I've recently got back in touch with someone I went to university with via Facebook. We spent six months together in Perpignan as part of our degree. He told me last night that the owner of the bar we used to frequent on a pretty much daily basis was convicted of murdering four girls. The murders happened between 1995 and 2001. We were there in 1996...
As I keep telling myself, life can be too short. Live for the moment. It's all we really have.
Wednesday, 30 June 2010
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
On top of the world
On Friday I got up at 4.30am and caught an early morning flight to Glasgow with three friends. At Glasgow airport we met up with my parents and four other friends and acquainted ourselves with our home for the next 36 hours, a 15-seater minibus. We headed north, up the side of Loch Lomond to Fort William, from where we were going to start our ascent of Britain's highest mountain. Sadly this wasn't your average long weekend in Scotland. There was nothing remotely relaxing about it. We were there for one reason, and one reason only; to climb Ben Nevis as quickly as possible before heading south to climb Britain's third and second highest mountains - Scafell Pike in the Lake District and Snowdon in Wales. All in 24 hours. It was a crazy thing to do, but I would highly recommend it. And I'm once again so grateful to T for making it all possible.
On 19/07/09 at exactly 21.02, T emailed a group of his friends to ask if any of them would be up for joining him on the Three Peaks Challenge. Back came the usual excuses of lack of time, childcare issues, DIY issues etc etc. All perfectly plausible but nonetheless a little lame with hindsight. Yes, we're all busy people but sometimes we get so caught up in the daily grind that we lose sight of what life is really about. In doing so, we miss out on some once in a lifetime experiences. And I'm in no way having a go, I'm as guilty as the next person and I certainly didn't intend to join him on the Three Peaks Challenge. But one of the things T has gifted me with is the insight that life can be too short. And that it's there for living. For T, it's irrelevant whether he'd painted the bedroom or fixed the leaking tap or achieved the billion and one things on his to do list. When he died he was having the time of his life. He was really living his life and enjoying it. There's a lesson there for all of us.
Anyway, following T's death, one of his best men, Rich, bravely ressurected the challenge in T's memory. It was the least we could do. Funnily enough, almost all of the friends T had originally emailed were up for it this time round. Plus me and a few others who got wind of it. It's interesting, and very wrong, how your perspective changes in light of death. But I'm pleased that it did. It turned out to be one of the best experiences of my life. I got to climb Britain's three highest mountains. I got to know my friends even better and spend some quality time with them. My parents were able to get involved (and without their support we wouldn't have been able to complete the challenge). And I feel immensely proud of our achievement. You can't beat that feeling. You faced a seemingly impossible hurdle head-on. And came out the other side grinning like a fool. It would have been easy to say that it wasn't possible/we weren't fit enough/we didn't have the time. But it was possible and we trained to ensure we were fit enough and we made the time. In this life, anything you put your mind to is possible. I'm slowly learning that.
After piling on some carbs in a pub in Fort William and preparing our bags for the various transitions, it was time to wave goodbye to Team Cox - our good friends Cheryl and Rich. As training for the national challenge, we recently completed the Yorkshire Three Peaks walk - a massive 24.5 miles that took us just under 11 hours. To say Cheryl didn't enjoy it much may be an understatement, but she resolved to be there for the national Three Peaks - for T's sake. To avoid putting herself under any unnecessary pressure, Chez and Rich started ahead of the rest of the group. I have the utmost respect for Cheryl's sheer determination. Again, it would have been easy for Cheryl to back out, but she faced her fears head on and came out the other side a better person. R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
We followed them up the mountain at 4.30pm. Thankfully, the weather was on our side. We knew we could walk in the heat as the temperature was nudging 30 degrees for the Yorkshire Three Peaks, but my biggest fear, especially being on the west of the country, was that we'd end up getting soaked to the skin. Fortunately that didn't happen and the evening was very settled. Ben Nevis was a hard slog. It took us 5 hours to complete our ascent and descent, taking us up to 1344m (4409ft). The summit wasn't in sight for most of the ascent, so it was hard to pace yourself and know what was left to come. The path was good though and it was just a case of plodding on, through one small bit of snow, to reach to the top.
