Resolutions are difficult, more so having the interest to follow through with them. This is why Lent is a good time for me; it forces me to make these promises. For the first time since childhood I kick-started the season by getting a light smattering of ashes on my forehead. I am tempted to put a pair of socks on my feet but an image of the crazy man I spotted on the beach has stayed with me. He wore gold flip-flops. Gold flip-flops over white-towelling socks. I am aware of the fact that Jenny does not enjoy seeing me wearing socks with bare legs and sometimes I do it out of spite. For now I refrain.

I walk downstairs and go into the kitchen. Jenny is frowning and trying to take a slice of toast out of the toaster with a steak knife.

Jesus Christ, what are you doing? You’ll electrocute yourself. I’m serious, it’s dangerous. A woman died doing just that a couple of years ago in Donnybrook.

She has her back to me and I place my arms around her and she stays in my embrace but for a split second. She holds the steak knife aloft as if she’s caught in a horror film. It’s like she can’t relax or something. I shrug and walk into the downstairs bathroom to take a piss. Hot urine streams out of me in a giant gush. I always piss like this in the morning.

I go back up to the bedroom and consider having a wank. Jenny brings me tea and I thank her for it, even though it is lukewarm. She hands me the paper, which I am truly grateful for. She kisses me lightly on my cheek and her thin lips are cool on my bed skin.

She leaves me feeling slightly ashamed for going off the edge again about her meeting with Simon Thompson back in February.