Last July whilst wandering along Mumbles sea front I felt the need to go back to the house to watch the start of the 2019 Tour de France. As the previous tour ended I doubted I'd see the next one. The same thought crossed my mind later in the year listening to my oncologist talking numbers. It wasn't a big deal to anyone else and I didn't mention it but after seeing the Grand Depart 2019 I went back to stroll with the others.
Even watching F1 last year began aimlessly As I didn't really expect to see it's conclusion but LH44 wrapped it up long before the maths decided it. When the competition is inferior, inadequate, incompetent or just downright accident prone it makes his job a trifle less difficult. That's not to take anything away from his driving, he is undoubtedly a great, not Jim Clark great, but great in a modern number crunching robotic way. I just wish he'd keep quiet about everything else. Being a great driver is enough, being a evangelical vegan and prophet of woke is totally uneccessary, and frankly, detrimental to him. Great driver, jerk of a bloke!
I also watched the first two rounds of WRC 2020, go Elfyn! I remember watching his dad. Much of the cricket's been good, too.
Marking your life in coffee cups, sporting events or the intriguing passage of days is as nothing though, compared to one or two really immense days, or parts of them. Like assembling an electric BMW with a very excited and increasingly impatient nearly 4 yr old.
Before careful wrapping, not by me, the battery charger was found, carefully unboxed, plugged in overnight, carefully repacked and restowed the next morning.
Come the afternoon, come the mum and grandson. Cue amazement at the size of the box or may be the acreage of Paw Patrol paper. For me? Yup. Oooooo! Hardly delicate the unwrapping procedure but effective. Once the glory of the opened box was revealed what passes for jumping for joy was a delight to behold.
Parts removed, mostly recognised and cries of make it, granda, get tools from the shed. I duly got them and passed them to a willing helper. Rear axle, here you are, one rear wheel, here, other one, here and so it went on pausing only for the briefest explanation of the Ackermann steering Principle but I felt it uneccessary to check where the angle of intersection met in relation to the rear axle, let alone gauge the tracking, just connect it all up.
Steering wheel, various connections, seat squab, seat back and can I get in it now, granda? Well let's get it on the floor first, eh? OK. Once on the floor the start button is obvious to a nearly 4yr old. It was pressed. Nothing happened. Nothing. The disappointment palpable. Granda? A lash up. Yup. Epic fail, indeed.
I removed the seat back, his mum read the book of words with pictures, I removed the seat squab. Shouldn't this be plugged in there asked his mum showing me a picture and pointing to a very obviously loose plug residing next to an obviously matching socket.
By now the impatience was overpowering the excitement of a nearly 4yr old but as soon as the screws were screwed he was in there. Lights lit, noises erupted, the pedal was pressed and the hallway traversed. It stopped in exactly the right place. I was in awe of his ability but I am anyway. Then I noticed that his mum had got the remote control override thingy. Mum was in control. Why are mums so good? And it left the factory charged.
Over the two sleeps our hallway has been traversed countless times, endless phone videos what's apped and his granda slowly getting to grips with once again ably demonstrating how to be a proper lash up. Years of practise.
One of life's precious moments. But now it's all packed up, the two sleeps are over and his grampy and granny await their presence an hour away. F1 continues to circulate, the rain falls, the gloomy sky lowers and I feel as rough as rats but I'm hoping chemicals can sort that.
None of that matters though, last thing before they went I had a squeeze, a hug, a kiss which may have been a cwtch from a nearly 4 yr old, more precious than gold, pure gold. If I don't see the end of F1 practice day 1 let alone Melbourne in March, it really doesn't matter.
What an awesome nearly four years to have lived through. Heights of blessing, depths of sorrow I had no idea existed but our God has seen fit to let our experience be as it has been and it has been truly wonderful. Seems a strange thing to say but it has been a privilege to get to know a nearly four year old and his mum and to experience the goodness of our God as we have been allowed to do.
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