I am sitting here and can't quite believe what has happened this morning. Being my usual insomniac self, I was up about 4.30: wide awake and drinking tea, playing Sorority Life on Facebook and wondering when would be a reasonable time to knock on C's door and ask if he'd put the battery back in the car for me.

Then about 5.20 my phone went. It was Steve, saying he was outside and had come to put my car battery back in for me before he went to work. I looked out and it was true. The Small Town grapevine is as active as ever.

He seemed completely sober and sensible - no swearing, no anger, no inappropriate displays of affection and pleading, just came in, got the battery and fitted it.

Car still didn't start - just the same 'duuuu' as before.

'The battery's fucked, I can bring a new one round and fit it tonight if you like.'

I was in two minds about it, because I don't want to lead him on, and being perfectly honest I don't want to put temptation in my way, but I need the new battery and I don't fancy hoiking one back from the garage with Small Child in tow.

'So long as it's just a new battery....'

'It's just a new battery.'

No shouting, no ranting. He just looked sad.

It is easy to not want to be with him when he's a mess. Harder when he's on a straight head. But by tonight he won't be.

I don't know how I feel.