THROWBACK THURSDAY: #TimFest 2025

A year ago (late April, 2025) we threw a party to mark the 20th anniversary of my life-changing aortic aneurysm, or more accurately to celebrate the extra 20 years (so far) that I have had since the National Health Service (NHS) saved my life.

Here's the pictures - and text - I used to mark the occasion on the blog: 

Much to Rachel's surprise, it was actually my idea to host this event (I am, if you didn't already know, notoriously anti-social). I'd seen that 'new' Doctor Who was 20 years old this year and I realised that my brush with death had come several episodes into the regenerated show's first season.

Up until this year, I have been very nervous - almost superstitious - about even knowing we'd reached another anniversary and I never wanted to know the exact date or too many details of the circumstances (beyond the obvious facts that I had suffered a dissecting aortic aneurysm and then a stroke on the operating table).

But, this year, I finally accepted that two decades was far enough removed from the original, awful, event that maybe it was time to invite friends and family round to share a few drinks, have some nice food, and - at Rachel's suggestion - even raise a bit of money for the Aortic Dissection Awareness charity.

While Rachel - who actually organised the whole shindig, invited the guests, prepared the food, decorated the house etc - called the event "20 Years of Tim", others were calling it "Tim Day" and even "TimFest". 

I'll confess while it was immensely flattering to have all these people turn up to celebrate "me", it was also incredibly overwhelming and every so often I had to find a few calming minutes of quiet solitude with Alice and Obi (my two favouritest dogs in the whole, wide world).

Poor Alice, who is dealing with her own medical issues, seemed rather out of sorts as well, with so many people in "her space", that she didn't even engage in her usual rough and tumble with Obi (she's renowned for bullying him mercilessly, despite being a fraction of his size!).

I was quite gobsmacked by how much Acrobatic Flea (my signature character from our old games of Villains & Vigilantes) branding there was for the day - from the lovely T-shirt that Rachel's parents had made for me to the cup cakes created by the wonderful baker over the road from us.

Just before the group photograph was taken, Rachel gave a short, tearful, speech about how brilliant everyone had been in the wake of my sudden hospitalisation - from the amazing doctors and nurses of the NHS to all our friends who had pitched in to help us get through this. It even got to me, despite having already heard a dry run the night before, and a good number of other attendees. 

On the food table was a small framed poster with a QR code that people could scan, if they wished to, to make a charitable donation to Aortic Dissection Awareness.  

There was light-hearted talk about making Tim Day an annual event, which I did relay to Rachel, but I think one social event in 20 years is probably quite enough.

Top Dogs: Obi, the visitor (front), and our beloved Alice.

FAMILY PORTRAIT: Me, Rachel (holding Alice) and Rachel's parents

There were even garden games available for the young - and young-at-heart

EX-CUPCAKE! We're lucky to have a gifted cake maker live across the road from us

Excuse me, there's a Flea on my cupcake!

A mere fraction of the food and drink Rachel provided on the day

While the event was never intended as a "gift giving" day I was stunned
by the unexpected gifts I did receive.

TREE SAFARI: Chiddingstone Castle

Cherry blossom avenue at Chiddingstone Castle

This afternoon, our regular "tree safari" walk found us at Chiddingstone Castle (which looks like a stunning stately home indoors, but - because of Alice - we could only wander around the grounds). 

The first thing I have to say was, despite now being Spring and the start of British Summer Time, it was blooming cold. And that's from someone who usually isn't bothered by the cold. The wind chill factor was really getting into my aged bones and I was not a particularly happy camper for much of the walk.

The main treason Rachel chose Chiddingstone for today's walk was the avenue of Japanese cherry blossoms that were in full bloom. Rachel knows I love cherry blossom (which is why we have a young cherry tree planted outside our house, although it will be decades before it can rival the beauties here... or in Japan).

Freaky bridge - not for me!

At the end of the avenue is an arched wooden bridge over a lake, but it's one of those "open" bridges that freak me out 'cos of my balance/vertigo issues after my stroke.