Rich and I had talked about wanting to do something to remember T by whilst on the challenge, but ruled out t-shirts and clothing for practical reasons. Before T and I got married we collected about 80 stones from Bamburgh beach in Northumberland. We planned to use them as place names at the wedding but decided against it and dumped the stones in our back garden. When T died I took one of them to Brands Hatch and left it there with some flowers. Another was placed in T's hand in the coffin. I thought it might be nice to take three of the remaining stones and leave one on top of each peak. That way we were being sensitive to the environment as well as leaving a little memorial to T on each mountain. So, on the top of Ben Nevis we got out a photo of T, passed around a miniature Johnnie Walker Black Label 12 yr old single malt, poured a dram on the peak for T and placed one of the Bamburgh stones in a quiet place away from the crowds. The stipulation was that the stone had to have a good view. We also lit a candle on each peak, but it was so windy on the tops that it wouldn't stay alight for long. It felt like a fitting way to remember T and the reason why we were all on top of Ben Nevis at that moment in time. It was very poignant for me and I shed some quiet tears behind my sunnies. It felt so wrong that we were all there yet the one person who really wanted to do this challenge wasn't with us.
The descent seemed longer than the ascent. It was never-ending and quite hard on the knees. But we finally made it down at about 9.30pm. After a very quick transition we were on the road and making our way down to Cumbria. My Mum had done all the catering for the trip and on the advice of her PT served us Greek salad and chicken drumsticks followed by fruit salad for dinner. It was a bit like being on a plane (only better, I should add). She'd thought of everything - there was even tea and coffee in those takeaway cups with lids to stop it slopping around on the bus and an after-dinner TicTac. As darkness fell it was time to try and sleep. Easier said than done. I ended up popping a sleeping tablet at about 1am, knowing I would be walking again 3 hours later. It didn't really work but I guess I must have dozed. My poor Dad had to drive through the night with my Mum beside him chatting to him about anything and everything to stop him nodding off. Oh, and the other thing that none of us had realised, is that all diesel minibuses are fitted with a speed limiter. They can only do 62mph max!!!!
At 4am we began our ascent of Scafell just as the sun rose so no head torches for us. Mum had fed us again so we had enough energy for the climb. We all felt sick - probably with exhaustion and the thought of what was still to come. But there was no choice but to get on with it. Again, the summit wasn't in sight but we knew this one would be shorter as it was considerably lower than Ben Nevis at 978m (3,209ft). Only Britain's third highest mountain! Once again the weather was in our favour and it was a settled morning, although chilly in the breeze. I can't remember too much about the climb and haven't taken many photos. I think it was probably the hardest climb mentally as it was so early and you knew you still had the drive and Snowdon to come. I remember that the top was in cloud so it was cold and not somewhere you wanted to hang around. We got the photo of T out, lit the candle, had the whisky and left the stone, then it was back down to the minibus. Scafell took us just 3.5hrs in total. It was comforting to know that T had already climbed Scafell with his dad. I could imagine them being there and I know T loved that trip.
The road to Scafell is narrow, parking is bad and there were lots of minibuses everywhere so we made the decision to drive straight out of the valley and stop at services to freshen up. Here we had some warm lamb stew, changed our clothes and used the facilities. It was still only about 8.30am. Hard to get your head around. I managed to get a bit more sleep on the Scafell to Snowdon leg. Not proper sleep but sleep nonetheless. Then we got stuck in a traffic jam. There was nothing we could do. We just had to sit there. We were stuck for a total of 45 minutes. So frustrating. Eventually we made it to Snowdon and started our walk up the Miner's Track at about 1.50pm. The path is good and fairly flat until you get to the point where the Miner's and Pyg Tracks join. Then it's pretty vertical and pretty rocky. At that point you can also see the summit. We had to do lots of scrambling and the path was very busy - partly with other Three Peakers, partly with day-trippers (a sunny Saturday in June) and partly with people who'd got off the bloody train at the top and were walking down. Grrrrr. It wasn't easy but you just had to push on. Rich and Andy got me to the top where we did our usual ritual with T. The views were incredible but, as usual, no time to enjoy them. I thought the descent would be hard, but it wasn't too bad picking your way over the rocks. I decided to go back via the longer but gentler Miner's Track as I didn't know the Pyg Trail. This meant for a very long but flat walk out. I know I looked like a bit of a knob doing my fast walking with my poles, a few people commented, but at that point I didn't really care. I had to finish in the best possible time.
