The Weekends Are The Worst!
After C died in December 2007, I found that the weekends were the worst times. That is apart from Christmas, where I volunteered to help in the Bury St. Edmunds Christmas Lunch for the elderly, who had no family or nowhere else to go. But I can’t even do that now, as I’m not allowed to drive.
So in early 2010, I made a pact with myself and made sure that I always had something to do at the weekend. Often that was football at Ipswich or on their travels and I think I hardly missed a match.
Before C died, wekends were full, but not particularly busy. Usually it would mean a meal out or a visit to the theatre or the cinema, or perhaps the shops in London or Bluewater. We also had four weekends away in 2009.
How times have changed!
This weekend from the time my carer/driver left on Friday night, I didn’t see anybody except the postman and the paper lady on Saturday and my stud groom on Sunday, when he delivered the Sunday Times.
It illustrates so well, our decision to think about retirement to somewhere like Hampstead in perhaps 2012 or 2013. Little did we know what would happen with C’s death from cancer of the heart and then my strokes.
Where I live may be beautiful and tranquil, but there is no shop or pub within walking distance, no bus worth talking about and as I can’t drive, the only transport option is a taxi at £25 a time to Newmarket or Haverhill. Taxis round here are more expensive than black cabs in London. I can afford them, but I object to being ripped-off!
And then this last weekend, the weather wasn’t good and the television with one or two exceptions was complete rubbish.
I suppose the solution is to plan them, so that I don’t get another one again!
The Anonymous Widower 
Weekends can be very very lonely, I agree. We live in a town, but Neil has talked about retiring to the country, and we came to the conclusion it would be very isolated. When I was younger and Neil was still in the navy, I used to dread the weekends
Comment by Liz P | July 19, 2010 |