Yesterday I had to leave a mass card over to a remote part of our rival village when I found out that that man’s brother died on Thursday. Turns out I was directed to the home of the brother.
Then I went through a personal Hell negotiating the small, twisty roads at night before heading to a neighbour’s house to send a mass card for his sister in Belfast that died. Then I went to attend a month’s mind for the deceased mum of a personal friend. I then went to his brother’s house for reception, only to make a pig’s ear of parking. But I managed to get back okay and get another mass card for the wake that was on in Moortown and then I called Lifeline Helpline as I felt like I wanted a tons of bricks to hit me.
Mundane tasks, such as manoeuvring, are forced exercises for me. Pressure to perform and all that.