Mortality And Being Oblivious

Mrs Gorilla had yet another birthday last week. So I carted her off to Marco Pierre White's place for some tip top fodder and so forth. Nice room, comfy bed and truly scrumptious food. I like a bit of offal, and consumed many kidneys. And best of all, no lager! Not on tap, or in bottles. Only proper manly beer, which is how it should be. I may move in. And then down to Southsea for some sea air and more drinking and eating. We had a most splendid weekend. Didn't go up that bloody Spinnaker tower though.
Anyway, as we were driving South on Thursday afternoon and looking forward to a right good time, my good mate and sometimes business partner Nigel was having the first of a series of heart attacks which proved terminal. I only found out this afternoon when I returned a missed call from his wife. The call came on Thursday and I ignored it because it was probably something to do with work. I'd talk to him when we got back. He was a year younger than me, and strong as an ox. Doesn't often happen but I was knocked completely for six by this. Your own mortality looms large. Quite selfishly, I think that if I'd answered the phone it would have ruined the weekend for her indoors because I'd have been brooding about it.
Sometimes being oblivious to events is a blessing.