The Hill

– 10:33 pm

I am part of a Sunday league football team, AFC Southborough. And this is the second season Charlie, Wez and I get to play for this new outfit, managed by Charlie. We missed out on the league by a point last year and also lost a cup final. Tragic.

That reminds me, I need to text Charlie back about training on Tuesday. One sec…

The talent includes childhood friendships and some great characters. The type of “lads you want to get stuck in the trenches with”, as Roy Keane repeatedly puts it. We’re currently top of the league. Prior to this, all three of us played for FC Wanderers, which Wez managed. We won the league one year undefeated, playing some of the greatest football I’ve ever been a part of. It really was a hell of a run and accomplishment. I got a Player’s Player award that year.


Alas, the club folded the year before last. It got slowly and painfully dismantled as players either gave in to other vices, family or other commitments. Every now and again though, we bump into old teammates in the opponent’s kit and share a laugh before we go about kicking each other senseless in the name of football.

Wez also does carpentry. He was round ours yesterday to discuss designs and take wall measurements for wardrobes we want to have built as part of a series of refurbs to complete before you get here, including a brand new kitchen. All very pocket-deep modifications.

My football game got cancelled this morning. I only found out when I got there. On my drive back, I pit stopped at “the Hill” to get your mother some fruits from the local shops. That’s about all she eats these days. You’ve given her a severe aversion to meat, fish and poultry. It’s an inexplicable change from who she normally is. So strange.

The other day, this weird person ordered chips… And nothing else, just chips. The delivery cost more than the chips.


Umm, I just need to leave the bedroom. Your mother is asking me if I’m going to be typing all night. I didn’t realise how loud my keyboard is. She’s trying to sleep and doesn’t know what I’m typing either. I plan to keep it that way for as long as possible. On second thought, I’ll finish this tomorrow. Going to hit the sack instead, knackered.


– Jan 10, 2022, 1:13 pm

Liza and I then went for a (long) walk across the river. She was too tired to walk back so we took a bus from Kingston. Your mother had lunch while I was unpacking the bags from The Hill. I hadn’t noticed but when I looked across my right, she had her fingertips on her eyelids, red cheeks and her elbows on the table. It’s a familiar look.

I went over, one hand on your shoulder, “what’s wrong?” I asked calmly. Normally, I’d be worried and beating my head for answers. But I honestly wasn’t overly concerned. It’s just one of those things she does from time to time and it’s got nothing to do with me or anyone. Mostly, and not directly.
She’s been getting these painful and worrisome pregnancy reminders every day around 4 pm, like clockwork. Today, it drove her to tears. Probably a compounding effect.

She told me she was struggling with constantly being unwell, nausea, fatigue and so on. It was all proving to be just that bit tougher today. Beyond my steady face, I felt really sorry for her. So I said something silly to make her laugh. And laugh she did.

I told her to try altering her perspective of the outcome, to deal with it from a position of acceptance. If you know you’re going to get evening sickness and accept it, instead of trying to fight it (and losing), then how you deal with it may not break your spirits so much. Easy for me to say, of course, I’m not the one with off-the-handle hormones. She agreed to try. We’ll see.

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