Thursday, 19 February 2009

The Recuperation

Off for an tri generation swim this morning at Biggleswade pool. The father-in-law me and the missus and the brood.

The eldest decided to race her granddad. I gave the left leg a workout and then did shallow pool duties while the missus did a few lengths.

The middle child was somewhere in the middle.

The effect of the swim was to knock me out completely. But I'd like to think that was more due to the walk round the village green with the three children.

After lunch the best I could do was race the boy to the siesta. I just about managed to read the story. About three pages from the end, he'd had enough. He turned, sighed and shuddered. I read to the end and next thing I know it's almost tea time.

This is what holdiays are for.

The good news is that as I plot my way back to fitness, the team won last Saturday against the team in fourth and it looks pretty good. The next match - 28th - is against the league's worst team.

But no complacency here. They might have a one day hurrah. Anyway that's the target. But then you don't want to overdo it.

Getting injured playing against the bottom team - almost as duff as getting injured during a practice session.

The Transition

Amid the general chaos of taking the children to see my dad on Tuesday morning there was a sobering moment when he showed me "where everything is".

During periods of illness he's been keen to show me the spot. And refusing to go along with it, I've jokingly always ignored his requests.

But given the state of his flat, this really hasn't been a good idea. Given the state of my flat, it's probably even more important for me to do some pruning myself because I don't even know where everything is.

He has problems with his leg and it is causing him a great deal of pain. I don't think it is life threatening but coupled with treatment for prostate cancer, there's only so much the body can take.

My worry is that he'll have to go into hospital and though I love the National Health Service, even I know enough about the bugs flying round hospitals to cede to the realities of 21st century care.

So while he awaits the tests my hope is that he won't have to go in again.

The important thing was that he had a good time with his loud and vulgar grandchildren and they had their usual fill of his food and remember him for that rather than a huge pot of money and lavish presents.

Legacies are a funny thing. Especially if you never grow up with both parents in the same house.

I guess you just get a different experience. Now is really the time to ask what the effect was but I don't have the time to sit and ponder as I am in the thick of bringing up his grandchildren.

What do I look back on and remember clearly? An afternoon in the park? Going to watch a film? Walking along a train platform?

How to describe a non resident parent? I have no idea. It was always just like that. How to describe my dad? I have no idea. I've never tried.

And it's not yet time for retrospectives.