What a difference a couple of days make.

Overnight we've gone from the depth of winter, and a daily routine of coping with sub zero temperatures, to a thaw complete with mist, fog and drizzle.

I've not used the car for the last two days due to sitting at home getting fat, drinking lots, and wondering why so many repeats on TV, but today the 28th December, is the anniversary of my eldest son's death, so I needed to make the trip back to Bolton to place some flowers on his grave.

For most of the 20 plus mile drive down I took the A and B roads which were awash with large puddles due to the melting snow running off adjacent fields. I made a point of splashing through quite a few of those puddles to rinse off the salty residue which was clinging to the underside of the car.

As always I had a compact camera with me to record the details. I've been doing this ever since I realised that in 45 years I had accumulated very few pictures to look back on when I'm older, and those that I did have had since been destroyed, so for the last five years I've carried a compact camera whenever I remember to.



Karl is buried in a quiet churchyard just near where the family home used to be when he was alive. It's a nice old church, that still has a good attendance so it isn't likely to be sold off as some dusty antiques venue, or converted to a mosque any time soon - which is comforting.

It may seem a little odd, in fact it is odd, but I don't like to go to the grave other than to mark this day. The photo above is normally the nearest you'll ever see me to a church I'm afraid. It's been nine years to the day since Karl was killed, and despite having been labelled a 'callous so and so' (and a whole lot more besides) during that time by his mother and her family, I simply can't just stand weeping at a graveside, It won't bring him back, and love and miss him as I undoubtedly do, standing around moping just isn't for me.

Given the chance I'd swap places with him in an instant, he deserves to be given his turn, his chance to live his life, whereas I've virtually had, wasted and ruined mine. I feel awful sometimes because my lack of tears appears to others to be of a hard, uncaring, even disrespectful nature , but it isn't that, I'm just not made that way. My surviving son once told me that he thought that I was 'the hardest man that he ever knew', noting that I didn't even cry at the funeral. Would that they could only see past the exterior.



Having laid the flowers I spent a short while alone in quiet contemplation, before setting off for Middlebrook, (above) which is one of those retail park complex thingy's just next to the Reebok stadium, Bolton Wanderers ground. I wanted to pick up some bits to take home, but in the end I gave up due to the sheer volume of traffic.

Time for a rant. Middlebrook is a huge place which was as could be expected at this time of year full to over-capacity. Two things that I find ridiculous about this place is that the large empty car park that you see in the photo above belongs to the football ground, so isn't in use at all, while the complex with it's 'C' shape is served by just one access and exit road. Yep, a place the size of that, stuffed with shoppers, and served by one small single lane road in and out.

Added to which those lanes marked on the forecourt of the shops are one way, you must go up one and down the next - no exceptions, and then you must wait until someone lets you out at the end before joining the single lane road out. Knowing all of this, knowing that it would be very busy and that parking spaces would be tight, and knowing that it was dark, misty, and difficult to see, why do under confident women drivers still go there? I must have been stuck in traffic for over an hour just waiting to get off that place, and the antics of women attempting to park or otherwise drove me mental.

Tip: If you can't park in tight spaces - Stop at home and do yer f*cking knitting!



Having lost so much time I took the motorway home which was much better, nice to get a bit of speed up again, even if it doesn't show on my disconnected speedo. The thaw might be complete by Thursday and if so I'll give the Ol' Bluebamboo a wash, as the road salt has already begun to nibble at the edges.

Jesus, Old Nail, I never knew about your son. I never knew you'd experienced what every parent must dread more than anything else (I know that I do.)

Your personal grief isn't there for anyone else's benefit, and its visibility is not for anyone else to comment on. It's yours to cope with the way that you can.

Heartbreaking stuff, O-N. Sorry.

I'm not troubled by speaking of tragedy DA, I mention it here purely because it was the anniversary date of that tragedy, and I faithfully recorded that fact.

I think that it's perhaps my 'matter of fact' manner about such things that some people find hard to accept or understand, (my ex-wife certainly couldn't) and I can see how it makes me seem rather remote or uncaring, but neither are truly the case, I suppose that I'm just emotionally hardened like my father, something I often reflect on.

