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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