A Son, A Death and A Dream.

I dream a great deal and have blogged about dreaming in general before. 

I slept very deeply and for a long time last night. Just before I woke I had an extremely strange dream.  I usually forget the contents of even my weirdest dreams just after I have wakened. Today it lingered - all day.

I was in a very large house with my New Zealand family. My two sons were there as well. When Andy (the elder son) appeared he was immensely tall (which he wasn't in real life being just under 6'). However all the members of my father's family including his sister were over 6'6".  The exception was my father who was 'tiny' at 5'10½".  The height of my father's family had been a subject of discussion yesterday so I suppose there may have been a link in my mind there. 

I've been thinking about Andy most of the day today for an entirely different reason. Had he lived, he would have been 48 today. In the past I have never speculated on what he might have achieved. He was just completing a doctorate (in computer science) when he died and already had a very well paid job and a flat and life in London. Today my mind wandered into the realms of 'what if'. Not in a melancholy way just a wistful one.

This evening sitting in the living room listening to a concert and sort of watching it on the big screen and drawing an 'envelope picture' it suddenly struck me: the significance of dreaming about Andy this morning of all mornings.

The mind is a very strange place. Well mine is anyway.

Happiness

Did you know that today is The International Day of Happiness? Apparently the day is celebrated worldwide every March 20, and was conceptualized and founded by philanthropist, activist, statesman, and prominent United Nations special advisor Jayme Illien to inspire, mobilize, and advance the global happiness movement.

I'll be quite honest. I had not heard of the movement until Happiness Day was mentioned on the radio this morning.

I saw the television lunchtime news and there was no mention and not a single piece of happiness there.

Today is also the Vernol Equinox and therefore, in the Northern Hemisphere, Spring officially begins. Unfortunately these days few people worship Zephryus who is (or perhaps was) the god of the gentle west wind and the herald of spring. Consequently he is sulking. Zeus The King of the Gods and the ruler of the heavens was the god of clouds, rain, thunder and lightning and he still seems to be in charge here at the moment.

Anyway ignoring the abysmal weather, let us return to the subject of happiness. How does one determine whether the day has been a happiness success? Internationally the news is, as usual, not dominated by stories of happy events. At home as I type this a newsflash has just arrived on my phone saying that a short extension to Brexit is possible if MPs approve the Prime Minister's Brexit Deal next week. The effect of that would be that the deal will be approved or Britain will crash out of the EU without a deal. Unless, that is, something very spectacular happens. In any case the Royal Mint has issued a 50p coin to reflect the current mood of the nation. None of that indicates happiness so far as I can tell.

So I think we have to look to ourselves for happiness. I woke up this morning. So far as I am concerned that is always a good start to the day. I've been doing it for the last 27,317 days and I don't want to stop just yet. The weather was clement so I enjoyed my morning walk in the woods without getting my usual soaking. When I'd finished my walk and gone into The Woodlands for coffee, the young lady behind the counter greeted me with the diary I had misplaced the previous day. (I use my phone for almost everything except my diary so was lost without it). I'd been in animated conversation with a friend when I'd left and forgotten to pick it up. Silly me. This afternoon I met a lady who had at one time been the best buddy to our son Andy who died. We have almost no adult photos of Andy and whilst we were blethering it transpired that she has. I hadn't met her for years despite Stornoway being such a small place so that really was a wonderfully happy re-union.

Yes. All in all today has been a Good Day.

Dolce far niente

Literally 'sweet doing nothing'.  For Italians - and I suspect they are the only people who have perfected this art and it, as much as the Mediterranean diet, may have a lot to do with their longevity.  

Today is a day - or rather today is a date - that will always be etched in my mind. A day I decided that I was going to indulge in dolce far niente.  Andrew (Andy), our elder child, died on this day 11 years ago. A very dear friend's father died on this day 10 years ago. Gaz, deciding to try and ameliorate the bad connotations of the day, got engaged on this day 4 years ago. And today we are, yet again, listening to the horrendous effects of terrorism at home. 

Today is also the anniversary of my birth: the 73rd to be precise.

I shall be out to dinner at friends'.  

This coming week I am determined to return to Blogland. I'll see you there.

