OK, I should have blogged this last night when I got in from Hospital Radio. I didn’t.

Yesterday morning I had an unusual email from a friend, he’d been trying to phone me the night before and couldn’t get through (I was blogging). We arranged that he’d ring me at Hospital Radio last night instead.

He’s got cancer! Not only is he younger than me (which is scary enough), but this is a guy I’ve known FOREVER…well, since 1976, which seems like forever. We’ve done loads of walking, the South Downs Way, the South West Way, bits of the Pennine Way. We’ve sat in bus stations late at night (a result of badly-planned walking trips), and we once sat in a leaky tent in the Yorkshire Dales yelling “We believe in fairies, Tinkerbell!” (we’d convinced ourselves that if we yelled it loudly enough, it would stop raining).

Anyway, I don’t want this to sound like an epitaph, because he starts treatment a week Monday, so there’s reason to be cheerful. And there’s another one…he’s getting married in the Autumn or late Summer and he’s asked me to be the best man! I’ve never even been to a Buddhist wedding before, never mind been best man at one. I was warned today that it probably means wearing a flowery dress…can’t be any worse than what Jenny made me wear when I gave her away…(there’d be a link to a pic here, but I can’t find the pic…).

And in other news…I went geocaching after work today and found “For Poppy”, then I went to the gym. Then when i got home I’d had a letter about the council tax, which is bad enough, but it came in an envelope labelled “Local Taxation Services”. Services? SERVICES?

I suppose, given the meaning of the term “being serviced” when used by the agricultural community, it’s fair enough.

Comments are closed.