Having come to some sort of agreement over London, Jazz and I set about having a really great weekend together. The intention is good but somehow this seems an impossible task at the moment. Don't get me wrong, there was a lot of fun and, for the first time in ages, peaceful conversation. There was even a hot, passionate encounter that resulted in our wedding photo crashing to the floor. An ironic omen possibly.

It was later on Saturday night when it all went a bit wrong. For the third time this week he checked my messages. Not just messages but the list of calls, photos and phonebook. Needless to say for the third time this week I found myself being asked to explain every single call, message or male name in my phone.

'What does this message mean? What did you say to him before? Who is this? You work with the guy, why would you phone him at 9pm? And why would he phone you back then?'

And so it went on..... While he barked questions at me I frantically had to try and work out dates, times and what on earth I was doing. The most annoying part being that they were all such innocent calls and messages that I had barely even registered them in the first place.

On Saturday though it was late and I was tired so I just went to bed, refusing to explain anything until the morning. Granted, this wasn't entirely fair as he then sat up most of the night fighting his paranoia. Then in the morning just as he drifted off I woke him up at 8am, stuck the light on and had it out with him. I explained, he apologised and yet again I find myself deleting messages and calls just incase he gets the wrong idea. Where does it end?!