I eventually made it back to the car park at 5.30pm. It had taken me 25hrs but 45 mins of that we were stuck in a traffic jam. That would make it 24h15. Then there's the 62mph limit to consider. Which means, had all gone according to plan, I would have done it in well under 24hrs. And to be perfectly honest, I don't really care that I took longer. It was such an achievement and I know I did it to the best of my ability. I don't think I could have pushed myself much more. I was proud of myself and know that T would have been proud of me too. In fact, he would have been proud of all of us. And completely astonished that so many of his friends pulled their fingers out to do it for him. He would also kick himself for not being there with us. But then, had he been there, chances are none of the rest of us would have been there with him.
On 19/07/09 at exactly 21.02, T emailed a group of his friends to ask if any of them would be up for joining him on the Three Peaks Challenge. Back came the usual excuses of lack of time, childcare issues, DIY issues etc etc. All perfectly plausible but nonetheless a little lame with hindsight. Yes, we're all busy people but sometimes we get so caught up in the daily grind that we lose sight of what life is really about. In doing so, we miss out on some once in a lifetime experiences. And I'm in no way having a go, I'm as guilty as the next person and I certainly didn't intend to join him on the Three Peaks Challenge. But one of the things T has gifted me with is the insight that life can be too short. And that it's there for living. For T, it's irrelevant whether he'd painted the bedroom or fixed the leaking tap or achieved the billion and one things on his to do list. When he died he was having the time of his life. He was really living his life and enjoying it. There's a lesson there for all of us.
Anyway, following T's death, one of his best men, Rich, bravely ressurected the challenge in T's memory. It was the least we could do. Funnily enough, almost all of the friends T had originally emailed were up for it this time round. Plus me and a few others who got wind of it. It's interesting, and very wrong, how your perspective changes in light of death. But I'm pleased that it did. It turned out to be one of the best experiences of my life. I got to climb Britain's three highest mountains. I got to know my friends even better and spend some quality time with them. My parents were able to get involved (and without their support we wouldn't have been able to complete the challenge). And I feel immensely proud of our achievement. You can't beat that feeling. You faced a seemingly impossible hurdle head-on. And came out the other side grinning like a fool. It would have been easy to say that it wasn't possible/we weren't fit enough/we didn't have the time. But it was possible and we trained to ensure we were fit enough and we made the time. In this life, anything you put your mind to is possible. I'm slowly learning that.
After piling on some carbs in a pub in Fort William and preparing our bags for the various transitions, it was time to wave goodbye to Team Cox - our good friends Cheryl and Rich. As training for the national challenge, we recently completed the Yorkshire Three Peaks walk - a massive 24.5 miles that took us just under 11 hours. To say Cheryl didn't enjoy it much may be an understatement, but she resolved to be there for the national Three Peaks - for T's sake. To avoid putting herself under any unnecessary pressure, Chez and Rich started ahead of the rest of the group. I have the utmost respect for Cheryl's sheer determination. Again, it would have been easy for Cheryl to back out, but she faced her fears head on and came out the other side a better person. R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
We followed them up the mountain at 4.30pm. Thankfully, the weather was on our side. We knew we could walk in the heat as the temperature was nudging 30 degrees for the Yorkshire Three Peaks, but my biggest fear, especially being on the west of the country, was that we'd end up getting soaked to the skin. Fortunately that didn't happen and the evening was very settled. Ben Nevis was a hard slog. It took us 5 hours to complete our ascent and descent, taking us up to 1344m (4409ft). The summit wasn't in sight for most of the ascent, so it was hard to pace yourself and know what was left to come. The path was good though and it was just a case of plodding on, through one small bit of snow, to reach to the top.
Rich and I had talked about wanting to do something to remember T by whilst on the challenge, but ruled out t-shirts and clothing for practical reasons. Before T and I got married we collected about 80 stones from Bamburgh beach in Northumberland. We planned to use them as place names at the wedding but decided against it and dumped the stones in our back garden. When T died I took one of them to Brands Hatch and left it there with some flowers. Another was placed in T's hand in the coffin. I thought it might be nice to take three of the remaining stones and leave one on top of each peak. That way we were being sensitive to the environment as well as leaving a little memorial to T on each mountain. So, on the top of Ben Nevis we got out a photo of T, passed around a miniature Johnnie Walker Black Label 12 yr old single malt, poured a dram on the peak for T and placed one of the Bamburgh stones in a quiet place away from the crowds. The stipulation was that the stone had to have a good view. We also lit a candle on each peak, but it was so windy on the tops that it wouldn't stay alight for long. It felt like a fitting way to remember T and the reason why we were all on top of Ben Nevis at that moment in time. It was very poignant for me and I shed some quiet tears behind my sunnies. It felt so wrong that we were all there yet the one person who really wanted to do this challenge wasn't with us.
