On the second day of my long break I woke up gently, wandered downstairs and made the dog and myself some breakfast. Then into the garden to play for a while.

Mornings are much less tense: I really do need quiet in the morning.

I planned to go for a cycle in the morning, and then go to the beach with the dog. I found myself wondering if my husband would like to come and whether I should or even could ask him. Would it be giving him mixed signals? What time are we allowed to share together? These things I do not know and need to discuss with Richard (my counsellor) tomorrow.

After that gentle start, I went for a cycle. I’d planned to go to Winchester, but took a wrong turn and ended up taking the long way round to Romsey. Many of the roads were through tree-tunnels, where the canopy has covered the road. You get the hypnotic flickering of light and shade as you pass underneath them.

The woods smelt of dry leaves and cool air. It wasn’t as relaxing as I would have liked because the road was the national speed limit (60mph on that kind of road), the road was windy, and there were cars zipping past – fortunately, most of them gave me plenty of room.

I stopped at Romsey, bought a flapjack and a drink, and sat under the East windows to phone my dad. In the churchyard, there was some folky-religious music silvering the air. It was a warm and relaxing spot.

It was the usual chat with my dad, where he waxes lyrical about a female friend from his drinking club, who looks after him. She is an absolute gem. She’s the only friend that he says anything nice about! He has a lot of friends, but sometimes it seems that he doesn’t like any of them.

I am seeing him next weekend for his birthday, which I dread as he will probably invite his buddies, which can make me feel uncomfortable..

From Romsey, I cycled back to the house along country lanes, with more stroboscopic foliage. The smell of fresh water sweetening the air further.

I had planned to spend the day at the beach with the dog, but the beaches around here have no shelter and she was struggling with the the heat even in the garden. I decided to go in the evening instead.

So I filled in some time pottering around the house doing chores, when a message came from the husband: “do you fancy meeting me for a coffee this afternoon?”

I was already thinking of him, and so when his message came through, I couldn’t resist.

We met at my favourite cafe, where we had coffee and a rocky road. The cafe was a little busy for a Sunday, but it was some kind of celebration day: a live singer began and that made the conversation really difficult to follow.

Our talk to start with was about domestic issues, such as wiring in TVs, sorting out Amazon subscriptions, and disposal of cardboard boxes. After an hour of struggling to hear each other, I suggested we find somewhere outside to talk.

I’d asked whether he’d like to come to the beach with me and the dog that evening. “No” was the rapid answer, but followed by a counter proposal: how about the nudist beach in Portsmouth?

“Hell yeah!” I said.

“Of course, that depends on how I am feeling about my body on the day,” he said. I understand that. I feel often flabby and don’t want to show my belly to anybody.

I really wish I knew how and when the energy of the conversation started to change, but it began to get heavy. He needs to know what we are and what we mean to one another. I do to – perhaps now is a safer time to work that out, given that we have our own safe places to go back to.

There was a lot of the usual about him being lied to about my gender issues, that I would announce something, or change my mind. I tried to explain how difficult it is working out what I feel about something when I immediately have to also manage his feelings as well.

I kept wondering about if or when I should mention my planned trip to London to see Cicero. I am always holding back because I don’t want to cause him pain, I certainly don’t want to trigger him, and I am also mindful of my own emotional limitations.

I mentioned it and straight away the tone of the conversation changed: “You’re upset, aren’t you?” I asked. He was.

He said that he knew what I meant when I said that I was going to London for a couple of days. After I came back from seeing Cicero last time, I said that next time I went that I would want to “play”. To be clear “play” here means, well, sex. I was dreadfully concerned that he had been triggered – he assured me that whilst he was upset, he wasn’t triggered.

Somehow, the conversation circled back to “what are we to each other?” He said that we weren’t “friends, intimate, or family”. I said that we had been family, but is choices pushed them away. He said that he knew that if we separated, that he would lose them too. Possibly, but his choice has made that certain.

I said that we hadn’t really been friends in our marriage, and perhaps that was a critical missing element in our marriage.

I felt slightly pissed off that the conversation had “gone there”, but it needs to if we are be even friends, we have to be able to negotiate what that means and how that looks to us both.

He said a couple of times about “breaking all ties”.

That thought breaks my heart, but on days like today it feels like that might be the only option.