Holding Neighbours, Croquet in Tonbridge Wells and Grieving on Your Own

I guess grief is a very private thing or at least only you know what you remember about the departed one. Yesterday I heard that my second brother had died in Australia, I had not seen him for a long time, but it was a shock nevertheless. It brought back some traumatic family stuff. The sort of thing you put aside because you cannot process it. But that life has gone and all of its history goes with it . Stuff that only I know. He was wonderfully supported in his later years. I am happy for that, the Sainted One was in the room when I got the news, he asked me if I wanted him to hold “Neighbours” Since when the matter has not been mentioned. I have cried alone which was just as well perhaps because I am a professional weeper and it does not do to be anywhere near when this is going on. The SO went to Tonbridge Wells to play croquet, he was given a lift because the “partner” did not fancy Sybil ( the new car) because they also knew what had happened to Sybil’s predecessor the self-acclaimed the love of the Sainted One’s life. He grieved for that you know But brothers ??? no that’s different .

Recently I resigned from the Yacht Club on the I of W because it costs a fortune I don’t use it and do not have a boat. They snatched a last minute contribution for something I have never heard of from my bank account , and then wrote a stern letter saying that I must not use the slipway ever, ever, ever. Of course being a habitual law breaker I am planning to drive to the Island from Clapham in the dead of night getting the early car ferry and cavorting on the slipway in a most vulgar manner scantily clad like all those ghastly yummy mummy’s’ do, I am told sometimes minus their sports bras. On second thoughts ?????

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