So we diverted round the end of the lake instead, where there's a wonderful rock formation - and a tree with signs of fairy habitation (well, it has a couple of large openings in it!).

The "fairy tree"

I am totally smitten by this rock formation at the end of the lake

This little rivulet that runs through the rocks helps fill the lake

Alice had a lovely time, meeting a number of adorable fellow dogs as well as attracting her usual coos and cuddles from friendly, dog-loving humans who always mistake her for a puppy and are then amazed when we tell them she's nearly 12.

After our walk, I insisted we have a bite to eat in the stately home's café. As we had to sit in the courtyard (under cover) - again because of Alice - I took advantage of the box of blankets provided and spread one over my legs, like a pensioner.

Rachel ordered herself a cream tea while I had a hot chocolate accompanied by a couple of crumpets with raspberry jam.

The locally-sourced jam was incredibly delicious so when Rachel was settling our bill I asked her to get us a pot of the jam as well. 

Once we got home (it was so nice to be in the warmth again!) I added "crumpets" to the shopping list, so I could replicate the experience I had so recently enjoyed in the courtyard of the Chiddingstone Castle café.

Mmmmmm, tasty jam!

THROWBACK THURSDAY: Carpe That Diem! Or "I'm An Idiot!"

I try not to dwell on regrets, I've long accepted the fact that nothing good comes from such negativity, as long as you learn something.

However, one of my biggest regrets - from which the main thing I've learned is my natural-born laziness is one of my most self-sabotaging traits - is never following up on the letter I received in September, 2002, from Hodder & Stoughton.

I'd always quite fancied myself as something of a writer and, at that time, had what I thought was a pretty decent idea for a novel.

So, I drafted a synopsis and sent it off to Hodder & Stoughton, having carefully picked them out from the Writers' & Artists' Yearbook as being a publisher that might be interested in my idea.

I got a letter back on July 31 asking for three sample chapters.

These were written and dispatched and then, on September 11, 2002, I got a letter back from the submissions editor.

You can read the important information below:

It was an amazingly positive way to say " no, thank you, but..." and I should have been encouraged by the letter.

You know what I did with it? What thriller project I wrote next to send to the publishers?

Nothing.

Sweet Fanny Adams.

Nada.

Zilch.

Honestly, now, I have no idea why, except, I expect I was distracted by drink, girls, TV, cinema, the usual ephemeral nonsense that catches my fickle attention.

I'm not printing this letter to say: "Look at me, what a great writer I am", nor am I seeking any sympathy (as there was no one to blame but myself).

Rather I want to emphasise what an idiot I was.

This is a lesson to all you young whippersnappers out there, to my godson Alec and his sister Bettany, to Paul's girls, and all the children of this blog's readers: don't be like me.

When life gives you lemons, don't file them away then go to the store and buy lemonade.

Take advantage of every opportunity that comes your way.

Carpe Diem!

At the very least, I should have used that letter to try and get myself an agent... which in turn could have kept me better focused on my professed desire to become a published author.

The damage my stroke did to my concentration - and other aspects of my brain - pretty much guarantees this ship has sailed, but if any good is to come from all this, I want it to stand as an object lesson that others can learn from.

The galling thing about my gross stupidity - and laziness - is the number of films I continue to see that feature ideas very similar to the ones I had way back in my proto-novel with the working title of The Donner Project.

THROWBACK THURSDAY: Before The Tuesday Knights

After my aneurysm and stroke, I was looking for ways to keep myself entertained and so Nick, Pete and I started our Formula Dé League, playing monthly motor races and eating a lot of very hot curry.

As the Tunbridge Wells Formula De League we would race little plastic cars around boards representing a variety of Grand Prix circuits from across the globe.

The game uses the very clever mechanic of having the vehicle's different gears represented by different polyhedral dice. 

A moment of high drama during the Chinese Grand Prix

As with our current gaming we didn't always stick to the monthly schedule that we had drawn up in advance, but we still managed to rack up enough races for a couple of years (2006/2007) to give our league a sense of verisimilitude.

