It just doesn’t feel right… and the way I’m feeling now, I'm not sure it ever will.

12

This holiday is proving to be neither a fun distraction from my life nor a distraction-free writer’s retreat. I’m not relaxing. I’m not getting any work done. I’m not really sure where I fall between these two opposites, but I’m not really having much fun.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had any fun… that first night with Freddie, to the best of my memory, was a lot of fun, and chatting with him earlier today was sort of nice, just to have some human interaction with someone who wasn’t rejecting me from a spa or selling me crisps in bulk.

I’m not surprised I’m having trouble writing a romance novel, after everything I’ve been through. I’ve had the occasional bout of stress-related writer’s block in the past – never anything like this though. What usually helps me is to relax, so I’m going to try and do a bunch of the little things I would usually do to try and chill myself out. I always work better when I’m chilled.

Normally I would just try a couple of techniques, but these are not normal circumstances, so I’m going to try every last thing I can think of – that I’m capable of doing alone, at least.

I’ve finally cracked open the welcome champagne that was left in the bedroom for my husband and me. Well, it’s not as if he’s really supposed to be turning up late, as I told the guy on Reception, is it? And I’m not exactly saving it for any gentleman company. So I’ve poured myself a glass, while I’m running my bath.

Booze – check. Bath – check.

The bathroom here is amazing, because of course it is, because everything here is amazing apart from their policy on single people.

The bath is taking a little longer to fill than your average bath, because this bath is huge. I’d imagine it was built with two people in mind, just like everything else. So I’ve got two people’s amount of champagne in a bath big enough for two people – I finally feel like I’m winning again.

I dip a toe in to test the temperature of the water before placing my glass on the side, climbing in and lying back. The water is so deep, unlike in my bath at home. We recently got a new one – exactly the same size as our old one, because we only have so much space, but the new one doesn’t have the previous occupier’s neglect turning to mould around the edges. The problem is that, because it’s relatively small, you just can’t get a deep bath, and my boobs and my knees will always poke out of the water like desert islands. In this bath though… it’s so deep, I could submerge myself if I wanted to. I’ll settle for water up to my chin for now.