Give Yourself a Try

Fucking the worst news.  Professor Doelle, champion of the planet, has been struck and killed over the weekend, apparently.  By an impaired driver on a sunny Saturday afternoon makes it all the worse.  Life.  The concatenation of coincidence, as I've just googled.  Asimov used it in Foundation's Edge, some guy used it to describe the Hitchhiker's Guide world.  Etc.

As we wait for Mirriam and the actor.  So many thoughts of you, Grandmom Eileen.  Just between us.  Another Anderson.  He's a beauty.  I didn't think it could be this good, I didn't.  I wish you could have met her, but I feel like you always knew it was coming.  Nanny got to meet her for both of you, and hard to imagine a better outcome, or timing.  Our man came but a week later, if you want to get scientific about it.  A special one, the little Moonshiner, and we will honour him.  As you did with Dad.  Wonderful to be part of family in such a way.  And, unexpectedly, to know the name and the tradition and the tartan shall carry on.  Carry on Montesquieu.  Heh.

The TV is starting to show ever-more adverts for Qatar.  We have London to do first, a Thames encounter at CitizenM and with the scum.  Oxford and the MacDougall 60th bottle for the 61st.  Much much much.  Life is good.  But that Prof. Doelle business is shit.  Find the right way to toast and honour that memory.  I could deal with Al, the timing and the cancer and the full life.  That kind of accident is throat in mouth disaster.  Not cool.  M would say we have to trust, but I would say I do not like it.  

And, for now, leave it at that.