I read somewhere that a sign of being in love  - or maybe just a mutual attraction - was that a couple would frequently look into one another's eyes and smile.

That can't have been happening much in this house.

"Why?" you may ask.

Well, today Bear asked me to look through his Christmas letter which he had struggled to type on the computer.

There was one part that made me sit up and take notice. He was writing about my cataract operations last January and claimed that since then I have not worn glasses except for reading.

I looked a him in surprise.

"What do you mean by saying I don't wear glasses?"

"Well you don't, do you. Except when you're reading."

"What are these then?" I asked, pointing to my specs - the ones he came to the opticians with me to choose and then collect. The ones I have been wearing since March. The ones I often clean with wet wipes after I've cleaned his.

"But I've seen you walking about without glasses" he protested.

That's strange because he's usually snoring when I get up, although, yes, I can now manage in the bathroom without any artificial aid whereas previously I had to put my contact lenses in before having a shower as my thick glasses would get steamed up.

I'd be the first to admit that I'm no oil painting but hasn't he really looked at me for nearly a whole year or am I just an invisible servant who provides his food and does his washing and ironing?

Despite the weather the tree outside is as decorated as it is going to be. We have had to dodge the wind and the rain to get this far and having seen  that the tree opposite is losing it's tinsel already, our decorations are tied on with wool and string.

Yesterday Jay and I went in search of an 'indoor' tree. Last year we found one at the local nursery but this time we were too late. The only choices left were too small and far too expensive so we went on to Carrefour where there were still loads of  'sapins' at reasonable prices. They were on display in the carpark, attended by a tough little lady who emerged from her wooden cabin to show us her wares.

We made our choice and she carried it to the 'wrapping machine' while we went to the petrol cashier to pay. When we came back she lifted it easily all by herself and loaded into the car. The boot wouldn't close but, never mind, we'd take it slowly.

CC spent the evening decorating and today I did the baking(homemade mincemeat - minus suet - because the French don't know what it is) and Jay bought some wine and spices for our traditional family celebration when the tree is up - mulled wine and mince pies.

Bear, of course, did not wish to join in and sat in front of the television doggedly watching Airline (must be the unpteenth repeat) and eating fishpie because he does not want to eat with us later.

He always says he hates Christmas but we manage to enjoy it inspite of his petty moodiness.

So much for the season of goodwill to all men in our house.

Bear has definitely not been himself recently.

Apart from the worrying fact that his short term memory seems to be failing and his knees are really playing up he is actually being NICE.

Yes, of course, there are moments of irritability but his overall demeanour, for nearly a month  now, has been calm, pleasant and (almost) affectionate.

"Why?" you hear me cry. "What can possibly be the reason?"

Why has he been so goodtempered when everything should be conspiring to put him in a black mood. The bedroom is still not quite finished so he is sleeping on a mattress on the floor in the lounge while, for the last week, I've been able to make it upstairs and get a better night's rest on the clic-clac (bed settee) in the spare room.

What's made him so solicitous for my health and well-being? A couple of weeks ago he brought me a cup of tea before I was up. This came as such a shock that  I was completely disorientated and had trouble getting into my routine of chores that morning.

When I've been reluctant to go into town to eat he hasn't shouted and accused me of not doing what he wanted. No, he has agreed that he didn't really feel like it either.

The only outing we have had, apart from doctor's appointments was to buy a new wardrobe to replace the one that fell apart. (He has put it together again in the garage but it would collapse if we were to try and move it back.)  He saw an advertisement in the brochures that clutter up the letter box every Tuesday.

I groaned inwardly. It was at my least favourite shop, and it was priced at 179 euros: enough to tell you that it would not be very good quality.

Nevertheless, not wishing to be accused of pouring cold water on his ideas I agreed to go and look. The said article was virtually hidden at the back of the shop and looked even worse in the 'flesh' than it did in the leaflet.

However, I held my breath  - and my tongue - waiting for his reaction.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Well, it's not put together very well and the handles aren't very nice. . . . "

"No, it's a bit of a disappointment." he agreed. "Let's go and look in BUT."

