The Last Supper

There comes a moment in everybody’s life when you realise it may well be the last opportunity you have to do something you have always wanted to or something you just love to do. For some, that moment may be death. For others, that may well be your stag do. Some people may actually believe they are the same thing, but there is a subtle difference....you can die more than once on your stag do.

Thankfully, I made it through the rain to coin a famous song. Starting at 4pm on Friday and finishing at 6pm on Sunday, I survived the weekend in my home town of Leeds. There was a bit of pain involved, and a serious lack of sleep, but sleep is overrated. And so are headaches allegedly.

People asked me if I was nervous and I genuinely was not. I have an excellent best man, and he planned a fabulous weekend with just the right mix of everything – rugby, football, golf, drinking, eating and a comedy Red Bull Flugtag. It certainly did cross my mind as I flew to Leeds on Thursday that I should appreciate a comfortable bed, normal clothes and good food however.

I prepared for the weekend on Thursday with the delights of my mum’s cooking. With my impending deaths on her mind, Mum wanted to cook me a good meal and I went for my all-time favourite last supper – Roast Beef, Yorkshire Puddings, Potatoes, Vegetables and Gravy. Hit the spot as always.

There are a number of moments where I am satisfied enough that if I am going to be struck by lightning any second, then so be it. Mum’s dinner is one, Everton scoring a last minute goal to win a key game is another, and a particular cuddle with my girl where our bodies just fit perfectly into each other’s arms is the other. I guess death and stag dos help remind us what are the key things in life and what they mean to us.

What I realised more than anything however is what a great group of family and friends I can count on. Leeds may not have been the first choice for many, but they braved the miserable weather and some incredibly rough women to spend a special weekend with me. Some dragged themselves across Leeds, some drove across the UK, and others flew in from other countries to be there and for that I am extremely grateful. I have hinted once or twice before that I am not always the most eloquent when I have to verbally speak about feelings but I hope that all the gentlemen who attended the weekend feel that I reciprocate the efforts that they put into our friendships. And even if it was just the anticipation of my impending deaths that enticed them to be there – the fact that I had had my favourite last supper ensured I was calm and prepared for what was to come.