Paths, Tracks and a Hop

Stepson Two and I are spending the day in Oxford whilst Tom attends a study day at the Faculty of Music. We wander into the Bodleian Library where there’s a small but rather lovely exhibition celebrating 800 years of Oxford’s contribution to the art and science of medicine. I’m particularly moved by the original manuscripts there; Thomas Sydenham’s careful and caring observations of his patients (written in John Locke’s hand), Dorothy Hodgkin’s letter to her husband as she worked to unlock the structure of penicillin, and a host of neat notebooks which convey a vivid sense of immediacy despite the faded ink and yellowing paper.

At the Ashmolean museum, I take myself to see ‘Flesh and Bone’ a stunning exhibition which bring together works by Henry Moore and - a personal favourite - Francis Bacon. I enjoy the Bacon paintings very much but leave feeling faintly covetous and wishing I could take Pope Innocent X 1965 home with me.

There’s also plenty of time for Stepson Two and I to drink coffee, eat cake and catch up. It’s fair to say that neither Tom nor Stepson Two have done things in what is supposed to be the conventional order, which, I suspect is due to them both being very clever at whatever they turn their minds to. Stepson Two is now employed turning horrendously dry maths into beautiful, deceptively-simple apps, but some of you may remember when he had a record deal with a major label and an album which – thanks to the sudden upheaval in the music industry and a change of management - didn’t see the light of day. So here, for old times sake, is a glimpse of the path that might have been taken. And Stepson Two in a top hat...

At the weekend we’re joined for my birthday by Rose, Si, Lily and Russ. Two days later, it would have been my dad’s birthday too (Ma always joked I was her birthday present to him). Amidst the laughter, I can’t help but feel sad for all the growing number of people in the room Dad didn’t get to meet. But if he could have seen us, I think he would have approved.

Knowing that it’s Dad’s birthday puts a spring in my step for my Sunday morning long run. All the bad health news this year made me decide that I’d feel much better running again – so I did and it’s great. I’ve entered the Llanelli Half Marathon in March 2014 and, thanks to Tom, I now have a neat little GPS watch that tells me all sorts of useful stuff like how far and fast I’ve run and how many calories I’ve used. Short of actually patting me on the back and saying ‘well done’ it’s a great way to stay on track.

And finally, I’m participating in the Coastal Romance Writers Christmas Blog Hop. Do come back on Friday for details of how you could win a $100 gift card and 26 books!

Happy Endings, New Beginnings

Blended families come with conflicting loyalties and at Christmas time nearly everyone has somewhere else they feel they ought to be. Throw partners into the equation and it gets even more complicated. Since Tom and I aren’t especially hung up about Christmas we’re happy to let our children go with the strongest flow, but I have to say it was a great delight to have the girls and their partners staying with us this year. When such moments are few and far between they become very precious. My stepsons weren’t far from our thoughts either, not least because we had the very happy news on Christmas Day that my elder stepson and his girlfriend had become engaged. Congratulations Dan and Gill, here’s wishing you every happiness together. Tom and I end a year that has seen the fruition of many years work, both of us crossing important thresholds within weeks of each other. I’m really looking forwards to seeing Turning the Tide published next year and it’s been so satisfying, after al...

Fly Free, Dottie Do

‘How many days to my birthday?’ Ma asks. I do a quick calculation. ‘Eighteen,’ I reply. ‘Eighteen days until your ninetieth birthday.’ Ma pulls a face and shakes her head. Every sentence is hard work for her now, when each breath is a struggle. ‘You’ll have to write a book about this, you know,’ she says, with one of her quick, mischievous smiles. ‘“Carry On Dying”. Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry.’ The smile fades. ‘Who knew,’ she adds wearily, ‘that dying would be such a palaver?’ It’s only eleven days since Ma was diagnosed with a high-grade, aggressive lymphoma, four days since she was overwhelmed with pain and breathing difficulties and was admitted as an emergency to hospital. Until a few weeks ago, she lived completely independently; shopping, cooking, cleaning and tending her much-loved garden. The deterioration in her health is shockingly rapid. The eight days preceding her death are a living hell, a constant battle with the ward staff to get Ma the pain relief she’s been p...

Since You've Been Gone

Well, Ma Mère, There have been so many times when I’ve gathered up all the little shiny moments I’ve collected during the day, ready to present to you in our evening phone call and then I remember all over again that you’re not there. But, Mum, so much has happened since you’ve gone - maybe you know, maybe you don’t - that I’ve decided to write to you instead. A few days after you died, we sold our house! After all those months! We even joked about you rattling cages somewhere. At first, nothing happened and then suddenly everything happened at a breathless pace and the next thing I knew I found myself driving (yes, me, driving!) along the M4 to Bridgend and the Time Capsule House, the one you said you and Dad would have bought. I remarked, when we first viewed it that if it was meant for us, it would come to us. Over a year later, when it had been under offer twice, we moved in. Oh, Mum, you and Dad would have loved this house; it’s peak Seventies and the decor - the pampas ensu...

Home Thoughts Weekly

Search This Blog