Now, BUT isn't a great deal better than the store in question but it was worth a try and it was a relief to escape the monstrosity we had come to see.

There were wardrobes I liked at this shop, but they were far too expensive. In the end, we compromised on something that didn't look as cheap and nasty as the one we had seen at first but wouldn't break the bank.

Bearing in mind Bear's state of health and record of disastrous DIY I insisted on paying a bit extra for 'livraison et montage'. He protested (he had offered to foot the bill) but gave in remarkably easily. We're expecting delivery on Wednesday.

Apart from that little outing life has been incredibly quiet - almost relaxing: definitely not normal for us.

Bear is simply not 'dans son assiette' (in his plate). In other words, he is not himself, he's under the weather or he's sickening for something.

The 13th October is the day, twenty three years ago when Bear and I got married. (In case you were wondering, no, it wasn't a Friday!)

My children were not sure whether or not they wanted to attend. In the end CC came to support me but Jay stayed with his dad. My parents actually came this time. (They didn't when I married Whale) and my sister was my witness. Bear's brother was his.

The only time I'd been to a Registry Office ceremony before was when my mum married my stepfather. That was a pretty downbeat  day too.

Anyway, we did the deed and came out to a grey, Autumnal day. The guests were coming back to the house - the house where Bear had lived with his first wife but he had bought her share - for a drink and a snack. We got in his car and CC came to the rear door.

"You can't come with us. Your mum belongs to me now." said Bear.

Those were the words that cut into my heart  - the only words I remember from that day and that was the beginning of the end.

Unfortunately I was so shocked I didn't react as I should have done. Looking back, how I regret not walking out there and then, telling him to get stuffed and having the strength to start again on my own.

But I was a coward, an idiot, selfish because it would have been so hard to give up on the marriage I had been hoping for ( yes I really did love him then ) - call it what you will. I took CC to our friends' car  'because they don't know where the house is and you can show them.' and then I got back into the car with him to start our life as man and 'acquisition.'

Actually, there was no question of a honeymoon as I was accompanist to a choir and they had a concert that everning, and, of course, it was back to school on Monday.

Bear managed to delay putting beds in the rooms for CC and Jay for over a fortnight but they eventually joined us.

My dreams of making a real home for the four of us were thwarted at every turn by Bear's jealousy. Although I had full custody of the children it was up to them when they wanted to visit or stay with their dad and as the years went by they chose to spend more and more time with him because they felt so unwelcome under our roof.

At the age of sixteen CC could stand it no more. Bear had read some of her comments about him in her diary and had trashed it. Despite the fact that she is claustrophobic and hated having her bedroom door shut he had put a spring on it. . . . .

She said she wanted to move to dad's and would just come for a meal once or twice a week with us. That was when the little stone in my heart got bigger and any love I had left for Bear was pretty well crushed.

Not long after Jay too moved in with his dad and I became a very part-time mum. Bear couldn't disguise his pleasure but  I did hide my heartbreak and my resentment.However it  festered and grew, finally destroying what remained of my love for him.

You may well wonder why I stuck it out for so long and why we are still 'together' and the answer is I honestly don't know.

Yes, I did leave him on quite a few occasions but without thinking it through, and with nowhere to go except to Whale's or my mum's and neither of them had room for the children and me longterm.

All I know is that I feel terribly guilty because of the effect it has had - and is still having on my son and daughter. At the same time, perhaps inexplicably, I do feel sorry for Bear. There have been good times and no-one will ever know how much his bad temperament may be due to a mental problem. He went to see a psychiatrist before he even knew me but apparently he gave up on him.

On October 6th 2002 I walked out but he begged and pleaded to come and help me look after Whale. Although I felt his tears were due more to the fact that he wanted to be looked after himself I gave in.

Despite his promises things haven't changed but he's an old man, and it shows, and his health is not so good. There's no question of  deserting him now.

That's why today I don't feel much like celebrating.

Wow, the sun came out today and Bear and I were smitten with the urge to do some gardening.

