A 'Diff full of Memories

The pavements in Cardiff are packed - of course they are; there are some 27,500 runners, plus supporters, in the Welsh capital to mark the 20th anniversary of the Cardiff Half Marathon. Even though Tom always drops me off in plenty of time to get to my starting pen, just moving through the crowd is a challenge.

Although this is my 10th time of running this race and I should be used to it, I feel a bit tearful and lonely at this point. I know a dozen or so runners who’ll be here and a few of the spectators, but with that many participants there’s almost no chance of me meeting anyone en route. I resign myself to feeling a bit Billy No-Mates and look up to see my dear running buddy, Helen, who’s queuing for the loos! We have a joyful hug before going to our separate pens, where I meet a lovely group of women who are running to raise funds for Pancreatic Cancer UK. I think of my dad and start crying again.

Thank you, ladies for supporting Pancreatic Cancer UK

Before I can get too morose, someone taps me on the shoulder; it’s my good running friend, Liz who really shouldn’t be in this pen because she’s Mrs Speedy. However I’m delighted she’s here to keep me company. There’s a particularly special moment when the first notes of the anthem sound out from the speakers, a hush descends and suddenly everyone is singing ‘Hen Wlad fy Nhadau’. As far as I can remember, this is a first at this event, and it’s truly spine-tingling and makes me so proud to be here.

Worried and tearful at the start!

We set off, and I instinctively know that for all the many hours of training I’ve put in, this is not going to be my day. It’s incredibly humid, I feel as if I’m running with a warm, damp flannel on my face, and the course is so congested at times that it’s hard to find my rhythm. But today is about finish line not finish time; I’m running in aid of The Royal Marsden Cancer Charity and I’m deeply aware of their message to me wishing me good luck and expressing their gratitude, and of the many kind supporters whose generous donations to my Just Giving Page have raised a fantastic sum of £486. There’s no way I’m going to let anyone down now!

As if by magic, friends appear along the course just when I need them. From the crowd, I get lovely hugs from my daughter’s friend, Jen, who I’ve known since she was a little girl. Another of her friends, Rachel, gives me a shout, a huge smile and a big cwtch. Then, a little further along, I see parkrun stalwarts Jen and Ken. I collapse into Jen’s arms and receive a big squeeze before being told to get going again! I mean, what are the chances of seeing so many friends in such a huge crowd? Many thanks to all of you for keeping me going and apologies for being such a sweaty mess all over you. And I’m so sorry, Welsh Hills Again, that I didn’t hear you when you called my name.

I reach Roath Park and see a familiar yellow cap; it’s my running buddy, Helen who’s hit a rough patch. We commiserate with each other then push on separately towards the finish. I’m really having to grit my teeth now, but my goodness, the kindness of strangers knows no bounds. For every difficult step, someone calls my name, shouts encouragement or, in one case, tells me quietly, ‘You’ve got this, Chris.'

And I have. It’s there, the finish line’s in sight and all I have to do is keep going. Closer, closer and then I’m through. 2:31:53, my slowest time (still 30/93 in my age group, mind) but so rich in memories. I collect my medal, my T-shirt, start to feel tearful again then look up and see my fellow runner and good Twitter/X friend, Dr Toby Driver (latest book, ‘The Hillforts of Iron Age Wales’ out NOW), who’s run a stonking race and puts a big smile back on my face, because, again, what are the odds?

They came, they saw, they conquered The 'Diff.
Photo courtesy of Dr Toby Driver

Wearing my medal with pride, I wind slowly back through the crowd to meet Tom, then it’s back to my daughter’s in Cardiff for a bubble bath and a glass of fizz. My granddaughters look up and Bee asks her usual, hopeful question, ‘Nana? Did you win?’. No Bee, I didn’t win the race, but I’ve been so very lucky in so many ways. It’s been a memorable day.

My First Book Signing!

It’s a fine, dry day and there’s an Italian market in the square outside Waterstone’s. Good for a book signing? ‘Bad,’ says Tim. The stalls are blocking the view of the shop and the fine weather’s keeping everyone outdoors. Hmm, that must be why they’ve only put one small poster up for my event, I mean why waste the Blu Tack? Tim demonstrates handing off the marauding hordes After much refolding of a black tablecloth and a rummage around for some books, I’m invited to take up my position at the author table somewhere between ‘fantasy and horror’, children’s books and a poster of the next author, Bobby ‘Iron Duke’ Windsor who’s signing on Monday. Once Tom, Lily, my lovely daughter, and her partner, Russ, are all sure I’m not going to run away, they leave me to it, taking it in turns to make sure I’m all right and bring me tea. Very soon, I notice a small boy watching me. When he returns with his family I learn that he would like to be a writer. His method, he tells me, is to rewr...

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...

Forever Young

Looking at the blurb for my new Lacura WrinkleStop from Aldi, I see that its active ingredient has been ‘proven to help • Reduce forehead wrinkles by 52% • Reduce crow’s feet by 24% • Restrict 82% of wrinkle muscle activity’ That’s quite a claim, isn’t it? Frankly, after years when my face looked like a lunar landscape thanks to the joys of acne, these days I’m just grateful to see a fairly blemish-free skin. Part of me wants to believe that the wonder cream’s making everything looking a bit smoother and tidier, but, hey, there’s also a lot of ‘aqua’ and ‘glycerin’ in the stuff, too. Besides, I could tamper with my skin as much as I like (and I don’t), but I’ve only got to stand next to my beautiful daughters to see the difference. Ma has wonderful skin, so the chances are there are some helpful genes in the mix, but my dad died far too young of cancer, so it’s not all good news. My dad was a carpenter. ‘You can’t get age from a tin, Miss Chris,’ he’d say when rubbing his hands o...

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