A carbon copy of yesterday morning...but an 'abort' text is likely

Sunday 8 May: I woke up later this morning; not because the alarm didn't go off (I hadn't set it) but just because I lay there in bed, looking out on what was a bright morning. I hadn't drawn the curtains the night before and the sunlight woke me up without any prompting from the iPhone, which was downstairs charging in the kitchen.

Yesterday I cycled over to dad's and found his state of health unchanged from the day before. Dad was in bed, his stomach still bloated, legs still swollen and his voice still weak. I'd taken him to the doctor last Thursday and, to be honest, they weren't taking things as seriously as they should have been: instead of insisting on immediate tests, he's had to wait until later this month and yesterday, dad told me he was having trouble drinking liquid – not good when you consider we all need liquids to survive.

I called NHS Direct and chatted to a nurse, explaining dad's symptoms using the iPhone's speaker facility. She sent a doctor round and he kind of confirmed what we knew all along – that there was something (a growth, a cyst, something) and whatever it was, it was the cause of the problem. He suggested that dad re-connects with his GP (who he'd seen on Thursday last week) and, I'd imagine, insist on getting things moving a little quicker. So, tomorrow (Monday) hopefully the ball will start moving a little faster.

Meanwhile we all wait. I had difficulty getting to sleep last night as a result. This sort of thing plays on my mind as I consider dad's age – he'll be 82 in September – and I know it's playing on Jon's and Cris' minds too, not to mention dad's. I'm optimistic that whatever it is can be cured but dad's looking very grey and I know we're all worrying about it.

Outside, the weather is similar to yesterday: outbursts of rain. I've sent Andy a text saying let's see what it's like at 7am – that's 15 minutes from now, time for another cup of tea. Normally, when it rains here, it hits Caterham a few minutes later – or vice versa – so I'd imagine that right now, Andy is gazing out of his window at the rain.

Somehow the rain looks more set-in than yesterday, so I guess it's going to be an 'abort' text very shortly. As I write, it's heavy and grey and I've just discovered that I didn't come anywhere near on the National Lottery – not even a tenner. That's life, I guess, as dad would say.

...and then we went out!

Saturday 7 May: The rain shower was brief and to the point and suddenly, after a major downpour, it stopped and the world became a brighter place. It was as if somebody had turned up the brightness control on the television. The skies went from grey to blue and all that was left of the rain was a few puddles – not good for me as I don't have any mudguards. Still, the weather was inspiring enough for me to text Andy and suggest a fast one to Botley Hill, which ended up as being a ride to the Tatsfield Bus Stop (when there's rain about, you ride out to places where there's cover).

The ride was fine, but I was managing to get a uncomfortable rear end, thanks to the puddles and by the time we reached the bus stop, my arse was like a sponge – now there's an image you don't want to dwell on for too long.

Andy had another idea for our multiple personality photographs, although he did say it was getting a little boring and that bar one other idea that we can't put into practice yet (it requires a ramp and an open space) there will be no more.

We sat and chewed the fat and watched the rain start up again, hoping that it would stop before we made our way home. It did stop, but again, the wetness on the roads managed to soak yours truly and once again I started thinking about mudguards and making my bike a little more sensible.

As I climbed Church Way to meet Andy, my mobile dinged. I had a text from Andy saying okay to meeting at 0815hrs at the Green. Stopping in the road, I engaged one of the residents in conversation. We chatted about bikes and how 'in his day' he used to build his own bikes. Me too, I told him. He liked the Scrap and was intrigued (as most people are) by the Spongy Wonder saddle. "It's there to protect your bits," I told him, and we moved on to the subject of supermodel Kate Moss who I thought used to live in Church Way. It turns out that her aunty lives here still and that Moss never did, but resided instead somewhere in the Purley Oaks region.

That's about it. Outside now the weather has brightened up, but there won't be much in the way of gardening until things dry out a little bit.

My dad is still poorly. I took him to the doctor on Thursday and he's now booked in for an MRi scan, endoscopy and a blood test. They did the latter at home and the MRi is set for 19 May. I hope he's going to pull through as I've never seen him look so grey and old. Mind you, he is grey and old, he's 82 in September.

Checked on mum just a second ago and she said that, despite taking the sleeping pills, he still didn't get a good night's sleep, which is not good. He's in bed as I write this and I'll try to get over there either today or tomorrow, although it looks as if I'll have to cycle the six miles (not far, but it's the traffic that's bad). Our car needs an MOT (that's Ministry of Transport test) and cars without MOTs are generally not insured either, or the insurance is voided if you drive without an MOT. So we're going to be a little stranded this weekend, which is a nuisance.