This is a cup. It's not a lot of use any more really. It's broken.
I remember when this cup arrived at the house, amongst excitement and a little mockery. It was a birthday present for Rich, and it's a Terry's Old Gits mug from the days of Terry Wogan's Radio2 breakfast show. Rich loved listening to him, and so I treated him to a mug and a calendar.
I suppose, to be fair, the cup has lasted nine years. It's had countless coffees in it and a fair few teas. It's been a 'go to' mug for when I wanted something of his to hold and cherish and drink from and feel like we were sharing something.
And now, through lazy thinking from a child, it's broken and I want to cry and wail, but I'm not. I'm calmly helping him with his homework that he doesn't want to do and is moaning about every sentence.
I am a saint. I must be...
But sneaky grief is a pain in the heart.
Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone so don't mock the spelling and I'll be back later to sort the layout!
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