We each controlled a stable of two racers, competing for both individual and team glory.

Pete was Team Clover (Paddy O'Doors & Muhat Mecoate), I was Team Zerro (Damien Dash & Brian 'Whitey' Whitehouse) and Nick was Team Flamer (Antonio Wasp & Nick Nastily). Nick's Nick Nastily retired during the '06 season and was replaced by Jock Saway.

Press coverage of Nastily's retirement

During 2007, Steve joined us as Team Classic Rock for one race.

As well as creating newspaper clippings of key race-related stories, we even held "prize giving" ceremonies at the end of each year in local restaurants, handing out trophies and wooden spoons to the winners and losers.

A third year's racing was scheduled for 2008, but a resurgence of interest in roleplaying games led to the creation of the Tuesday Knights and that overtook our toy car racing exploits.

The TWFDL: Pete, Nick & I

The release of the Hollow Earth Expedition pulp adventure system had reignited Nick's enthusiasm for roleplaying games and he ran a short and sadly unfinished Edwardian campaign for Clare and I.

But it was the publicity around the publication of the Fourth Edition of Dungeons & Dragons that got me thinking about starting our own broader gaming group, replacing our board game nights (we also played the collaborative Lord Of The Rings games) with regular roleplaying sessions.

And so was born The Tuesday Knights. In the end we didn't play Fourth Edition, opting for the more old school Castles & Crusades, which was then replaced by Labyrinth Lord, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Regular board game meet-ups resumed in 2023, with the launch of Monopoly Club, where Pete gets to show off his ever-expanding collection of themed Monopoly boards for Clare, Rachel, and I.

THROWBACK THURSDAY: That Time We Were Featured In A Supermarket Tabloid

Photo by Antoni Shkraba

When Rachel and her colleagues at work were moving offices several years ago she brought home a selection of lost and forgotten "treasures" that had been unearthed.

Key among them was an old copy of trashy tabloid magazine Love It! which featured "our story". 

Cover dated July, 2007, this issue featured a semi-factual, rather sensational retelling of "Our Miracle Wedding", a truncated version of the story of my sudden, unexpected, aneurysm; the stroke I suffered on the operating table; my recovery; my marriage proposal; and our wedding.

This sterling example of high-quality journalism was tucked away on page 24 amongst the ridiculous 'true life' accounts of scandalous celebrity gossip, money-saving household tips, horoscopes, and sordid sex tales.

Basically what would now be termed "click-bait".

I wasn't sure about rereading the article (for the first time since I read it upon publication), in case it triggered unpleasant memories of my near-death experience.

But I needn't have worried, the overwrought retelling of Rachel's heroic handling of the whole situation, saving my life and placing me forever in her debt, actually brought on a smile of pride instead.

While it's rather insulting to dismiss the story of my brush with the Grim Reaper as a "speedy read" suitable for when you're waiting in the queue for a bus, it's an oddly concrete reminder of a time when things were moving so fast that no one thought about capturing the moment for posterity.

The paltry payment we earned from selling our story went towards 'spending money' for our trip to Disneyland Paris later that year.

I seem to recall that we would have got more if we'd been able to supply a picture of me in a hospital bed, all wired in to the machines that go 'beep', with tubes down my throat and up my nose... but camera phones just weren't as ubiquitous then as they are today... and, anyway, there's a degree of dignity and personal privacy involved.

And they weren't offering THAT much for a hospital shot.

HEALTH UPDATE: Baby Steps!

Once again, I am learning how to walk. I did it as an infant, I did it after my stroke 20 years ago, and now - for currently unknown reasons - I am having to do it again.

My MRI last month showed that I had a slipped disc, but the analysis of that was that it didn't explain the loss of strength in my legs and my sudden inability to walk.

While I await next week's appointment at the orthopaedics department, I've been testing the limits of my strength and stability by first walking and down the stairs (using the extra handrail that Rachel's dad installed) - instead of dragging myself up and down on my arse - and am now trying to walk (short distances) from either end of the staircase.

