Kippers

Last night was the public opening of a new pub in Lancaster, serving what they call "craft beer"--an Americanism, but a useful one I suppose, in that it covers both real ale and bottled and keg beer. It was rather Generic Modern inside, with cylindrical lampshades made from dark textiled material, recessed lights and parquet flooring. I told the manager that I hope it'll acquire a bit more character in time. Kitty, however, was looking so lovely that I wouldn't have bothered where we were.

A new dress, tight in the right places, showed her off beautifully. Also there was a teacher I know, who like Kitty, has great tits an attractive figure, and the man I snog every few months when I'm drunk. Inadvertently then, rather a sexy evening. When I got back I sexted Denise, for her birthday. And for once, sent it to the right person.

Trina arrived back on Thursday at Heysham Port. Right next to the port are our two nuclear power stations, breathing their invisible death-breath. I've had it justified over and over again in pub conversations. "But what would we do for jobs round here otherwise? We can't all ponce around universities like you."

I was very happy to see her, and as we slithered romantically over each other's anoraks, she smiled prettily and handed over my present.

We lapped each other up on the bleak railway platform. We only had two-and-a-half hours, so went for a pub lunch and a pint, but I told her that as soon as possible I want much longer to enjoy her with fewer clothes on.

I want to do everything I possibly can to prolong this feeling of newness and desire, which is why I'm fencing off her suggestion we live together, to which she has added further detail. She was hoping I'd be pleased; I just feel wary.

Within in the next year or so, it's likely she will come into an amount of money which should be just about enough to buy a small terraced house--something like the one above--in a good area of Lancaster. Naturally one would remove the satellite dish, otherwise one would never be able to invite anyone home. The sum would fetch three bedrooms where the rough boys live, but I'm not living in a CCTV'd Chavland with free drum n' bass concerts every night.

The idea would be that I rent the house from her; then once she comes into a larger sum upon a relative's decease, we sell it and buy something for the two of us. Given current interest rates, it makes sense to put the smaller sum into property.

The problem for me is that it gives an inevitability, a fixed trajectory, to the relationship. I don't like mapping my affective life into the future. Neither do I want financial security to become conflated with our relationship. I don't mean I'd prefer living in righteous poverty under the canal bridge, but I don't want the fact that living with her would greatly reduce my constant financial worries, to be a factor in that decision.