“I killed for you, Gail!”

Not much of a Coronation Street fan, but tonight I viewed “The Episode Where Richard Tells Gail” purely as a student of popular culture. And whaddya know; the anti-lipped, floppy-haired git threw a phone around but did precious little harm to his unfortunately-visaged co-star’s mug. Yes, Gail stood up to her serial killer husband and then…er…let him go. The whole time I was thinking “kick him in the nuts, kick him in the nuts” or as Catherine would say “rowshambooey!!” Which means the same but sounds funnier.

Speaking of herself, we spent last weekend in Waterford. Seen as I’ve already taken the piss out of sausage’s Queer As Folkmobile, I doubt she’d mind me taking the piss out of Slaughterford. I mean seriously, what the hell was that all about. You’re cruising along smooth twisty roads, admiring the countryside of south Kilkenny when out of nowhere appears…..Waterford. I really wanted to like the place. Really. But when someone walks into you in Dublin, you say sorry and so does the person who bumped into you. In Dublin, hotels trust their clientele enough not to put electronic tags in the towels. In Dublin, the cinemas don’t have dozens (and I means dozens) of notices instructing you on every last detail (I had to pee at an angle of exactly 45 degrees or a small knife would emerge from the urinal wall and slice off my johnson). Catherine just pointed out to me at one stage the amount of notices everywhere in Waterford and suddenly I saw just how much of a nanny state Waterford city is. The place has no atmosphere, the pubs are strange and I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone’s all down in Tramore having all the fun that was sucked out of Waterford when the Vikings left. Although from what I understand from Irish history, the Vikings stayed and there’s lots of Danish blood in Waterford. So I can’t explain it.

But please don’t get the wrong idea; I had a great time in Waterford. A really good time. I’ve never just got on so well with anyone else in my life. Really. Honestly. I get on better with Catherine than I do with my family. She just knows me; knows me inside out. I don’t feel like I have to impress her or put on any front. And she’s just so beautiful; absolutely amazing and I need her with me. I just feel empty without her. She makes me laugh and smile and I love pretending that it’s always like this when I’m with her.

Now I’ve started a new job. “Permanent and pensionable”. Yep, I’m in a pension scheme. I’m only getting used to the idea of paying health insurance and now this. It seems so…..secure. I just spent today sitting in the office looking over company literature because formal training doesn’t begin until Wednesday. And once that’s done, I’m in. Wearing a shirt and tie, working just before 9 until 5, paying into a pension scheme, paying health insurance, paying PAYE and PRSI and praying for Friday when I can jump on a bus and see her again. This is NOT permanent. I can’t live like this. I simply have to be with her, all the time. And to be honest, I’d be far more comfortable with the idea of being with her permanently than being in this job. Infinitely more comfortable. If she was here all the time, or if I was there, and I had this job…..I’d be made. And she tells me everything will fall into place. And I really hope I will. Because she’s my answer.

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