And on the Sabbath it pissed down - In the name of Thiago - Day 113

I don’t think you can argue if the first rain you get in the week happens at 4.30pm on a Sunday. But my word it’s properly coming down in fucketfuls as I begin my blog for the day.

And what a very British thing to do, start by discussing the weather. It does seem a little desperate I suppose but it is of course the one thing you can rely on to provide at least some cause for comment in this country. I’ve also had a bit of an emotional rollercoaster this last couple of days so I figured I’d give myself a bit of a break from the really heavy stuff. I think I’ve earnt that!

I scurried silently down the stairs – or as silently as a man the size of an elephant according to my delightful daughter Elisa would happily say – shortly after eight this morning, made myself the standard awakening coffee then headed to the music room and rolled out the yoga mat.

I did a full hour this morning and though I can’t honestly say that I felt the difference today, it can’t be a bad way to get things moving along. In Friday’s blog, I mentioned that my plank was more like a plonk. Well today provided evidence that my forward fold is in fact a forward flop.

Whereas some people, apparently, are able to lean forward and touch the floor with their heads, yes their fucking heads, I seem to hang in a suspended, creaking catastrophic mash of body parts battling to stay on top of the breathing. What an ugly mess!

I think this is more what The Jesus and Mary Chain had in mind when they wrote April Skies when I was still at primary school in 1987, not all this sunshine with glorious warm temperatures we’ve had this week. I just hope that the world is not about to come tumbling down though as they sang all those years ago. I reckon my world has tumbled down plenty enough this last year or so.

Elisa eventually surfaced at somewhere between 1.30 and 2pm today. I actually think she might miss whole days when she enters her teenage years! Around half two, I happened to open my front door just as Elisa’s old childminder Juliette walked passed on her permitted one a day with her husband Steve.

In an act of spontaneity, we pulled out some chairs, they sat on the very edge of our drive and I went and made some tea. We then sat at the appropriate distance away from each other and talked varying degrees of sense for half an hour or so. It was as British an experience as the opening of those April skies that followed not two hours later.

Well that’ll do from me today I think other than to share this lockdown birthday card that Elisa has made for her friend Bella and to remind you of why I’m doing this. In case you’re a new reader, I am looking for donors to help me raise £10,000 for the NHS. I write a blog every day about my experience of grieving for the loss of my beautiful son Thiago and I will endure a 300-mile walk from Eastbourne to Stoke-on-Trent this autumn. That's got to be worth a few quid!


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