Resting the weary plates - In the name of Thiago - Day 281
Ah well at least I know that better weather is about..
And there's the proof. Well, would you feckin' believe it? It is Wolverhampton the cynics among you would probably say, perhaps it's somewhat fitting. I'd just say, please for crying out loud make it stop raining. I am quite certain that I deserve better!
It's nothing to me though. As I said before, my wet weather immunity is strong. And, as always, I will be walking with my waterproof legs ie. in shorts. I do get a proper shellacking from above but after a while once you're soaked right through, I tend to find that I no longer give a shit.
Keeping with the weather theme, while I've been away, Angelica and I received this postcard from someone I'm now calling a friend. Her name is Gayle Routledge. I've never met Gayle face to face but ever since my little man died last year she has been a great support through her bereavement charity 'A Child of Mine'. The postcard actually reflects my more positive demeanour of late. I won't take the advice literally as it tends to get my socks wet. But the principle is a good one.
I'm also mentioning Gayle because thanks to her network I'm going to be appearing on BBC Radio Stoke each weekday afternoon next week. We've raised £18,000 now folks and the challenge is to get that figure as close as damn it to £20,000 by the time I reach the front doors of Royal Stoke University Hospital on Friday. It'll be tough but I'm convinced it can be done.
I've had a nice lazy day today indulging in one of my other passions, tennis. The standard in this match was absolutely sensational and I have to say it was deeply satisfying watching someone else making a huge physical effort, while I sat on my arse. I've had the flip flops on for most of the day and I've taken all my Compeed plasters off and will replace them with fresh ones tomorrow once I'm showered and dried. My walk planning is little short of military these days. I still put on the same now battered pair of trainers each day mind!
I've been over to Dad's this afternoon to see how the old git is. That space where he's laid down thousands of pounds' worth of concrete to collectively no-one's understanding will soon be filled by a colossal shed. I'm actually quite happy this is happening now, as he's getting fatter and fatter sitting on his huge arse all day in his bungalow. The man needs something to do.
Even though I'm continually (I know I'm brutal at times) giving him things that he could do, he always finds reasons to simply sit on his arse. It's not good for him and I genuinely don't like seeing him like that. That's the truth of it, I want the best for him really. In a strange sort of way, I had hoped that seeing me do what I'm doing might give him a tiny bit of inspiration; alas nothing.
Then again, I've got this little fella driving me forward with every step and he is an astonishing inspiration. Inspiration doesn't come much purer than a brown-eyed beauty like Thiago Frederick Leite Gibbs. I love him to bits and I'm never fucking going to let him down. Ever.
On that note, I shall conclude proceedings for the day as more tears roll down my face. It's a terrible irony that looking at pictures of my son makes me feel so desolate. Other parents see their children and feel joyful. All I feel is a terrible emptiness and and a fucking terrible pain that's going to be with me for the rest of my life. It really fucking sucks.
Now that's off my chest, all I need to do is remind you to keep digging deep. I know I'm relentless but I've got every good reason to be - I need to raise £2,000 by Friday and I'm sure you lovely people want the best for me! Keep sharing the story - it really does work, tell your work colleagues, tell your families. Don't leave a stone unturned.