Manna from heaven..

It’s been a really mixed few days for me – Thursday started badly. My car, which for reasons I can’t quite fathom I’d parked on the drive the day before, wouldn’t start – it’s kaput, I suspect either the starter motor and/or the alternator is broken.  Whilst repairable, I’ve reached the stage with it where I’m not prepared to sink more cash in to it, and I don’t have the time, inclination or expertise to properly take care of it.

In attempting to hook up a booster pack to it to try to force it to start I also dropped my phone from my pocket, smashing the screen. Deep joy!  It is insured, although the process to replace it is much more long-winded than with the more-expensive O2 insurance – so there’s a learning there.  I currently still have a broken phone, I’ve sent the relevant forms/proof of purchase and await an envelope to send the phone away in.

More positively the death of ‘the nail’ has accelerated half-formed plans I already had to continue my journey through a mid-life crisis – and on Saturday with some investigative help from Ma I found my next car, a rather pretty Mazda MX-5 which I shall hopefully be taking delivery of (or rather collecting!) on Wednesday all things being well.  So that’s pretty exciting stuff, I reckon!

Today of course is Father’s day – so it was good to pop and see how Dad was doing – indeed, a very wholesome family day all round really, I stayed for lunch – at one point I was even playing on the piano with my Granny (not that I can remotely play the piano!!), and we also popped to see Grandad who is currently in the hospice section of the hospital as he is suffering from terminal bowel cancer.

There’s nothing quite like seeing an 84 year old man who has always been a fairly formidible character look so defeated by such an ugly illness.  Of course, I imagine ups and downs are inevitable with such a battle – but listening to his concerns, his fears (and almost acceptance) of not coming home again it does rather bring in to stark relief the importance of realising how relatively short our time is around the place, and to make the most of it.

Sufficed to say Grandad has been a challenging man to get get along with at times – but none of us are without our foibles, after all.  He’s also the man who took endless time out to indulge me and Rich in our interests – whether it be planes, creating fires in the garden, making kites, the intricacies of Skateboard maintenance and ramp-building or just collecting random words.  There’s a lot of fond memories there.  I could probably have lived without the tram museum in Crich, though.

It is a strange feeling to think that the next visit to see him might be the last – as unfortunately nobody seems to be able to give a timescale for him.  Whilst the staff looking after him are fantastic, it seems a very undignified way to be spending what is ultimately likely to be his last weeks.  Finding that balance between not wanting to lose someone and hoping their suffering stops is a difficult one.

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