December 1st '14

Dear Diary,

                     I feel a bit silly beginning all of these entries with "dear diary". I am a middle aged woman for goodness sake! I am not a teenager. I think that in the future I will begin these entries with "Dear Lucy". Yes, that sounds much better. It will feel like I am confiding in an old friend then and not like the pointless midnight ramblings that it is. Oh look at me, diary. I have gone off on another senseless ramble. I'm trying to avoid reality, again. It's John, you see. He's been arrested again. He is being held in custody until the police decide what to do with him. I fear that this is becoming a routine with him. John is involved in all sorts of business, you know. He has made a lot of business from dabbling in drugs in the past, I suspect in the present and most likely in the future. It's my fault, or so he says. If I wasn't such a stupid cow then maybe I could work and earn some money for us all. I agree. But how can I work when we have five children under the age of ten and I don't trust John to look after them? I hear Charity, the six month old, wailing. I must go, diary. Hopefully all will be sorted the next time I write, 

                                                          Sarah