Very strange indeed, but I still let him buy me dinner anyway. He wasn't part of my decision with Hugh either but activity in my life does seem to ebb and flow in the most peculiar way.

Right, I have to skedaddle.

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