Terminal illness.

Londoners and Essex people become colourfully indignant when we have feelings going on. It’s a culture thing.

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My friend from works wife just let us know that our dear, funny as heck, tall, handsome and intelligent, honourable, caring, kind, micky taking, irreverent and a little politically incorrect, world travelling, close to retiring friend is terminally ill.

That bastard.

How dare he leave this world a little dimmer through lack of his presence.  How dare he not regale us again with the same tale over and over again on “when I was in Ireland”.  How dare he not tease me for coming from the wrong side of the tracks.  How dare he not be around to share his immense wisdom.  How dare he not tell me “Chin up, girl, you got this”.

How bastarding dare he.

 

 

Author: Pollyanna Whyte

Single LDS Mormon Mum/Mom living in England. This is our blog on emotional health, fun, parenting, life, divorce, starting over, friends, family, church things, and budgeting. Stop by, tell us what you think, feel free to share (but credit the source please).

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