As long as there's something for me to hold on to you with one hand - or even touch with my fingertips - I'm able to make it to rooms off the first floor landing or, on the groundfloor, into the lounge.

I even made it to the backdoor one day this week - essentially walking the length of the house.

The other positive thing I did was finish the two books I was reading: Stephen King's Carrie and "Did You Hear What Eddie Gein Done?", an in-depth, graphic novel biography of Ed Gein, the inspiration for Norman Bates, Leatherface et al. 

I'd read a huge chunk of Carrie while I was waiting around in hospital for my tests in mid-July, but then hadn't picked it up since, due to a combination of physical discomfort and depression. 

But I was determined to finish it this week, as my "TBR" pile continues to grow into a mountain.

To celebrate this achievement, Rachel - not a fan of the horror genre at all - heroically agreed to watch the classic, original Carrie as our Saturday evening film.

However, I couldn't find my blu-ray disc of the movie (as I'm currently unable to fully search my double-stacked library of films), so we watched Psycho instead - which Rachel had already seen.

Hopefully, I'll be able to unearth Carrie by next weekend.

Now that I've cleared the mental blockage in my reading, I've got several books lined up to read next, starting with the incredibly weird-sounding Crypt of The Moon Spider, by Nathan Ballingrud, that was recommended on McNulty's Book Corral.

After that should come James Herbert's The Rats, The Tourist's Guide to Haunted Wellman by my Facebook friend Charles R Rutledge and the late James A Moore, and Stephen King's The Shining.

I haven't read The Rats since prep school in the '70s, where the book was a big hit among my young peers and caused a furore amongst the school authorities who banned us from reading it - thus making it more enticing. I couldn't find an affordable copy of the edition I read back then, but did find the 50th anniversary edition... which made me feel old.

The idea is build up a head of steam with my rekindled reading drive to give me the mental momentum to tackle The Shining.

If all goes to plan, I suspect that tome could keep my stroke-addled brain occupied for the rest of 2025 (at the very least).

I thought if I was going to give one of King's doorstop books a go, it might as well be the one whose story I'm most excited to read.

I only really know The Shining from Kubrick's 1980 movie (and Mike Flanagan's powerful 2019 sequel, Doctor Sleep), but am well aware that King didn't like Kubrick's take and much of the source material was ignored or rewritten.

So, I felt I owed to myself to discover the "real" story of The Overlook Hotel.

Mortal Kombat (2021)

I'm not, by any stretch of the imagination, a video game player, especially since my stroke left me without the requisite attention span or hand-eye co-ordination to be any good.

However, I'll admit to a fondness for fighting games and mashing some serious buttons in my university days playing Street Fighter (side note: I tried rewatching the 1994 Jean-Claude Van Damme movie the other week, and it has not aged well).

That said, as far as I recall, I never played Mortal Kombat, so have no real knowledge of the game's mythology or investment in  the characters.

It seems there's a supernatural martial arts tournament every century (it's not really clear how often) and if the Bad Guys of the Outworld plane win 10 tournaments in a row the Elder Gods will allow them to invade Earth (or something).

Outworld is a grey Zack Snyder-filmed Burning Man Festival kind of place, full of people in black pleather BDSM costumes.

Anyway, these guys and gals have already won nine tournaments in a row (just how rubbish are the Earth's champions?) and Outworld's Emperor Shang Tsung (Chin Han) wants to ensure victory in the 'final' tournament by sending assassins to Earth and killing our contenders before the tournament even begins.

But... if he can do that already, why are they even bothering with the tournament?

Because reasons, I guess.

There's an awful lot of hand-waving when it comes to spelling out the backstory and deep motivations of all involved, ultimately meaning the plot of Mortal Kombat has holes in it you could fly an Imperial Star Destroyer through.

