There has been a dramatic turn of events the last three weeks. My father fell ill and passed away on Christmas Eve after spending two weeks in hospital and now, I'm officially in mourning until the last week of December next year. All my plans to move out of my current place and set up my own little pottery studio and home have had to be drastically changed. Not to mention that my weight training and tennis have been on hold until today.Hopefully things will start going back to normal now, though I'll have to start looking for a flat nearer to my stepmother's place so that I can help look after the old lady. She took very good care of my father and the least I can do is to make sure that she doesn't feel abandoned by me now that he's gone. I promised my father I'd look after her as best I can so long as either one of us lived. I needn't have done that because I was going to do it anyway but my father went to his grave believing that I'd always be untrustworthy and I didn't want him to worry about too much as he lay dying. It's all old history now so I won't go into a long, convoluted account about how and why my father thought of me as he did.
