As I’ve reported previously, my Welsh mate G is currently undergoing chemotherapy in his fight against leukaemia. Just lately he’s been in and out of hospital quite a lot with a series of blood transfusions and tests.
Being the optimistic little sod that he is, this is not such a bad thing; you see the Rugby World Cup is currently underway and as England are the hosts, all of the games are being screened on television. So a spell in hospital = an opportunity to watch rugby, great!
But, it ain’t all that great.
The whole cancer thing is shit; if you excuse me being so basal.
G was at home the other day, his family were going out and rugby was going to be on the television. Hey, a friend has got to do what friends do best; I bought the sausages and Greg cooked lunch! Well Ok, I did have a super 50 mile ride over to his place too! I took Harls, I needed her rawness, simplicity and noise.
The ride was lovely; it was one of those mornings when the diffused sunlight gives the world an ethereal feel, all cosy and comforting, if a tad on the cool side with the first chill of autumn.
Greg lives in Devon, the neighbouring county to Cornwall where Dookes H.Q. is based. It’s one of the wonderful things about geography, the two counties are separated by one river, the Tamar, but in many ways couldn’t be more different. Cornwall reflects its hard rock granite foundations and tends to be a bit craggy and sharp; whilst Devon mostly sits on softer Old Red Sandstone making for a more rolling landscape that is very easy on the eye.
We had a great afternoon together. He may be unwell, but his cooking is as good as ever. We laughed a lot, the rugby was entertaining, we watched videos of motorcycle road trips and did loads of planning for future trips when Greg is well again. It’s looking like most of Europe and Scandinavia won’t be safe once we get going!
Riding home I had time to reflect on the true value of friendship. To me it’s not like family, with real friends its much deeper than that. I’ve had too many family members really hurt me over the years, but my friends never have. Sure we’ve pissed each other off on occasions, but with true friends you can tell each other why and how, then move on. Greg and I have shared many experiences over the years and I aim to share many more with him in future.
The rumble of Harl’s exhaust as we rode home into the setting evening sun was comforting. Yes, perhaps I was going a tad fast at times, but I felt vibrantly alive. This compulsory getting older thing is a bit of a bummer; growing up is, in my book, still optional!
“Summers going fast,
nights growing colder.
Children growing up , old friends growing older.
Freeze this moment a little bit longer , make each sensation a little bit stronger.”
Catch you soon.