The Bucket List to Mend a Broken Heart

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Authors: Anna Bell
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last week, about her getting her feet under the table. I must get him to elaborate.
    I walk back to my desk wishing that Hayley wouldcome back soon. But, given that her baby was only born last week, I know I’ve got to put up with Linz for the foreseeable future.
    I settle back into my chair and tuck my Eiffel Tower picture safely in my bag. I’ve now got nearly all the photos for my mood board, which means the next step might actually be to attempt to do one of the tasks on the list.
    It’s been a whole four days since the arrivalof the box that started me down the journey of trying to complete Joseph’s bucket list. And so far, I haven’t managed to tick off a single thing.
    When I’d looked at his list, I’d thought that I’d whip through it in no time. But I’ve been researching the activities, and nearly all of them are going to take time and preparation. No wonder Joseph hadn’t completed any himself. There are hurdles andobstacles everywhere I look.
    Take having afternoon tea at the Ritz. I’d imagined I’d tip up, eat my monthly quota of cakes and put a big fat tick on the list. Sian had agreed to take a day off with me, and we were going to go up later this week. Only when I checked the website I realised that it wasn’t as easy as I’d imagined. I had to book and after a lot of searching on the online booking facility,I just about managed to find a slot that Sian, the Ritz and I could all do. We’re going next Tuesday.
    Then there was the Spanish. At first I thought I’d try teaching myself, but that proved a lot harder than I thought. I had got a Michel Thomas CD out from the library on Monday night, but I’d fallen asleep listening to it. I found the sultry tone of his voice so soothing. And, disappointingly,I didn’t manage to learn Spanish by osmosis. So I’ve booked myself onto a course.
    I’m just bringing up Facebook to scan Joseph’s page to see if there’s been any activity that might indicate a new female companion, when my phone rings, the number’s withheld, and I cross my fingers, hoping it’s one of my outstanding enquiries, rather than some call centre ringing to tell me that I’m eligible toswitch phone companies.
    ‘Hello.’
    ‘Hi, is that Abi? It’s Jenny here from the Outdoor Centre.’
    ‘Oh, hello. Thanks for calling me back.’
    ‘No problem. So you said in your message that you wanted to learn to windsurf?’
    I have to fight the instinct to shout no at the top of my voice, but instead I hear myself squeaking a yes. Why anyone would want to sail out to sea standing on a wedge of foamwith a flimsy plastic sail is beyond me. Whenever I’ve seen windsurfers in Portsmouth it’s always on those foul, stinking days where they’re getting bashed around by the howling wind and rain. It’s not the best advert for the sport.
    ‘Well, the best way to start is to do an introduction to windsurfing day. Then from there you can do a weekend beginners’ course, then an intermediate and beforeyou know it you’ll be riding the waves on your own.’
    I stifle a laugh. Yeah, right.
    ‘Will the introductory thing teach me to stop and go?’
    ‘Um, yeah, there’s hopefully a little more to it than that, but essentially that’s it.’
    ‘Perfect,’ I say. The list said learn to windsurf, so that will be it – job done. I’ll have my photo for Facebook. If only I could do it without getting wet. ‘Do yousupply the boards?’
    I’m desperately hoping the answer will be yes, as not only do I not want to fork out for one when I’ve already got to buy a bike, but I can’t imagine where I’d possibly store it in my shoebox flat.
    ‘Yes, we lend you everything. Wetsuits, board and sail and buoyancy aids.’
    ‘Great.’
    ‘So, we’ve got room on our course on Saturday.’
    ‘This Saturday?’
    Now, I know I’ve been bangingon about whipping through the challenges, but this Saturday? That only gives me three days to stress, stew and psych myself up. I was hoping to dip

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