The Emperor of Outworld's assassins are led by Sub-Zero (amazing martial artist Joe Taslim of The Raid fame) who has incredible ice-based superpowers to complement his martial arts moves.

In the pre-credits flashback to Ancient Japan, he sends the great ninja Hanzo Hasashi (Hiroyuki Sanada) to Hell, establishing an enmity between the two men that spans time and space.

Back on modern-day Earth, unsuccessful cage fighter Cole Young (Lewis Tan) is drawn into these shenanigans because his bloodline marks him as a champion, and he ends up getting recruited by a pair of special forces operatives, Sonya Blade (Jessica McNamee) and Jax (Supergirl's Mehcad Brooks), to protect him from Sub-Zero.

There's a quest to find a hidden temple, which gets resolved quick sharpish, and soon they are joining the forces of Lord Raiden (Tadanobu Asano), Elder God and protector of 'Earthrealm', to stand against Shang Tsung's fighters.

Mortal Kombat is dumb and occasionally nonsensical but has enough superpowered beatdown chutzpah to power through.

One of the film's problems, on top of its logic-lacking narrative, is that by being all post-modern and having the Bad Guys trying to circumvent the titular Mortal Kombat tournament, there ends up being no actual Mortal Kombat in the movie at all.

That said, the film is at its strongest when there's fighting going on. And, unsurprisingly, there's a lot of amped-up fighting going on in its 110-minute duration.

It also, as befits the reputation of the Mortal Kombat gaming franchise, features a lot of brutally violent 'finishing moves'.

So, there's that.

Sadly, Cole and Sonya, the two nominal leads, are quite bland, but luckily they are initially teamed with the foul-mouthed Australian mercenary Kano (Josh Lawson), who pretty much steals every scene he is in. 

The lack of strong leads is countered by the sheer number of different fighters involved in the story.

This isn't one of those superhero movies where powered characters plough through hordes of faceless goons. 

Mortal Kombat is about small groups of unique combatants beating the shit out of each other.

And if that sounds like your sort of thing, then you'll probably enjoy Mortal Kombat.

OOPS!…I DID IT AGAIN

Top Left: In a wheelchair; Top Right: doing my exercises at home;
Bottom Left: in hospital, Friday; and Bottom Right: in hospital Saturday

When I started this iteration of my blogging career I hadn't intended to write too much about my various health conditions, in fact just the opposite: I was looking to celebrate my triumphs over adversity.

However, my body had other ideas. Over the last few weeks, I had begun to lose strength in my legs (my left has been weakened since my stroke 20 years ago, but I could get around with a walking stick).

There was no inciting incident, no major accident that could have triggered this change in my strength and stability.

In no time at all, I went from one to two walking sticks, then a zimmer frame and a wheelchair. I could no longer get up and down the stairs normally (something that generally hadn't been an issue) and, instead, was having to scooch up and down on my arse! Even washing and going to toilet became a major operation. It was also all too easy to forget this new normal and try to get up to retrieve a book from a shelf or some such, and just find myself collapsing backwards as my legs concertinaed up.

Luckily, I had an appointment with my GP (originally for something else), but, I have to be honest, she was rather useless and - baffled by my symptoms - simply prescribed painkillers and Ibuprofen gel, in the hope that it would go away.

In fact, the problem just got worse and Rachel emailed the surgery asking for a referral for physiotherapy.

The doctor, promptly, replied suggesting I go to the hospital for a check-up, as she couldn't make a referral without a diagnosis.

So, on Friday, we rolled up at the hospital, and I have to say, although Rachel and I were there for pretty much the rest of the day, we were looked after brilliantly. I was subjected to barrage of blood tests and scans, that were all inconclusive.

Ultimately the doctor there said I needed to come back the next day for an MRI at 9.40am.

Of course, the most annoying thing about that day was the fact that the tickets I got for Rachel and myself to see Superman on its opening day went to waste. Rachel has assured me she'll get us some more tickets once my current health situation has calmed down.

Our instructions were to get there for 9am, and the general understanding was that it shouldn't take that long.

