Blood in the water.
Here is a tale of three men; Lambo, my dad and my (deceased), ex father-in-law, Laurie Norman.
Me first:
London early 1990’s. Lamberts Surveyors growing again as we come out of recession
Home was Pontefract, Yorkshire. I purchased a 32 room Gothic style Victorian mansion, Westhaugh, Pontefract, Yorkshire, with three acres of land for £550,000. I sold the land for £500,00 but was stuck with the mansion. The house had been divided in half many years ago. The funny bit was Westhaugh, looked east and the other half, Easthaugh, looked west, some builder got the signs the wrong way and still wrong fifty years later. Cost £8,000 to replace the boiler, played cricket in hallway and lived in three rooms. It was cold and shite. Children, Emily (12) and Chis (9) join Ackworth Quaker school, as day pupils.
Monday morning went like this; Alarm 0545, Radio4 for shipping forecast, sea shanties even, news and farming today. A1 motorway to Doncaster station. The 0630 gets me to Kings X by 0830, bus to City Road, my office. After work a fifteen-minute walk to 302 Liverpool Road where I stayed during week. I had lived their for ten years and now let out the rooms to cover the mortgage. I had a room in the extension. A full house (five tenants) meant peeing in the night not easy. I peed in a pint pot and emptied it when awake.
Fuck, blood in the water! Doctors (still registered in Islington) one hour later. One of the benefits of PPP is four days later I am admitted to Humana Wellington, overlooking Lords even, menu, wine list and the rest.
My ex-wife Kerry was way too busy to come to London. I am discharged, find a cab and spend the next seven days in my room (cell) at 302 Liverpool Road in the most excruciating pain, when trying to wee, imaginable.
My ex-wife calls me to say it’s the children’s open day at Ackworth School and its vital I attend. Train home and attend. Mid-afternoon, I need a wee. Blood everywhere, I make my own way home, to Westhaugh, to spend a further seven days in agony. The tumour was benign. Phew!
Next my dad. He was in his mid-70’s and still loved a round of golf. He needs a pee, so heads to the bushes. Blood in the water! He packs his clubs, drives to the doctors, and waits to be seen. Three weeks later, bladder removed, prostate removed and a bag to pee into via a new ‘nipple’ to the right of his navel. Bladder cancer no less. My dad is 90, still driving and dodging the virus.
And number three, my ex father-in-law. His name was Laurie but let’s call him Yin. He was so submissive he never once had a conversation with me. He only ever spoke as ‘we’ or ‘us’, so I never really knew who he really was.
He was truly scared of his wife, cookery writer Cecilia Norman. Yin was a chartered surveyor and built a life away from home, played hockey till 70 and was on every committee that would have him. They lived in Hampstead, North London. It’s the 1980’s and grandchildren (five in total) are arriving fast. My parents live in Yorkshire but were amazing and would arrive at hours’ notice if needed. Cecilia and Yin had other plans.
They promptly purchased a second home in Ironbridge, Shropshire, some four hours drive away. Poor old Yin had his entire social network of friends destroyed in weeks. It may be hearsay, but I do not believe Cecilia has ever changed a nappy in her life. We had no childminding support.
Where was I? Oh yes, blood in the water.
Yin discovered blood in his water (very runny stools) and told no-one. Two years later he had still told no-one. My timeline may be out, but he also took his two, boxer, dogs for a walk around the same time. He felt unwell and took longer than normal only to be admonished for being so long. He had suffered a heart attack, but ignored that as well. [Maybe he chose to ignore them?]
He got poorly. They quickly moved back to Hampstead for the finest medics to sort him out. They could not and his time was soon.
I remember those final weeks with my wife Sheila being so special for both of us. It was magical on many levels.
Yin spent his last few weeks in a wheelchair, being taken for walks or looking out of his window at the life he was soon to lose. I did once catch a glimpse of the anger that lay beneath the surface. Cecilia (Cis is how she was known) lays into him saying; 'how dare you die on me'. He growled at her and said, 'don't go there'. Om Fuffy, as he was know to his grandchildren.
Cecilia spent those last few weeks on internet dating sites, about eight foot from yin, seeking out a replacement. She even found one, Brian was his name, but he was way too Yang and had to go.
And the point I am making is;
Blood in the water [unless you choose to ignore it] needs dealing with the same day.
