Parting tears and mates in weird places – In the name of Thiago – Day 188


 

It’s been a remarkable day. And all the more remarkable for work being part of that statement. It’s ok guys, I mean I know it’s late now but I’m not pished. Nope, I’ve only blogged when obliterated once and I don’t intend to do it again any time soon.

 

It’s also been Elisa’s last day at primary school today. Before we left the house, she did her usual thing of being adamant that this was just another day, nothing to see and all that. Naturally, she was absolutely delighted to have her photo taken and needed very little encouragement for that ‘one for posterity’ before she left the house this morning.

 


 

The tears started to flow as her classmates gathered at the school gates – yep social distancing went right out the window this afternoon – and Elisa, who is far from being a child prone to emotional outbursts, finally succumbed in much the same way I have every single fucking day since her brother died.

 

Now, how on earth was work in any way remarkable I hear you asking. That’ll be because I got to visit Bentley’s showroom in Crewe. Now I know virtually shit all about cars, so the experience was partially wasted on me, and unfortunately because I am sworn to secrecy about the nature of my visit, I am unable to share a photo of the Bentega I think they call it. If I remember, I’ll post the proof next week when the embargo has been lifted.

 


 

I am able to publish photos and discuss my walk today. It was the 15 mile Kidsgrove classic today, but with a twist. I didn’t set off until 4pm so the walk had a very different feel to how it is usually, which was a very positive thing that I wasn’t expecting. On the way, I had a brief catch up with my Dad – I’m probably going to be stopping over there tomorrow – and a much longer chat with a bloke called Kev who is a specialist counsellor for grieving Dads.

 

He usually works with a local hospice but has been extending his support to hospitals and Dads that have experienced loss there too. Cheery fucking work eh? All joking aside – and luckily for me I’m entitled to get away with it – offering help to Dads that are grieving is an amazing thing.

 

One thing I’ve noticed in the seven months of accessing various support is that it’s all women. Blokes somehow don’t seem to be part of the conversation. That’s really fucking wrong. Well that’s where Kev comes in. It’s a little trickier these days of course, because of Covid, but I’m going to give it a bash and see where it takes me.

 


 

Speaking of blokes, this is Pat. He’s just come back from a holiday on the Isle of Wight, (it wasn’t too dear), and he saw me readjusting my bits and bobs on the street outside his gaff and asked how I was. So we had a bit of a natter and the long and the short of it is, he said I could have a brew with him next time I was heading down Coalpit Lane, which I thought was splendid. I’m often passing his way at about 9am on a Saturday so I can definitely see a future in this.

 


 

On I trundled into Kidsgrove reaching my now infamous halfway point. This is the very first time I have passed this place when it’s been open. Based on the evidence of this evening The Bluebell Inn looks a nice spot for a pint or two on a Friday evening after a week at work. The problem I have is that I can’t unsee that St George’s Flag that was forever draped across the front of the building while it was closed. Let’s just say it didn’t give me a fuzzy, warm feeling.

 


 

I bumped into these three fellas while walking through the park. Arif is a keen boxer but hasn’t been able to box since lockdown. He’s the fella in the middle. Ahmed is to his left and Mahmood’s on his right. We had a good chinwag for a few minutes and parted on good terms. Arif insisted on finding out about the blog. If you’re reading mate, I hope that your local gym opens soon and you can get back in the ring. Good on yer fellas.

 

I am absolutely bushed to be brutally honest, which is slightly annoying as I was hoping to not be quite so achey. But beggars can’t be choosers and all that. Speaking of begging – no I am only asking actually – please don’t forget to donate to the cause of raising £10,000 to share between University Hospital Stoke and Birmingham Children’s Hospital to help them and to help me create a legacy for the little man, who gave his name to this blog. Fuck, I miss him so. Night all.







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