Tuesday, June 28, 2005

I was invited to a posh home for breakfast and a spot of Lions watching on Saturday morning. I overslept so missed bacon butties in the salon of an erstwhile well-known golfers former lounge. Turns out I didn't miss much fine rugby. Come on boys! What's the matter with you?

I then mooched about avoiding any attempt at packing boxes or making any preparations whatsoever for my imminent flit. I did manage to get myself ready in time for Sophie and Captain Condom ( he's got the same sort of time-keeping abilities as me so I was rather surprised when they showed up more or less on time - Sophie's undoubted good influence and the fact that we'd built 30 minutes into the schedule to allow for the Martin factor). We'd all been invited to Ruth's birthday party.

Everyone looked lovely and there was lots of chatting, drinking and quite a bit of emotion. I think Ruth would have loved it, God rest her. I felt a bit of an infiltrator. I'd only got to know Ruth well latterly, in her final year in fact, just when things were looking great for her, Richard and their beautiful children. The house was all finished, the new business was flourishing, the kids were just gorgeous and they were so much in love, more than any other couple I have ever met, and not in a nauseating way.

Richard, who I have known well since I was 12 and nick-named "E.T" ( Extra Tits, I was an early developer) is making a gargantuan effort of making sense of the madness that causes an utterly vivacious, loving and loved, beautiful girl like Ruth to be snatched away so quickly and cruelly. He's trying to be as positive as he can, which includes training for a marathon in aid of Leukaemia Research and shaving all his hair off.

I'm supposed to be a trained bereavement counsellor but I can't make any sense of it, in fact it's caused me to question my entire role. He's truly inspirational, far more so than he ever promised to be when he took the lead of Sweeney Todd in a school play.

So I've decided to take a very small leaf out of Richard's book and face things head on - tonight has seen me fill 2 (borrowed) archive boxes with CD's and clear my bathroom cabinet - why does one person need 12 bottles of shampoo? Just my bedroom, the kitchen, Jack's room and the junk room to go. Thank goodness Rachel is coming over to instill some discipline in me on Thursday night - but then I've just realised that coincides with the last episode of Murphy's Law - bugger! Why didn't I leave the lounge til last?


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