Have a good week.
Colin
Me first:
London early 1990’s. Lamberts Surveyors growing again as we come out of recession
Home was Pontefract, Yorkshire. I purchased a 32 room Gothic style Victorian mansion, Westhaugh, Pontefract, Yorkshire, with three acres of land for £550,000. I sold the land for £500,00 but was stuck with the mansion. The house had been divided in half many years ago. The funny bit was Westhaugh, looked east and the other half, Easthaugh, looked west, some builder got the signs the wrong way and still wrong fifty years later. Cost £8,000 to replace the boiler, played cricket in hallway and lived in three rooms. It was cold and shite. Children, Emily (12) and Chis (9) join Ackworth Quaker school, as day pupils.
Monday morning went like this; Alarm 0545, Radio4 for shipping forecast, sea shanties even, news and farming today. A1 motorway to Doncaster station. The 0630 gets me to Kings X by 0830, bus to City Road, my office. After work a fifteen-minute walk to 302 Liverpool Road where I stayed during week. I had lived their for ten years and now let out the rooms to cover the mortgage. I had a room in the extension. A full house (five tenants) meant peeing in the night not easy. I peed in a pint pot and emptied it when awake.
Fuck, blood in the water! Doctors (still registered in Islington) one hour later. One of the benefits of PPP is four days later I am admitted to Humana Wellington, overlooking Lords even, menu, wine list and the rest.
My ex-wife Kerry was way too busy to come to London. I am discharged, find a cab and spend the next seven days in my room (cell) at 302 Liverpool Road in the most excruciating pain, when trying to wee, imaginable.
My ex-wife calls me to say it’s the children’s open day at Ackworth School and its vital I attend. Train home and attend. Mid-afternoon, I need a wee. Blood everywhere, I make my own way home, to Westhaugh, to spend a further seven days in agony. The tumour was benign. Phew!
Next my dad. He was in his mid-70’s and still loved a round of golf. He needs a pee, so heads to the bushes. Blood in the water! He packs his clubs, drives to the doctors, and waits to be seen. Three weeks later, bladder removed, prostate removed and a bag to pee into via a new ‘nipple’ to the right of his navel. Bladder cancer no less. My dad is 90, still driving and dodging the virus.
And number three, my ex father-in-law. His name was Laurie but let’s call him Yin. He was so submissive he never once had a conversation with me. He only ever spoke as ‘we’ or ‘us’, so I never really knew who he really was.
He was truly scared of his wife, cookery writer Cecilia Norman. Yin was a chartered surveyor and built a life away from home, played hockey till 70 and was on every committee that would have him. They lived in Hampstead, North London. It’s the 1980’s and grandchildren (five in total) are arriving fast. My parents live in Yorkshire but were amazing and would arrive at hours’ notice if needed. Cecilia and Yin had other plans.
They promptly purchased a second home in Ironbridge, Shropshire, some four hours drive away. Poor old Yin had his entire social network of friends destroyed in weeks. It may be hearsay, but I do not believe Cecilia has ever changed a nappy in her life. We had no childminding support.
Where was I? Oh yes, blood in the water.
Yin discovered blood in his water (very runny stools) and told no-one. Two years later he had still told no-one. My timeline may be out, but he also took his two, boxer, dogs for a walk around the same time. He felt unwell and took longer than normal only to be admonished for being so long. He had suffered a heart attack, but ignored that as well. [Maybe he chose to ignore them?]
He got poorly. They quickly moved back to Hampstead for the finest medics to sort him out. They could not and his time was soon.
I remember those final weeks with my wife Sheila being so special for both of us. It was magical on many levels.
Yin spent his last few weeks in a wheelchair, being taken for walks or looking out of his window at the life he was soon to lose. I did once catch a glimpse of the anger that lay beneath the surface. Cecilia (Cis is how she was known) lays into him saying; 'how dare you die on me'. He growled at her and said, 'don't go there'. Om Fuffy, as he was know to his grandchildren.
Cecilia spent those last few weeks on internet dating sites, about eight foot from yin, seeking out a replacement. She even found one, Brian was his name, but he was way too Yang and had to go.
And the point I am making is;
Blood in the water [unless you choose to ignore it] needs dealing with the same day.
Have a good week.
Colin
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