12 Years

 I saw your family the other day. Your mum, your dad, Brigeen and Dee and their partners. Not the Spanish contingent, they were in Spain. Stephen works for the British consulate now, I think. Which was a bit of a surprise. The occasion was Chris' fortieth birthday. Yeah, he's forty. Grey hair and everything. He's kept the weight off. It was a surprise party and the first thing he saw as he alighted the taxi was my massive white hair - it was in full surf's up mode. It was a traditional Northern Irish summer's day - it pissed down. A great night - chaotic, sentimental, sweet, and I got to see some lovely people I no longer see as much as I'd like. And I got to do it because of you. You brought me into this world. And your family haven't rejected me. They still seem to like me. Brigeen was in fantastic form. 

Dee gave me the best reaction to the news that my book was being published. (OBVIOUSLY I didn't stop going on about it) Her eyes widened, her mouth opened, she did a classic Elaine Benes shove. It was exactly what you would have done. It was almost spooky. But then, I guess, she is your sister. You're alike. I met her youngest, Elsie, properly. She is the biggest eyed baby in the world, and has a temper. Another "rager" in the family. 

I'll be heading up the Duff tomorrow with my now traditional bunch of lilies. I expect it'll be raining, clearing up in time for the lighting of the bonfires. God loves a prod. Ask him why. 

See you tomorrow.