The descent seemed longer than the ascent. It was never-ending and quite hard on the knees. But we finally made it down at about 9.30pm. After a very quick transition we were on the road and making our way down to Cumbria. My Mum had done all the catering for the trip and on the advice of her PT served us Greek salad and chicken drumsticks followed by fruit salad for dinner. It was a bit like being on a plane (only better, I should add). She'd thought of everything - there was even tea and coffee in those takeaway cups with lids to stop it slopping around on the bus and an after-dinner TicTac. As darkness fell it was time to try and sleep. Easier said than done. I ended up popping a sleeping tablet at about 1am, knowing I would be walking again 3 hours later. It didn't really work but I guess I must have dozed. My poor Dad had to drive through the night with my Mum beside him chatting to him about anything and everything to stop him nodding off. Oh, and the other thing that none of us had realised, is that all diesel minibuses are fitted with a speed limiter. They can only do 62mph max!!!!
At 4am we began our ascent of Scafell just as the sun rose so no head torches for us. Mum had fed us again so we had enough energy for the climb. We all felt sick - probably with exhaustion and the thought of what was still to come. But there was no choice but to get on with it. Again, the summit wasn't in sight but we knew this one would be shorter as it was considerably lower than Ben Nevis at 978m (3,209ft). Only Britain's third highest mountain! Once again the weather was in our favour and it was a settled morning, although chilly in the breeze. I can't remember too much about the climb and haven't taken many photos. I think it was probably the hardest climb mentally as it was so early and you knew you still had the drive and Snowdon to come. I remember that the top was in cloud so it was cold and not somewhere you wanted to hang around. We got the photo of T out, lit the candle, had the whisky and left the stone, then it was back down to the minibus. Scafell took us just 3.5hrs in total. It was comforting to know that T had already climbed Scafell with his dad. I could imagine them being there and I know T loved that trip.
The road to Scafell is narrow, parking is bad and there were lots of minibuses everywhere so we made the decision to drive straight out of the valley and stop at services to freshen up. Here we had some warm lamb stew, changed our clothes and used the facilities. It was still only about 8.30am. Hard to get your head around. I managed to get a bit more sleep on the Scafell to Snowdon leg. Not proper sleep but sleep nonetheless. Then we got stuck in a traffic jam. There was nothing we could do. We just had to sit there. We were stuck for a total of 45 minutes. So frustrating. Eventually we made it to Snowdon and started our walk up the Miner's Track at about 1.50pm. The path is good and fairly flat until you get to the point where the Miner's and Pyg Tracks join. Then it's pretty vertical and pretty rocky. At that point you can also see the summit. We had to do lots of scrambling and the path was very busy - partly with other Three Peakers, partly with day-trippers (a sunny Saturday in June) and partly with people who'd got off the bloody train at the top and were walking down. Grrrrr. It wasn't easy but you just had to push on. Rich and Andy got me to the top where we did our usual ritual with T. The views were incredible but, as usual, no time to enjoy them. I thought the descent would be hard, but it wasn't too bad picking your way over the rocks. I decided to go back via the longer but gentler Miner's Track as I didn't know the Pyg Trail. This meant for a very long but flat walk out. I know I looked like a bit of a knob doing my fast walking with my poles, a few people commented, but at that point I didn't really care. I had to finish in the best possible time.
I eventually made it back to the car park at 5.30pm. It had taken me 25hrs but 45 mins of that we were stuck in a traffic jam. That would make it 24h15. Then there's the 62mph limit to consider. Which means, had all gone according to plan, I would have done it in well under 24hrs. And to be perfectly honest, I don't really care that I took longer. It was such an achievement and I know I did it to the best of my ability. I don't think I could have pushed myself much more. I was proud of myself and know that T would have been proud of me too. In fact, he would have been proud of all of us. And completely astonished that so many of his friends pulled their fingers out to do it for him. He would also kick himself for not being there with us. But then, had he been there, chances are none of the rest of us would have been there with him.
