The Bear has been in bed since Sunday with aches and pains, nausea and a touch of the runs. After another sleepless night - mainly due to his coughing - I decided to call the doctor in to see what she could give him in the way of medication that wouldn't disagree with the vast quantity of pills he already swallows.

She arrived just before 11, examined the poorly looking creature in the bed and announced that he did NOT have 'flu, as I'd suspected, but she didn't know what it was. She would not prescribe anything to help him sleep because he is prone to asthma but she would give him a cough syrup and something to settle his sickness and diarrhoea.

Once she had gone, Bear appeared much more with it. He decided he could eat some cereal and complained I didn't spend enough time with him. (When I have a migraine or flu I just want to left alone and most times when I tiptoed to look in the bedroom yesterday he was snoring). So, I made the mistake of sitting down beside the bed when I went back to retrieve his breakfast tray.

He started with lots of invective towards the other members of the household. It seems he had peeped into the dining room last night and seen us having a meal and this had provoked a severe attack of jealousy. He maintains he does not want to eat at the same table as the rest of us and accuses me of 'playing happy families' but I'm pretty sick of eating from a tray in  front of the TV every day, giving Whale his meal on his desk in the library and watching the kids get their own food and take it up to their rooms.

CC and I decided it would be much better to cook the main meal together and eat at the table.

Bear continued to berate everyone and then became tearful. I did feel sorry for him but part of me remained  unmoved (untakenin?) and I couldn't help thinking of times in the past when the situation was reversed. I would weep buckets over his attitude towards the children and to me and he would simply twist the knife in the wound. One night I was so miserable I drove to the Samaritan's office in town. After speaking to someone for quite a time she suggested I should go home where she was sure he would be worried about me. I said I doubted it so she rang him. He was asleep, hadn't missed me, was surprised to learn where I was and told her he'd be waiting to reassure me when I got back. In fact he was snoring when I returned.

Anyway, to get back to this morning, Bear cried that he was so unhappy here he wanted to move out as soon as he was well enough. He didn't want to go back to England because he liked it here in France so he might get a gite or something. He claimed that I didn't understand how he felt about living with them and that I was splitting myself in three - no, two and a half, and he was only getting the half.

The problem is, I do understand what he wants - to have me totally to himself, to wait on him hand, foot and stomach, and not to see other people or have other interests. I've been there, done that, worn the t-shirt, and am not prepared to go there again.

I will look after him but on my terms, and, not unnaturally, he has difficulty accepting that.