This is not the post I thought I would be making on my return from England.

First off, the sundry stuff. It rained every day (we missed the good weather by a week). Still, you can't visit The North unless it's grim, I suppose. The Lake District is lovely, even in a downpour. Thanks to Matt and Helen for taking us. And I have every faith in Wayne Rooney's metatarsel so I bought a number 9 England shirt, c'mon England.

Here's the bit where I explain the first sentence. We went to see the family in the South on the Saturday. Tram from Bury to Manchester, then a train to Milton Keynes (arriving just before noon). Wendy, my sister, picked us up.

And we went straight to Stevenage because my dad had been taken to hospital. He was rushed in because he had a pain in his side, and the aneurysm he knew he had was leaking blood. Being 73 years old, and with a heart condition, the doctors didn't want to operate on the heart because of the aneurysm and didn't want to touch the aneurysm because of his heart.

This page says it's estimated "...that less than half of all patients suffering a ruptured aortic aneurysm will reach hospital alive and, of those that do, less than half will survive emergency surgery to repair the aneurysm. The overall risk of death if an aneurysm ruptures is therefore in the region of 80%."

Gilbert Seabrook, my dad, was not in the 20%. He passed away. I'll miss him more than dry words can ever express the loss. Only one song today ...dad's favourite song.

Love you, dad.

Listen : Blueberry Hill - Fats Domino, Louis Armstrong, Elvis Presley, Cliff Richard, Jimmy Sturr, Ray Coniff, The Beach Boys, Yellowman, ...and the way dad sang it.