Tuesday, 22 June 2010
Bikram, boiled potatoes and bling
Today I was meant to get up at 7.30am and head off to my first ever Bikram yoga class, where you do yoga in a boiling hot room. No ordinary yoga for me. Oh no. As I've said before, I'm living a life less ordinary now! Anyway, that didn't materialise because I had one of the worst night's sleep ever last night. It was so bad that I ended up taking a sleeping tablet at 4am because it just wasn't happening. So my plan is to go on my hot date tomorrow morning instead. Today is all about swimming in the open-air pool in the sunshine. Oh yes.
I feel like I've turned a bit of a corner since Laura was here, in that I want to start doing some more things to give me pleasure. Pleasure isn't necessarily going to come knocking on my door - I have to hunt it down. So things like Bikram and outdoor swimming are little things for me to do to give me a bit of pleasure in my life. I'm fortunate to have some time to myself at the minute to do those kind of things. And it's trying to be summer out there. So I'm going to try and make the most of it.
This week is also the final countdown to the Three Peaks Challenge. I'm meant to be eating 70% carbs this week, but considering that I normally just rustle something up with what I can find in the cupboards, that requires a bit more effort. So yesterday, I actually boiled a couple of potatoes for my tea. Yay. Small steps but hopefully they are going in the right direction.
And bling.... I've moved my engagement ring over to my right hand for now. It's not necessarily a permanent fixture. Time will tell. But I just found that wearing a wedding and engagement ring together sends out such a clear message that you're obviously married. And that's to both women and men. There's no question about it. That can lead to assumptions and questions. Whether I wear either or both of my rings or not, isn't going to bring T back. If only it would. I will always be married to T. I will always love T. I will never forget T. But I need to realise that my rings, while they did represent our love for each other, are just material things whose presence or otherwise won't change a single thing about that love.
I feel like I've turned a bit of a corner since Laura was here, in that I want to start doing some more things to give me pleasure. Pleasure isn't necessarily going to come knocking on my door - I have to hunt it down. So things like Bikram and outdoor swimming are little things for me to do to give me a bit of pleasure in my life. I'm fortunate to have some time to myself at the minute to do those kind of things. And it's trying to be summer out there. So I'm going to try and make the most of it.
This week is also the final countdown to the Three Peaks Challenge. I'm meant to be eating 70% carbs this week, but considering that I normally just rustle something up with what I can find in the cupboards, that requires a bit more effort. So yesterday, I actually boiled a couple of potatoes for my tea. Yay. Small steps but hopefully they are going in the right direction.
And bling.... I've moved my engagement ring over to my right hand for now. It's not necessarily a permanent fixture. Time will tell. But I just found that wearing a wedding and engagement ring together sends out such a clear message that you're obviously married. And that's to both women and men. There's no question about it. That can lead to assumptions and questions. Whether I wear either or both of my rings or not, isn't going to bring T back. If only it would. I will always be married to T. I will always love T. I will never forget T. But I need to realise that my rings, while they did represent our love for each other, are just material things whose presence or otherwise won't change a single thing about that love.
Sunday, 13 June 2010
My week in Ingerland
So, the wedding was hard. In parts. But also great fun in equal measures. I lost the plot in the church during the first hymn, but the thought of clomping out in the highest heels I possess in front of everyone mid-ceremony, helped me get my act together. I danced and drank my way through the rest of the day, with a few more tears in the evening. But overall I enjoyed it. I can only just remember getting home. That's always the sign of a good night. It was easier being there with family than it would have been if I'd been with friends. You don't feel like a gooseberry when you're with your family, even if they are in couples. I wore a new outfit, painted my nails, had my hair done, put on my killer heels and generally felt quite good about myself. Which makes a nice change. They say the first time doing things is the worst. I don't know about that but I'm pleased I survived and can tick it off the list.
