Skip to main content

The Winds of Change



‘Good’, says my dear friend, Jill, when I tell her that Storm Ciara means the Llanelli Half Marathon has been postponed. ‘My guardian angel is working overtime!’. Jill’s guardian angel has indeed been very busy looking after her and her loved ones lately, so I’m impressed that she’s squeezed in a few extra hours to whip up a storm which will give me another four weeks to recover from my accident before I race. Bit tough on everyone else being battered by strong winds, of course, but yes, part of me is relieved. Llanelli’s one of my favourite races so I was reluctant to pull out, but a bit daunted by the prospect of running 13.1 miles just at the moment. My ribs have stopped clicking at last, but I’m afraid to sneeze without holding tight to the damaged area. So far as getting back to normal goes, my chipped front tooth has been repaired and most of my traumatised teeth have survived a ‘vitality test’ with electric pulp testing… which I have to say doesn’t half make you jump.

In happier news, we’ve been waiting with a mixture of excitement and apprehension for the arrival of our latest grandchild. My daughter, Rose, it’s fair to say, had a tough time of it the first time round so, when she went into hospital, the hours passed very slowly despite regular updates (thank you, Si). Although I convinced myself I wouldn’t sleep, when we finally took ourselves off to bed, I must have gone out like a light so had to snap to when the phone went off an hour later. I was hugely relieved to hear Si say that mum and baby were safe and well, but it took a couple of seconds for the real surprise to sink in. We have a grandson in Canada and a bevvy of five granddaughters here, so I was taken aback to hear that there was a new baby boy in the family. Many congratulations, Rose and Si, he is absolutely gorgeous and we are deeply smitten!

Happy Grandad!

And finally. 
My accident’s given me cause to think about second chances and what’s really important in life. I’m running for Team Velindre, the Hospital of Hope, in the Cardiff Bay 10k at the end of March. Any donations, however small, will go to a cancer centre which is doing so much for cancer patients and their families. Thank you.


Painting is 'Rain Setting In, Pembrokeshire Coast' by Tom Tomos.

Comments

Clare Chase said…
I'm so glad your ribs have finally stopped clicking, Chris! What a lot you've had to cope with. The tooth tests sound alarming!

Wonderful news about the arrival of your grandson though - very best wishes to all concerned. xx
Chris Stovell said…
Thank you Clare! The tooth test is something I'll never forget! And thank you for your good wishes for our new grandson too. xx

Popular posts from this blog

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...