Saturday 14th October 2017

This will be the day forever remembered for what happened from half ten onwards. But there you go, shows you can get up in the morning, unaware that how shitty the day will end up turning.

With Mum still in Papworth, it was obvious that I would be going back to Suffolk at the end of the weekend, and with Sunday afternoon the best for traveling, already the time was running out, and I was barely out of bed. We went to Tesco, got a few things for Jools to have whilst I was away, and we were back again warming through croissants and making a second coffee before nine.

I then went to B&Q to get a spade. We were both going to work in the garden, so we both needed one. That was about half nine, Jools was working at the bottom of the garden well out of hearing range of the phones in the house.

I get back, put on some shots and boots and begin to dig. We were clearing one of the beds in the garden to plant the new fritillaries we had bought. I had been working for about half an hour when I heard Jools' mobile go. By the time I worked out what the noise was it had stopped, but then the landline began to ring. I went into the house, trailing muddy footprints, but I felt I should answer the call.

It was Cath, Jools' sister, and I could tell right away that something was wrong. Let me speak to Julie she said. Wen I called Jools she said she would call back, but I said I think you need to take this one. So, Jools came up, sat down on the wooden bench and Cath told Jools that their Dad, Tony, had died. No easy way to say this, no way to butter it up.

So, after the tears, we wash our hands and jump in the car to drive to Whitfield. When we arrived there was a police car outside, there was no mistake.

Jen was in bits, of course, and in denial. As we all would be. Tony was still in the bedroom where he fell. We were waiting for the ambulance to take him. We were all numb really. Jen was jabbering away, stuck in a lopp of saying the same things, asking the same questions, saying its all a nightmare and he wasn't even ill. 5 minutes later it repeated.

I have heard about shock, and seen in when there is an accident, but not seen it through grief. All we could do was be there and to support and make cuppas laced with Jack Daniels as asked for.

The police were still there, and they were able to confirm some of the details, but not speculate on what had happened. The ambulance came and took Tony away. I took Jen in to see him once last time. There was no doubt he was dead, his colour said that. This was my father-in-law.

Jen continued the repeat cycle of questions and answers. And drinking tea laced with bourbon. It didn't slow her down much, nor the denial. Then came the anger.

Cath stayed and Jools and I came home. Still trying to come to terms with it. He had been ill, and so maybe not a surprise, but still, still a shock.

Jools goes back to see Jen and I stay at home. Life goes on and football returns of course. It seems so wrong to say I spent the afternoon editing and listening to footy, but it is life and life does go on. I also carry on working in the garden, removing more "grass" in preparation for planting and the building work that is to come.

Jools came back at about six, and I was halfway through cooking chorizo hash. Back to normal, and yet surreal too. I had put a bottle of pink fizz in the fridge, so we toast Dad once dinner was cooked, and we eat, once again to the sound of a Radio 4 comedy. I was good to laugh.

Jools went to bed at eight, worn out by the day. I stay up to watch football; City drew 1-1, with our goal in the last minute of injury time.

All in all, and odd kind of day.