I was all prepped and ready, then inserted into the MRI machine... and immediately made the mistake of opening my eyes.

I was in a coffin! It was so claustrophobic.

I freaked out, mashing the panic button, so they pulled me out as quickly as possible.

Everyone was really understanding and lovely, and I was wheeled back to the orthopaedics department, while options were discussed. 

Unfortunately, this meant I was - understandably - bumped to the end of the queue as they had a day's worth of emergency scans to squeeze in.

Many, many hours later - some of which I napped in my comfortable chair - they dosed me up with Diazepam (Valium), gave me an eye mask and let me choose the music I could listen to while in the MRI. I chose My Chemical Romance.

And this time, helped by the fact I also kept my eyes squeezed shut for the 20 or so minutes I was in there, everything ran smoothly (in fact, I was told to "keep still" when I started bopping to Welcome to The Black Parade - one of all-time favourite tunes).

A short time later, Rachel and I were back in the orthopaedics department being guided through the images of my spine by another excellent doctor. He pointed out the prolapsed disc in my spine as the likely cause of my problems, but explained that all this data would be sent to a consultant at King's Hospital, in London, for a definitive verdict.

So, that's where we are at present: I still can't walk, but can get round slowly on the frame, I'm still attending my weekly pensioners' exercise class (the last doctor stressed how important that was), I've got a follow-up appointment with GP next week, and hopefully we'll hear from someone in-between about the analysis on the scan (although the doctor said if we don't hear that's good news).

Our NHS has been marvellous (as always); all the staff were incredible, kind, and generous (even when rushed off their feet). As were our friends who puppy-sat Alice, and Rachel's wonderful parents who do a flawless job of looking after us all.

Rachel has been my rock throughout this sudden turn of events and I know for certain I couldn't have made it this far without her.

Onward and upwards...

PROJECT 60: Settlers Are Arriving and The Town Is Growing

My first collection of painted gunfighters for Dead Man's Hand

PROJECT 60 - and particularly my plans for the Wild West skirmish game, Dead Man's Hand - is really gaining momentum now.

Today, I received back my first batch of painted miniatures from my painter, Matt. You can get a taste of what they were like unpainted here and check out the pictures in this post to see what an amazing transformation Matt's skill with a brush has brought to them.

They are posed outside my latest building acquisition: a completed and painted MDF Western blacksmiths (with stable), a great purchase from eBay.

This will sit nicely with my nameless saloon, and the other buildings I have yet to build myself (those that came in the Dead Man's Hand Redux starter set and a couple of others I was unable to resist).

I'm pretty certain I already have enough buildings to create a small town, suitable for play.

I just need to boost up my number of miniature gunfighters - and innocent civilians - and (once again) tidy up the games room, so I can display all this material and do it justice.

Luckily, I am already assembling a second wave of miniatures to dispatch to Matt as soon as possible, but there are so many lovely 28mm Western miniatures out there that it's easy to keep getting distracted.

In the front we have Cullen Bohannon, Jonah Hex, Timmy The Flea, and The Man With No Name 

Beside The Man With No Name, we have Django (complete with coffin) and General Custer

Beyond this fantastic development, I've also been tinkering in the garden room, rebasing some old Western miniatures in my collection with the flatter Great Escape Games bases instead of the chunky Games Workshop ones that were my default setting more many decades.

A quartet of characters in the process of being rebased

I also need to summon up the courage to start assembling a couple of gangs from the multipart gunfighters that came in the Dead Man's Hand starter box.

I have ideas for themes: one based upon my own Hole-In-The-Head Gang, led by Timmy The Flea, and another based upon the main characters of The High Chaparral TV show.

I'm just slightly reticent because of my stroke-addled lack of manual dexterity and the minuteness of the parts for the figures.

Raising Awareness of Aortic Dissection

Our very generous 'thank you' package for helping to raise awareness

An element of our recent #TimFest party was to raise awareness of aortic dissection - the sudden, life-changing, medical condition that put me in hospital 20 years ago.

