Dear Diary: My Summer in Chaos (Thanks Love Rituals)

Monday, 1st June

Dear Diary,

What a chaotic weekend. I met Alice after three months of Facebook messaging. Bumped into her in Waterloo, recognised her straight away. She didn't recognise me, mistook my pleased-to-meet-you hug for a sex attack and pepper sprayed me in the eyes. She was very apologetic after I stopped screaming and managed to explain who I was. She even gave me a lift to the local A&E where they washed my eyes out and gave me oxygen to help with my irritated lungs.

Took a leap of faith and asked her on a date. Admittedly she looked like a frightened deer fixed in the headlights of a speeding truck, but leveraging her guilt as a way of advancing my romantic agenda seemed fair to me.

After all, even a pity date is still a win in my book!

Jerry.

Saturday 5th June

Dear Diary,

I am such a clumsy idiot. Our first date was an epic disaster; we were going to meet up at the beach to take her dog for a walk then have a light lunch.

what could go wrong?

I caught the wrong train and arrived at our arranged meeting place an hour late, not the best start. She had dressed up and looked lovely with her hair hanging down in ringlets and her makeup beautifully done. Me on the other hand had overslept, rushed out of the house without shaving or combing my unruly hair and grabbed the nearest clothes from the heap on the floor. Needless to say, I looked like an unkempt colourblind hobo with odd socks.

So, I was already flustered and rushed forward to give her a hug. I didn't see her excited spaniel until it was too late, stood on the dog's paw, tripped and pitched both of us onto the pavement.

We spent the next hour looking for her dog who had limped off yelping, dragging its lead behind it. The following two hours were spent waiting with said dog at the vets while its treatment costs put a sizeable dent in my bank account. Luckily the x-rays showed nothing broken and the vet's opinion was it was a nasty bruise and would be better in a week or so. During this time my left wrist had begun to balloon up and turn a funny purple colour.

We spent our last 6 hours in A&E after dropping the dog off at her house, it was the same triage nurse who had seen me the week before and took pity on me, giving stern looks at Alice and asking me if I needed to talk to anybody, and did I feel safe.

Turns out my wrist was a nasty sprain and would need a support bandage for a couple of weeks.

Doubled down on the pity date strategy and managed to secure a date for two weeks' time. At the beach again, but this time without the trip hazard who would be left at home after extra treats.

Just like the Nazareth song "Love Hurts" I saw my painful wrist as a downpayment on future bliss.

Jerry

Sunday 6th June

Dear Diary,

I have come up with a master plan; a can't fail masterpiece of romantic brilliance, filled with deep emotional connection, serious soul searching and emotional cleansing.

A Blackadder level cunning plan: this plan is worthy of Cleopatra; I will be Alice's Mark Anthony and woo her into submission.

This plan is flawless, cunning in its execution and elegant in its simplicity.

I will put the 6 hours we spent talking in A&E to good use.

Alice has deep trauma from her last relationship. He broke her heart and she has been left with deep emotional scarring. If I can fix this I am in the golden zone!!!

We had also chattered about my last relationship and how it had ended with my girlfriend's indifference and my damaged self-worth.

Both relationships were 7 years long.

What is needed here is a love ritual, not just one, but three.

Ritual One: Write the good memories from each year on paper, read them over champagne on the beach, fold into boats, let them sail away.

Ritual Two: Write the bad memories from each year, burn them, cast the ashes into the wind.

Ritual Three: Write a letter to "The Fates" asking for what we want from a future relationship, release it on a helium balloon.

What could go wrong?

Jerry

PS. I emailed the rituals to Alice and she loved the idea. Our next date will be on the same beach as our first was going to be on.

So excited, this is perfect!

Saturday, 19th June

Dear Diary,

Well that escalated quickly.

I should have checked the weather report or even taken notice of the constant references to Storm "Hannah" in the news and the warnings about danger to life and best not to travel. This should have given me a clue and perhaps suggested rescheduling the date. Hindsight always mocks you after the event.

We met at the entrance to the beach at 10 in the morning, it was already grey, cold and blustery. At least my wrist had healed, one less thing to go wrong. I had chilled champagne, strawberries and my neat bundle of ritual notes to make into boats in my rucksack. Alice had a canvas shoulder bag filled with snacks and a picnic blanket. She had also brought the trip hazard so I could bond with it.

