The seventh anniversary of the day my Mum died has passed by. Parents when they die are still around with you until the day you die, and it’s good to have them still around. You don’t need an audience to die and she managed to do it when my dad was in Bridlington having a very short break from taking care of her. Such is life and death. As you get older, and I have now started to consider myself as older, you have the privilege or handicap of being surrounded by more and more dead people. But as studies on old people have shown it is important to get them involved in the present rather than just living in the past. Five-year old’s are concerned with what five-year old’s are concerned with, and have the direct action that comes from little experience. Such attitudes are a good tonic for eighty-five-year old’s who are nailed to the floor. The directness of Dogs is good for this too. The only thing that matters to them is thinking it’s great now. If we older guys see this it seems we remember the past positively without needing the protective goggles. On July 20, 2010 my Mum, ignoring health and safety, made the break, and so on that day I get the photograph album out and think about those questions that were important, such as why are the Simpsons yellow? Then there are the people on Television she disliked – Basil Fawlty, Johnny Morris (and the animal magic signature tune which I used to turn the volume up for so she could hear it better), Kenneth Williams, and Gloria Hunniford, which is understandable. Also, her insistence, before I’d got into double figures on supporting Lancashire in the Roses Cricket Match because she was born in Morecambe, which is always a tricky one to spell.
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