Life, love and milky coffee

On the way home from the Dogs Trust I called in on beautiful Aunty Margaret. It had been a while since I had seen her. Writing my blog-tribute to her this week made me long to visit, for some straight-talking, milky coffee and battenburg.

I told her about Rochester, to be fair, she never liked the swarthy rogue. It was an interesting conversation. Aunty M. unprompted by me, started to talk about the emotional inheritance that flows through families.

'You were brought up by loving parents, who loved you and were devoted to you and who loved and were devoted to each other. That's what you expect, that is how you think everyone should be. Most people aren't like that though, they are just too damaged.'

She is right, of course, I am frighteningly naive. But I am also glad, I would rather be open and optimistic and see the good in people. I'd rather give love unconditionally and openly, without guile or cynicism. My problem seems to be that everyone I fall for is the opposite, everyone seems to be damaged and wary.

I'm not sure how to move forward with it all. I am really not sure I could put myself through it all again. I can remember, early on, Rochester trying to calm my nerves about our first meeting.

'I don't know what you're worried about petal. It's win/ win surely?'