Tuesday 17th April 2018

I have mentioned this in past year's post on this day, but the 17th is the anniversary of my Dad's death in 1996. I don't make a big deal out of it usually, not this year to be honest. I tried to work out once how old I would have to be for him to have been gone for over 50% of my life. Sad thoughts maybe, but it really does feel like every one of those 22 years now. I was still posted in Germany, just divorced. And since then I have done so much, married again. Promoted in the RAF, posted back to Norfolk. Divorced. Left the RAF. Nearly lost my house, worked for 3 years as a geophysical engineer. Joined a rival company. They went bust. Lost my job. Ended up at the box factory. Laid off, and then stumbled into the wind industry. The rest is covered these past eight years, as the 18th is the 8th anniversary of my first day with Vestas Offshore as it was then.

To celebrate the day, I was in a bad mood. So bad I felt i needed to make several serious phone calls, then write what I felt down and send it. And then to calm down, switch off the lap top and phone and try to think nice thoughts.

I won't dwell on that, but the day looked splendid from the kitchen and living room, but outside it was still darn chilly. Several times I tried to sit in the garden to read, but was forced back inside by the chill wind.

At ten, I had an appointment with the doctor for my results, and so walked to the surgery, taking the long way over the fields, down the dip and back along into the village. It was exercise, but I was also looking for flowers and butterflies. I saw no butterflies but plenty of flowers; some common, some not so and some I had not seen, or at least not identified and snapped before.

That feels really good being able to identify a plant with big showy purple petals as Honesty, and a short walk away a with flower as being the var. alba variant. Or would be if it wasn't just a garden escapee.

The slog up the other side of the dip was though, but with the allergies in retreat, I wasn't huffing and puffing so much, just my back complained, and that after two weeks without a grumble.

I arrived at the surgery with just 5 minutes to spare. Before the half hour wait for my appointment. Anyway, with the heating still on full, it was like an oven in the waiting room so I could cool down and not look like I was about to pass away from a heart attack or something.

The doctor looked at my notes, his computer screen and said to me, why are you here today? For my blood test results and the blood pressure machine. Did you hand the machine back? Yes. So he goes to ask the assistants and comes back with a readout. Yes, you have high blood pressure he says. And colesterol. But otherwise your blood is perfect he said sounding disappointed in not finding pie crumbs in it.

Pills for that and that he waid. Outside I am relived of nearly £18 for the two sets of pills, and I can walk home. Mostly downhill I thought.

I arrived back home and was hungry, but my friend Gary came round to talk photography and music. Time went quick, an hour or so in a flash.

In the fridge I find some corned beef, so make sandwiches and jazz them up with salad cream and salt and vinegar crisps. And a brew. Of course.

I try to sit back outside to read, and in the shade it was even cooler. I come in and find something to watch on TV, so the afternoon passes.

Jools and I were going to go for a walk, but in truth with the cool wind blowing and the sinking sun had lost what warmth it had. No, we'll go tomorrow we decide. So I make insalata and do some easy garlic bread to go with it, and rather splendid it is too even if I say so myself, or it could be the wine talking.

There is football on the radio every night this week, so I listen to the 2nd half in bed, and am soon asleep and fail to hear the climax of the game as Brighton hold Spurs 1-1.