Ages of Discovery

Carrots!

I’m walking round our sprawling garden with my daughter Lily talking about our plans for the future when suddenly I find myself falling, falling into goodness knows where. When - covered in grass cuttings and soaking wet - I pick myself up, I’m hooting with laughter but poor Lily’s face is etched with concern. Have I reached the age when I ‘have falls’? On a personal level, I’ve had a pretty rubbish time of it lately with a couple of old health problems coming back to bite me and wretched nights of broken sleep with raging hot flushes (thanks, I’ve exhausted the ‘cures’ but I’m still in danger of spontaneously combusting several times each night). This time, luckily, it’s not my body letting me down but an enormous burrow, partly hidden by vegetation. Bee, our granddaughter, who is also staying with us, goes out with her daddy and grandad to inspect the hole. ‘It was bery deep,’ she confirms. ‘I throwed an apple down it.’ Comforting to know there’ll be something for me to eat if I go flying again.

Bee’s here with her mummy, daddy and baby Iris for a short holiday. We pack as much as possible into every day and get outdoors whenever we can, but, for Bee, ‘holiday’ can only mean one thing and that is a trip to the beach. Unfortunately the weather’s not in our favour, but one day when the waves aren’t too big and the wind isn’t too strong, we manage to get down to Penbryn. Considering it’s our local beach and only just down the road from us, all four adults are weighed down with bags and equipment so that every base is covered for two very tiny girls. Poor Iris; whilst every second of Bee’s first trip to the beach was caught on camera, Iris wins today’s prize for Most Ignored Baby and grumbles quietly to herself whilst Bee tears off her clothes desperate to get into the sea. Grandad scoops her up and all goes swimmingly until a rogue wave spoils the fun. ‘A WABE HAS GONE IN MY MOUTH!!’ Bee screams indignantly. From there everything goes downhill; we wolf down our picnic (sandwiches liberally laced with flying sand) and race back home with Iris who can bear it no longer and Bee who is traumatised by the sea daring to go in her mouth and freezing cold to boot.

Faster Daddy!

Iris trying to zone out!

Watch out for the wabes!

How hard can it be to eat a meal without someone crying?

After five very happy days of watching Bee and Iris discovering the world, we’ve added to the store of wonderful memories. Instead of sitting at my desk or plugging away on social media trying to flog my books, I’ve been watching Bee pull carrots or Iris chortling with baby laughter at her sister. It’s been precious and important time out.

It’s only - yikes - four weeks until the Cardiff Half Marathon and despite various lurgies, I’ve clocked up plenty of training miles (including this morning’s very soggy nine miles in the rain). Once again, I’m running to raise money for Pancreatic Cancer UK and I’m very grateful to the generous souls who’ve helped me raise 62% of my Just Giving target. Thank you so much for your support.

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

Reconnecting

I hadn't realised it until now , but it’s probably no coincidence that my last post was about our trip to Norwich, a city I’ve loved since studying at UEA. I wrote, then, that coming home was a hard landing, a feeling that took me completely by surprise as it’s been such a privilege to live in this beautiful, remote spot on the very edge of the west Wales coast. A trip to Skye at the end of October - Tom’s choice - with Ma, was a truly lovely holiday. The weather was kind, the colours of those breathtaking seascapes will stay with me, as will all the happy memories we made that week. And, because our small cottage had been so beautifully modernised and worked so well for the three of us, it was easy to imagine what it might be like to live somewhere different. If travel doesn’t broaden the mind, it certainly brings a new perspective. By the end of the year, Tom and I had decided that it was time for a change, time to move closer to a town (we are neither of us, as they say, getting

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 presc

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