Now in my 50’s (tuesday last week if you’re asking) you may notice a maturity sinking into my blog as I become acutely aware of how long it takes me to recuperate after a party, a few drinks and staying up way past the hour which I have intended to. Yep, I’ve moved to a different age category square, joining my wife and several of my friends, but definately in the leading pack hurtling towards oblivion unaware of what hazards may be jumping out infront of the jalopy I’m driving at the moment.
As avid readers may realise, not only as I snuck into middle age unannounced, quietly screaming as the days to my Birthday ticked by with my poor dad in hospital, unable to have visitors and only permitted short telephone calls, stagnating in hospital pyjamas, his others still in a box in the left property at the cottage hopital he hopes to return to. Well the good news it he is back, the bad news, the stroke is worsening or at least he’s finding it increasingly difficult to cope with the after shocks, unable to sit up, slumped and sliding off the chair when he is placed in situ. Its a shit time and make no mistake. But in the confusion and the hangover of the weekend, I’ve managed to secure a visit on Thursday, thats if he hasnt been taken back up to the infirmary for more brain tests, Old age sucks man, first I experience other folks close to me dealing with it, and then I guess it’ll be me, best start planning an exit strategy I’d say.
This weekend was to be a quiet weekend, I was to go shopping on Saturday morning with my record voucher, then I was to maybe go out for a secret meal with some close friends in Worcester. But this didn’t happen and in part this is why you haven’t heard a peep from me dear reader for about a week I’d say.
In Brief, the weekend went as follows.
Taken down to the pub by Mrs T near the Thai takeaway to have a drink while we waited for the takeaway, which because of how down in the dumps I’ve been felling seemed like a good break. Halfway down my first pint I hear a familiar voice from behind me telling me he’ll have a pint… Its a bunch of my best and oldest friends from School, we go walking regularly every year and occasionally all 6 of us are there, this was one of these days, Mrs T had orgainised this and with a chat she left me to be regaled by the boys, oh my boys. Thai meal, a few pints, back to the holiday cottage just outside Clifton, a few more beers and chat and then off to bed with the loudest most notorious snorer this world has ever heard.
Not a massive amount of restful sleep, gave way to a stupendous breakfast and then a trip uptown my house to get some walking boots, a change of clothes, a shower and then straight back on it and out into the countryside, walking close to my place but down paths Ive never beed, drifting down hills like a boat with out a paddle just letting the undulations guide us.
About 8 miles and then to the pub for late lunch, more chatted as the light faded it was decided we would go back to the holiday cottage, where I drank coffee and more coffee to wake up, christ I was tired, as each and every friend peeled off to sleep, or snooze. I managed to meditate for the second time in my life and by 15 minutes in was spark out, unsure how willing to go out I was becoming, as this weekend had already offered many surprises and so I was thinking possibly we might be going out for some sort of meal later. Low key, chilled restaurant, etc, etc.
Well Ive never been subject to a surprise party and christ knows how Mrs t organised it but when I was driven back to my house at 7pm, beat and just looking forward to a bath, walking in, kicking off my shoes and being told to put some tunes on. The lounge doors were closed and the house was really dark, and there you have it, the doors opened, the lights came on and about 50 people shouted surprise throwing little silver confetti style 50’s at me. And tired though I was, with my hands over my eyes, peeping through the gaps in the increasingly gnarled fingers I spied who was there and in a break from my familiar woes I really felt the luckiest man alive.
And I received a double tiered Pork Pie birthday cake, amongst a plethora of really cool stuff, which I won’t bore you with just now. But Mrs T pulled off an absolute blinder and I love her very ,much for it.