List-o-Vision

Today was...interesting. Interesting in the kind of way that having bamboo shoved under your fingernails is interesting. We were expecting to be able to get Dad's death certificate today, but got a call at 8 to say that that wouldn't be happening, as the death had been referred to the coroner.

Take one cricket bat. Apply to the day, liberally and with speed.
We had to go and visit the coroner's officer, to discover that the cause of death is not listed as annnnnnny of the multitude of things from which Dad was actively suffering in the weeks leading up to his death, but in fact was something called an intercranial haemorrhage. That's a brain bleed to you, squire. A brain bleed probably, but not by any means yet conclusively, suffered as a result of one of the falls he had while in the hospital.

Sigh...
We all had a bunch of other stuff to do too, so we went our separate ways. I popped back to the flat to do the weigh in.

As predicted yesterday, the results of this week of Ease Eating were dreadful.

17st 0.25

Guaranteed, it'll be less than this next week. I'll be back in the 16s next week. No really, I will.

The rest of the day has been lived in List-o-Vision. It's a slightly anodyne process, writing someone out of the world. It's a big long list of all the financial connections they made while they were alive, where you have to call up all the other ends, and tell them that the person has gone, and things need to change. That's what I've been doing, on and off, for the last 48 hours. Tonight, out of the blue, Geraint suggested that, as he had to drop an invitation in to a house in Pentrebach (a little way down the Taff Trail), we should walk it. So we did.

Jeepers, I'm out of practice. It was barely a five mile round trip, but I found myself wheezing like a grampus by the end of it.

No, really, I'll be back in the 16s this time next week. I have spoken, dammit!