It's funny how you can go through life thinking that you are perfectly normal simply because what seems to oneself to be perfectly normal (having known no different) really isn't. It's only when an event occurs which invites direct comparison that the difference becomes evident. For example when I met my current partner I was 44 years old, and she had a son at 11 years of age and held an 11th birthday party for him.

I was completely at a loss, and very uncomfortable at that party. All those smiling relatives and sickly sweetness had me looking for the exit. I honestly thought that Kid's Birthday parties only really happened in romantic comedies at the cinema, I couldn't imagine people actually doing that stuff for real!

I was duly informed that no, in fact people actually did these things, that it was normal, and that it was in fact my experiences which were un-typical. So I was 44 years of age before I had any inkling that all life wasn't broadly speaking, as I'd experienced it

I had heard a work colleague remark some ten years previously, that his father had never once hit him in his entire life, a fact that I found completely beyond belief, and which then haunted me for years. I mean this guy was 28 years old, and had never, ever been hit! Astonishing!

As for the birthday party I attended, I remember feeling rather repulsed by all the mollycoddling that went on there that day, and as I suspected, the child grew up to be a selfish softie.

Edited: Because I talk too much.

After last weeks freeze the thaw is now complete, so it was time to assess how much damage driving on the salt laden roads had done to the poor old 2cv.



Out with the hosepipe then, and I hosed off the car for several minutes using just cold water, both underneath and on the paintwork. I used cold water alone as I've noticed that if you use hot soapy water it melts the protective wax that I had applied before winter, thus making more work for yourself.

Once the accumulated road grime had shifted it was easy to spot the areas of corrosion as they stuck out like a sore thumb, happily they are mainly concentrated on the road wheel edges, and odd little bits here and there, so no big deal so far. I'm really impressed with this Carnuba wax stuff, it's expensive compared to some cheaper waxes that are available but worth every penny. The protection it has provided to the paintwork is excellent, and for the main part dirt just slides off leaving the car looking clean even when it hasn't been washed.



In the photo's above you see the finish of the paintwork after having driven through the last few weeks of winters worst, including motorway journeys battling with the spray from articulated lorries. Ten minutes with a cold hosepipe and Voila.



The best bit is that I applied that wax in July, and it is still giving the results shown above having never been re-applied or touched since. Top stuff - get some!

i love the "boy named sure" reference.

When actually my name is Julie.

I've spent a long time trying to get my head around why Dad did the things he did Joe, and only recently have I come to terms with it by understanding his own background. Born in the 1920's his parents were Victorians, who didn't have much affection for their children. He witnessed the great depression, worked a man's job from the age of 13, and fought overseas in the army.

I only found out the other day (via my mother) that he had never even had a Christmas present until aged 29 when they were married! As hard as he may have been back then he still loved his kids, just couldn't show it. So by toughening us up mentally and physically I think that in his own way he was giving us the only gift that he had to give.

Sheesh - Nowadays young kids get a car from their dad's!

nail i saved for 4 years to buy my car you bastard!!!

ive been working since the age of 13, every weekend in and out until recently, i spent every last penny on buying my car, well most of it and the rest on it!!

incidently, my sills are rusting ive noticed from the salt bad times

Hey! - Watch your language, or you'll be excluded from the circle of trust. Haven't you seen the Fockers? - I got my eye on you now...circle of trust... remember that.



You are an exceptional young man James. I got my first job at 13 too, I worked for a Bookie, doing errands, marking his board, and sweeping up the losing tickets. During that time I swept up lots of tickets, which ensured that as an adult I've never backed a horse in my life.

Trouble was, instead of saving my wages like you did I went and peed it up a wall. You should be proud that you saved up and bought your own car, good on yer'.

Ditto ......Until I was 23 [in 1973] I was too busy peeing my money up the wall and wasting it on old,past their sell by date motorcycles to buy a car.
I bought a 1971 Dyane4 then ......that was my first car in 37 years of unbroken "A" series ownership......it'll be 38 years after tomorrow ...



Well ...... stop wasting time on here ......and get out and get them waxoyled .....

T.

thanks nail!!

i think its wrong for people to be given everything on a plate!! argh!

ps well the only wax oil i have is black, if i plaster clear on??