Oops

Another day without Peter Handyman. Isn't it strange how an entire department grinds to a halt once the manager disappears? Except that of course it doesn't, everything just trundles along and you'd be hard-pressed to even notice that the manager isn't present. Therefore it's rather easy to surmise that the manager is not the brains of any operation - he's the appendix.

I've had a quiet couple of days. I've walked down the hill twice in the last couple of days, just to enjoy the relative sunshine and the sensation of air filling (and then escaping from) my lungs. On a less than pleasant aspect I felt quite ragged and light-headed once I was back up the hill and into work. I even get exhausted now just walking a couple of miles; strange to think I used to run at least this distance most days. I've been hoping the more pleasant weather may have served to return my rusted running mojo back to me, but so far, there's zero sign of this. It is alarming how something that stole a fair chunk of my time now has slid from my schedule and there's no sign of a relapse. I'm not even bothered now that I can't get on the jeans I used to be able to get on until up to about Christmas; or even that I've tipped over the fifteen stone mark. I think fifteen stones is quite reasonable for someone of my height and my age. I could be slimmer and I could be fitter, but would it make me any happier?

Speaking of happier, someone who is much happier is Colin, although he's reminded me of something that stupidly had completely slipped my mind, which in turn had made me unhappy. Plus the news that Colin has given me has not exactly made me happy.

He's sorted, and he is on his way, and he is off abroad again. Not to Germany this time, but to Eindhoven, where he's secured himself a job with Phillips, a six-month contract as a software engineer. I asked him why he hasn't sorted himself something in the UK, to which he said he'd tried, but there is just nothing going at the moment, so he was forced to set his sights further afield and after a ton of negotiation and a bit of pleading and an intense drop in his salary expectations, he's secured himself a job, and has managed to sort accommodation as well. I asked him if this explains all his absences of late, but the said there was no connection. He said: I've told you before Bryn, I'm sorry but I don't like it here and I don't like being here. I really can't stand Andrew because he's so bloody full of how wonderful he is, although I can't imagine I was any different at his age. Lukas is just some weird, unemotional shell, and Gabriel, who's the only one of your kids I can make any connection to, is never around.

I told him I was sorry we didn't meet his standards. He told me there was no need for me to be like that: There's nothing wrong with you or your lads, he explained. It's just not me. I thought we'd be two single blokes on the pussy-prowl together but you only came out with me once and you made it dead clear you hated every minute of it, so I stopped asking. It's not a problem, we've just grown into two different blokes. Doesn't mean we have to stop being brothers, but we ain't going to be buddies.

I asked how are we going to be brothers when he's in Eindhoven. We didn't make too good a job of it whilst he was in Cologne. Colin said, well, we'll just have to make sure we make a better job of it.

He continued: Anyway, how did your weekend go? Gabe said you'd gone down south to chase some woman or something? The one you met on our speed-date sesh?

I corrected him on multiple accounts, explained that the weekend had gone very well indeed (without divulging the nitty-gritty) and if things continual to go well myself and Sarah could very well become a couple. Colin actually patted me on the back! I didn't feel patronised ... much. He said what my next plans were and I told him about Sarah and Ruth coming up to Chez BrynT over Easter, to which Colin frowned and said won't they be a bit surprised when they get here and find the house locked up and empty. I asked for an explanation; Colin opened his eyes wide and said one word: Germany.

Jeez. What an idiot. The "final" family holiday that I held so dear just a month ago - so much so that I was physically twisting arms and laying on the emotional blackmail in order to get all three of my sons to go with me - had totally fallen out of my mind. I dusted down a few old notes in my head and shoved them back into my memory: Yep, we fly to Cologne from East Midlands around midday on Thursday, the day before Good Friday, and we return on Tuesday, early afternoon. No idea of what we are doing and where we are staying, although I know it is Colin's responsibility for the latter.

So a little later I was on the phone to Sarah, apologising for making arrangements for the Easter weekend, explaining that I had forgotten we were spending the "weekend" (only a tiny white lie) in Germany. She did not sound impressed, even questioning how something so fundamental as a family trip abroad could have slipped from my mind. I tried to make light of my stupidity by admitting that I was purely at fault and had been completely dumb. I don't think this admission generated much in the way of sympathy, and Sarah's "bye" measured a considerable amount of degrees lower that her previous "hello".

Damn.