Everything Will Be Okay In The End

The early autumn sky has been filled with the movement and sound of house martins swooping over the house, resting on the roof and sitting on the wires, chattering and clicking to each other. And now silence. Suddenly they’ve left, on their way back to sunnier climes.

We, however, are not on our way. We reduce the asking price of our house which piques a smattering of interest, but not the deluge we’re hoping for. It’s even more soul-destroying than I expected when we started this process. ‘Everything will be okay in the end,’ I keep telling myself and even though I know there is no point in getting worked up about something that’s completely beyond my control, it’s hard to find acceptance.

Sailing opportunities have been few and far between this year, but with an ideal combination of weather and tide, Tom and I set off to the boat with the aim of dropping anchor in the Pembroke River for an overnight stay. There’s just one problem; the engine won’t start and resists every effort to coax it into life. After swallowing our disappointment we decide we’ll stay on the boat anyway and make the most of our visit. Our berth is on the edge of the Westfield Pill nature reserve, an old railway line surrounded by woodland and lagoons, and today offers the perfect opportunity to explore it. It’s a real treat, especially in this beautiful weather; there are bright pops of wild flowers, swans gliding across the water, ducklings scurrying along under the supervision of their mother and suddenly - gloriously - there is a vivid, neon flash of electric blue. It’s a kingfisher! I haven’t seen a kingfisher since I was a little girl on holiday in Devon and this sighting makes my day and I can’t help but reflect that if the outboard engine had started I would have missed a moment that will live in my mind’s eye forever.

The Cardiff Half Marathon’s approaching fast and I know I’ve put it a lot of hard work and many miles to be ready on the day. It’s ironic then, that I almost derail all that effort altering my charity vest! It’s too loose a fit for my liking and I know it’ll annoy me if it flaps about when I’m running so I dig out my sewing machine, unfold my trestle table… and feel a sudden pain in a hamstring. Wargh! Ever one for catastrophising, I have visions of my race being over before it’s begun. To my huge, huge relief - and with a great deal of care and caution - I’m back on track. Now, all I have to do is tick over until race day on 1 October.

Ma receives good news, her treatment at The Royal Marsden Hospital has been successful; she’s been discharged from their care and will continue to have regular checkups with her dermatologist. As a small thank you, I set up a Just Giving page in support of The Royal Marsden Cancer Charity, so that this brilliant hospital which is at the forefront of cancer research can continue to be there for everyone who needs it. I’m truly grateful to everyone who has so kindly and generously donated and raised £295 so far… and if anyone feels like chipping in with a small sum to meet my target, it would be very much appreciated too. Thank you.

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...

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