Becoming an Adult

The charity Gig on Saturday was a great success. More people than expected turned up, many of them I have never seen before which proves advertising works. SAB managed to lumber me into working, collecting glasses, washing them, stacking, changing barrels, etc., so I was busy most of the day. Busy? It was fucking mental! At times it was 10 deep at the bar and we were running out of glasses on a regular basis as the beer flowed like mountain streams. The sun shone long and hard on the Eight Bells that day and sweet rock ‘n roll music filled the Eaton air. The last couple of weeks were a bit of a blur for me. I still haven’t come to terms with what has happened; mum’s death put me in a strange place. I have also had chest infection for two weeks, which was impetus for my vague attempt to give up smoking. Last Wednesday I was on compassionate leave and used the time to visit my doctor. I told him I was having trouble fighting off the infection, I also told him about mum dying and that I thought the shock and stress of that hadn’t helped. He agreed that it would have had an effect on my recovery and went on to tell me that he had lost his mother and father, both in the last two years and that he knew how I was feeling. “It’s strange” he said “but when both parents are gone, at some point, you think ‘fuck! I will have to be an adult now!’”

I went out on my dinner date with Special Needs and have seen her a couple of time since. It has all been a bit of bad timing but seems to be going OK in spite of that. I just haven’t had much space in my head for anything lately so only time will tell. Friends and work colleagues have been really good to me and very supportive. My ex-girlfriend cancelled her night out and came over to see me the day I got the news about mum. I really appreciated that and it helped to be able to share that load with someone, I thank her for that from the bottom of my heart. I was on the boat alone, on my way back from Heyford when I got the telephone call. I was about an hour from anywhere and anyone and I felt like the loneliest person in the world. The trees, blue sky and birdsong pulled me through that hard place. The first person I saw was my mate who lives next to the lock. We have never had much in the way of physical contact, being British men and all that, but when I told him the news he put his arms around me and hugged me. That hug was just what I needed; it was given with genuine feeling for all the right reasons and received in the same way. Thank you too my friend.

As I said, the last couple of weeks have been a blur, I barely noticed the amazing hot sunshine days and clear starry, starry nights. I remember one evening I was walking back to the boat and I saw Em looking at something in the grass. When I reached her she told me to mind where I trod and pointed out thousands of small toad, the size of a little fingernail, jumping in the grass and over the towpath. I have never seen anything like that before, there really was thousands of them, new lives, new toads. How many would make it more than a day or two? How many would become big toads? Em told me she had seen some swimming in the canal and a big fish had pigged out on them. Calliope later told me the tail of a winter past when a six inch blanket of snow had fallen over the fields of Gloucester. Whilst he was out getting coal from his farmyard, he heard a high pitched screeching, like small baby. He looked down in the snow, and at his feet was a small freezing toad, singing its death song. Calliope gently picked it up and carried it into the warmth of the house. “Was it scared?” I asked. “It was in no condition to feel anything but grateful” was Calliope’s answer. It survived the night without croaking and looked a lot better in the morning. Calliope put it under a stone on a protected part of the yard and wished him luck.