Mum came to the city today, it was mostly fun as usual. Except for the bit when she told me about an old family friend having the untreatable kind of leukemia. That bit kind of sucked. This guy and his wife were like grandparents to me when I was a kid. They lived just down the road - our closest neighbours out in the bush. I think they still live there. I remember their house perfectly - they had this really cool little room upstairs where Joan did all her craft and sewing and stuff, I had lots of fun playing up there. It was nestled up in a corner of the pointed roof - stand up straight at one end of the room and you'd hit your head on the ceiling. I remember their old dog, too. Chumley! Chum was a great old thing, even though he stank something terrible. Friendly, disobedient, big and hairy. They had some terrific barbeques over there, and dinner parties. Oh the dinner parties! Robbo and Joan of course, my parents, and Helen and Steve. Robbo and Joan got more and more argumentative as they got drunker, Helen's voice went up by about an octave, and Steve... well, I don't remember how Steve was when drunk, but he was a darn cool guy in general. Helen and Steve had some great dogs too, now I think of it, including a big old Airedale terrier called Tike. Those were the days. The dinners were great fun. Those people were great.
Not for the first time, I wish I could travel back in time. Erase all events and memories from the last ten years or so. Be truly innocent again. Be unaware of Robbo's constant troubles with skin cancers and the fact that he has skin from his bum grafted on his face.
Life ain't fair. Poor Joan. Her first husband died of cancer... now she faces the same thing again. Neither of them deserve that pain.