Because as someone once said, "History happens to the little people too..." Also since 2009 was a bit of a Big Year for me, it deserves it's own summary....

January. Barrack and Michelle Obama move to Washington. Macy and Cherub have just moved back to Cheesetown from Glasgow. We are ( it will prove) conveniently close to my ex W who's living just down the road.
Israel attacks Gaza - W is admitted to the Southern General where he is to have his left lung removed in his own battle (sigh, see what I did there?)

February. Gordon Brown hosted the G20 Sumit looking for an economic recovery. Meanwhile hopes were dashed here in Cheesetown as W's biopsy result showed his tumour to be malignant. He had Angio Sarcoma, a cancer of the lining of the blood vessels.

I got a phone call from W to let me know there would be no recovery for him, that he had anywhere between 4 and 14 months to live.

The year's just started and it stinks.

March. The Madoff scandal broke, AIG posted billions of $$ of losses . The Big American Bank I work for announces there will be swinging job cuts.

April. First rumours of swine flu appear from Mexico as W's chemo starts. This is not a good time to be starting chemo.
The Solomon Islands truth and reconciliation commission opens; W and I are talking in whole sentences and in detail for the first time in years.

May. Patrick Swayze makes his first public appearance since the announcement of his cancer. For some reason Cancer is becoming a bit of a topic of 2009.

June. Madonna adopts her second Malawian child. I ask the Big American Bank if I can work part time, given my own family circumstances. . I am warned that there is a review of jobs and this may affect any decision made as to my future employment. I reply that if that's their attitude, then I should be focusing on what's important (paraphrasing here...).

July. The last WW1 veteran, Henry Allingham dies. W is not coping well with chemo, but manages to go on his own trip to France with the Cherub. On returning, he is in a lot of pain. I tell him that there is no need for him to feel he has to go through this alone. Cherub and I will stay at his when he's recovering from chemo or infusions. This is the only time I see him cry.

August The Lockerbie bomber is freed on compassionate grounds. Similarly the Big American Bank completes its review, and lets me know that I have been selected for freedom on compassionate grounds aka redundancy - surprise!!!
By the end of this month W is staying at mine when not at the hospice.

September. Earthquakes in Java and Georgia. Similar earthquakes as W not only stays at Cheesetown between hospice visits, but introduces me to the mother of his older son for the first time... We're both fine with this. We're past worrying about history.

There is an outbreak of syringe needle stabbings in China. Here in Cheesetown W's pain is bad and I am becoming an expert in administering diamorphine intravenously.

October. Stephen Gately dies. The Cherub jokes to his dad that he might meet him now... it's a bad joke. Times are bad.
W dies at home, 20th October.

November New Zealand qualify for the FIFA World Cup for the first time since 1982, it feels unfair that the expatriate Kiwi, W didn't get to hear this.

December The Tiger Woods story erupts. Another idiot who needs to learn the hard way what matters in life. Unemployment figures rise yet again and I officially join their numbers.

ROLL ON 2010.

Yes really snowed in. We had snow: not the-annoying-stuff-on-the-ground-that-makes-the-car-skid type of snow; not the stuff-that's-rubbish-for-snowballs type of snow. This was the real thing, the deep-and-crisp-and-even-St Wenceslas type snow. The roads blocked between here and Q'Ferry type snow. The forget-about-even-trying-to-buy-last-minute-presents, and the-airport's-closed-again type snow.

Yeah, and yadda yadda yadda everywhere else has better and deeper snow. I know.

But it seemed a shame not to show off Cheesetown...

Enjoy the winter slideshow - if there are a lot of graves it's because Ned and I shortcut through there on our way up the hill... nothing more macabre...

Yes really. Cherub and Macy have finally made it three yards across the road to the church....

We went because we were invited. Cheesetown Parish Church was holding a service specifically for all those who had been bereaved in the past year.
We went because I felt that it was time the Cherub visited a church what with it being Christmas already and all.
We went because the minister had visited and prayed with W in his last days. W had already said that actually he did believe in some kind of God, and did want a minister at his funeral so when Petal suggested she fetch the minister, I felt it sensible. This was the same minister who would give W's funeral. A bit of continuity never hurt.

We went because it is an 11th century church, and I've always wanted to see inside.
Maybe we went because there's an irrational part of me that wants to feel that W is not finally dead. As in stone dead.

And it was a good service. We had a pretty full house - a lot of bereavements in Cheesetown this year this year then....
And the church is beautiful in side. All whitewash, dark wood and candles; red roses as the altarpiece.

After the minister's welcome, we started with a hymn - In the Bleak Midwinter. So far so good.

We then had a prayer. And I tried. I really did, but the cynical part of me was starting to kick in.
Nor did my cynicism lift during our minister's sermon. The message of her sermon was that there can be no life without death, no love without grief - that's the deal. "That's the deal" was the refrain throughout her sermon.

And it is, yes, I can see that. But that's still no reason for W to die aged 48. And I'm not clear why praying to a God to "lift the burden" is going to help any when he has clearly so not done so at any earlier point when it would have made a difference. I really can't see why the Cherub got the raw deal when the rest of his pals have fathers and families.

Sorry. I went, I tried, I failed to get any kind of comfort. Maybe cynicism is always going to get in the way.

How fantastic is this? The Cherub has become a pensioner at the ripe old age of 13. Because his dad worked for a fair minded employer, who provided a Final Salary Pension Scheme...the cherub is entitled to a pension until he is 21 or leaves school.

The cherub is, at this moment, earning more than I am... Obviously I haven't told him that because I don't want him dictating a shopping list full of pasta, Ben & Jerry's and popcorn anytime soon.

Compare and contrast with the letter I received last week from the administrators of the Big American Bank's pension scheme. As I was made redundant with less than 5 years service, I am to transfer my pension before the 31st December or lose all my employer's contributions. Current circumstances notwithstanding....

And with the clarity of the recently TEETOTAL I understand two things.
1. Exactly how expendable people are in the financial services INDUSTRY.
2. Nothing, not fame not glory, not even SKINNY beats a final salary pension**

**Memo check out Craig's post retirement prospects as an NHS dentist.

Craig the dentist is a GENIUS. He looks about 18 but the boy knows his stuff. Specifically he has SAVED my back molar.. in a completely pain-free half hour he drilled and filled and completely saved my tooth. The tooth I was sure was doomed.
If I said I loved him to death and wanted to have his babies I'd only be exaggerating a wee bit. Bless his wee white dentist mask.

But I'm beginning to wonder if he feels the same way about me...Look, for Christmas he has prescribed me DRUGS.
Drugs which mean I cannot take alcohol.
Drugs I need to take over the whole of the Christmas holiday.

And looking up Google , as you do, I also found out that Metronidazole is prescribed for horses and dogs.

Stop the press - no alcohol even after stopping???? CRAIG what have you done???