Today, I was planning on doing an article on the anniversary of Neal Ardley taking charge of AFCW, how things have dramatically altered under him, and all that.
Sadly, that won’t happen – earlier this morning, after a long battle with prostate cancer, my old man died peacefully in his sleep.
It was coming, he was in a lot of pain (both physically and – perhaps worse – mental) and while I’m utterly gutted right now, I’m also relieved that he’s no longer suffering.
I’m not going to do eulogies, but things might be a bit more “raw” on here for a little while. I’m planning on going to the Accrington game, and hopefully the club gives me a tonic like it’s done in the past – my nan died on the very morning that we went and beat QPR 5-0 at Selhurst – and just makes things a bit easier this weekend.
I mention what he died of, because it would be a good time to mention Men United here – as you know, it’s the FL’s chosen charity and while they’ve obviously focusing on what really matters to blokes who follow football – their ability to perform in the bedroom – it’s not a pleasant disease to have.
And as I found out this morning and known about for the last two years, there is no such thing as a “good” cancer.
The stats of the amount of men who get it is unreal, and while you can be unlucky and it ultimately kills you, many others do still live a decent enough life with it.
So, things are going to be rough with me for a while, and me and my mum (who many of you know) really appreciate the bon mots right now. Even when you expect the worst and you finally experience it, it’s still a major kick to the bollocks.
And as the poignant lyric in “Dreamline” by Rush says, we are immortal for a limited time…