It’s not just saddoes who play with the Internet. Oh no?
Rael Fenchurch recently departed from Howell Henry Chaldecott Lury after
a spell as the agency’s first Nethead. This will not have come as an
enormous shock to readers of the ‘Secret Diary of Rael Fenchurch, anorak
size 131/2’, posted regularly on the Internet. We wish for his sake
that, like that title, we were making the rest of this story up.
3 November ‘So, the big news is I’ve handed in my notice at HHCL. Why?
Well, I feel quite proud to be one of the few people able to say that I
was being stifled (there). Well, what else has been happening? Well, Fe,
having had her tonsils out, is back at Elmhurst for the time up until
Christmas, so more enforced separation, but we’ll cope...’
4 November ‘Well, isn’t it interesting how life can change in such a
short time? We’ve broken up again - this time I think for good. Why?
Majorly, I think my lying is to blame. But, also, I believe that one of
my biggest fears was right - that she would change and grow not to love
me. So, I’m 25, and in three months I have no job and no girlfriend. I
haven’t spoken to my parents for over two months. I suppose that would
put me in the sad bastards category...’
(Listen to that luvverly old cockney charmer and call your mum, Rael -
it’s good to talk. Ed)
‘...Catharsis is a drawn-out process and, though I’m calm and relaxed
about it all at the moment, how will I be when I hear ‘our song’, or
when I go to places we went together, or when I meet her in the street
(or when I go to her gran’s house to pick up the hard-top for my car)?
Life throws things at you when you least expect them, so I doubt this
will be the last I write on the subject!’
11 November ‘I sent Fe a short letter (just a page) saying I’d give her
all the time she needed, but let’s not lose touch, and I included 21
compliment slip-sized bits of paper with a single line or so in the
middle with different ‘memories not to lose’.’
18 November ‘I have been coping (and I feel somewhat guilty about how
well sometimes) but at the moment I’m listening to Sarah McLachlan and I
can hear Fiona singing along with Possession, when we were driving up
the M11. Fuck, fuck, fuck...’
A doctor writes: Rael, get some help - fast.