On Friday I met Wellington Laura off a flight at Heathrow. It was like a surreal déjà vu of what we did back in March, except the roles had been reversed. It's absolutely awesome to see her again; another thing that has made my heart sing in recent days. (The other was being asked to be godmother for my friend Sally's little boy, William. Things like that make it all worthwhile). Over the past couple of days Laura and I have put the world to rights, analysed and over-analysed our innermost thoughts and feelings, caught up on the past couple of months, drank a bottle of Veuve (thanks GB!), bemoaned the fact that we live on opposite sides of the planet and started planning a very exciting girly holiday. It's been so good for me to have Laura here, even for a few short days.
Last night we went out with our friends Lynn and Tim for the most amazing meal I've had in a while. I've been a bit slated for lavishing praise on the food and drink on my trip and not finding things in this country worth posting about. Well, last night was more than worthy of a mention - we went to Dehesa in Soho. The food was incredible. We had grilled squid and chorizo salad, confit of rabbit wrapped in Parma ham, tuna carpaccio and courgette flowers stuffed with cheese and drizzled with honey. All washed down with some equally delicious prosecco. Then we moved on to the soft chocolate cake with Frangelico ice-cream (inspired) and the creamiest, loveliest buttermilk panna cotta with rhubarb. And port. And cheese. Then brandy. We didn't do things by halves. It was a lovely night - great food and excellent company - marred only slightly by England's shoddy performance. We didn't watch the game. It would have put us off our food. But the wonders of technology meant that we able to keep an eye on the action from the comfort of our table.
Three Peaks preparation is going well - this time in two weeks it'll be done and dusted. My half marathon training is also ticking along quite nicely. My mate Graeme is my slightly-scary-but-thankfully-based-in-Paris, coach. He kicks my arse if I don't go running three times a week. Being worried about getting my hair wet if it's raining isn't an excuse not to run in his book. But then, as I tell him, he doesn't have my hair to deal with... Yesterday I upped the game and did 6.16 miles. And it felt really good.
On Friday I met Wellington Laura off a flight at Heathrow. It was like a surreal déjà vu of what we did back in March, except the roles had been reversed. It's absolutely awesome to see her again; another thing that has made my heart sing in recent days. (The other was being asked to be godmother for my friend Sally's little boy, William. Things like that make it all worthwhile). Over the past couple of days Laura and I have put the world to rights, analysed and over-analysed our innermost thoughts and feelings, caught up on the past couple of months, drank a bottle of Veuve (thanks GB!), bemoaned the fact that we live on opposite sides of the planet and started planning a very exciting girly holiday. It's been so good for me to have Laura here, even for a few short days.
Last night we went out with our friends Lynn and Tim for the most amazing meal I've had in a while. I've been a bit slated for lavishing praise on the food and drink on my trip and not finding things in this country worth posting about. Well, last night was more than worthy of a mention - we went to Dehesa in Soho. The food was incredible. We had grilled squid and chorizo salad, confit of rabbit wrapped in Parma ham, tuna carpaccio and courgette flowers stuffed with cheese and drizzled with honey. All washed down with some equally delicious prosecco. Then we moved on to the soft chocolate cake with Frangelico ice-cream (inspired) and the creamiest, loveliest buttermilk panna cotta with rhubarb. And port. And cheese. Then brandy. We didn't do things by halves. It was a lovely night - great food and excellent company - marred only slightly by England's shoddy performance. We didn't watch the game. It would have put us off our food. But the wonders of technology meant that we able to keep an eye on the action from the comfort of our table.
Three Peaks preparation is going well - this time in two weeks it'll be done and dusted. My half marathon training is also ticking along quite nicely. My mate Graeme is my slightly-scary-but-thankfully-based-in-Paris, coach. He kicks my arse if I don't go running three times a week. Being worried about getting my hair wet if it's raining isn't an excuse not to run in his book. But then, as I tell him, he doesn't have my hair to deal with... Yesterday I upped the game and did 6.16 miles. And it felt really good.
Friday, 4 June 2010
Socialising solo
Tomorrow I'm off to a wedding. My first since T died. My first without T. And the wedding is the same family as the wedding we were at on the Saturday before T died. So same guests and all that malarky. Looks like it'll even be the same bloody weather. Fortunately my family will be there, so although I'll be solo in one respect, I won't in another. Still the only one without their partner there though. I don't imagine it will be an easy day for me. But it's not about me. It's about the bride and groom and that's why I'm going. As well as painting my nails a fashionable shade of black, I'll also be painting a smile onto my face. Not a black smile but a happy smile. I have to grin and bear it. What else is there to do?
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