The Preverbial Spanner

As I lay on that blood-letting couch on Tuesday, pressing a small wodge of cotton wool to my pin-hole size wound, everything seemed in order. In a moment of peace and contemplative tranquility, I managed to come to a sense of understanding about the trials and (albeit relatively trivial) tribulations of my life and the branches of my everyday-ness; thus:

- Andrew is homosexual and I am fine with that and I should be proud that I am dealing with it as though it is nothing to be dealt with, which, in reality, it isn't. Countless other people (say, for example, Kevin's dad) would not have dealt with such a situation the way I have done. I never wanted a gay son - it's not something you actively desire of course because of the hurt you will suffer as you watch your son suffer as he fights against the lingering prejudices of a sometimes pathetic world. But I have a gay son and it is fine. I hope he will find his one true love that I think he needs to find and I shall support him in that in exactly the manner I would if he were heterosexual. I also need to take more of an interest in his schoolwork and forgive him for his occasional uptight-ness and superciliousness.

- Gabriel loves Lian (don't ask me whether Lian loves Gabriel) and although I have concerns over the equality of that relationship it seems to be what Gabriel needs right now so again, it's something I need to support him with. There's no question it is a relationship that has done him wonders; with the confidence and the kick-boxing and the slow lessening of his rotundity. I just need to keep an eye on how much Lian will push him i.e. further ear piercings or other parts of the body piercings. Perhaps I'm being a tad harsh on Lian - she seems fine from what I've seen from her, just a little quiet. I also need to take more of an interest in Gabe's schoolwork and forgive him for his occasional hurricanesque temper tantrums.

- Lukas is the least of my worries, or so seems to be, other the lingering question over his true, biological parentage; or rather not that there's a question over that, just the question of whether he ought to know the truth. But then that I think is a question for the future, he's certainly too young to consider being told that I'm not actually his biological dad. He needs to spend less time on the PS2 and I think it'd be good for him to be a little more gregarious as he seems to rely solely on Danny for friendship. Naturally, I will support him with his basketball when he finally returns to the court. I also need to take more of an interest in his schoolwork and forgive him for his lack of compassion and occasional blunt and hurtful honesty.

- I need to be tougher with Colin. His few days staying with us has mutated into a few weeks now and although he is not a burden (although a little more cash towards his continued upkeep would not go amiss) and he's fun to have around I'm not sure life on his brother's sofa is doing him any good. I need to talk to him about Maria and Holly and Amber and the ease in which he seems to have cast them from his life. Maybe he just doesn't care and genuinely so. But then again maybe he is pushing something deep down within him that ought not to be compressed. I think he needs to sort his life out, find his own place and a job (even if again it is untold miles from me) and I need to hurry him along a little to help him achieve that.

- I think I need to finally forgive Poppy for the way she left all our lives; and of course her own. I know I have moved on, but part of me still hurts, and I remain angry that she felt it unselfish to step out in front of that bus and leave me and more importantly her young sons behind. But I really need to stop wearing that - I need to take it off and toss it into the bin. It was a long time ago and my feelings cannot change the past, so I need to make peace with her. I haven't even visited her memorial stone for nearly two years now, and I don't think that's right.

- And I need to make peace for myself. I need to stop being the dead man walking, the forty-six-and-a-half-year-old simply functioning as a conduit to serve his children's lives, awaiting the day that the last one leaves me and then a little later on awaiting the day that they no longer care. There's still a me in here somewhere who once had needs and ambitions and a future. I still have a future, I just need to stop dismissing it as one filled with black days and loneliness. I think I still have something to offer, and even if Sarah didn't think that worthy of exploring out a potential relationship across the one hundred and fifty miles that separates us then surely someone else could find that I am actually worth something? I suppose I have Colin to thank for this new lease of mind - he hasn't actually shoved me, but he's been giving me a seemingly limitless amount of tender little pushes. I need to sort my body out (or continue to sort my body out), curtail the drinking (and I've made a few strides in that direction already) and get out into the big bad world more often. I've already decided to join the weekly work pilgrimage to the pub tomorrow. One small step for a Bryn, one giant leap for Bryn-kind.

So, as I said, all this became sorted on the blood-couch. And then I just happened to come home to news from Lukas that some lady called Sarah had rung and had left a message. The message - in Lukas's creaky handwriting - read, simply: Please call me. I've had a long think.

And I've now had a long think as well. And I still haven't decided whether to call her back or not.