Garden gate

Another busy day. Mandi, our Macmillan nurse called in this morning for a couple of hours. We discussed the obvious things; inevitably I cried, I hate doing that in front of people, it’s a bloke thing. Perhaps if I were Italian or Greek or something it would be more acceptable? I’ll see her again sometime in the future, when I return briefly to the hospice to present the staff with three music books I’ve ordered – the same ones that I played from while I was visiting. I’ll inscribe J’s name and dates in the front and that will be my equivalent of a park bench with a plaque on it. Can’t face going back to KH anytime soon though.

J on Christmas Eve 2005

J on Christmas Eve 2005

Later I got on with the bloody gate. I stood it up against the side of the house, then went into the garage for some tools. Meanwhile, in the Far East a butterfly rubbed its wings and the resulting breath of air rushed all the way to Oxfordshire and blew the damn thing over. Resulting in two of the slats coming away and the air blue with Anglo-Saxon language from me. Made good the damage, fixed the hinges, fixed the gate and finally fitted the latch. Man, they are complicated things. Anyway – it now looks pretty damn good, though I say it myself, and the latch works beautifully. Just needs a darker coat of Ronseal (Lucy has decreed), yet another job for a crowded tomorrow.

Cut both lawns in the late evening, just as well, heavy rain forecast for tomorrow, and unfortunately – very, very unfortunately – also for Friday. Our next-door neighbour up the road called round having just returned from holiday and hence had only just heard the news regarding J. Similarly I received another email from an ex-neighbour from several years back (one of the girls’ child minders) who was shocked to hear the news… I have a huge number of e-mails and cards to respond to, I’m sure people will understand I plan to do this after the funeral.

Family at Perrin St 26 June 1993

Family at Perrin St 26 June 1993

We’ve found that we can get the GPs to squeak loudly in a Pavlovian manner by simply rustling the bag of fresh hay.Whether it’s because they enjoy munching it or burying themselves in it – or both – we can’t say. I also need to capture on video their endearing habit of “popcorning” – running around the hutch, occasionally flicking their back legs in the air. I though Horatio was having a fit when we first saw him do this, but YouTube is full of examples. (So maybe I won’t bother with the video. I did consider videoing the gate latch closing smoothly, but that would be sadder still).

Alice’s GCSE results tomorrow, wine glasses collection, lots of food shopping, paint & gate hook shopping, fitting of latter items, Jeremy arriving, Mum, Carl & Rebecca arriving. And it’s going to rain.

About hodders

Husband and proud father of two daughters. Now a widower. Trying to balance between not dwelling on Juliet's death, but telling the world how much I loved her. Tricky.
This entry was posted in Funeral, Garden gate, Guinea pigs, Hospice, Music. Bookmark the permalink.

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