Post 404: A bid, finally with one day to go.
No, I’m not bothered. It’s a whole day and 17 hours before it’s done. So what if it doesn’t sell I’m not going to cry or anything. It’s only a car.
What ever.
This morning at too-early o’clock, I got downstairs in my newest dressing gown to try and put a few words onto the crispy white page and start the process of writing.
Up till now I’ve been rough writing details which is not wiring, or I don’t call it writing - more that it’s note taking- and that’s not the real thing. So boiled some water for the cafeteria and while waiting for it to boil I set out the pen and page for me to start.
The click of the kettle was the start of my routine to get my favourite cuppa. Yes it’s a faff but that the point, it makes you concentrate. You need a few minutes to go thru the motions of this ritual and take yourself away to a space where the start of the day matters. I have so often just gotten up and wandered aimlessly through the morning till either my Darling comes home from work or she rocks up from a lie in when I hope that life will start for me. I’m always wanting to be with her, I shouldn’t admit that, but I honestly do. It’s crazy that after nearly 40 years together I’m still waiting for her permission to live.
I put some milk in the smoky tasting brew and now, perhaps, my black coffee days are over, who knows. Who cares. I’m not writing about my relationship with the floating burnt grinds that make my coffee, it really doesn’t matter does it?
Suddenly I’m writing earnestly about what I think the first chapter should be like I’d planned it, but the simple fact is that of the million starts I could make there’s one that seems right to me. It’s got me emotional. Its got me a little tearful.
Sorry I need a minute…
I’m back.
Do I really want to dredge up the memories that I think will be the backbone of this book. In fact this books not about me at all this is about her, my Darling, my wife, my love and lover. Well that’s not strictly true we are not lovers in the carnal sense any more - chemicals that have over time castrated me have made that pretty well impossible.
But this books a big thank you to someone who’s done something magical with me, for me and I can’t believe how and why we are forced to eek out the living part of our time together as if we were being studied by David Attenborough in a glimpse of “life of the U’s”, time spent doing something incredible and rare, the fact is the ladies on this MacMillan site aught to be studied to find out how they keep their guys doing their thing while they deal with looming death and the time there-after, after their guy departs…
This morning I weighed myself. I knew I’d be down to my lower average weight because with the heat and the constant fight against constipation I guessed I hadn’t eaten as much as usual. I’m still nibbling on biscuits but not devouring them, like a Mr U of old. But it was unexpectedly low at 11st 12lbs.
Yes. I know it’s only 2lb under the 12 stone me, that is more me.
Obviously after all the chocolate I’ve eaten I feel like I’m eating slightly less good foods and more fats and sugars and the pancreas has, this year, been overwhelmed by the mountain of sugar I’ve consumed but I was bouncing around 12st 4-6 for the longest while.
But I do feel nicely lighter.
Perhaps it’s the slightly smaller pile of crunchy corn flakey things I have normally for breakfast, with blue top milk that has made the difference.
My left shoulder is not hurting at all now, where last it was so painful, and I’ve now got an appointment for an x-ray this Friday.
It seems that this could set off a few more checks and tests if it comes back with any anomalies.
Mr U will hopefully be Unremarkable.
Otherwise I’m feeling on top of the world. The sun burn on my belly of two days ago is now as brown as a berry.
My Darling comes down and sends me up for a shower and to get changed for the pub lunch with a couple of ladies we love dearly that are in their mid to late seventies now. They are a couple inseparable since their husbands died.
Back 40 years ago when my Darling and I met, they were there that very evening, yes these two chatterboxes and their husbands who have now sadly passed.
The thing is that over time we became best of friend’s and the six of us were regular dinner dates. Loosing my pals is hard on the days we meet up with their ladies, and we all get a little tearful when mentioning them, but we had such laughs.
The chosen pub was closed due to the heat would you believe, so we quickly moved on to the next pub which was open and had a menu to suit the ladies allergies.
We chatted till we had sore bums from the wooden chairs.
We are all creaking now like the chairs we’ve been sitting on and moaning about the aches and pains.
Where would we be without moaning about the weather and the bits falling apart in our bodies.
My canal boat pal rang yesterday to arrange a meet up which will be tomorrow. I can ask him about his gold and silver collection that is a wonderful way to invest and pretty too. There’s a bit of conspiracy theory in the coin collection in your hand but I love coins anyway, always have. He’s going to cruise from Canada to the Bahamas and back very soon and the whole experience seems fascinating and wonderful. I’m looking forward to the chat, we will both have things that we really need to say and the time will fly by. I wish I could go with him. Maybe I should take a cruise across the Atlantic to see him. That would be fun.
So good night. The only other thing to say is that the writer I’ve been put onto before her trip to Japan, is safely over there and still replying to me; so I haven’t yet upset her with my intense and demanding way. Yippee!
Take care
PS
The car auction needs your support, so if you can, say prayer for my beautiful car.
DC
