Post 406: The Pen, the Car and the E-mail
Is it time to admit that I’m liking the pen-and-paper book expedition? It’s a pretty wild time considering the facts about my past experience — or lack of experience — in writing or reading, for that matter. Am I really cut out for this book writing?
Suddenly the story of my Darling and my life together is a lively, loving tale of simple enjoyment, but at the time it was a struggle and a trying time.
It feels so different now through the eyes of experience.
Is that what we call healing, I suppose it could be?
Before my breakfast my Darling took me to hospital — Mr Vicious’s, of course had his before we went, not that you’d know he was hungry right — I had been asked to don a pretty backless number with strings attached down in the cold corridors of the local radiology department.
I was guided to the X-ray machine and manoeuvred into position by a friendly assistant who said the usual, “Just stay still,” and disappeared off behind the protective screens for a few seconds.
After that I had to sit on the edge — “No, the edge… yes, that’s right” — for the top-down shoulder image.
Again, after only a few seconds, it was, “Thanks, Mr U, you may go. Don’t forget your bits and pieces on the way out.”
Which I happily did.
I was back with my Darling in minutes, where she had waited in the full clinic waiting room, and although she couldn’t see it, I think I was glowing.
Just another bit of radiation and another piece of the jigsaw of my body added to the vast collection.
I heard a ping from my phone and, when I got to the safety of the car, I found out that I will know the results of the X-ray in a month — on 26/06/2026.
And now the usual wait ensues.
Hopefully there’s nothing to report and I can continue to be Mr Unremarkable.
We got home and I sat down in the kitchen while my Darling headed upstairs for a shower.
I thought I’d have a few minutes on the book while the room was quiet.
But within a few seconds there was a ping on my phone.
I picked it up from where it was lying on the breakfast table beside me. I flipped it over and saw a name I had just been thinking about while flicking through my notes.
Spooky or what?
The lady I was thinking about was the wonderful singer-songwriter Leddra Chapman, who sang at our wedding vow renewal.
This email came into my inbox out of the blue.
I wondered what she had emailed me for.
I was really excited.
⸻
Note:
As it happens, Leddra means a lot to my Darling and me, not only because I arranged for all the guests at our vow renewal to be surprised and entertained live with a few great songs from her back catalogue, but also because, some months later, I helped fund her second album.
That allowed me to cheekily ask about commissioning a love song for my Darling.
In the end I received a wonderful track called Timeless Melody.
This fantastic new song was specially commissioned for Val and was a secret until Leddra offered to sing it at a gig in Wales which we were attending.
My Darling was totally bowled over when she found herself the subject of the song during the first half of the concert — a little embarrassed too.
We were amazed by the depth of sincerity and understanding she wrapped into this love story for my Darling.
⸻
Anyway, in the email today there was a brief message and a short audio clip which, when I pressed play, revealed part of a brand-new track from her upcoming album, due out later this year or early next year.
What a lovely surprise.
What a great tune.
That made my day.
It gave me the energy to write a little more on the book until Big Sis arrived.
In fact, when she arrived she had to let herself in because I had fallen asleep in front of the TV sometime earlier.
Ha ha.
Thanks, Sis. I’d have been there all day otherwise.
This phenomenon often occurs when I’m relaxing while taking the extra Oramorph.
It can knock you out.
So we returned to the kitchen and I made Big Sis a cuppa while I had a sandwich and fruit.
The gifts she brought this week were added to a big white bag containing a big white box squeezed inside it from Hotel Chocolat, which I am going to love for sure.
But it’ll have to wait a few days in the fridge until the big day.
I had better remember it’s our 36th anniversary on the same day too.
What, I wonder, should I get her?
While Big Sis chatted to both my Darling and me, there were other texts and reminders arriving on my phone from the car auction house about new bids on the car I’m selling.
It’s way off the reserve and the auction finishes tonight, so it wasn’t looking very good for a sale.
Not that I could do anything about it now.
Maybe it’s that auction that’s making me feel emotional, or perhaps it’s the anniversary.
Whatever it is, lately I’m prone to a tear or two.
It’s not the shoulder, as I’m confident that any and all pains are not in any way cancerous, but there’s something that has knocked me off my stride.
The day ended with my salad dinner being left untouched on the dinning room table in because I was in floods of tears over something my Darling had said.
I left the kitchen without a word and took my wet eyes and tissues upstairs out of the way.
It was getting late and the auctioneer had rung me earlier to ask whether I would consider lowering my reserve.
I said “no” and then promptly burst into tears.
Oh my.
It took a while for me to settle, but we both knew each other’s views on this cherished motor and the call ended.
I woke up in bed with my Darling saying that I should take my shorts off and get into bed properly.
I hadn’t realised the auction had ended.
Damn and blast.
I missed all the fun.
There was a flurry of bids at the end of the sale but still the reserve was not met, so sadly the car is still mine.
So very little has changed, barring the eggs being eaten. The eggs I shouldn’t have eaten. The eggs for our son and daughter in law. The eggs that led to me crying.
Sorry, my Darling.
Good night.
Take care.
