There is so much that I want to write about at the moment. There might be several posts in the draft today and then I'll adapt them and put them up a bit at a time.
I am still incensed/confused/patronised by Girls N Dubz. (I am probably incenzed/confuzed/patronized by it actually...)
I watched a programme about Tony Martin last night and the attitude of the police really wound me up.
I've done a lot of thinking about BG recently, and I need to get that on screen as it heads towards her birthday.
I want to write about all my fellow April comment ring bloggers.
I want to write about why we blog, and why sometimes people stop bothering (as opposed to making a deliberate choice!)
So much to write about!
I also hav e 8 short assignments to do, an essay to write by Friday week, the house to clean through and hoover, town to visit (tho that might wait because it's wet!) and the general washing type stuff to do.
However.
In celebration.
In joy and rapture.
I announce that.........
WE HAVE A NEW, NON-LEAKING, SHOWER!
My dad brought it over yesterday and installed it for us. At times I slipped into that place I have referred to as the Other Trouser Leg of Time, and I could see Rich installing the original with Lee, and tlaking about how high to have it so it covered him as well, and why we didn't have one with a pole and so on. And christening the shower. *giggle*
Yesterday, walking back from the nurse appointment, I started telling God outloud some of the things I was thankful for right that second. The weather, the nurse, the fact my dressing wasn't stuck to my leg. Increased mobility. The NHS and not having to pay directly for healthcare. Little paths by rivers that feel like the country even though they are the middle of the town. That Rich died. That daffodils are SO yellow. *insert sound of screeching brakes* Go back one. Before the daffodils (which were VERY yellow).
That Rich died.
Died.
I am thankful for the fact he died.
I am. I actually came to this conclusion a while ago, and I've broached it on here and I've talked about it with Mum, but the certainty that this is how I felt really hit me yesterday. Three things brought it on, all, strangely for me, TV related.
One was Louis Theroux with America's Most Hated Family, about Westbrough Baptist Church. Now I disagree fundamentally with the vast majority of their interpretation of the Bible, but one thing that was said was that we should rejoice in all of God's work. Hmmmm.
And then the other programme was Lewis, the next generation of Inspector Morse, and a fabulous programme. There was a girl on the programme in a coma. She had been that way for 6 years.
Finally, it's been Emmerdale. There's a character in there who had a road accident and is paralysed from the neck down. He can turn his head, and that's it. That was Rich's best hope after his neck broke. Best. More likely would have been Persistent Vegetative State, if he had recovered from the coma.
I can't imagine him like that. This way, he died. He had a glorious Celebration *not* a funeral. We all have great memories of him as a tall, strong, brave armourer (unless you're the She-Ex, who only ever thinks about the bad stuff. Or the BG who wasn't allowed to know him really) We know him as a loyal friend, a wonderful father, an amazing partner and a joyful part of our lives. He died at the top of his game.
He's not still in the hospital 2 years later. He's not just lying there immobile. He's not angry, bitter and depressed about going from saving the world to not being able to wipe his own backside. He's gloriously with God, or he's reincarnated into someone else, carrying on his work. Or something else. Just depends what you think really.
Anyway, this all got a bit random.
