Thoughts of mortality

It has been a sobering weekend. Ages ago some friends in Lyme Regis mentioned they would be inviting us for the weekend at some point in the future. Ah great, I thought, I can combine that with a trip to see Uncle George near Bridport. He was living in a residential home after becoming ill last year and I was aware it would probably be the last time I saw him.

Unfortunately my timing was out and on Saturday afternoon, when I should have been visiting, he was reaching the end of his life, his children around him. And it turns out it is only a 2 hour drive away. I wish I had gone before. Living in Cornwall can make you insular; I've noticed it time and again but I never thought I might suffer from the same curse. It takes about as long as it used to take us from Bath and we'd go down from there without a second thought.

Apart from that, it isn't really an occasion to grieve. He was always an active man in brain and body, a farmer, and leading a full life until last year when his heart started to pack up. I'd rather anyone shuffle off this mortal coil than be reduced to a shadow of who they used to be.