On what turned out to be the hottest day of the year, mum passed away this morning just after nine o'clock: the fight had gone out of her. And, anyway, she wouldn't have thanked you for being stuck in hospital with the temperature outside nudging 100 degrees - like all Medds, mum spoke in Fahrenheit not bloody Centigrade. She was a formidable woman, and that's putting it mildly. We never always saw eye to eye, but in the last few years we were closer than we'd probably ever been. When I was poorly after first moving up here she worried about me like a new mother would worry about her sick baby in an incubator.
I need to gather my thoughts properly before the funeral, as I want to say a few words; I know dad would want to speak, but he said he'd lose it. I might still.