This year has been so wet that the weeds have overtaken everything but, with a bit of help from Yvette's gardener, the bank outside our bedroom has finally been cleared and I have put stepping stones in strategic places so that I can a) climb up  without slithering backwards and b) have somewhere to stand with my feet at a reasonable angle when I'm planting or weeding.

The next bit to be tackled was the border by the terrace. Bear doen't differentiate between flowers and weeds and is always dumping tiles, bits of wood etc on top of the wallflowers and other plants that do look a bit 'flowerless' at this time of year. But while forking up weeds today I discovered that he had planted a stake right through my poor azalea. It seems to be alive still so I hope it survives to flower next year.

It has to be said that I'm a crap gardener but Bear has various ways of making things worse. For example:

Mowing down the raspberry canes when he cuts the grass.

Cutting with the mulching blades when the grass is too wet/too high and not cleaning the mower after use.

Tramping over plants or (see above) dumping rubbish on top of them. Last year he even plonked his sundial on top of my baby rosemary bush!

Last but not least: tramping through the house without changing his shoes - and it's amazing how he does this when I've just washed the floor.

Either we'll have to find a house with a smaller, low maintenance garden or Bear will have to find a flat on his own.

Time passed all too quickly.

Our five ladies arrived in two cars on Wednesday afternoon. They had left in the early hours and persuaded the 'tunnel keepers' to let them board an earlier train (9.20 instead of 10.30) so that they reached us about 3 0'clock, absolutely worn out. Elaine and her 82 year old mum had driven non-stop, apart from the trip through the tunnel, so they were pleased to have a little nap after some light refreshments.

Thursday was the day for Elaine to see her French specialist while Bear took the others on one of his sightseeing tours. Dr C has seen her for the past four years and has been far more helpful than the BUPA  doctor who gave her 5 years to live in 1997.

He had all the time in the world, did tests, took X rays and explained at length that, basically, she was stable, and provided she avoided infections she ought to stay that way. He offered advice for when she does have a 'crisis' and although he cannot promise a cure he is always encouraging. He told us he would never tell anyone they had just a few months or years to live as one can never be sure of these things. One of his patients developed lung cancer and he felt that perhaps he might only live about eighteen months but he remained optimistic - it's too easy to make mistakes in giving a prognosis like that.  He continued treating him and he's still alive after eight years.

Elaine was in a very happy mood when we left his surgery and we went home to celebrate with a bottle of champagne.

On Friday we went to the caves at Han-sur-Lesse. There are nearly 500 steps (not all at once) and two kilometres of pathways so Elaine's mum and the Bear decided not to try it. However, Bear missed the shortcut back to the village and they both walked miles along the railway track to meet us at the exit.

We enjoyed the services of a charming guide by the name of Stefan. As we were the only English visitors he asked us to stay at the front of his group of Dutch speakers and so we were able to ask him questions as we went along.

Some of the galleries were flooded thanks to the unseasonal rainfall so there was no 'son et lumiere' but there was still plenty to enjoy. I hadn't realised that without water the stalacmites and stalactites would die but he showed us a column that was now dead.

He explained that trout passed through the caves via the river but that it was too dark for them to take up residence. However, there were plenty of rats, spiders, bats and other 'wildlife' in the unvisited sections.

That evening we went to one of the 'posher' restaurants in town where the 'girls' treated Bear and me to a wonderful meal.

The Bear spent Saturday in bed, only getting up in time for the evening meal but the rest of us went shopping - or rather, I sat in a café with a cold drink while the others did the rounds of the clothes and perfume shops.

We managed to avoid any major arguments while our guests were here but they are all aware of the difiiculties and couldn't help picking up the bad vibes.

Let's hope it didn't spoil their holiday but, here, it's business as usual - back to everyday life with Bear and Whale.

There hasn't been much time to keep up with blogging but I must share this little story.

On Wednesday we had a cooking session and prepared meals for two days; chicken and mirabelle tagine for the first evening and a fish pie for Thursday.

