Yesterday and the day before were lovely days.
Friday afternoon was spent at my sisters, with all of us there, and we chilled and bbq'd and relaxed, and watched the children in a casual kind of way, and H had done an Easter Egg hunt for the children, and R took loads of lovely photos, and it was all good. Almost all good.
Yesterday was St George's Day, and we went to some friends for a St Georges Day party, which included curry (which has upset the internal workings of my good self!) and it was all good. Almost all good.
Friday afternoon's Almost all good was a few moments when R and H and the others had a bit of a go at me. It was all done in love and humour, but for some reason it really upset me this time. I don't need them to tell me I am disorganised and have a lot of books - I know! The trouble is that none of them are really Readers. Readers with a capital R and a slightly untidy house because I had to finish that chapter. They are all tv people. I'm not. And it's ok, we're all different, and I respect their differences, but I did not feel that my differences were respected at all. The question is, what do I do about it? I've written a long letter about how I feel, about how proud I am of them and their achievements, and how much I love them the way they are, but do I send it? Will it create trouble?
Saturday afternoon's Almost All Good was something I must blog up for the BG actually. The bare bones of it would be that we were at Lee and Lisa's for a St Georges Day party. IT was full of RAF lads, most of whom were armourers. We got onto the subject of motorbikes, and chatting about different bikes and of course that led to accidents. I was saying nothing at this point, just listening as one does, and someone said about an accident that had killed a mate of his back home and how he was a nice lad and it was always those that went.
This other lad, who I didn't know, piped up, "Yeah, we had that a couple of years ago - Ritchie left RAF M, went to RAF H and was killed on his bike within a few months. He was a cracking bloke to work with!" Cue stunned silence and glances my way from about 15 people. "He was really hardworking," this lad carries on "and such a laugh. I was gutted when I found out, our whole section was."
At this point Lisa looks at me, and I'm just smiling, but surprised, and she taps the lad on the leg and says "That's Ritchie Hannis' partner as was."
"Oh right," says this lad, paling slightly, "I'm sorry. Ummm." "It's alright" says I. "He was a good laugh and a cracking bloke, and he went in the best way possible."
We chatted a bit and he was a lovely lad, who genuinely liked Rich - he must have done because as far as he was aware, hardly anyone at the party knew Rich, so if he wanted to say anything unkind he would have done! It was a lovely moment though, to know that someone spoke highly of him without knowing his audience.
But it's hard for J, in a way, because the event that was Rich's death, is the way that RAF H know me. I hadn't been over there, we were going to go to Families Day, but I saw them all there, without him, after he had died. For a lot of them, I am "Ritchie Hannis' fiancee, poor love" first, and "Sarah, J's girlfriend" second. It's ok though, we deal with it in our own way. Interestingly, no-one had a good word to say for his Ex, or his brother, and several of the unmarrieds had made sure that their next of kin details were watertight legal. Mine are now, but it's too late. I could challenge the situation, but what would it gain? An upset child, a continuation of the trauma on this side of the Pond, and less of a chance to move on. So no, she can have his medal (if she even knows where it is, and hasn't sold it or something) and we'll have his love. Can't buy that...
I did have other news to discuss, about St Georges Day and what it stands for, but this post has Gone On Long Enough.