Pork chops, pants and predilections - In the name of Thiago - Day 325


Good evening folks. Despite listening to Radiohead at one point earlier, today has been about trying to be upbeat and even having a laugh, which, it bears repeating, isn't such an easy thing for me to do at this time. 

But I've taken a few steps to ease that process of sticking a smile on my visage. I nipped out in the garden for a bit and twatted about in the shed, grabbed a saw and started cutting through some shit. It was fantastically liberating. 

I also shared the latest magic to come my way through my undercracker subscription to the mad Geordies called Oddballs on Facebook earlier, and it started up some, let's say interesting discussion. I'm calling these magnificent beasts the fire and brimstone selection. Now if you can't feel up and at 'em after sticking these bad boys on, when can you? 

These Reg Grundies (note to Dan Brindle - full name used) will be wrapped around my ample waist tomorrow and I reckon I'll be like a man transformed. I know a lot of fellas who feel empowered when they stick a suit on. Wankers. It's all about the pantage for me. And this right here is prime undercrackery. I already feel better just for writing these sentences! 

I once owned some gold lame - can't get the bloody accent thing to work, they were lar-may they weren't lame as in lame as shit - undercrackers, which were granted far more public airings than common decency should have permitted but then again I was in my 20s and was utterly batshit crazy. Mr Simon Clune was a big fan, though perhaps that was more of the tales that went with them, than the grundies themselves.


It's pork chops tonight - yet another reason to be thankful/happy whatever you want to call it. It distracts me so it's working, as is writing tonight. I knocked off work at 4pm and that extra hour or as it's become more so this year extra hour and a half or two hours doesn't 'arf make a difference. I find myself hitting the sack a lot earlier this year so the early evening quite often feels like a bit of a rush. 

I think a lot of this might be down to the long days in lockdown working from home. It just saps the energy, which is why of course it becomes even more important to try to nip out when you can. It's such a small thing but just saying, no sod it I'm having that hour back has made such a positive difference to how I feel today. Time is on my side for a change.


This beautiful card arrived from my auntie Mercia around lunchtime. In the week that I remember the passing of my gorgeous little boy and when I planted an oak tree in his memory, to receive this card seemed very appropriate. The words she wrote too, were so apt. They really connected with me strongly. "To me Thiago was like a ray of sunshine. I know I only met him once but he lit up the room with his beautiful smile."

And that in a nutshell continues to be the legacy of my little hero. Although it's so fucking horribly painful to do it, when I picture him, I am comforted by the frankly remarkable and often indelible mark that he left on people. 


A life well-lived is not dependent on years being measured in numbers, it's the impression that you leave. So as the anniversary of my gorgeous boy's passing nears, I shall try to keep this thought front and centre, while fighting my way through the never-ending tears of course. 

Thank you for reading folks - it is becoming even more emotional knowing that there are only five more blogs to go before I wind this up but all journeys whether literal or metaphorical have to end somewhere and I'm at peace with what I've decided. There's still time to donate to the fundraiser, I've not been posting the link more recently, as it seems a little after the Lord Mayor's show but this is now almost the last time I'll ask the question. And as they say, if you don't ask...




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