We made it as far as the dunes and decided to find a comfy spot between them to read our ritual notes and share some champagne before taking my folded boats to the water's edge and setting them free. Alice had decided she wanted the romance of putting her ritual notes in a plastic bottle to send them off. Sheltering in a cramped sandy gully we hunkered down on the picnic blanket as Storm Hannah started to pick up pace. We took turns to read our pages as we sipped champagne and ate strawberries; this was going so well. I had finished reading my last page when it started to rain, lightly at first but then getting heavier as the wind started to pick up.

By the time I had folded five of my boats, the paper was getting too wet to make any more. I told Alice I had only folded five out of the seven, but as the last two years were rubbish, it didn't really matter. We packed our stuff into our bags and left them in the dunes to collect later and set out on the short walk to the water's edge.

Storm Hannah was raging, the beach a horizontal deluge of sandblasting pain. The tide had gone out, water's edge nowhere to be seen.

I stumbled forward half blind, found a scummy puddle, tried to set my boats down. Disaster. Soggy bits were picked up by the wind and scattered across the beach. I looked round to see if Alice was having any better luck but saw through my sand filled eyes the trip hazard had fetched the bottle she had thrown towards a rivulet running down the beach and Alice was now running up and down in the storm winds trying to retrieve it from the dog.

This was definitely not the affirming and cleansing ritual of love I imagined we would be doing.

Later as we sat in the pub laughing about the days adventures Alice asked if I had any holiday free, which I had, and suggested we go camping for our next date on Saturday the 3rd and complete the next ritual.

I have no idea how this disaster of a day turned into Alice suggesting a camping trip, not sure I will ever understand women (or dogs).

Better dig out the old tent, it's not seen the sun for a couple of years, but it is a posh inflatable one.

Camping, posh tent, love ritual, what could go wrong?

Jerry

Saturday, 3rd July

Dear Diary,

That's the car packed, tent squeezed in, I had forgotten how huge it was. Off to pick up Alice and the trip hazard for a week at Robin Hood's Bay. Can't wait. I will spill all the goss when I get home. The love doctor is in the house.

Jerry

PS

The tent did seem to have a bit of a musty smell but I am sure it will air out when it's unpacked.

Leaving the Diary at home will catch up when I get back.

Saturday, 7th July

Dear Diary,

Well, that could have started better!

It took us six hours to get to the campsite. I had accidentally put the wrong postcode in the Sat-Nav and we ended up about 70 miles from Robin Hood's Bay. After driving up and down the "You have arrived safely at your destination" location I gave in and re-entered the address in the Sat-Nav.

That was embarrassing.

Another 90 mins later we arrive later in the afternoon than I had wanted and the weather was starting to turn from a cloudless blue sky into a more greyish blustery one. No problem really all we had to do is roll the tent out, peg the base and then plug in the air pump and hey presto ready tent.

In hindsight I perhaps should have checked that the tent would actually inflate. After another wasted half an hour, we agreed the tent was done for and Alice being the sensible one said there was a Go Outdoors only 30 minutes' drive away and we could get there before it closed and buy whatever they had in stock.

Returning to the campsite after our "Joint Purchase" the weather had taken a turn for the worst, apparently storm Iris had decided to batter the northeast coast, my luck. We started to assemble a tent we had never seen before, without instructions (I dropped them and the wind apparently needed them more than me). Luckily after struggling for twenty minutes a few other campers rallied round and the tent was up. Exhausted we set up the bed, camping kitchen, electric hook up, and various other tables and chairs. Alice offered to make dinner while I took a break and enjoyed a glass of wine. The trip hazard decided to spoil this moment of domestic bliss by engaging in bonding rituals with my leg. After several unsuccessful attempts to peel the dog off me I managed to spill my wine all over it. Alice wasn't pleased, and the dog now eyed me with suspicion. So far, the bonding not going well at all, with either of them!

The next morning Storm Iris had stomped off, leaving blue skies and sunshine. We took the trip hazard to Robin Hood's Bay for cockles and ice cream, skimmed stones on the beach, then headed back for lunch and ritual No. 2.

That's all I have time for today. Will finish catching up tomorrow.

Jerry

Sunday, 8th July

Dear Diary,

Part two!! This did not go the way I had hoped it would. It started brilliantly; we told each other about all the bad stuff in our relationships (we both had a small pile of paper between us). I got the BBQ started and placed the pile of paper on top. I could never have predicted what would happen next. The paper did not burn, it turned into thick white smoke, lots of it. The campsite descended into a thick smoky peasouper. You literally could not see the tent opposite; the campsite's owners must have thought half the tents were ablaze and called the fire brigade, the police and the ambulance service. I think it must have snowballed into a major incident as 3 fire engines, 4 ambulances, and half a dozen police cars turned up sirens blazing. The only thing missing was a partridge in a pear tree.

