4 days to go … and a walk in the park

Excuse any spelling errors – I am what is technically defined as a little bit drunk. ;-) (that's my big lashed grin by the way). This evening I sat in a beautiful park in the grounds of a country house and listened to the English National Orchestra play. I was with the wonderful A (my true love) and a group of fabulous fun friends. As dusk descended the orchestra started to play Dambusters, and we heard the feint thrumming of a spitfire engine. Now I am much too young to remember the war, but even so the noise of a spitfire stirs something primal in me. It always makes me think of the soldiers who sacrificed so much, sometimes everything, for the greater good. As the musicians reached a crescendo the plane climbed and whirled loops in the air, crossing overhead and then reaching to the outermost edge of our vision, sharply turning to tumble across the setting sun, it's wings catching a glint of silver flame. Truly spectacular. These machines saved us, as did the brave pilots who flew in them– now it could have been love of their country, or their family, or of freedom that made them fight, but fight they did and we should never forget it. We lit our lanterns, ate our picnic, drank more wine, and sat transfixed by the music, from Opera to modern classics, the 1812 to the can can, it was a really joyous evening. Now my good friends would say that I am something of a wry cynic, and to be fair, I am – which is why it is all the more extraordinary that by the end of this particular proms party I could be found waving my Union Jack and singing along to Rule Britannia. Rationally, in the part of my fully functioning brain, I know that this country of mine waged bloody wars and committed terrible acts in the vision of its Empire, but tonight I wasn't worried about the politics. I was simply sitting in a beautiful place, surrounded by people I loved, in the middle of a crowd of thousands of people who were with their loved ones, and looking across the sea of lantern and flickering flags from across the world and realising that it was one of those great moments when everything was just perfect. I looked at my beloved A and squeezed his hand just a little bit tighter and I know that he felt it too. Tomorrow morning I shall undoubtedly feel a little less cheery (probably because I will have post wine, fuzzy head, cotton wool mouth and be contemplating cooking chilli for 50 people and wondering how many shoes exactly I would have to make in order to persuade the pixies who live at the bottom of the garden to do all my tidying up for me and then make and spread the frosting for 70 plus cup cakes). I will have to remind myself that these 50 people are not coming to inspect the house, they are coming for the best of reasons. They will all be here on a precious Sunday afternoon because they love my bloke enough to come and wave their individual "Team Andrew" pom poms. They will come to say the things they have not been able to say before, or possibly even been able to think about. They will come in support and empathy and joy because they will want A to know when he goes into hospital in a few days that they are all standing right beside him – and will do all they can to help in the battle. They are coming in Love (maybe also a little because I make really good cupcakes). Go team! Team A – Dix points, Cancer – Nil Points. Forgive the waffling tonight, it's the wine you know. Til tomorrow ladies and gentlemen. T x