Adverts, and the last letter

Ugh. Checked the blog tonight to view a comment and noticed intrusive and inappropriate adverts at the foot of the posts – the ones I saw were for EcoHomes or something like that. A quick search of the WordPress help shows:

“To support the service (and keep free features free), we sometimes run advertisements. We try hard to only run them in limited places. If you would like to completely eliminate ads from appearing on your blog, we offer the No-Ads Upgrade.”

Thirty bucks per year. I signed up immediately, done, no-brainer.  The adverts completely ruined the look and feel of the blog. I understand that the WordPress service is otherwise free but had the adverts been more sensitively applied or less intrusive I might have tolerated them. (But probably not).

I suppose I can also report here on J’s last letter to me, as I mentioned in the last post. Well, it still upset me, made me cry, as expected. But otherwise it was something of an anti-climax, if I’m honest. It was written a long time ago, 22nd Feb 2010, when J was coming to the end of putting her affairs in order. Think how difficult it must be to write about something that would in fact turn out to be twenty-one months in the future. It was mainly concerning practical things – getting a cleaner (in process), ironing (yes really), how to use my in-laws in a kind, not exploitative way, food shopping, organising home / work schedules, money and the girls’ college fund, those sort of things. We’d actually of course had plenty of time to sort all those things out, but you never know how much time you have, so I’m glad she wrote it down before her mind deteriorated. There were a couple of other things – she wanted me to cut down on alcohol and I’m pleased to report that I’ve voluntarily gone from “almost every night” to “just three nights a week” since 1st Nov without missing it unduly. My weight had better come down or there’ll be trouble. The very last thing J wrote was a suggestion that I buy myself a (new) piano:

I love listening to you play. It’s always been a part of our lives together from when we first moved into our flat in London. Play lots of songs for me and enjoy having a new toy. I want you to be happy some day, the nightmare won’t last forever.”

Well in fact shortly after she must have written that letter I got some sort of a bonus from work and J verbally suggested I buy the piano. I realised it would give her pleasure as well, so I did trade in my old piano for the electronic one back in April of this year. She did hear me play it and she did enjoy it, up to and including the time she heard me play the hospice’s piano.

Yamaha Clavinova piano

Yamaha Clavinova piano

One more sad thing to report. I was driving Alice back from taekwondo class last night, I’d gone for my hour’s run around Bicester and as usual we’d both enjoyed our activities. I was remembering how a very long time ago, Juliet had shared in the driving duties, and when she did, she and Alice would sing along to CDs in the car. Alice doesn’t do that with me; OK, she doesn’t like the music I play, but she’s too inhibited with me anyway. The sudden realisation that she would never sing with her mum again was one of those dreaded timebombs and I started crying, and continued crying for a very long time: in the car on the way home, standing in my sweaty running gear in the kitchen, and throughout my hot shower.

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 Blog, Hospice, Music, Running, Timebombs. Bookmark the permalink.

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