[Written yesterday, 4 June but posted today]

"Do not stand at my grave and weep"

As I mentioned in my last post yesterday was a Good Day. Today the sun is shining out of a solid blue sky and there's hardly a puff of wind: just enough to be pleasant. So I spent three hours gardening. I have never regarded that as work. For me it was, and is, a way of relaxing and allows me to think about the meaning of life in a way that I can't if I'm doing anything else.

Today I reflected on the life, and death, of our older son, Andrew, who died ten years ago yesterday. Who knows what might have been. To be honest I never think of that. 

One of the things that has struck me more as I get older and as the two World Wars get further away (I was born 2 days before D-Day) is how many parents (on both sides) lost their children without them even getting out of their teens or early 20s and how many had children who went away as 'normal' children and came back mentally or physically scarred and changed: often beyond recognition? 

No parent expects a child to die before they do. It goes against the natural order of things.

Andy, as he preferred to be known, had cancer. He had the very best of treatment at the Royal Marsden in London one of the finest specialist cancer hospitals in the country. It was a horrible cancer and it was a horrible way to die. That was as bad a period of life as a parent as it could be.

There was no funeral. Andy had arranged for a Humanist celebration of his life with his friends and family. We celebrated that life.

I think of Andy most days. I think of the good times. I think of the positive things he did. I don't think about the pain and the suffering. I do not grieve. Grief is a negative emotion. We grieve for ourselves and those who are left behind. Grief doesn't help the person who has died. 

So today I thought even more about the happiness that he brought to the family and to his friends during his 33 years on this earth. And I was thankful.

I posted pictures of Andy last year here but here are a few more:

Andrew's first catch?

Andrew seemed to spend a lot of time in small boats which was strange because on the ferry he was always sick before we left port.

In Uig

Early signs of a career as a computer programmer?

A birthday with friends at Coll (some of you may recognise yourself!).

Another Birthday

Today is the anniversary of my birth. I've always thought the term birthday rather odd because one only has one: the day of one's birth. Anyway by common usage today is my Birthday. I rarely celebrate my birthday. In fact I've never given birthdays the importance that many people obviously feel they are due. Somehow, though, I had a feeling a few weeks ago that this birthday was going to be a bit different: it was going to be a Good Day.

It has been. It started yesterday with a meal out at Digby Chick with my son Gaz, his wife and her parents. It was a very special evening.

Today the sun has shone and despite the wind still being from the North it was not so cold that I haven't been able to spend three hours in the garden during the day. My knee isn't complaining either.

I've had visits and phone calls and messages and cards and presents and I don't know whether I've just been more sensitive to it but I actually feel I'm having a birthday in a way that I haven't for as long as I can remember: well my 60th actually when very dear friends organised a huge party.

So I'm writing this whilst waiting for a lift to Pat and Dave's for dinner where I know that I will have a lovely, relaxing evening with good company, good food and good wine. What more could a man want?

My birthday is also the anniversary of the death of our son Andrew. This year is the tenth anniversary. It is also the anniversary of the death of a very dear friend's father.  

Our son Gaz proposed to his, now, wife Carol on this day too.

So today is a day of special memories and reflections and of mixed emotions and despite that it is still a Good Day.

I will do a more reflective post tomorrow but for now I shall sit in the sun-drenched conservatory and pour myself a G and T (Thank you Gaz and Carol) :

Isle of Harris Gin

4 June: A Reflection

I woke to a text from Gaz wishing me a happy birthday - a wish which was followed by a surprising - and very warming - number of others and a wish which was to prove very effective in coming true.

The day was cool but sunny so I decided that my first call would be to Kelvingrove Park next to Glasgow’s main University buildings. It is a magnificent park in the true tradition of British cities and their Victorian era Councils and benefactors. (Kelvingrove Park was established by the City Council in the mid 1850s.)

The reason for the call was to visit the tree planted in memory of our son Andrew - who preferred to be called Andy - who died on this day in 2006. The tree is doing really well. The setting is really fitting overlooked as it is by the splendid main building of the University - in the background of the first photo below.

The tree in the foreground was planted to commemorate the life of Andy 

I was taking the photos at the same time in the morning that Andy died so it was an opportunity for some quiet reflection.

After that I went to the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery to meet Friend Who Knows Too Much and her daughter who had, a few hours previously, had confirmation of her BA degree. So the lunch to which I was treated was a most enjoyable occasion. FWKTM and I then spent the afternoon at the Art Gallery and Park chatting and catching up.