As a very generous 'thank you' for that, and helping to raise a bit of cash in the process, the Aortic Dissection Awareness charity sent Rachel and I a box full of promotional merch this week.

We each got a couple of very comfortable t-shirts, a pair of wristbands, a lanyard, a mug and the charity's 'patient guide book'.

This latter publication is full of useful information for patients, family, and carers for after an aortic dissection, written by patients for patients.

Rachel has been working with this charity for years and helped proof the almost 100-page book (receiving an acknowledgment in the credits).

Conversely, because of my 20 years of PTSD, this is my first direct involvement with Aortic Dissection Awareness (part of the global Think Aorta campaign). 

Hopefully, now though, I'll be able to do some more, concerted, fundraising for them in the future.

In the past I've raised money for the UK's stroke charity (as I suffered a stroke during the emergency open heart surgery to patch up my fractured aorta), and I still give them a small remuneration every month, but as I'm now more comfortable talking about my aortic dissection I should do what I can to raise awareness of that.

"Twenty Years of Tim" aka "Tim Day" aka "#TimFest"

This weekend we threw a party to mark the 20th anniversary of my life-changing aortic aneurysm, or more accurately to celebrate the extra 20 years (so far) that I have had since the National Health Service (NHS) saved my life.

Much to Rachel's surprise, it was actually my idea to host this event (I am, if you didn't already know, notoriously anti-social). I'd seen that 'new' Doctor Who was 20 years old this year and I realised that my brush with death had come several episodes into the regenerated show's first season.

Up until this year, I have been very nervous - almost superstitious - about even knowing we'd reached another anniversary and I never wanted to know the exact date or too many details of the circumstances (beyond the obvious facts that I had suffered a dissecting aortic aneurysm and then a stroke on the operating table).

But, this year, I finally accepted that two decades was far enough removed from the original, awful, event that maybe it was time to invite friends and family round to share a few drinks, have some nice food, and - at Rachel's suggestion - even raise a bit of money for the Aortic Dissection Awareness charity.

While Rachel - who actually organised the whole shindig, invited the guests, prepared the food, decorated the house etc - called the event "20 Years of Tim", others were calling it "Tim Day" and even "TimFest". 

I'll confess while it was immensely flattering to have all these people turn up to celebrate "me", it was also incredibly overwhelming and every so often I had to find a few calming minutes of quiet solitude with Alice and Obi (my two favouritest dogs in the whole, wide world).

Poor Alice, who is dealing with her own medical issues, seemed rather out of sorts as well, with so many people in "her space", that she didn't even engage in her usual rough and tumble with Obi (she's renowned for bullying him mercilessly, despite being a fraction of his size!).

I was quite gobsmacked by how much Acrobatic Flea (my signature character from our old games of Villains & Vigilantes) branding there was for the day - from the lovely T-shirt that Rachel's parents had made for me to the cup cakes created by the wonderful baker over the road from us.

Just before the group photograph was taken, Rachel gave a short, tearful, speech about how brilliant everyone had been in the wake of my sudden hospitalisation - from the amazing doctors and nurses of the NHS to all our friends who had pitched in to help us get through this. It even got to me, despite having already heard a dry run the night before, and a good number of other attendees. 

On the food table was a small framed poster with a QR code that people could scan, if they wished to, to make a charitable donation to Aortic Dissection Awareness.  

There was light-hearted talk about making Tim Day an annual event, which I did relay to Rachel, but I think one social event in 20 years is probably quite enough.

Top Dogs: Obi, the visitor (front), and our beloved Alice.

FAMILY PORTRAIT: Me, Rachel (holding Alice) and Rachel's parents

There were even garden games available for the young - and young-at-heart

EX-CUPCAKE! We're lucky to have a gifted cake maker live across the road from us

Excuse me, there's a Flea on my cupcake!

A mere fraction of the food and drink Rachel provided on the day

While the event was never intended as a "gift giving" day I was stunned
by the unexpected gifts I was given.