With the exception of Mrs. Carr, who turned me into a grammar Nazi in 1963, my dad taught me more than any school teacher ever did. He left us on 7th August 1997. I'll pop up and see him today.
The rain has temporarily stopped. There's even a touch of blue sky. I don't think it's going to last.
I'm planning a concert for some time around late September. I've been practising hard. This is a concert of bass tunes I have written over the last thirty years. I have seventeen selected for this concert. I'll be playing double bass and an old friend will be playing guitar. His name is Wade. I'm also very lucky to get the services of a drummer named Shaun, a very busy drummer in Wellington at the moment.
Tomorrow Peter (The Curmudgeon) turns 70. I can't imagine how it would feel to be that old. I'm pretty sure he uses a walking frame these days. Happy Birthday Peter.
I slept in a bit this morning so I guess I'd better get organized. Saint Faustina would probably say, "Being around someone who hasn't been to the toilet yet is for Jesus like going into a dark dungeon!"
I wonder if Father Patrick is still sitting around waiting for Peter or me to show up for confession?
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| "If those two guys don't show up in the next ten minutes, I'm going to the toilet. I don't care if Jesus needs to go into a dark dungeon!" |
Ciao tutti.
3 commenti:
That's a nice thing to say about your dad.
When you say "I'll pop up and see him today" I assume that you don't mean to Heaven as I doubt that they'll let you in.
My dad died 15th July 1995 and I still think of him often and fondly.
Pop up to the cemetery - it's on a hill. No, I'm not welcome in Heaven. That doesn't bother me because Mr. Linford is there and probably Brother Benedict.
You better dress up as Jesus if you want to get on with Faustina.
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