Post 1 - 17 Jan

I think that the issue for me is that I feel trapped. I’m doing what I’m doing and will be forever more.

I have, by any measure, the rubbish end of the stick and it’s not ever going to change.

When we got together I had hoped that we’d share the earning, that the burden of providing would be somehow equalised. That’s part of the reason why I left the newspaper game, so that we could share more. But as it turns out, that never happened – and now it’s clear that it never will.

So I have to go to work every day – just like I did in the newspaper game except that I don’t earn as much as I used to – and you get to do the interesting stuff. In the old days, it was following your muse with Juicy, these days it’s academic papers with a side order of laying down the foundations for your future desired work ie, the writer’s retreats. Meanwhile I’m going out to work. Still.

And the other reason for giving up the newspaper game, the business of being at home? Well, I’m still out to work, you’re still here with the kids.

I know it’s not cockle picking or going down a mine, really I do, but all the same… when’s it my turn? Answer: it won’t ever be.

It just seems to me that this is it. I’m just working to make other people happy.

Am I jealous of you? Yes, of course.

Am I hurt by simple small things like the girls wanting to go to your Dome ceremony and not even being aware I had one? Yes, of course

Am I jealous that you’ve got the time and space to go to NZ while I’m filing papers, juggling our rubbish finances, keeping debts at bay and trying to keep the boat afloat? Yes, of course.

Do I care that they think you’re a writer and that dad’s the one to go to for money or to buy something or to order something on Ebay or to get a phone repaired? Yes, of course.

Do I get pissed off that every morning I spend 30 minutes tidying and cleaning the debris from the night before or unloading the dishwasher while everyone else “gets ready”? Yes.

Work is a grind the like of which you’ve no idea about. You have a go at me for not doing the MRes now but you’ve no idea what my work is like. You work one day a week. You say to me “I can’t take the dogs out because I’ve got three hours of marking to do”. I work full time, I’m module leader for five modules – this time next year that will be six because I’ve got to write a new year-long module before next year. Any idea how much marking I’ve got to do?

So I’m doing all this and we’re skint and I’m thinking about the summer and we’ve got no money for a holiday and my computer is almost completely knackered now and unless the house is valued at £630 – which, frankly, is unlikely it’s not going to change.

Meanwhile, our love life is about as vibrant as Pompeii on a quiet night.

So while I really do know it’s not cockle picking or going down a mine, really I do, it’s not making me happy and it’s not what I thought I signed up for.

But at the same time I know that unless my ship comes in… this is it.