Today.

My stomach once again seriously bloody bloating up like it was connected to the gas mains, I tried a Trike to relieve it, as the vigour has before.

It didn’t work, and as I was wheeling along feeling pissed off, I was thinking about the seemingly non stop run of bad luck, and then the extra complications I seem to be getting.

My original crash, my near drowning, a very dodgy ski crash,  my near suicide, my operations this summer… my imminent divorce and the obvious side effect of being deprived of such regular contact with my daughters… and a young man walked past me, very close to me, and whispered softly three words.

‘ Don’t give up ‘

I’m not a religious man, but it was a very potent moment.

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