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My dad was a practical man. He'd planned his funeral for years, ever since I was about nine years old in fact, so we were left with absolutely no doubt as to exactly the way his send off was to go . The difficult part of it, or so we thought , was going to be getting his wishes carried out . He required nothing less than a cortege of breakdown trucks, ( he owned a breakdown recovery service) , a New orleans jazz band , none of that , in his words 'gloomy music ' , a wicker casket ('I want to sleep in a laundry basket! ') and sunflowers. Lots of sunflowers . Oh, and some smiley faces balloons . And no one to wear black . This was going to be a very tall order.

Or so we thought.

Over the last fortnight, my mum, brother and I have been consistently amazed by people's support. My brother rang each of the local recovery firms, not often known for their goodwill, and each and every one of them provided their cleanest, shiniest and largest truck. It was utterly incredible. The funeral directors were superb, and said 'Leave it all with us ' . I even rang the local police station about parking arrangements , and their reply was ' Do what you need to do, and don't worry '.

The day dawned. I left Norfolk at 7am, in order to be able to see him beforehand, and drove the long haul to Surrey. As I hadn't seen him since he'd gone, I hadn't said goodbye. I went into the chapel of rest, and there he was , tucked up in his laundry basket, wearing his favourite shorts and slippers, white socks pulled neatly up to his shins as they always were , hair flopping over his forehead in the same slapdash fashion, and the pictures of us all tucked carefully under his hands . My brother and I on my wedding day, my mum , Ian , and all the grandchildren , keeping him company into the hereafter . I held his hand, oh so very cold, called him a daft old bugger, and then burst into floods of tears, which is where my brother found me, walking into the room a few minutes later.

Once back at my mums , we found the lawn covered with flowers. So many people he'd known had sent them; rival firms , all the neighbours . The cars turned up, and we climbed in. My mother, dad's two sisters and his last brother, and Jodie . It was only when we passed the breakdown trucks, that we realised what they'd done . Each and every one had a sunflower . They all joined the cortege, and as we turned round to watch, my mum burst into tears and I started to laugh. The road menders, heads bowed ,had stopped all the traffic , and single handedly, my dad had managed to bring south west London to a grinding halt . It was the most incredible thing I have ever seen. Everyone stopped and stared at us, as lights flashing, we trundled gently through the streets to our final destination. Even when one of the company drivers pulled across a main road to ensure the convoy stayed intact, the police going past stopped, and made sure we didn't need a hand.

After the service , which ended in typical Dad fashion with the song 'Don't worry, be happy !' , the smiley balloons were taken from his casket , and placed on the sunlit lawn outside . All the kids each cut a string , sending a smiley face skywards , and we all waved to the heavens .

I think he would have approved .

I love you dad xxx

My dad .

I was on night duty on Saturday . I got home from work eventually , after a train/bus trip that was reminiscent of Disney's 'Incredible Journey' - visiting places that I've never been before , and have no desire to visit again , just to get the elusive train from Cambridge to home, and fell into bed . 'At last ' I thought 'some decent sleep' .

Two hours later, Ian burst into the room . 'What ? What's happened? ' I mumbled . Waking me from night duty sleep is usually best done from a distance, and using a long stick , you see . Then , I saw his face . Tearful .

'Nik , I'm sorry , I'm so sorry ' he kept saying . My heart stopped, and all I could do was stare at him . ' He's gone. Your dad's gone ' .

For one mad moment , I almost said 'Where? To the shops ?' but then I tried opening my mouth , and found I actually couldn't say anything at all . I was literally speechless . He'd been in hopital with an infection for the last ten days, but had seemed to be getting better . Then , that morning , his breathing had got shallower and shallower, and by the time the hospital rang mum and she'd got there, ( ten minutes ) , he'd simply stopped breathing .

We drove down to Surrey , half an hour later, in silence . Five children in a car , and barely thirty words exchanged in a three and a half hour trip .

I think I'm still in shock . He was supposed to be getting better and now this . Sixty one is no age at all these days is it?.

That was the week that was ..

I am apparently on holiday until next Wednesday - have been for almost a month in fact , a perk gained by working twelve hour shifts which then means I get 43 extra days off a year . Complicated I know , but ultimately worth it ! So , why then do I feel so worn out ? I asked Ian this last night , and he looked at me with that old fashioned look and said ' Are you potty ? ' On Monday , you drove to Surrey at fifteen minutes notice , visited your dad ( admitted to Kingston Hosp with a raging infection ) and drove back again , via IKEA at Lakeside ( wasted trip , grr) , Tuesday you took Josh and Jordan to school , did 3 loads of washing , labelled and packed Zac for his first day at high school plus all the usual stuff , Wednesday took Zac to school ( cried all the way home ) , went to an auction as EDF had kindly turned our electric off to do some work , spent some money , Thursday the woodchip delivery turned up , so emptied two stables and cleared yet more washing , and Friday the hay turned up , so stacked all that and yet MORE washing . And you wonder why you're tired ?? '

I thought today I'd have a rest instead - only the washing to do today. 3 loads down - 5 to go !

Tomorrow I'm definitely going to have a day off - we're going to the game and country show at Sandringham , which should be fun . Wish me luck !

The picture above is the view from my front window by the way - apparently the front field may well come up for sale , so we're saving our pennies just in case ..