A day of one’s own

Mistakes, the squandering of time and an awkward encounter with a bridge that wasn't a bridge.

If you make a mistake and do not correct it, this is called a mistake.

— Confucius, Analects, Chapter 30 of Book 15

Time is, frequently, not on my side. I don’t think I’m alone in this.

My ex-husband messaged me recently to ask how is it going with the divorce process.

Ah yes, I promised him I would take care of it. We’ve been separated for four years.

You read that correctly: four years. More than four years now, actually.

It is time for us to shuffle off this marital coil.

I made the online application. Paid £593 for the privilege. It’s clean, aseptic. No gunk or messiness. Simple questions. Do you want a divorce? Yes. No.

It took almost no time, in the end.

When I dropped my son with him on New Year’s Day, I told him it was all submitted. My ex-husband is a small man. I mean physically, not emotionally. He barely clears five feet and seems to be getting shorter every time I see him. I joked this morning that his almost nine-year old son, less than a head shorter than him, will soon overta…