Is it the fate of all men to struggle to coexist with anger incarnate? Having just been in a head in collision with a burglar driving through a red light on the wrong side of the road and then spending 4 hours static on a spinal board I might allow myself the luxury of thinking my wife might stop being angry with me before she's even through the front door. Well if you did think that you'd be wrong. The point would seem to be shevhas got to fifty years of age and not done anything about her anger towards the world after her mother left fir a tramp (really) and her dad never spoke to her properly and then died whilst she was in her twenties. It's sad but we're still feeling the after shock. Sometimes I think she would be better off alone - might even take proper notice of the boys. I must have been after sympathy when I put my car in the way of a fleeing felon's van.

Mind reading

In marriage there are various ways and means for communication besides just talking. Perhaps the most direct method, invented by my wife, is to read my morning pages. This way she gets to know what I think without me knowing what I am supposed to have thought that she defines as mental cruelty. Despite the lack of digital technology involved the level of  transparency makes it feel very modern. Or am I living in the 19th century? Still I never imagined being in a relationship when the contents of my mind are laid bare. Not just a version that I present at a therapy session either. No this is my mind as it spewls onto the page via the nib of my Parker fountain pen half an hour before anyone else in the house is awake. She says I leave them out deliberately. One day they were apparently on her desk waiting for her eyes to devour them. This coincided with the morning I subconsciously wrote about a rather demur threesome fantasy the participants of which long since having evaporated from my neural pathways. I tried to explain to my wife that she is basing her assumptions about my personality upon thoughts which find their way to the page before I have even realised they are half formed. But she did get the name of a girl I had almost entered into an affair with from some of these pages and sent her an email asking what I was up to. This girl has since moved to Cornwall I hear.
Tracey's children keep blowing raspberries at me I like to think it is because their mum fancies having an affair with me. She is a truly statuesque woman. Such a well formed physique. Likes to show her arse when she's drunk too.