And then it was done - In the name of Thiago - Day 321


Angelica's been at work all day and Elisa managed one of her seemingly long forgotten monster lie-ins by finally surfacing downstairs just as the three o'clock kick offs were getting underway. These extraordinary lie-ins were commonplace in the summer as the home-schooling thing collapsed pitifully and she properly cashed in today.   

Steve has been round to finish the plumbing in the kitchen, though I have just realised that I forgot to ask him to help me take down the old boiler from the spare bedroom, which is mildly annoying. Angelica has found something else to be mildly annoyed about, but these things pass. The highlight of the day was obviously Spurs beating Man City and going top of the league but prior to that, I can honestly say that it would have been the old man, who came round for about three hours this morning. 

Me writing that sentence was probably not something I'd have thought I'd be doing for, well for a very long fucking time. But today was different. Dad wasn't telling tall tales and being a dick, he was being honest about the things that have been troubling him. I know he's anxious about his health and up until now he's been reluctant to even try to do anything about it.

He's still reluctant of course but when he told me about how he'd lost 1kg this week, I got the feeling that maybe the message was getting through. He needs to lose about a stone, so there's a long way to go, and I suspect this will end up being just another false dawn but when he's speaking sensibly instead of spinning another yarn, I am far more inclined to listen and to engage with him. I'll enjoy that feeling while it lasts as I know stormier waters will never be far away where the old man's concerned.

I read a bit more of my book this morning before the old man arrived. I am enjoying it immensely. I hope I don't end up waiting another 20 years until I repeat what I did this autumn. The title character in my book sets off for his walk at the age of 65. I enjoyed my 350 walk this summer so much, that I know I need to do something similar in the future. 

Physically I managed ok, though of course that will get harder as I get older, and as expected I've hardly been keeping in great shape since I finished on October 16. The personal experiences of Harold Fry are resonating very strongly with some of the ones I had. Like me, he doesn't seem to give too much of a shit for doing things the way that people would advise you to do.

Elisa said the nicest thing to me that she's said in ages after I gave her some cheesy oatcakes for her very late lunch. 'Dad, shall we sit down and watch Wayne's World." I still crack up at the line "If she were a president she'd be Baberaham Lincoln." Elisa tells me off for laughing so loudly. But hey, fuck it, I could do with a bit more laughter in my life - it's been a bit short of that sort of shizzle in recent weeks. 

As the final film credits were going up, Spurs were kicking off and five minutes after that Sonny was sticking it in Man City's onion bag, bless him. As days go, I have to say it's been a good'un. 

And there it is: the new kitchen since you absolutely didn't ask. We just need to find a couple of stools to bung on the end of that breakfast bar. That'll have to wait another day as there's fuck all left in the pot now but we have a nice space, the sun's coming out occasionally and Spurs are top of the league. On that note, I shall point you to the fundraiser and retire for the evening as I really can't imagine it's going to get any better than this!



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