Pain and pianos - In the name of Thiago - Day 9

In the name of Thiago

Pain and pianos – In the name of Thiago – Day 9

After the exhilaration of yesterday, came the crushing blows delivered by reality today. That first long walk was definitely needed and a first step (well 25,000 or so steps if we’re pedantic about it), towards achieving my goal. Today my body started protesting by saying, ‘hey what’s with this new-found energy you’re pretending to have, we want the slob you back.’

‘Well he ain’t ever coming back so get your shit together and start getting used to this,’ I boldly retorted. Well in truth it wasn’t that bold a retort, more a plea really to be given some relief from the aches and pains in places I shouldn’t really speak about in public. Anyway, the lovely picture below is one I can show and to be fair, to just get one blister is hardly that bad. But as I say, I can’t show you the other stuff..




Well that’s the pain part of the blog explained, but you may have wondered where the pianos come into it. After a morning spent in banks, primarily trying to ascertain why my Dad’s online banking was knackered, the afternoon was dedicated to helping him find somewhere to live.

After seeing a couple of bungalows that were fairly run of the mill, the third place we looked at was a real ray of sunshine. It was a fairly modern-looking place, beautifully maintained and in a lovely area where I feel confident my Dad would be happy.

But the piece de resistance was the piano in the front room. 



There’s something about seeing a piano that just raises the spirits. It’s such a beautiful instrument. My mind started racing about Dad striking up a deal with the current owners to buy the place and negotiate a price for keeping the piano so that I could play it when I come over with the family.

I realise that all my thought processes are ridiculous but it did make me think about what matters – and that’s being happy. Which, as it so often does, brings me back to Thiago. His last days were spent showing off his musical talents by way of bashing a syringe against a sick bowl. That memory makes me laugh, cry, hurt and smile for the joy it brought me, though it’s measured with the pain that I’ll never experience it again.

I want to end on a positive note now though and that’s to say a huge thank you to all the wonderful people, who have donated to my fundraiser. You’ve already raised £750 and it’s only been open for five days. I am phenomenally grateful.

And if you are reading this and want to donate, you’ll probably be needing the link. I hate to disappoint, so here it is!


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