As you can imagine it was pandemonium. It was only Alice's explanation that she was dating an idiot who was clearly addicted to romantic gestures and was probably the clumsiest man on earth. Once they had all stopped laughing (some were actually crying and one of the ambulance paramedics was taking gulps of oxygen between fits of hysterical laughter), things began to de-escalate. As if being laughed at was not bad enough having to step out of the police car to be de-arrested, uncuffed and left to take the walk of shame back through a waiting line of chuckling campers, while trying to wipe wet strands of ash from my face completed my humiliation.

It's getting too dark to write now, we have had a power cut plunging the whole block into darkness. I lost the torch when we went camping and I haven't kept candles in the flat since I set fire to the bath.

Will finish the holiday catch up tomorrow.

Jerry.

Monday, 9th July

Dear Diary,

So here it is. After the humiliation of the absolute horror the first half of the second ritual descended into, I told Alice we were best to call the ritual a bust and if she wanted, we could go home (I was feeling very deflated and pretty sure I had destroyed any chances, no matter how slim, of romantic bliss). Alice surprised me by insisting we carry on and complete the second half of the second ritual. I reminded her we only had a small first aid kit and I had already used a couple of the big ones after cutting my hand peeling the potatoes for our bangers and mash.

She was insistent!

It's only in hindsight that what happened next could have been predicted and possibly prevented.

I had dried out most of the soggy ashes over the next day. Alice had insisted, she had had enough excitement for now and wanted to sunbath by the tent but had scheduled an early start for the ritual the next day. We would walk from the campsite to Whitby along the coast and cast the ashes halfway. It seems at this point I have lost control of the ritual and Alice has embraced the madness and taken control, (maybe that's a good thing?)

We set off in brilliant sunshine, The three of us. The trip hazard was loving all the new smells and I even had a go at driving (holding the lead) and nothing bad happened. At this point I remember thinking that this was such a perfect day and that nothing could go wrong.

Keeping to the coastal path, tick.

keeping away from the cliff edge, tick.

Not treading on or tripping over the trip hazard, tick.

Holding Alice's hand, tick.

Things went from a perfect walk filled with fluttering tingles in tummies to air ambulance on the way in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

Let me explain.

We made it to the halfway point without incident. Alice found a perfect fallen tree to stand on to release her ashes into the gentle breeze blowing out to the sea over the cliff edge. In this beautiful and serene moment Alice climbed up onto the tree's trunk and shaking the bag released an almost zen like stream of ashes in an undulating ribbon towards the sea, sheer poetry, till I impulsively thought it would be a great idea to let my ashes go to chase hers, I could never have anticipated what happened next.

A sudden and unpredictable gust of wind as I threw my ashes as high as I could, gathered them into a small cloud of disaster and blew back over my head into Alice's eyes. Reeling from the pain of having her eyes filled with gritty ash she fell backwards into the hawthorn behind her and landed with an awful thump. I ran to her side and she started screaming, it was only when I took my size twelves off her hand that she whispered, "I think I've broken my foot, my eyes, I can't see, and you were standing on my hand you idiot".

It is only for the kindness of strangers that Alice was rescued. A lovely couple stopped to help; his wife was a nurse and helped make Alice more comfortable and washed the ash out of her eyes. As there was no phone signal her husband noted where we were on his GPS walking watch and set off running towards Whitby. By the time he got back the air ambulance had landed in the field behind us and Alice was being loaded in. The couple walked me to Whitby, then took me in their car to the hospital Alice was airlifted to.

Turns out she had not broken her ankle but sprained it, but she had broken two fingers where I had stood on her hand. She had to have the two fingers strapped together and one eye had been scratched by the ash grit so she had to take drops and wear an eye patch.

Got to go now Alice is shouting she wants another cup of tea and could I bring some biscuits as well. After all I couldn't let Alice fend for herself with her broken fingers and severely sprained foot, could I? So, she is staying at mine until she is well enough to go home.

While waiting for the kettle to boil I wondered why Alice had embraced the madness as enthusiastically as she had, why the trip hazard (must start calling it "Beany") had taken to sitting on my feet and giving me long gazes. I will never understand what makes Alice or Beany tick, but I'm glad they do. Maybe it's best to leave Ritual Three on the page, probably safest.

I have only tripped over Beany twice today!

So, all in all, the love rituals worked a treat and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Jerry