I am still amazed even in my seventh decade of existence by how simple things can be so rewarding. In our continuing attempts to give Kate nighttime rest we have recently bought a new mattress and now we lie much higher, with my deteriorating physical state I’ll soon need a stepladder to get into bed. Anyway, our bedside tables were now much lower for us so we’ve got higher ones and they have drawers unlike our old ones. Now I have 3 extra drawers and so have individual ones for socks and underwear and not one big one with all my clothing accessories jumbled together. It is so satisfying just opening one drawer to get my socks instead of rummaging for hours and continually rearranging socks, underwear, never worn ties, braces, swimwear, cravats, silk scarves, never to be worn again sports socks and a jockstrap.
And another simple thing I’ve just promised myself is that I’m going to ignore drumf, maybe if we all did that he’d just disappear. So this is the last time I’ll mention him until allowing myself a small smile when he’s gone.
Thinking of never to be worn again sportswear it’s a melancholic thought to wonder about the last time we ever do things. My rugby playing days are long behind me yet I still regularly recall incidents in games and relive stuff in my brainbox. I almost achieved playing a game of rugby knowing it would be my last. Many years ago my good friend Juan and a team mate Howard drove to Newbury to play against Newbury second team for Esher Cardinals (the Esher second team). It was one of those cold, dank wintry days and we were losing in the second half, I thought I’d turn things around and attempted a break only to be tackled hard. I was a little bruised and normally would have been straight back on my feet to continue my scrum halfly duties, but not this time. I just lay on the cold, muddy pitch thinking that it was relatively comfortable and watched play unfold elsewhere. In that moment I thought time to finish this rugby playing lark.
I only told Juan that the next game would be my last. The Thursday evening training session I knew would be my last so I took in as much as I could, living every moment actually knowing it would be my last. Training finished with a ‘game’ between the first and second teams and was halted when the aforementioned Howard collapsed. Under the floodlights a small group of people were around him, someone applied CPR, an ambulance was called for and the rest of us looked on in shocked silence. Howard died on the pitch. The following Saturday games were cancelled. I never got to play my last game as I’d planned.
Thank you Fractalview for sharing your cambian stuff, I love your fish and chips story about British values.
Keep on keeping on, love Duncan.