Back to Anna’s we had a quiet evening with dinner and a DVD of a modern take on Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. 

Thank you one and all. It really was a wonderfully happy, if sometimes reflective, birthday.

West Coast Kayak Challenge

This is not a reference to the west coast of New Zealand  but to the west coast of  Scotland so this post will appear on both this blog and on my A Hebridean in New Zealand Blog too.  It would be so much easier if I had just one blog!  When I started this the New Zealand blog, however,  I had no idea that I would end up living there for more than just one or two of our UK winters.

This is about a journey to be made by a friend of Andy, our son who died of cancer on the 4 June 2006.  Bruce Jolliffe starts today,  Monday UK time, on a 313 miles by sea kayak from Largs to Stornoway where Andy was brought up.   The aim is to raise lots of cash for the Royal Marsden in London, (where Andy was treated), the Beatson in Glasgow (where, coincidentally I was treated) and RNLI, (The Royal National Lifeboat Institution) in Andy's  memory.  The expedition is self funded. All donations go to the causes. The expedition will update via Facebook, Twitter and website - West Coast Kayak Challenge (with GPS).

“It’s a funny old life, Dad!”

Andy died 4 years ago today at the age of 33.   No day ever goes past without something that he did or something that he said passing through my mind.  I am sure that the same can be said for his Mum and his brother, Gaz.  When any young person dies it is sad.  I don’t dwell in his absence but in the joy that he brought when he was alive.  Last night I was looking through some of the photos that I took when he was a child – we have few of him in later years – that I have scanned into the digital age.  I decided that I would share some of them.  The thing that struck me most was that Andy and Gaz seemed to be joined at the hip.  They are together in the majority of the photos.  There was only 14 months between them (Andy was the elder) so I suppose that was a significant factor.

  First trout

Proud Mum and paternal grandparents

I shall return with more captions later.

The Voovo

OK so this has absolutely nothing to do with Eagleton. In fact the things upon which I blog are getting less and less likely to be about Eagleton.

I have made a start on scanning in old pictures and slides. Oddly I started with very old black and white photos and then jumped to slides of the family holiday in Scotland in 1962. Now I have leapfrogged to 1970 and am concentrating on the albums from that era before I start on the thousands of 'loose' photos and slides. It is enjoyable and a wonderful trip down memory lane. Sometimes I feel very happy. Sometimes, because so many photos in the period I'm doing at the moment are of Andrew, there is a huge tinge of sadness as well.

This morning whilst looking for a photo for "From my Collection" in the sidebar to this Blog I came across the first car that Carol and I chose together. It was called "The Voovo". It was, in fact, a Volvo 221 but, for some reason the badge on the bonnet said "Voovo". No-one at the garage had noticed but we declined to have the badge changed and for us it was always The Voovo. I think that I probably have fonder memories of that car than any other. We travelled 70,000 miles in it and sold it with 116,000 miles on the clock and Pirelli Cinturato tyres on the wheels. How can I remember that?

Volvo produced 73196 221 Estates between 1962 and 1969.

In 1956 Volvo launched one of its most successful model ranges, the "Amazon" series. Starting with the 121 and 122 models the Amazon range soon established itself as a comfortable, reliable and well built car which also introduced new levels of safety equipment, still very much a novelty in the mid-50's! The range continued to expand from 1956 with numerous models including 121, 122, 122S, 122 (updated and designated B18), 131, 132S, 133, 221/222 and finally a 123GT "sports" version.

The Voovo with Dad on Newlands Pass in the Lake District in 1972.

In Reflective Mood

You'll forgive me if I'm a tad reflective today. This is the second anniversary of Andrew's death. It's also my Birthday. It started out being a very emotional day for me. It actually turned out to be a remarkably ordinary sort of a day. It was bright and sunny and I think that it might have been the warmest day of the year so far as well: certainly my two lots of washing dried very quickly. CJ and I went into Town and then pottered around the garden. Pat and Dave called in this afternoon and Carol and Iain called this evening. Yes, it was a perfectly ordinary sort of a day. Just the sort of day I like. In fact its ordinariness was a considerable comfort.

I was also very moved by the number of calls, cards and presents I received. There will be more about these anon.

To emphasise the ordinariness of the day I have chosen to show you photographs which I took today of very ordinary things:

Bombs away

Dive! Dive! Dive!

Beady eye

Big mouth

Large White on small flower

Again