Only When it Rains

17.06.14 (day 177)


An early start today, as I run my coffee morning at a church at the other end of town, two and a bit miles away and at the end of my mum and dad’s road. Mum will pop in as she always does. I hope my dad will one day. He and me get on fine but he’s yet to take the piss out of me wearing my pinny in the kitchen.

My reasons for having to leave mum and dad’s are well-documented: tough love. It was raining on the day that I had to hit the road. The rain hides the tears. All I did wrong though was to be unwell and misunderstood.


I’m at the church.

Before I left, I woke The Courts to see if she wanted to come with me: she was tired. In a rare moment of sentiment, she opened her eyes, looked at me, smiled and held my hand.

I contemplated catching a bus up here but figured the fare was money better spent on food for the kids.

We’re all set up here, awaiting customers: empty chairs and empty tables. I’m sitting at the table for one usually reserved for The Courts: empty heart.


My mum popped in and dropped off a fathers’ day card from the biological kids. Sitting at my Court’s empty table and looking at the card, it’s raining in church.



I had moral support (kind of the right place) and was encouraged to hear from some of the staff and customers that they read the blog. So some of what I do is worthwhile.

It rained again on the long, lonely walk home and I was happy.


Home, with food from the church. I’m cooking tonight but we’re out of clean plates, so I may have to employ a restaurant practice and serve on whatever is to hand. What does food gain from being served on a fucking roof tile? About a tenner.

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