Seven days since I got up at 0615, went out on my bike for a pre-work ride, and received that phone call.
So, today I got up at 0615 and went out on my bike for a pre-work ride. It was a little emotional - wistful is probably the best word - but I'm glad I went. Another hour and a half of solid thinking time, which I doubled by riding the reverse of the route on the way home.
Tomorrow is the big party for my Dad (I'm not thinking in terms of the "F" word, or the "W" word). We've got flowers in the shape of a helicopter and a pint of lager, Frank Sinatra, the RAF March, and £500 behind the bar. I'm sure I'll be in bits for the first part of the day (the part where everyone will be quite tearful) but the second part should be much better. We'll see.
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