Who’s saying hello? Who’s saying goodbye?

When I was a kid and I still believed in something ‘more’; on rainy winter days I’d look out the window and think that the rain was falling because God was crying. Then I grew up and realised that was probably just Fairytale kids’ stuff. Bollocks I made up to make myself feel better about the fact that it was wet and miserable and I couldn’t go outside. But, it’s times like this that make me look back on those moments of pure innocence and think I must’ve been right.

Now, I know I promised a lot of people that my next entry (I.e. this one, in case you’re not paying attention) would graphically expose the hideous details of my labour in my usually cynically charming and hilarious manner (hmm…) but, given recent events, such pleasures will have to wait until next time.

Today, as I sit in my chair all cosy and warm, with my precious bundle of strawberry-flavoured loveliness (yes, I have turned into a real ‘Mummy’ now) sleeping deeply next to me and God cries on the other side of the weathered pane of glass just metres away, I’d like to take this opportunity to share with you how glad I will be to see the back of 2012 – a year full of heartache and helplessness – and the suffering that went with it.

I’m all for life throwing us obstacles and challenges, testing our strengths and giving us different perspectives on the same issues… It’s all part of living. And to live is to learn. But sometimes, just sometimes, life takes the piss.

I have a theory (it’s one of many, of course, considering how neurotic I am). It’s a new theory. A theory I’ve made up in the last 17 days. The theory is this:

there must be a shortage of stars in the sky and an urgent need to burn them. In the space of 17 days, two of the brightest, most beautiful of all have been taken from us, back to where they belong, watching over us and leading our way.

On Monday, 19th November, my Grandad was laid to rest. Group Captain J A Porter OBE. His 70th birthday fell on 20th November. Mr Porter – a man loved by many and admired by all.

On Tuesday, 20th November, talented Jazz Pianist, caring Father and all round party animal, Joey Bethell, passed away. He was in his 20’s. Mr Bethell – a man loved by all and admired by many.

Fancying myself as a writer, I tend to associate certain pieces of music with certain historic or important moments in my life and, as I play them, I pretend I’m in pretentious, new age, silent film – sitting on a bus and contemplating life – or something (don’t say you haven’t tried that yourself at least once).

For me, these are 2012:



Sometimes, life’s challenges are character building. And sometimes they’re worth the challenge/hassle/pain, however you wish to see it. Having my baby, for example, was a challenge worth all the pain in the world and something which, if you give my bits and pieces some more time to go back together, I would do again in a heartbeat (probably). But sometimes, life’s challenges are so painful, they only serve to leave you wondering what the hell happened.

This month alone, the world has lost two of it’s brightest stars and gained a gaping hole where they once proudly stood, never to be refilled or replaced.

But, given the circumstances of these tragic losses, they have taught me something. Something I wish, like the rest of my life, to share with you…:

life, however tough at times and however long or short, is a precious gift we are able to give. Be grateful for the lives you touch and those that are lucky enough to touch your’s and make sure, above anything and everything else, you let those closest to you know how precious they really are to you. Don’t take it for granted.

So, at times like this, whilst God cries onto the concrete outside, enjoy every last drop of it whilst you can (just for the record, I’m not religious, yes?)

2012 can go f*ck itself!

Farewell but never goodbye… X



2 thoughts on “Who’s saying hello? Who’s saying goodbye?

  1. Joey touched everyone he met and played music with. A genuinely lovely man with an otherworldly talent, gutted at his passing, lots of love to all the Dartington crew ‘Scottish’ Ben

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