He knows it's over. I know it's over.
So fathom this one if you can. I wake up to hear Neil Diamond singing 'Love on the Rocks.' An all time favourite song now tainted forever. Later, in the shower, there come the distant strains of Annie Lennox singing, 'Why.......? Why......?' Another favourite. Spoiled. You would think, would you not, that Simon is pining the loss of his one true love?
For the last few days the flat has been a war zone. He grabs at me from dark corners, bangs on the spare room door just as I'm dropping off to sleep - demanding to 'talk'. He hisses insults, sniping nasty names at every opportunity. Tonight 'The War of the Roses' is on TV - and there he sits staring at me with watery eyes and a devastated, dropped-open mouth as if he's just been stabbed through the soul.
He knows I'm going. I know I'm going.
He doesn't know when.
"I won't let you go, you know that, don't you?" he says.
The film is brilliant and extremely funny. Kathleen Turner is a scream and it's annoying that he's talking through it. Every laugh he winces. "You really are a heartless bitch, aren't you?"