The amazing world of Elisa Gibbs - In the name of Thiago - Day 117

Ever since the schools closed, it has been a tremendous battle between myself and Elisa to get her to raise a finger. At first it was a case of sod it let’s just get through this first few days, that was the first two weeks taken care of. Then came Easter, which was another two weeks chalked off. All of a sudden it was the middle of April and we’d done virtually fuck all unless you count cello lessons, which were sporadic.

And all along people kept telling me Elisa’s a smart girl, you’ve got no worries there Chris. Which is true, well the being smart bit is, I’m not so sure about the no worries element. This girl is going to give me a world of worry I’m sure of it in the future and will no doubt torment me remorselessly in the process. But she will make me proud too of that I’m quite sure. And that seems to matter an awful lot more to me since the little man died.

This is a piece of creative writing Elisa worked on today. I’m not sharing it because it’s a particularly stand out piece of work. Far from it. It’s more a case of I simply needed to put an image there to be honest to break up the monotony! No the reason was just to provide context to my standing in my family.

Elisa came proudly up to me while I was on a work call and said something along the lines of “Look here Dad, my two paragraphs of magic. Mum thinks they’re fantastic.” And it was then, that even in the realms of creative writing, which I’d like to think is one of my few strengths, I realised that I’d moved even further down the pecking order.

Elisa had already informed her class teacher that she couldn’t possibly entertain the idea of doing her science homework with anyone other than her Mum, which was fine by me. However, it should be said that I managed a B in science when I did a retake in the summer of 2015 so I’m not quite as far removed from it all as she may think.

Ah, look at these two beauties – a week or so early but it’s very reassuring to know that both my Mum and Harry Kane have remembered me this year. So Harry, all I want for my birthday is to get rid of that graceless Portuguese turd Moaninho and bring back Poch. Can you do it, can you? No, I guessed not.

It’s been a strange sort of today from a working perspective. What I’ve noticed in recent times is that there is never a consistency in how it goes. It’ll be slow, slow then suddenly a pile in one hit, which pushes you towards a place I don’t want to be. I love the busy times but I hate the thought of the quality taking a hit.

Speaking of quality, look at the complete lack of it in this frankly abysmal child pose in my yoga tonight. My head imagines the positions I get in to be very different to what they end up being that’s for sure! But I will say this: the one hour I’ve done this evening has really helped my lower back, which is a fairly constant source of pain to me these days. It was well worth it.

Well it’s time for a bit of nosebag and then it’s a quiz pitching us Gibbses versus the Crosslands. A battle of the colossi – well certainly in the case of Rob and I who are both carrying a bit!

Don’t forget why I’m doing this folks – to raise money for the two hospitals who did so much for my son Thiago in his tragically short lifetime. Ten grand is the target which I hope to reach by the time I start my walk in September. I’d love it if you could help me do that.


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