I have so much to tell you, so much to say, but I’m saving it for when you’re awake and you will be awake sooner than you think.
You’ve missed 5 days of incessant Brexit talk, which I know you’ll be thrilled about.
Your granddaughter has six new pets: blood worms that she found in the garden. They have names. Charlotte (after the Royal Baby), Hegarty (???), Fuzzy, Wiggles, Silly, and Max.
I know you’re uncomfortable and you’ve had enough, but you need to stay cool and let your body recover as much as it can. I’m sorry that this has happened. I’m trying to find out if we can sue the NHS, but don’t hold your breath on the compensation front.. Don’t hold your breath at all because then you’ll set all the alarms off!
I miss you. The nurses say your vitals get much better when I’m by your bed. And I know you know I’m there. It hurts me so much to see you like this. But you just need to breeze it – don’t rage and storm, be like the breeze. Take the path of least resistance (translation: stop trying to yank your tubes out!)
See you when you’re older. I love you oodles. Xx
P.S Had a memory today, from when me and brother were little and you used to tip us on our sides and “play” our bellies “like a guitar” and we’d scream with laughter. I’m still super ticklish but, now, if any man tried to play me in any sense of the term he’d get a knee in the bollocks.
Hey “Daddy”. Sure, Brexit is fucking boring, but the rest of life is good. Hang in there.
I hope you are ok too. Yes, tell your old man not to struggle. That is the source of so much of our pain. Live in wu wei. xxx