in your hurry to grasp everything that you see, you don't see me

So, it's almost four o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon in my office. There's a tiny glimpse of window where I sit where I can watch trams go by and people who don't know any better trot in and out of the Tesco Express opposite.

It's been five days since we got back from Australia, but it seems like about five decades. The thing about holidays is this: the focus is often made on the location of your trip. Where did you go? What did you see? Did you visit.....? The reality is, however, that whilst yes, I got to see the Sydney Opera House, the beautiful South Bank in Brisbane, the spellbinding Dorrigo National Park and the Hunter Valley the best bit about the entire trip was the fact that we got to put the maximum distance we could (both physically and emotionally) between us and the terrible normalcy of our life in the UK.

For about a week - until I got a text message wishing me a happy birthday - I forgot all about the Ex. Not about the child (gifts were bought early doors) but I did, for a fleeting few days, completely forget she existed. And, what's more, during the whole time we were in Australia, people were *nice* to us. People were polite, and chatty and enjoyed our company. We ate, drank, joked, chatted, travelled, played Scrabble, went to rugby, played pokies and baptised babies in good humour. There was no cloud hanging over us, no unexploded bomb around the corner. And briefly, we got to relax and enjoy the company of each other and the people we were with.

That's what made this a great holiday, and so it didn't really matter whether we were in Sydney or Skegness (other than the fact thaty the people who made us so welcome and so, er, normal were based in Sydney. Skegness might have been nice, but there wouldn't have been friends and family in it).

As I have mentioned previously, that lovely calm was completely shattered towards the end of our visit - completely deliberately and with the maximum impact in mind. And as much as outwardly I'll pretend that it didn't spoil our trip, it really bloody did. Because not only was the content spiteful and ultimately heartbreaking (she has decided Maddie is to come to us less often) it was a reminder of the sheer hell of our normal life for the other fifty weeks of the year. Somehow we'd manage to partly forget the hideousness of our day to day lives and so this email brought us back to earth with a resounding bump.

Getting back to the UK it appears to have improved little. Notwithstanding the untimely demise of the cat, I have today had to change my bank account to avoid a repeat of the Ex appropriating a small-ish (but not insignificant) sum of money from the account through which I pay my maintenance (the e-mail I sent to her on Saturday regarding this has been ignored as far as I can tell).

I've also today been given the less than spectacular news that I am being forced to take a significant salary reduction thanks to the ongoing problems our business and the market in general are experiencing. We were already in a situation where our household finances were stretched to breaking point (despite a number of proactive measure on both our parts to live more parsimoniously) and this latest bombshell has resulted in further financial cutbacks to prevent ourselves going under completely.

(I appreciate that the sentiment of me complaining about our financial meltdown having just returned from Australia for three weeks seems slightly incongruous. What I would say, however, is that I am 99% sure that we spent less money in Australia (thanks to the hospitality of our hosts etc) than we would have done had we stayed in the UK for that period. Clearly, therefore, it was only the flights that were our significant expense).

At 6am on Sunday morning when the little one's chesty cough necessitated her dad providing a glass of milk and some magic cough medicine, I had a bit of a moment. By the faint pink light of her bedside lamp (and clearly a bit tired and emotional over the cat's demise) I found myself crying as I explained to her in a whisper that she was always welcome at our house, that we would always love her, that she lives in my head all the time she isn't with us and that if she ever wants to visit, or come away with us (or anything) she just needs to remember to ask her mother. I don't expect she'll ever get a "yes", but at the age of almost five I think she can comprehend that I mean what I say and her memory is good enough to remember the things I tell her, even in the light of the anti-messages she is clearly getting from her mother.

I had a nice surprise today also when I received a call from her schoolteacher. I'd e-mailed the school as I was getting conflicting messages from Maddie and the Ex about how she was getting on. Maddie tells me she loves school and is doing really well whereas the Ex tells me she is tearful, missing her mum and doesn't want to go. It turns out that (surprise, surprise) I should be listening to Maddie as her teacher tells me she is a "fantastic little girl" and was disappointed to hear I was getting mixed messages. Anyway, she told me she was happy for me to speak to her on an ongoing basis, and I was told about the school Christmas performance next week which I will certainly make an effort to attend. If the Ex ever responds to my e-mail, that is, as I will do her the courtesy of telling her I am going....

With the reduction in time we are going to get with Maddie from January onwards (two nights a month, which is frankly scandalous in my opinion) I have found myself thinking thoughts which I dislike immensely. I might see a pretty item of clothing, or a book she'd like and find myself thinking "what's the point? She won't be here to wear it/read it anyway." Once or twice I have even qwuestioned why I am investing time in playing with her and spending all this time in her company if, in the long run, she is going to barely ever see me. I appreciate that I should be doing everything I can in the time that I do have now, and I am really saddened by the way this reduction in access is making me feel.

Whilst the struggle of our everyday lives is pretty tough (on any given day) I remain thankful for the fact I have these two beautiful girls to help me get through it. The younger of the two - as rarely as I am going to get to see her - cheers me with her little, burgeoning personality and her quirks. I love to teach her about new things, and she seems keen to learn and watching her develop (even in the fortnights between her visits) is really something special.

The older of the two - well, where do I start? A couple of people in Australia told me that they were really glad to see the Hen looking so happy and taking a modicum of credit for that is really nice. They'd have seen me looking happy too as (with the odd aeroplane seat fuelled tantrum excepted) I got to spend days and weeks (for once) in the company of my beautiful wife getting a glimpse into her "previous life" with her charming and generous friends and family. I know that she scoffs if you tell her she is "one in a million" (she'll tell you that means there are five more of her in New South Wales alone) but if I were to say she was "one in a billion" (and bearing in mind the others might be in places like Turkmenistan, or El Salvador, or Katoomba) the miracle of me finding her is, well, amazing. (As her father alluded to when we met, incidentally.)

I love her quite a lot, you know. She's like off of one of the real good ones.

Anyway, it's getting dark outside and I've had enough of work. I struggle to get motivated on any given day in the present dire economic climate, but on a day when the jetlag remains as acute as ever (incidentally, I always scoffed a bit at jetlag as a concept - I always thought it was mainly people grumbling about having too little sleep on an aeroplane. Now I realise it's horrific, and how people fly to far flung places for one off sporting events before coming home to perform a few days later is beyond me), I feel rough as a badgers arse (on account of catching the child's cough and cold) and I have been told I am having my salary reduced, the levels of enthusiasm are at a bit of a nadir.