Dear friends and other interesting creatures,
I know I’ve been writing about Tim more than usual. I will not for your sake curb my emotions, therefore I will not apologise for my truth. That is not #Wenchytude
When my Tim died I knew I would miss many things about him. Besides his windswept and interesting self, of course.
Who else would quote Shirley Valentine at great length with me, sing Sinatra, Rodriguez and be the only man I ever baked an apple pie for?
Tim and I did not always agree, but he listened. He never tried to convert me to his way of thinking. He tried to understand and would challenge us both. Hell, we could both be wrong. Imagine!
He kicked my ass when I needed it, he was moody, contemplative and sometimes downright depressive.