I just wanted to say Happy Birthday because today would have been your 50th. Is your 50th. Is.
Sorry for singing to you at just gone midnight. I had been on the Pimms in a tin and I really shouldn’t drink on an empty head.
So here you are, on my blog because I can’t send a letter or card to you. Well, it takes a week to get a letter delivered to Reading so God knows how long it would take to get to you up there. You didn’t think you would escape from appearing on my blog at some point, did you? Other posts have mentioned you before but I wanted to mark your special day today in the only way I know how these days.
I would really like to pick the phone up to you but I have had to delete your number from my phone because seeing it made me sad. Took a while though, probably about a year. And actually if I did pick up the phone to you I would chew your ear off first.
Remember that day in Wilmslow soon after you left? I was alone as your folks and Mr B had gone out and I stood on the landing and actually shouted at you. Out loud. Telling you how fecking angry I was with you for leaving us like that. Boy was I angry. I am not anymore.
Well not about that. I am still cross with you about the solar lights. You remember. You took them all out of the grass and shoved them in again so they read “TIT” from the bedroom window. Yeah. That. I will forgive you anything other than that.
Not a day goes by Rog that I don’t think about you. I miss you. You were only a part of my life for 6 years but it was a pleasure to know you and call you my brother in law.
God I miss you.
This picture makes me laugh every time I look at it. The photographer asked us to stand together, both of you with your arms around me. You pinched my arse. Hard. Mr B couldnt work out why I was laughing so hysterically. And we got what may well be my favourite photograph ever.
I shall raise a glass to you later, Rog. Happy birthday