I sometimes think about the small culture shocks I still feel living in this part of the country, after close to a decade, and wonder about the bigger ones Reka has had to deal with. She says she finds it hard to get used to the politeness of British people, finds it overdone, and was shocked at the levels of gossip when she first arrived in the UK. ‘I hear so many conversations where people seem to be talking about a woman they know, in a disapproving way,’ she told me. ‘It’s always “she” something, something she did, they are mentioning.’ Ever since she told me this, I’ve become more aware of it myself – especially in the staff room and refectory at work. Today we talked about Christmas, which I plan to do approximately nothing for. Reka said Christmas is different in Hungary anyway, as it’s the Baby Jesus, not Santa Claus, who brings the presents. ‘But we also have Santa Claus Day, where we leave our shoes near the window.’ She seems quieter at the moment. Maybe it is the distraction of the new man. He is called Greg and works at a garage in Exeter. I feel more ill, a bit like an animal with sharp teeth is eating my insides.

The builders didn’t come to sort the wall but Nick, Flora’s guy, did. I don’t know how good a job he did but I have my suspicions it’s of a temporary nature. Nobody came over to look at any of the other damp issues in the house. Before Nick arrived, Reka and I packed the shoe and the doll back inside the brickwork and covered them up. I am not superstitious, but I think some people who once lived in this house interred them in the wall for a reason, and I think it’s best that we respect that. I don’t know if Nick saw them when he repaired the wall. I certainly haven’t mentioned any of it to Flora. I am still attempting to get the money back from her for the work by the drainage company. Still ill, and none of this is helping.

NOVEMBER