or so sung the choir of children in 1972 with Clive Dunn and I remember the feeling of wanting to flush the radio down the toilet or quickly having to find a bucket! If you don't remember this then boy do I have a treat for you here: youtube.com/watch?v=XC5fqzK....
Then you know what, on 19th April 2015 it all made sense. That day started like most others as a triathlete training for a half ironman, a 74 mile bike ride with a very good friend of mine along with 600 other people, don't worry it was an organised event with a medal and a t-shirt at the end. Honestly the things I do for a medal and a t-shirt, I don't do it for the achievement, the kudos or the sense of admiration it might generate from other people I do it for the medal and t-shirt! Now it has to be said my eldest daughter was 39 weeks pregnant and so what happened on the 19th April wasn't exactly a surprise in the sense that we knew it would happen at some time but 13 years ago lying in a hospital bed with blood pressure dropping through double digits and heart rate dropping through 27 beats per minute had I known it at the time I would have thought that I would not see another day on this mortal coil let alone become a Grandpa. In fact apparently I came within 10 minutes of the hospital calling my relatives in as they didn't think I was going to last for more than a few more hours. Incidentally, one of the few memories of that night as my body started to lose the battle with viral meningitis are a Methodist Minister coming to see me in the early hours and the agency nurse looking after me leaving the TV on in my isolation room although I can't remember what was on. The night before I was admitted to hospital I do remember seeing a programme on Winston Churchill and the last memory of that is seeing Timothy Spall's backside, bring back Clive Dunn, all is forgiven.
Anyway back to 19th April 2015. My friend Andy and I had slogged round a bike course designed by someone who thinks viral meningitis is fun, there were more hills than a hilly place at the top of a hill. We stopped at a feed station at 23 miles and no word from home. We kept going, I was riding my carbon race bike which only comes out if its not raining, has not rained in the last 48 hours and no rain is forecast in the next 48 hours. It is after all my concession to a mid-life crisis, so I was just about keeping up with Andy and we even overtook people. At the 40 mile feed station there it was, the text from home saying my eldest was in advanced labour and was on her way to hospital. So.......there I was 34 miles from the finish and then 40 miles from home in the middle of nowhere full of energy drink, energy gels and no energy. The last 34 miles was like recovering from VM, a long slog, there were times when I didn't think I could continue but even though the organisers put in one hill which required doubling back towards the way we had come (with a sign half way up it saying 'It's only gravity', I had noticed!) I kept going even though I just wanted to get off and sleep. Finishing that ride was amazing because I got a medal and a t-shirt and it doesn't get much better than that, or does it?
I had been home for a couple of hours feeling like I had done 74 miles on a bike, principally because I had just done 74 miles on a bike, when the call came from my son in law. Declan Mark had arrived in the world at a healthy 6lb 7 oz and was the picture of perfect health, Mum and baby doing well. So now I'm a viral meningitis survivor, a long distance triathlete, Dad and very very proud Grandpa! A day I wouldn't have dreamt I would see let alone after viral meningitis.
The picture shows Andy and your humble correspondent (on the right) finishing 74 miles before driving home to become a Grandpa :-).
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