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Raising money for Pancreatic Cancer UK
Pancreatic Cancer
Many of you will know that my lovely dad died last year from pancreatic cancer. He was diagnosed in July 2020, November 8th we lost him. We were all with him holding his hands as he took his last breath, it was awful. My dad was only 67 and he had many plans ahead of him. He went to his GP with back pain, a cancer diagnosis was the last thing on his mind.
My dad was always there for me, he was strong, he was everything a dad should be. Every day I think of him and everyday I want him back with me.
A week ago, I made the decision to join my two sisters walking for Pancreatic Cancer UK. Unlike other cancers a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer is usually fatal. Some people are gone in days from diagnosis.
Music
A while ago I bought myself a Blue-tooth headset as I was worried about the amount of time I spend talking on my mobile phone. I then purchased an MP3 player to go with it. Last week I went on my first longer walk of six miles and took my music with me. The joy of the open air, countryside, alone and listening to music is really cathartic.
On Saturday I walked ten miles, something I’m not sure if I’ve ever done in one walk. I put on my music and walked the long way to visit my dad. Once at the cemetery I spoke with him and invited him to walk back with me. I told him that I had my music playing but he is welcome to walk along beside me, he was a keen walker and I’m sad that he never walked with me around the places that I am now walking. A missed opportunity and I can never have that back.
I told him that if he had suggested a long walk to me, I would probably have refused, I am too lazy. Walking through the wood I caught my headset on a branch and it came off, not broken but for seconds I had silence. I wondered if he had played a part in removing it, or maybe it was just that I walked into a tree. He would have walked in silence and enjoyed it.
Two hundred miles in one hundred days
I had decided to walk one hundred miles in one hundred days, this was not high enough. I have changed my aim to over two hundred miles in one hundred days, I’m now not sure how high I should set it. I’m interested to see just how many miles I can walk. The children might still only manage nearer one hundred, they are doing their best.
We are on day nine and I’ve managed nearly forty-eight miles. The children have managed nearly seventeen. I have been walking in wellies, so my feet really hurt, but I’ve now purchased some walking boots so hopefully I will soon feel more comfortable.
We will continue walking, raising money is important to support research into this terrible disease. I am back at work tomorrow, after annual leave, so I doubt I will be able to reach one hundred by next Sunday, but I might be near eighty.
Nothing has changed for pancreatic cancer for forty years, now is the time for change!
Here is my just giving page if you would like to donate, thankyou!
Fund raising for Pancreatic Cancer UK
For more on my dad see, Loss of my lovely dad and my writing
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Night at the Paris Beaubourg Restaurant
The restaurant
Sitting at the quiet table I watch the world go by. A busy restaurant now silenced in the cold of the evening. The overpowering scent of petrichor fills my senses as the rain dances on the pavement. Relaxing I stretch my feet and toes, and then put my arms around my neck and yawn.
I jump as Miles creeps up behind me and puts his hand on my shoulder. Sitting opposite me, I watch as he sits and holds his head with his hands.
Miles has always wanted his own restaurant, a qualified chef, this was his dream. It was nights like tonight that could change that.
Things could have gone worse, witnessing the repercussions I’m glad that we are here to tell the tale.
Whitney
First dates are always awkward, Whitney knew nothing about the man she was supposed to meet. The Paris Beaubourg restaurant is exclusive, she had read that the food is exquisite. Pushing back her blonde hair, she pulled up her favourite red top wanting to give a good impression. Looking at her watch, her stomach is churning, he is now late.
Mark
Knowing that he shouldn’t be walking to the restaurant, he had people he should be meeting with and deals he should be doing. With a need for a companion, he ignored the vibration in his right-hand pocket. Excited to be meeting Whitney he had arranged for a table at the nicest restaurant he knew. Making a good impression was essential. She didn’t need to know all of him, just the best of him, he had good points. He was handsome, could be kind and knew how to treat a lady. His friends he hoped she wouldn’t ever meet.
Managing two lives was not going to be easy, but in his conversations with Whitney he knew she was special. Turning off his phone, he didn’t need the endless calls about tonight. Surely four of them could do the job alone, they didn’t need him.
Late
Watching the young woman alone at the table, I wondered about her evening. I do this with all of our customers trying to play out their lives in my head. She had been sat alone for a while, from her booking I could see the table was booked by a Mr Hemming who was now ten minutes late. I hoped she had not been let down. Its happened to me many times, but never in a top class restaurant surrounded by other customers. Feeling concerned for her I poured a glass of wine and took it to her table. Telling her it is on the house, I wished her a good evening, she smiled back at me pleasantly and nodded, thank you.
Continuing to serve tables I was relieved when I saw a young man approach her table. Leaving them alone, I could see they had only just met. Then picking up the menus and wine list I walked to the table. As I saw the man’s face my stomach lurched, I recognised him, my heart went to the young woman.
The gang
A few weeks ago, a gang of youth’s had been here, rough and ready for a fight. They had eaten dinner but got very drunk. Words had been seen and Miles had asked them to leave. This man had appeared to be the ring leader as he had spat at Miles as they left and had said they would never be back again. We were glad of this, as other customers were upset by their unruly behaviour. What had been really strange though was the money left on the table after they departed. Not many customers leave a £200.00 tip, especially after an already expensive meal. Something had been wrong but we decided not to report it. It happened and that was it.
