It’s a year since I moved out of the village and I’m starting to get a little bit fed up with being given “the evils” (as my daughter would say) in the Co op, blanked in Sainsbury’s Wantage and hearing, through a community initiative I’m involved with, that someone would rather not deal with me because of the Neale connection.
It takes two to make a marriage and it also takes two to break one. Contrary to what you may have heard, my ex-husband was at least as much to blame for our divorce as I was, and I was as devastated by it as him, even though it was my decision to leave. I certainly didn’t uproot my children and move them 65 miles away from their home, father and friends, to the middle of nowhere, with divorce in mind.
Shit happens, and some things just aren’t meant to be. A year’s gone by, life goes on and we all make of it the best we can.
So please … get over it.