Having cancelled my play with Funiculosus and my family visit for tomorrow, I decided to take advantage of the sunshine and grab a few bits to eat in the week. I might have a cold, but I still have to eat.

On the way home, I saw my husband coming in the other direction. He would have walked right past me if I hadn’t stopped him.

We hugged and he asked me how I was feeling.

I asked if he fancied a coffee. He suggested Coffee #1, so that’s where we went.

Seems that he’s been given steroids and antibiotics to cope with the rheumatism and the lung infection, which seems to be troubling him still. I hope that I was sat far enough from him not to be putting him at risk of catching my nascent cold.

The steroids were already working and he was mobile again, but he was also bringing up yellow gunk when he coughed.

I could only talk about my health, work, the house, and family – my friends and sex life I don’t feel able to broach with him yet. That was enough to be getting on with. I even asked if he’d mind rehanging the radiator in the kitchen; he wouldn’t, but since it would also require some welding, he says I might as well get a plumber to do it.

He told me that my dad had sent him a card with £50 in it, which has made him feel uncomfortable because “the relationship was over”. Thing is, my dad has always been fond of my husband and always asks about him when we speak.

My husband had always said that his connection to my family existed only as long as he was with me. I’ve always thought was nonsense, and my conversations with Patricius have borne it out: his mum remained friends with all his exes and he remained friends with all his exes’ mums.

I said that perhaps he was wrong about losing my family if we separated!

I knew that my family thought more of my husband than he ever recognised, his own family being so unreliable as a source of love and support and so prone to breaking off contact rather than sitting with a bit of discomfort for the bigger rewards.

My family still see him as being a part of it, even if he’d written them off years ago.

Because his mental health has been so poor, the doctor had only been writing him a prescription for one week at a time, which meant that he had to go to the chemist every week.

I said that I didn’t know whether he’d had any Black Days, but if not perhaps he could ask to go back on monthly prescriptions. Seems that he has felt very low at times and he was deciding not to return to monthly scripts for his own good. That’s a big change from when he lived with me where he’d been chomping to get back to monthly prescriptions as soon as possible. It seems that living alone is forcing him to take responsibility for his own wellbeing.

He brought up Christmas day. We had over the long years of our relationship, developed our own little traditions around Christmas. I found that I was sad and emotional realising that these were gone now.

I was grateful that he’d brought it up though because we were able to state our needs (when I’m arrive, how long I’ll stay for) so that the day is relaxed. I said that I hoped that when we parted at the end of the day that we felt that we could have enjoyed more time together rather than feel that it was too much – little l like leaving a meal feeling as though a tiny bit more would be nice rather than feeling stuffed and uncomfortable.

Questions around exactly when I’ll leave are still open: after the Strictly Christmas Special, or after the Michael McIntyre show. Maybe even watch a film together afterwards. We also agreed on being able to say “I’ve had enough now” without feeling bad about it.

Whether the dog comes is still open. He doesn’t need to decide that until the day itself. And he doesn’t live too far from the house, so I could bring her to stay with and take her home later without too much trouble.

We parted company with new feeling happy – it was really good to see him and I was very glad that the boundaries around Christmas were settled: we can both relax now.