DNR

Yesterday I awoke full of the joys of spring, the sun was shining and it felt like a holiday feels. Thus there was the desire to begin the day with a fry up. I did feel slightly extravagant as one has become used to associating fry ups with hotels not our kitchen. However, I, as in me fried bacon, sausages and eggs extremely well. Together with a small spattering of chilli ketchup it all went down easily. It was followed by a rather large mug of very fine coffee, extracted to nigh on perfection. I ought to be more modest but there was no one to witness my efforts so I can get away with it.

The lady of the house was in company with the lady of a house round the corner, no doubt sitting in a garden centre, drinking garden centre coffee and eating garden centre cake whilst mulling over the relative merits of Hoover's, washers, cookers and irons or whatever it is they mull over. Useless husbands must get a look in at some point I guess. At least when my friends are about we discuss in some depth and eloquence the really important stuff like the merits of Michelin pilot sport tyres over everything else, should you use skylight filters or UVs and do you need them on every lens but most importantly can you get the best out of 180g vinyl unless the record deck is correctly sprung and damped for it? And, of course we use the opportunity to sing the praises and extol the virtues of our wonderful wives.

In her absence and before the next coffee I phoned a friend after which I had the urge to clean the inside of a windscreen. I found the polish, alas until her return the microfiber cloth recommended on the bottle was hiding in plain sight. Once shown its location and placed in my hand I went out to find that not only was it sunny but it was warm for January. The desire to clean a windscreen evaporated in as long as it took to open the car and stow the roof. We'll be off then, I suggested. Once appropriately attired, handbagged and settled we only had to ensure she had all the right pills and away we went.

Where are we going was the question. The traffic lady informed us that a lovely long and winding road to the west was blocked owing to three vehicles in very close proximity. East, I said.

The coast road is wonderful, it sweeps, it rises and falls and with barren hedgerows gives glimpses unavailable at other times of the year. The river Axe was resplendent as I've never seen it before and had I not been enjoying the drive so much I'd no doubt thought it a photo opportunity. As it was, Lyme beckoned.

On arrival I announced that we'd park up on the sea front where all the other blue badges parked up. So we drove through the town and was about to hang a right through the car park when it was noted that I'd gone out to move the Jazz but had neglected to move the blue badge. The farm shop a few miles on, then. It was a plan which was politely refused when it was pointed out to me that I'd driven past all the road closure signs which for plan A was the right thing to do. Plan B was a different matter.

Plan B. Unreached destination complete with farm shop crab pots.

We turned around, treated the pedestrians of Lyme to a burst of V6 up the hill and came home. It was lovely. Once home I removed the blue badge. I also realised that the time has come to replenish stocks of screenwash. I was permitted to get it on my own and trusted with the cash to do so. It was still a lovely day. It was still relatively warm. I took the motorbike. It needed a run. I loved it. Even a humble 125 single is a pure delight. No matter how exhilarating, no matter how good it makes you feel, no matter how wide the grin it brings some are predisposed to not thinking highly of motorbikes and even less highly of me riding one.

It was mentioned again today when the delightful Helen came to enquire as to my wellbeing and the drugs regime in place. I feel great, sort of, I don't feel like I'm going to die today and I'd like to stay awake until 2301 tomorrow to raise a glass of fizzy stuff, indeed I feel confident that I may. The issue of the motorbike was raised, not by me but it may have precipitated a comment or two but I've forgotten what they were.

It was after that the discussion turned to DNR and a very serious face from Helen. Yup, I said, do not resuscitate is what I want, it's what we want. Life is wonderful. Days like yesterday are fabulous but they will end. Not just for me but for everyone so there's really not much difference it's just that in my case the signs of a long and healthy life went missing a few years ago and whilst yesterdays are bliss they are decreasing in frequency. Which is what makes them so very special.

I think Helen was put at ease with the Q&A because it was then she asked about our faith which we were happy to talk about. The most precious aspect of life is the future, it may not involve motorbikes or even nice cars. It does involve what it is referred to in Christianity as the hope that is within you. It's not  vague hope like I wish but a hope that offers a certainty that life after death is life for real. I've seen bumper stickers that say you only have one life, make the most of it. Fortunately and wonderfully they are wrong. It's good to make the most of it though, and I thank God that we still can .... and do.