Today I told myself a simple story that has been consoling about George. I know I have already said that I need to give myself time, and that he seems to have the need to come up smelling of roses and be beyond reproach. However, the simple fact of the matter is that I was looking forward to something lovely, and I got something horrible, and he did not accept his role in this. So I have been left holding this metaphorical baby of disappointment and hurt. Despite his superficially gentlemanly behaviour this was a cruel thing to do.