Miasma.

Somewhere I have a recording. the sound of him riding away  to take his motorbike to the garage to be sold, for the motorbike had suddenly become dangerous.

25 years of riding.

One minor accident without any injury

Clearly motorbikes are lethal!

Or was it guilt?

That ride home where he accelerated hard.

Twice.

So hard I almost fell off...and he knew this. 

He did it twice.

I was a screaming, crying wreck when I got home...

I felt that he'd tried to kill me...

I had only been on that bike once, it was brand new, he'd asked his dad for the money just before he died. I assumed that the bike was contaminated by this association between. But I don't know, it's getting less, not more clear. There was a powerful myth in his family that granddad had been badly injured in a motorbike accident. Yet when we asked it turned out that the bike was a peddle bike - and there was something to do with a milk float? But his granddad had been fine, just bruised ribs.

So what's going on here?

The family miasma, of peril threat and powerlessness settled on that bike like a curse.

But, the time he tried to kill me?

It was in July - we had been to see Midsommer. Result was rage, he was so full of rage. Regardless of anything I could say he was certain that I would have had him sown into a bear skin...that murderous feeling -towards me -  had to go somewhere.

There are traffic lights at the top of the hill on the road to town. 

Here he suddenly accelerated twice in rapid succession and I nearly fell from the bike. 

And I lost it absolutely...

His belief that I would have sentenced him to death, had led to him feeling so angry that he didn't care what happened to me. After months of Josh, this was too much for me. I just shattered.

But in October there I was on the same road, same place as the acceleration going the opposite way, and I felt happy. I sat still in total bliss, I didn't feel like I was with him, but it was OK. Downstairs in the cellar of the pub, the music drew me towards the stage and he wasn't with me. 

After the gig the night was full of rain, and cold and getting a car was inevitable, now that his dad was dead. 

Read that again, what did his dad have to do with it? 

And having the car meant he could give her lifts home...and indulge in playback of when he was the student and she was his teacher, in the car after school. And how sad he was that she wouldn't leave her husband. Safer now that he is the teacher and she his 'student' the simpering teaching assistant who thinks he is so wonderful!

I think it's time to start processing my recordings.