If you think research is complex, try to build an extension to your house.

Anybody completing one should be awarded a PhD. It’s incredible. So complex. I think I tried to make a list of all the different professions involved in Pádraig’s little apartment before. I am sure it was incomplete. Then there is the timing of jobs. The material to be available when they’re needed. Changes made to plans as the job goes on. Unforeseen delays and problems. And all of this with a lot of the people involved doing it for Pádraig. It’s unbelievable.

We are still aiming for the end of September as the completion date. And at the moment it looks like that was achievable.

The roof is up. The zinc (“don’t mention the ‘z’-word” is a running joke in our house these days) is going to be put up tomorrow or Monday, and then the inside plasterwork can start. A lot of the wires have been put in and soon it’ll all be about little details such as the colour and shape of tiles.

View from the top

The Spark has been here!

Steel Girder for Ceiling Hoist

Skylights over P’s room

This morning, I went out for a run along the seafront in Clontarf to clear the head. Checking in with Ryanair. Packing the bag. After that a meeting with builders. And then the wonderful offer of a friend to drive me not just to the airport but to a few places I had to go before that. I had thought I could do this on my own, I know now that had he not been there, it would have turned out a disaster.

Now, I am on the train from Cologne to Hamburg. Cologne because that was the only affordable Ryanair flight to and from Dublin this week. Imagine. It’s a swiss train on German tracks – and still running half an hour late. Whatever happened to the Swiss and their attention to ‘being on time’? Never mind the German obsession with “Pünktlichkeit”! When I get back to Hamburg tonight, after almost 10 hours of traveling, there will only be a couple of days left before we leave for Pforzheim. Hard to imagine.

All of this is hard to imagine. Sometimes I wonder whether what is going on is for real. Or imagined. I guess, I’ll never find out.

Today was another busy day in Dublin for me while Pádraig was enjoying one of the last days he has left in Hamburg for the time being.

The building work here is making good progress. Today, the roof got more or less covered, with just the final metal cover missing. Roof lights have been installed and the electricians have started their magic. They are actually getting closer to our kitchen now which will have to be shut down for the best part of a month some time soon.

I’ve also written the first grant application for An Saol to the Department of Justice and Equality. Although I only heard about this grant being available very recently and did not really that much time to write the application, I gave it a go – and if it was just to put the name of An Saol officially on the map. Submission date: tomorrow.

So much and not more for tonight. Dinner, and then bed time to get up early tomorrow morning to pack up, get ready for the 8 o’clock meeting with the builders, submit the application in town and get to the airport. Days in Dublin are too short.

Although you probably won’t believe me, but growing up in Dortmund in the 60s and 70s was fun. We had no car, we had no telephone, we had no bathroom, we had not washing machine. But I had a bicycle. My mother made Apfelkuchen. My father smoked cigars non-stop, all given to him by grateful patients. He enjoyed them a lot. My mother didn’t – not just because the intense smok interfered with the Apfelkuchen (mit Sahne), but, more importantly, with here “Stores”. “Store” being the German (!) word for a white, long, heavy-ish, semi-transparent curtain (https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Store). Not only do ‘Stores’ no longer exist, I think, but even the word itself has been purged from the German language and I had forgotten about it altogether until today. Must have been the Thank-you-for-travellling-with-Deutsche-Bahn-coffee on my way from Hamburg to Cologne on a train that is an unheard-of 32 (not 32 or 33, but 32!) minutes late. I guess that his what privatisation does!

But back to my father’s cigars.

He sent me cuttings from the Ruhr-Nachrichten, our local Dortmund newspaper, to Salamanca in 1980/81 where I spent what probably was the best year of my life (not least because I met Pat there). They came in A5 brown envelopes and brought not just  the news from my home town but also the smell from our house to Salamanca, the smell of cigar smoke.

Many years later, when I went through old papers and when my father had long passed away, the envelopes and the cuttings still carried the smoke with them. And the memories.

There are many triggers to bring back the past. Music. Place. Taste. Smell. Sound. You’re minding your business, go along with your daily life, do what you’re doing. Then something happens and it throws you off.

You start dancing thinking you’re still 18 – and don’t worry about anyone watching. You  sing at the top of your voice that song you always sang when you were happy – and never mind that you’re a few half-tones off. You close your eyes and breathe in deep, and again – and people long gone come back to life. You eat ‘pulpo’ in a Hamburg Tapas Bar and remember that day you bought this (then) insanely expensive specialist Gallego dish in a bar in Madrid, thinking this would be far to strange for any kid to enjoy – and then watch young Pádraig enjoying it with immense gusto, not really being interested in sharing this délicatesse with anyone.

There are constant reminders and memories of the other life being triggered by uncontrollable circumstances. It triggers a strong very physical reaction and feels as if my body was flushed, being drained from head to the toes in one big wave. The mind wonders off. Tears appear. Until rationale takes over again and tells me that memories don’t have to be sad. That they are good to have and to treasure. And that every second of our life we make new memories. Memories we don’t realise today we will treasure so much in the future.

We’ve been telling Pádraig about going to Pforzheim next Sunday. That we will be there for six weeks. And that it’ll be a big change from our routine in Hamburg. There will be different people. A very different atmosphere with not just us, but loads of others being around. The main therapy room there is like a gym with loads of activity. There will be very regular meals and a time table that will be close to that of a real training camp.

We will take with us memories from Hamburg. And there will be new memories.

I tried to empty the garage in Tating today so that we could actually use it – to store things we might want to bring there from Hamburg. There was loads and it took three car loads to get rid of old, dusty, semi-destroyed stuff. Pat nearly lost it when I came back after one of these runs to the dump with a school desk in a perfect condition, and a really neat armchair also in perfect condition. It’s just unbelievable what some people throw away!