Fish pie is one of Whale's favourites but after he complained about the salmon mousse starter that CC had made for Wednesday one of our guests mischievously announced that Jay had made the fish pie. She waited until everyone had pronounced it good and had second helpings and then said to me,

"Jay did a good job with the fish pie didn't he?"

Bear looked up quickly and then came out with,

"I knew there was something wrong with it. He put too many herbs in it and it was too wet."

Elaine had to leave the table to have a good laugh. She went upstairs to tell CC and Jay and they creased up too.

7.10: nurse's arrival wakes me. Oops, forgot to stock the toilet with loo rolls last night and it's Normacol day so totter down to cupboard and put three spare rolls on holder.

7.15: let cats out,  feed them and clean out litter tray.

7.20; do a mile on exercise bike.

7.30: shower and dress

7.45: make tea/coffee and distribute to people in bed. Whale (having emerged from toilet) informs me that Holly has been sick on the bed.

7.50: clean loo and change Whale's bed sheets etc.

8.10: decide it's a good time to wash his hair. (This is a trick the nurse taught me for washing his hair while he's in his wheelchair: slit a dustbinbag halfway down one side and drape round neck on top of a towel. You can then shampoo and rinse using one jugful of water and catching it in the binbag. My problem is disposing of said water without spilling it all over the floor - but I am clumsy sometimes.

8.20: put washing machine on and check on Bear. He's looking a bit miserable. I ask what's wrong and this leads to another 'hate' session directed against everyone else. The main cause seems to be that I said I wouldn't have time to go into town for lunch today because we're getting ready for visitors tomorrow - five friends from Norfolk. Row ends with Bear threatening (or is it a promise?) that he'll ask if he can go back with them because he can't stand it here.

8.55 Whale reminds me he hasn't been fed yet so give him his breakfast and take Bear a second cup of coffee

9.00 check emails and find that a message from one of the friends due to arrive tomorrow is being blocked because of a virus. Try to phone her but no reply.

9.15: settle down to write this post despite having a million and one more pressing things to do.

Of course it was all my fault.

Bear has been complaining that he couldn't sleep because his legs were itching. He rummaged through the first aid cupboard and tried various potions but nothing eased it so, last night I suggested he try an antihistamine tablet.

This morning I left him snoring until late as usual but when I took him his coffee he said he felt dreadful and it was all due to that tablet I gave him.

I looked up the side effects on the notice.

"Headache, nausea, dizziness and drowziness" I translated.

"Yes, I've got all of those," he moaned.

He drank his coffee and went back to sleep, snoring loudly most of the morning.

Just before midday, when the noise stopped I went into the bedroom.

"How are you feeling now? Is there anything you fancy to drink - or eat?"

He thought it over and then said he'd like some cereal.

"Should I bring everything on a tray so you can help yourself?"

He fell back on the pillow, holding his head.

"No, you do it. You know how much milk I like - just enough to make the rice krispies rise."

So, back I went with the bowl of cereal and a glass of fruit juice.

"Oh, I don't like that sort of bowl. And where's my banana?"

'Well, he can't be feeling that bad' I thought as I trouped back to the kitchen to get his banana and a knife.

CC made fishcakes for lunch and when we had finished and cleared away I went to see how the invalid was faring.

"That was funny fruit juice. What was it?" was his greeting.

"It was a mixture - multivitamin juice."

"Well, it didn't taste of anything." he grumbled.

"Do you fancy anything else to eat or drink?"

"I'll have a coffee, something with a bit of flavour, and is there any fresh bread?"

So he had thickly buttered baguette for his lunch, followed by a nectarine, neatly quartered.

He got up about three and watched television until it was time for an 'hachis parmentier' (cottage pie) from the freezer (as he wouldn't eat salad like the rest of us) served on a tray in front of the box.

The side effects of one little antihistamine pill were certainly far reaching.

Today is one of those days when both the Bear and the Whale are driving me to distraction.

Let's start with Bear. He has appeared to be in a better mood lately but he was, in fact, brewing up another explosion. We went into town to find him some socks and a top-up for his mobile.