Friday and I wake up eager to see the new painting in the morning light. I get up and stand on the stairs looking into the room with the ew painting. I feel juvinated and pleased that we bought the painting, it has transformed the room. I never thought in my wildest dreams I would buy big new art and that I would always be confined to collecting miniatures within my budget. However there it is large as life in the lounge a genuine Hamish Herd. I have breakfast and spin out time till it is time to walk down to the GP surgery for my monthly jab. I walk down in sunshine and log in on the new system and sit and wait to be called. I am almost immediately in the nurses lair and being jabbed with my potion. There is very little light banter to be had apart from have a good bank holiday. I leave and return home via the village shop to buy a paper.
On arriving home I find that the postman has delivered copies of the probate papers with a covering letter from the solicitor. It appears the estate owes the tax man more than I manged to save in a life time and that paying the tax is going to be a major pain in the arse until we can get the house sold. The tax man wants money up front or we don’t get probate, which would mean not being able to sell the house, talk about being had by the balls. I go through the papers and find an unanswered question which then sets me off on a hunt for data. I end up sending the solicitor an email with a bank statement attached to it. That done I sit on the patio with a coffee and cannoli and do the cross words until lunchtime when I share a bite with my partner.
As the afternoon looms I decide to go to the harden centre and buy more flowers and plants for the garden and also for my partners mother’s patio pots. Once at the garden centre its a bit like a trolley dash as I pile plants and trays of flowers into a cart, my buying is limited by the size of my car boot but I cheat and lower the back seats thus making it possible to buy loads of plants. On arriving home I set to on the front garden and add new things to old tubs and pots to add a bit more colour. Time passes quickly when I am doing this and the afternoon disappears. I sit in the chair that is part of our front garden and look at it noting what is doing well. Its a pleasing moment.
Having gardened and cleared away I become aware of how sore my injection site is getting to stop and have a non alcoholic beer with paracetamol chaser and read again Epitaph by Merritt Mallory. A friend pointed it out to me and said how it really helped. I include it here for those interested.
Epitaph Merritt Malloy When I die Give what’s left of me away To children And old men that wait to die. And if you need to cry, Cry for your brother Walking the street beside you. And when you need me, Put your arms Around anyone And give them What you need to give to me. I want to leave you something, Something better Than words Or sounds. Look for me In the people I’ve known Or loved, And if you cannot give me away, At least let me live on in your eyes And not your mind. You can love me most By letting Hands touch hands, By letting bodies touch bodies, And by letting go Of children That need to be free. Love doesn’t die, People do. So, when all that’s left of me Is love, Give me away.
I wish I could write this kind of good stuff. I have a similar short line and sparse word style but no where near as effect as this. Any way there are still things to do today. I book train tickets to Birmingham for tomorrow as my partner and I are going to see Ballet Rambert perform the Peaky Blinders ballet. Its a matinee performance so we leave in the morning with time to eat a lunch and then attend the show. With this done I think about training but already feel sore as it is so decide to draft the blog instead. I do this drifting towards the evening meal and probably TV that will end in Have I Got News for You, night meds and the hope that I find solace in the deep once again.