On the way back over the autobahn, we saw a really interesting road sign telling tank drivers what the maximum speed for their ‘vehicles’ was – last time I had consciously seen one of those was long before anyone even thought that the wall would come down.

There was also a brilliant view from the bridge across the Kiel Canal .looking at an old-time three-master! Traffic almost came to a stand still.

Pádraig was with a carer and Pat’s sister today, while we were out emptying the garage in Tating. It all worked out really well.

We weren’t out for a long time, but we were out. And we were not afraid to be away. It sounds like nothing, but in comparison to some months ago, or even the time he was still in hospital, this is a huge change.

What hasn’t changed is this insane feeling of being tired. The sitting in front of a computer screen an my eyes closing, of nodding off in between sentences or even words. Of taking half an hour to write a few sentences and hoping they make some kind of sense. Of wanting to write more, to describe the day in more details, to describe how Pádraig is doing in more details. But just falling asleep during the attempt.

Back in Dublin tomorrow to check on the extension.

Yesterday, Pádraig got a visit from an Irish friend in Hamburg. She had heard about what happened to him and contacted us. She came out to see us running the Hamburg Marathon but missed us. Yesterday was the second time she came out to see Pádraig and us. It is so strange that the only friend we have in Hamburg is Irish…

You’re all I have my boy – Life is no fairy tale as one day you’ll know. You are my life, my joy.

Phil Coulter playing and Johnny Logan singing on Miriam’s Saturday night programme. It’s the only song Elvis ever sang that was written by a Europan – said Johnny. In fact, it was just translated by Phil into English from the French original… In any case, it’s a nice song, a little ‘schmalzig’, but there you are.

Pat and I are in Tating. Stopped by Lütt Mattens in Garding. Had a bit to eat in St Peter Bad. Will be emptying the garage in Tating so that it can take some of the furniture from Hamburg when needed.

I am falling asleep as I write and am not sure how this writing business is going right now. So I’ll better stop. Till tomorrow.

Now, how cool is that!!! – Ronan, you are a hero! – Friends, click here and do what you can, should you not have done so already. Thank you, Ronan, and all your supporters!!!

Pat’s sister is here for a few days, so Pat and I went out to the Spanish tapas restaurant we used to go on Sunday nights from time to time when Pádraig was still in hospital. It was incredible how everything came back and how different it was from today. How lucky we are to have Pádraig living with us and getting better.

Just a few months ago, we had hoped for this. Now it is a reality.

His treatment is working and so is he, unbelievably hard.

Still not sure whether we will drive the approximately 700km to Pforzheim next week – in one go or with an overnight stay somewhere. It’s looking increasingly as if we were going to take it easy and stay overnight on the way.

PS: There has been a surge in the number of views from Mexico this week. Wonder where this is coming from?

Tomorrow week, at the latest, we’ll be on our way to Pforzheim. I think it’s about a 7 hours drive which is something we haven’t done yet. It’s also still quite hot in Germany, and the further south you go, the hotter it gets. Not something we look forward to, in terms of the weather.

Today was the second last of five marathons in as many days for Ronan. It’s still not to late to sponsor him (click here) or to follow his progress (click here). I think it’s an amazing tribute to Pádraig that someone, even though he might be as mad as a hatter, decided to run this impossible race for Pádraig! Day four was a bit of a struggle, it seems, but with just one day to go, he’ll finish this amazing race series in good time tomorrow. What an amazing person! And thank you, Ronan!

Pádraig tried spaghetti today with some real bolognese sauce, including very finely minced meat. It worked but you could see that the meat part of the Bolognese sauce caused some problems – even though he tried to wash it down with a few sips of Polish beer!

He finished 3 out of 5 marathons. There is still time to stop him, although I think he is really set to so this to the end. And – he is getting faster!!!

This morning, there were more than half a dozen of men in our kitchen, around a table that was far to small and on chairs I had to supplement from our living room. A plumber, an electrician, a carpenter, a builder, a project manager, an architect, a lift installer, me, and I’m sure I’ve forgotten someone. All determined to get Pádraig’s extension ready on time.

I would never have thought how complex this whole business would be: not ‘just’ the extension but also a million ‘small’ details around it: from drainage pipes to steel girders, from switches in the right places to doors and roof configurations.

Pádraig had a hot auld day in Hamburg. Today it was the speech therapist, not really a very outgoing man usually, who said that he felt Pádraig had been responding so much more and better today.

When I arrived back from Dublin and Bremen tonight, I met my friend from the North and we went for a beer and some Indian food near the Kietz. It was a bit like a chipper, but instead of chips they were selling really good Indian food. We sat outside on a wooden bench and took in life at the crossroads in St. Pauli. Amazing. A really incredible mix of people and characters. Not like Tonndorf. At all.

Today, it’s, of course, the 70th anniversary of the drop of the first of two bombs by the USA on Japan, killing 100s of thousands of people. When will they ever learn?

Honestly, Ronan. Would you not just take the money ForPádraig. Be proud. And relax? How much more does it take for you to come to your senses? – To everybody else: please help us stop Ronan from doing what no one i know has ever tried before. Click here, now!

Wednesdays are Pádraig’s busiest days with three different therapy sessions: physio, speech, and OT. Although he’s much fitter now than ever before since the accident, it’s a long day and it’s tiring. It’s pushing boundaries.

Not quite like five marathons in as many days. But pushing boundaries. Being alive?

Which is what everybody’s life should be about, don’t you think?

So, thank you Ronan! Go on and run the races of your life!

It’s late, so I’ll just leave you with some pictures of the house. It’s coming on, isn’t it?

Good night!

PS: RTÉ is showing “I’m breathing” – why does it have to be after midnight that they are showing these really good films?