Watching them, they seemed relaxed and happy, things were going well. The young woman was laughing at his jokes and kept playing with her hair. Nerves, I could see that she wasn’t relaxed but I couldn’t hear what was being said.
10.00 pm
Serving other customers, racing between restaurant and kitchen I had a good view of everything. As two youths walked in, I stopped them and asked if they had a reservation, as the short blond man pushed me hard into the wall, I knew he meant business. Hearing the shouted profanities I reached for the phone behind me and dialled the police, things were going downhill fast. I willed Miles to not get involved, but he usually did.
Hearing his deep voice my stomach started to churn, the three men were now fighting and the young woman was crying. From my position I could see everything and there was now a sound like an explosion. Other customers were now crying and fear could be heard. I couldn’t see the shooter but one of the youths was lying on the floor and the fight had stopped.
Disaster
As the police and ambulance services walked in I felt relief wash over me. A female officer went to speak with the young woman. The police found their shooter who appeared to know the three gang members. As a hand tapped my shoulder I looked around, there was Miles to check I was alright. Hugging him with relief, our next task would be giving statements and tidying up.
The young woman passed by me with the police woman. She nodded a thankyou as she walked out.
I have had quite a few first dates but never one that’s ended with someone shot. I looked up at Miles calm brown eyes, we are both single but I can’t tell him my thoughts. Exhaustion taking over now I knew we were both in for a long night.
Written for Writers Unite! photo prompt
For more see, My loss in a cold lonely winter
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A revolution movement and a shooting
Revolution
I watched the dark-haired man with the matted dreadlocks. Waving a bright red banner reading ‘viva la revolution.’ As the screaming started a sharp needling pain went through my side.
Waking with a jump, I became aware that Paul was thrashing around in his sleep. This was new, I’ve never woken up in the middle of a premonition. What was going on with Paul? Should I wake him? Deciding to let him sleep, I shuffled out of bed.
Standing in the kitchen waiting for the microwave to ping, my thoughts were on hot chocolate. The next mission was far from my mind. Minutes later I was stirring my drink, comforted by the chink of the spoon against ceramic.
Savouring the sweet warm liquid, I jumped as the silence was filled by a scream. Placing my mug on the worktop, my chair fell to the floor as I scraped it back. With sweat pouring off me, my stomach ached as I ran up the stairs two at a time.
Reaching Betsy’s room, I could hear Paul, through sobs her words grounded me.
“He shot mummy”.
Remembering the sharp jab in my side before I woke, I listened to Paul’s calm reassurance. From the tone of his voice, calm concern, I know that things are bigger than us.
Mrs Zintalis shop
As her calm smile vanished, she began to stammer,
“I think we need tea, surely this can’t happen? Not a child.”
“Mrs Zintalis, this happened and Betsy saw me killed, how can I stop these people? Stop the revolution?”
As she hovered making a fuss with the tea pot, Paul took my hand.
“The night she had her dream I woke after feeling a needle like pain go through me.”
“Love, did you die?”
I thought about it,
“I heard screaming, saw the revolution banner, felt the pain and woke up. To be honest I thought Paul kicked me in his sleep.”
What to do now?
I squeezed Paul’s hand, I need him here with me and I don’t want to die.
“So, what does this mean? What should I be doing?”
Pouring the tea, the old woman answered.
“You have to do this, every dream means something and you must follow.”
Paul, spoke now,
“Even if she dies?”
“All we know love is that she’s shot, we don’t know if she dies.”
My mind was racing. I thought of the pain in my side.
“I need a vest, like what the police use, Paul what ‘s it called?”
“A Kevlar vest.”
Mrs Zintalis spat out her tea.
“A few days ago a man brought in a police vest, he said it would be needed”.
Coincidences don’t happen often but my world is now full of them.
The vest
“Surely, if I wear the vest, I can help the revolutionaries and prevent whatever goes wrong.”
“You must be careful love, but yes it does seem that way.”
As she passed it to me, I felt chills and remembered the dream again. This was happening any night soon.
“Thank you Mrs Zintalis, we just need to work out how to stop the revolution”.
Two days later
Drinking coffee while reading my usual social media account, I found our answer. Viva la Revolution, meeting tonight in the town centre. This was it, me and the Kevlar vest would be performing in just hours.
Telling Paul, I would see him later and hugging Betsy I didn’t want them to worry. Vest hidden in the boot, I started the engine and started on my mission. I rarely know what disaster I have stopped and tonight I can’t stop shaking.
The revolution
Pulling into a parking space I could hear the excited shouting. Bracing myself against the cold, the premonition played again and I thought of Betsy. Having premonitions scared me, it’s not fair that they are now affecting my little girl. Her first one seeing me shot was cruel, why would a loving God use her or maybe I wasn’t supposed to wake up when I did.
As the crowds gather, I look for the shooter, seeing the police nearby I wonder again why I’m here. The crowds start to chant loudly, “viva la revolution”, a small child catches my eye and she is dragging a toddler behind her. As a shot fills the air I begin to realise my purpose, why I needed to be here right now. Feeling the vibration and needling pain I fall to the floor.
I’ve never been shot before, and I can hear the police radios. Who are the children? Why are they here? And surely the police are going to question the vest that has just saved my life. Too many questions, but I seem to be the only one who could have been hurt here. Working out who the shooter is, I know is a job for the police and this is just another day in my life of helping change.
For more see, part one – A charm bracelet and a strange shop
Part two – Blank slates and spiritual interventions
Written for Blog Battle – Revolution
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