370 days…

A peaceful day really, although K was still pale and wan.

Poor kiddo was really feeling unwell and spent most of the day curled up in front of the tele again.

I knew she was sick when she didn’t want to drink the lemonade on offer.

She seemed to regain a bit of colour by the evening though.

We really didn’t do anything much …

and by that I mean I did 3 loads of laundry and cleaned out all of YOUR junk from under the back steps.

Hundreds of spider-filled plastic pots.

Toads hiding in tin cans and bottles.

Shoes that had fallen through into the abys.

All this useless junk that you HAD to save for some project or other.

All neatly tucked away in a hidey hole.

I tried to move the cement mixer but had an epic fail.

…and then I clocked the fact that G could do this job for me and left the rest of the heavy stuff for him.


But moving this stuff has made me sad.

Much as I hated your farmer-style hoarding, I miss it.

I miss the odd electrical sockets, bits of wire, tin cans and bits of rope.

I miss you stopping at the roadside to pick up something that literally fell off the back of a truck.

Someone once called you Steptoe’s son … and they weren’t far wrong.

So strange to be missing something that used to drive me completely nuts.

I guess the big picture of life is clearer to me now.

I miss you.

I love you.