I can’t believe that I’ve been in Australia only seven days. The outlook of my life has changed so dramatically.
I came here for three months with a plan to see mum, catch up with old friends and mostly to spend time with Nick having a long, lazy, lovely holiday. I had looked forward to a time of sun, good food and love - getting strong and back on my feet physically and emotionally.
Then I found myself D.O.A. – Dumped on Arrival!
Since then there have been tears, both on my part and on Nick’s, two a.m. phone calls to friends, sadness and anger on the part of my family. Mr P took me out to lunch and kindly offered to batter Nick with a baseball bat. “You can watch Lily. Then you can comfort him afterwards,” he said with a wry laugh. I spent a tense few days sleeping on Nick’s sofa-bed, then I flew to Hobart.
Mum whisked me up to her idyllic waterfront home where I was greeted by Aunty Noni, who lives next door, and cousin Fay, who lives next door to Aunty Noni. The whole place is an eccentrically gorgeous artists' compound. Apart from the three houses there are various studios and a gallery. The gardens merge into one another and are populated with sculptures by mum, Noni and Fay, dotted amongst the gum trees and native shrubs. Parrots and cockatoos abound, squawking and carrying on in the branches overhead. Wallabies bound across the lawns. Echidnas occasionally stomp out of a hedge. Exquisite lizards sun themselves on rocks. And there is wild samphire growing at the edge of the pristine turquoise bay that lies only a few metres from our door.
After ending our relationship Nick changed his mind. I agreed that he should join me in Tasmania, albeit a week later than planned, and we would see what could be salvaged between us. I know that his behaviour has kicked off International Despise Nick Week but I also try to understand his difficulty in having a girlfriend who lives half a world away and has gone through cancer. The camper van had been cancelled but we could still go fishing, swim in the bay, explore the locality, laze about and eat fresh vegetables from the garden. Mum was most magnanimous about it all. She was pleased for me and started making revised plans to welcome Nick into her home. I was happy to have hope. I was looking forward to seeing him again.
This morning Nick rang and told me that he has changed his mind yet again. He won’t be coming. “Lily I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” said Nick. What a walking cliché.
“OK Nick, well that’s that,” was about all I could muster. At this stage I am exhausted, wrung out and I feel sick. It's as if a big elephant has come along and sat, splat on my dreams.
So, the coming three months is going to be a surprise, a new adventure: Footloose and Fabulous in Oz. Who knows what wonderful developments lie in store along the Yellow Brick Road?
It is mid-winter in London, bitterly cold, dark and economically depressed. No thanks. I’m staying here. If you happen to know of a reasonably priced, centrally located short-let apartment in Sydney (with harbour view) please let me know. No harm in asking, it is a blue moon after all.
Anyway I just wanted to get all that off my chest. Now I don’t have to keep going on about it. This, I remind myself, is a blog about Chemo Chic not a romantic melodrama – which could be endless...
Maybe I will start another blog called: My Boyfriend is a Weak-minded Faithless Prick and half the world can contribute their stories to it!