You're right; I do have a story.

He was here today, my dad. I was sitting on the sofa knees up, slouching, and I knew he was in the room with me. I was overcome with emotion; a whole filled up cup of love, sadness, loss and wishful thinking all in the same breath.

My dad died when I was circa 31, awful that I can't be exact but we grew up apart due to the facts of life. I knew Howard Colwyn Lang everyday of my life until the ripe old age of 11 when divorce reared it's head and my dad moved back to Devon whilst we all lived with our mother and Chaz.

Weird that he should be in my thoughts now and frequently of late. I remember being on the stair and taking the call from my sister Maria, telling me he had gone. I remember looking out of a little window and just feeling immensely guilty that I had let him down. I know I sat on the stair for how long? and have no idea what happened after that. I only know I never got to say goodbye and I guess that bothers me somewhat.

I know that my dad is probably over my shoulder now, just saying " Don't be silly darling, it wasn't your fault" but you know how it kinda feels that way.

Anyway, that was that I guess. My kids never knew him, a loss from both sides, he would have adored them and they equally him.

I was telling you that I don't want to die of old age because I don't have stories to tell youngster's. What? Yeah, I know, silly but; I really love old folks. I love that they have so many stories to tell, of when life was hard, wartime, poverty, kindred spirit. I love that their door was always open and a sense of community was very apparent. That unfortunately has been lost in the world we live in.

To be continued.....

I'm hungry

What?

Yes, that's what I said.

Really?

What're you having?

Not sure maybe pasta.

With?

Pesto maybe.

Red or green?

Red.

Not sure now. Spinach and ricotta tortelloni in a pot of salted water as we speak ( well me at least)

Although; I have just whipped up a quick bread pudding with some leftover brioche so may save myself for a bowl of that after my bath.

mmmm.

So friend of mine, what are you having for supper this eve?

Cancer sucks.

I am so sick of people around me dying from fucking cancer.
I have decided that if it ever takes hold of me I am not having treatment. I am going to spend a year living rather than 2 years dying.
It's only February and already I know of 6 people that have died. I have someone close to me who has just been diagnosed, a friend currently in the final stages and someone else that I am expecting to hear has the fucking disease.
Fuck me it sucks.
Fuck you cancer.

Tea my dear?

A pot of Earl grey in the afternoon sun.
It would seem my dearest love must remind me of a time past, when a youth we shared brought about a love worthy of eternity.
When we came upon each other on a Summer's day, a day when ocean's flowed throughout our souls as we intertwined our bodies and succumbed to the overwhelming lust that could no longer be controlled by sheer will. When we tasted with sheer delight the pure pleasure that we had fought against for too many summer's days.
Smiling she took a breath, as the passion with the ocean almost brought a gasp of pleasure. She watched him now; does he ever recall that summer? Does he indeed wish to turn back the clock one last time and writhe freely in the stable tasting each other and joining souls so deliciously with immense pleasure?
Oh; how perfect. How completely perfect a time when love was all that mattered.
More tea my dear?