Liz Jones’s diary

In which we fall out over Smokinggate

IFORGOT TO TELL YOU that when David arrived to stay with me just before Easter, there was a big brown patch on the seat of his new Levi’s. ‘What’s that?’ I asked him. ‘Did you fall over?’ He squirmed round to look. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I must have sat on a Revel.’ What man eats sweets in his car? When I got back from the vet, his car had gone. This was due to Smokinggate, when he smoked in the bathroom. At half ten that night, I got this text. ‘I’ve just got home. Not sure if you even want to hear from me. I just want to say I’m very sorry. I had a stupid moment of weakness. No excuses. I’ll leave it to you to contact me, if you ever wish to. x’

Then, ‘Please listen to R4 Short Cuts. Series ten. “Losing yourself”. X’

I replied. ‘Thanks for the apology. It means you can’t be trusted, and your word means nothing. I cannot be the policeman in a relationship; it’s too exhausting.’

Him: ‘I have this self-destruct mechanism. Every time life is good, I manage to screw it up. I can be cavalier. Isn’t that what attracted you to me in the first place? I thought I was almost house trained. I gave in to my comfort.’

Me: ‘Someone smoking in my house isn’t what attracts me to anyone. It’s disrespectful. I don’t need someone around me who adds to my anxiety.’ Him: ‘Listen to Short Cuts.’ Me: ‘OK.’ I listened. There was a mountaineer who suffered a heart attack. There was a segment that resonated: you are not defined by your past, or the things around you. New things, nature, new people can shape who you are even more. An American woman was talking; as I’m deaf, I couldn’t hear what she was saying: I’m not good with accents, or people sobbing. Ah, she has leukaemia. ‘What am I meant to take from Short Cuts?’ Him: ‘Can you put those words in a sentence I can understand?’ Me: ‘Why did you tell me to listen to it?’ Him: ‘You do get upset quickly.’ Me: ‘I told you I’m on the edge. I’ve just lost everything. What do you think I am, a robot? Made of steel? You need to respect that and be supportive, not like a bloody rude guest. I actually keep my temper around you remarkably well, given you can barely walk ten yards because of your SMOKING! You think you are still this dashing young buck but you are old way before your time!’ He replied, ‘That is succinct and motivational.’ Me: ‘So it is OK for you to say I get upset too quickly, but I’m not allowed to tell you some home truths? And not once did you send a tin of cat food in three years, when you KNEW I had lost my job, and was being made bankrupt and losing my home.’

I was so upset, I could barely function. The person supposed to be close to me, who said he loves me, was conspiring against me. I put the harnesses on the dogs and took them for a walk. I got to the woods behind the house, and let them off. I had a carrier bag with me, and I started to pick up litter as I walked. I passed a small dog; the same dog I had picked up a few days before, headed for the busy A road. I had texted his owner, to say I’d put him back in the garden. I got home. A little later, I received this text. ‘Please don’t go in my wood, thanks.’

I was shocked. There was no sign. I was doing no harm. Just picking up beer cans and plastic. ‘Who is this? Sorry!’

‘It’s Greville. The owner of the wood.’ And the owner of the dog, headed for the A road.

‘I’m so sorry. I thought it was part of the park. I’m sorry you have taken such a dislike to me.’

‘I have no dislike at all. I don’t want to bump into anyone!’

‘Such a shame. I thought we could be friends. Ah, so it was your mum who screamed at me that I’m not her neighbour. I will take my rescued collies and move out. All the best. Liz.’

I have no idea why everyone hates me. I texted David. ‘I need you to be on my side.’ I’ve just emailed the landlord. To say I’m moving out. ‘ I’m sorry, puppies,’ I told them. ‘I’m sorry everyone hates us.’

‘I can’t be the policeman in a relationship,’ I told him. ‘It’s too exhausting’