Hawksmoor

A quick catch up on posting - this is Wednesday's post really. Went to the Hawksmoor restaurant near Seven Dials for dinner. Food and company both very good.

Grass

Taking advantage of a couple of dry and mild days, gardener Joshua came round today for the first time this year, and task number one was to cut the lawn.

To prove how much it needed it, and how much of a difference he made, here's a couple of quick snaps, before to one side, and after on the other.

8 books

It is well known that I have a bit of a book addiction. Those who are willing to feed my habit kindly supply me with Amazon certificates when birthdays come around. Last week, I cashed in some of them in exchange for a small batch of eight, which arrived today. They are:

• the second and third in the "Long Earth" collaboration between Terry Pratchett and Stephen Baxter, to go with the first one which is already waiting on the shelves;
• another Jon Ronson, who is very readable and this one looks particularly entertaining;
• a new copy of To Kill A Mockingbird, bought partly to go with my Go Set a Watchman which Georgie got me for my birthday, and partly because I used to have a nice copy, but foolishly lent it to the family over the road when they went on holiday one summer. I think they all read it, and it came back very creased, which was upsetting to a book nerd like me;
• The Poison Artist - a debut novel, but they were discussing it on the radio last week and it sounded good;
• another Sue Townsend. Her books are running short now. I enjoyed Number 10 that I borrowed from Mum, and the Mole books ran out a while ago;
• A Little Life (but a big book). Only just out in paperback and looks good. Makes me think a little bit of The Art of Fielding transported from college life to grown up New York, but I'm probably way off. We'll have to wait and see; and
• The Big Short - been meaning to read this for ages. Bit like old news now, but hopefully interesting and not too complicated when getting into credit default swaps or whatever.

There - who knows how long it'll take me to get through that lot. Oh, and by the way, total cost - £27.85 for 8 books. Some savvy Amazon shopping

And I just noticed that the new Lincoln Rhyme (The Steel Kiss) is out tomorrow. Will have to see if I can be good and wait for that in paperback.

Dad

It has been a very long time since my last blog. In fact, the last time I posted on here we were on holiday in Orlando.

A lot has happened since then, and finding the right time to put up a message, and knowing quite what to say has become harder and harder as time has gone on. I know that I want to continue to blog, and I'm sure that a lot of what ends up on here will be my usual trivial nonsense.

But I can't get straight back to that.

The world has changed.

I'm gradually getting used to this different world, but it is taking time. I don't suppose it'll ever be entirely ok.

Music both helps and hurts all at the same time. Romsey's concert, dedicated to Dad last night, was amazing. The tenors sounded beautiful as they sang the Agnus Dei - but he wasn't one of them. I don't think I've ever felt tears quite that hot against my eyes.

And then, at the end, as a further tribute, they sang Crossing the Bar, which they'd sung at the funeral.

The only words I can think to share right now are the ones that I said at Dad's funeral back in January, to try to explain how close we were and how special he was to me.

I miss him so much.

I’m not here to tell you all about Dad and his many qualities – you all knew Dad and already know what a wonderful, kind and gentle man he was.

I thought I’d share a few personal memories I have of my Dad, and the special bond we had. My Dad and I had lots in common – we went to the same school (where my son Jake is now a pupil), we went to the same university and studied the same subject, we sung in some of the same choirs and had a shared love of music, and we even shared a very similar sense of humour. Dad and I were able to drag out silly jokes for days on end, much to the annoyance of the rest of our family!

And as I think about the lifetime of memories that I have, I remember in particular:

• Playing trains together in the basement of our old house in Maidstone Road. The hours, the endless hours he spent building the layout so we could play together, and the excitement and anticipation of seeing him get off the bus home from work with something new from Beatties model shop.

• Loving, just loving, talking about a maths problem with my Dad. Dad would help me solve the problem in the first five minutes, but then we’d spend the next hour or two talking about topics that were vaguely connected to the original problem. I know for certain that this is where my love for the subject came from.

• And, a very important life lesson that Dad taught me in my formative years – never take musical ties to funerals. Should seem fairly obvious I know, by this was a lesson that Dad and I had to learn together the hard way.

• The holidays. The wonderful family holidays. Dad driving through the night to take us to the Lake District whilst Bec and I slept and kicked each other on the back seat. Renting the big house on the Isle of Wight and taking along extended family and friends. Dad taking the dog for her morning drag to the paper shop each day.

• As for the musical memories, it’s almost impossible to pick out just one. I expect everyone here has many musical memories of Dad – such was his lifelong passion. For me, I shall never forget the day a few years ago when we went together to a John Rutter singing day. He and I stood next to each other, me muddling on through whilst Dad sang in his beautiful tenor voice.

• And finally, only a few weeks ago, just being sat together in the Old School House with Dad, listening to a recording that he’d made from the radio of the Faure Reqiuem

So, whilst there may be no more new memories to make, I count myself lucky. My Dad has left me with a treasure trove. And maybe the memories are painful now, but I know that in time they’ll return to doing what they’d done before – bringing great joy in remembering happy times.

And Dad, as I said to you only so very recently, nothing makes me more proud than when people tell me I am a bit like you - and I'm going to carry on trying to be a bit more like you every day - and I know I'll be the better man for it.