Tuesday, June 27, 2006
The Loneliness of the Long- Distance Blogger
I used some of flatmate's coffee while he was away last week, about half a packet, which I replaced with a full unopened packet. Then this morning I found I'd run out of coffee again, but when I tried to borrow some of his, I found he had carefully hidden them behind all the other food in his manky cupboard. Do you know, I wouldn't feel much of a twang if Lovebird and I were to suddenly move out... He (Flatmate) wants to read Thus Spake Zarathustra but is worried he won't understand it on his own. So every time I'm relaxing with John Le Carre he pops up and tells me how much it would cost if we all chipped in to buy a copy to read together. Four quid each, apparently. (With Flatmate, everything comes down to buying something in the end, whether it's reading Nietzche or camping out in the woods to gain spiritual enlightenment. Which he was meant to do all week, but he kept hearing animals outside his tent and so after one night he gave up and went to Preston.) How many times do I have to tell him I don't feel like reading Zarathustra? I feel like reading The Honourable Schoolboy and if he wants to join me in discussing it he'd be very welcome. I was slightly peturbed to realise this weekend, at my grandparents Diamond wedding celebration on the Isle of Wight, that I am in fact the most normal and well-adjusted person on at least my mother's side of the family. Which brings me on to mental health. My buddy Cat is coming to stay with us today, after a spell up North with her mum while she convalesces after some bad depression. (To my mind, the phrases 'up North' and 'with one's mum' don't describe an atmosphere conducive to good metal health, but there you go. ) But I'm slightly worried. During her illness she became exceedingly needy and instead of being friends like we had been, she mostly voiced her insecurities and moaned about her problems while I gave her a running commentary on my tips for a healthy mind and life-style. (Don't worry guys, I'll tell you them when I get a moment). But now the balance of our friendship has changed and I really don't like it; I feel like her mother. It's partly caused by this attitude to depression that it's inevitably chronic; Cat feels like it will always be lurking under the surface, even when she feels fine. Consequently she assumes that our new 'protector and invalid' relationship seems ok to her. Weird.