Wednesday

Today K leaves for Barcelona. She's got an evening flight so we say our goodbyes in the morning and both head for work. It's slightly strange - she's back on Monday but this will be the first time we've been apart for more than a single night for around 18 months, and, sadly, the first time I'll really have had to look after myself and find my own entertainment for a long, long while.

I get home after work and make myself dinner and not much is different - even if I did buy a couple of bottles of comfort wine from Iceland on the way home, just in case - as I make dinner and pour myself a glass. I realise at this stage how well she has me trained, as I wash up straight away after dinner and settle down in front of the computer for a while. In days gone by I would have left the washing up until about 40 minutes before she got back on Monday, surrounded by beer-can ashtrays. Not any more - I'm domesticated now, you see.

I am almost instantly bored, however. I have no tolerance for my own exclusive company - I exist too much in my head and end up watching YouTube videos, standing up in the middle of the dining room. Why sit down when there's no one to talk to? I can feel myself going insane already, so I have another glass of wine and mooch until it's time to watch part two of Money at 9. It's very enjoyable, like the first part, though I guessed the twist pretty early on - Vincent Kartheiser's creepiness is easy to pick out after three seasons of Mad Men - and thought the ending was wrapped up rather too quickly, but it's another nice piece as part of the BBC's 80s season, and I suppose I'll probably read the book now too.

After Money I flick to Film4 to watch Synecdoche, New York; a film I've been keen to check out since it was at the cinema as I've always enjoyed Charlie Kaufman's films - particularly Being John Malkovich and Adaptation. As a Kaufman piece, Synecdoche doesn't disappoint: it's very self-aware and post-modern, and there's a few nice surreal touches here and there (the burning house being the most obvious one, as well as the impossible size of the warehouses). Philip Seymour Hoffman is also great, as always, and always seems to be at his best playing slightly tormented, broken, sexually pathetic characters - my favourite performances of his are probably in Happiness and 25th Hour, though he's still great in his bit part as Lester Bangs in Almost Famous.

When the film finally finishes - Film4's massive breaks once again making the film feel far, far longer than it actually is - the bottle of wine is empty and I stumble through to an oddly empty bed to crash out.