Home Thoughts Weekly

‘You and Tom need a break,’ says Rose and sends us a link to the resort where she and Si stayed last year. Tom, who’s been telling me we need a holiday for months, books it immediately; twelve days in sunny Tenerife - what could be nicer? A week before we’re due to fly I go down with the worst cold I’ve had in years. By the time Tom gets off the plane, he’s feeling absolutely wretched too. A few days later he picks up a stomach bug, which drags him down even further, and I get conjunctivis and have to wear my glasses for three days.  It’s not just the physical ailments either; after running on empty for so long, I’m finding it really hard to switch off and just relax. It’s not as if it’s difficult; we have a huge, if slightly dated, apartment with an enormous terrace, sun-loungers and glorious views across the Atlantic, a maid arrives every day to freshen the place up, the weather is fantastic and, heck, we’ve even gone half board and the restaurant is jolly good. (As an...

The day before we take Ma home , we decide to poke around a cavernous bric a brac shop close to where we live. Above a sea of sad sofas and heavy dark wood furniture, something catches my eye and I feel a little sharp thrill and edge nearer but suddenly a hand shoots out and beats me to it. ‘I like this!’ says Ma, hanging on to it. ‘So do I,’ I gulp. I’m truly not a covetous person, but, gosh, how I would like the jewel blue vase with its mysterious swirly depths that Ma is holding. I tell myself to grow up and stop being a tad disappointed about something so trivial as we return to the car. Then suddenly Ma turns to me and places it in my hands. ‘You have it,’ she says. There’s a bit of a tussle but Ma wins again, so now this beautiful piece of glass lights up our room not just for its gorgeous looks but also a reminder of everything Ma’s given up for me. We drive Ma back home to Surrey then continue on to West Sussex where FiL is trying to make sense of his changed world. ...

‘Ooh, lovely!’ I say as Bee bestows two big wet slobbery kisses on me. She’s quite frugal with her kisses so I can’t help but melt with love even though Bee has a stinking cold, a very runny nose and it’s only a few days until I run my half marathon! Ma’s here too and is thrilled to see her great-granddaughter but we still take the precaution afterwards of stocking up on First Defence and snorting it like crazy. We’ve had something of a respite after so much sadness; Ma’s been here this week and we’ve had some wonderful weather to enjoy getting out and about. I’ve also been able to show her my second article for The English Home this month which arrived in time for her visit. And so the day of the Llanelli Half marathon dawns - a dawn we see as we’re out the house by 7 am. Despite the forecast for mild weather, I’m so used to running this race in half a gale and driving rain, that I overdress and by mile 8 with the sun in my face I’m beginning to swelter. I think about st...

Looking out across Cardigan Bay from Gwbert It's probably not surprising that the last four months have left us feeling a bit frayed round the edges. There’s a lot to process and a need to rest and repair so these are some of the remedies that have helped this week. Kate Atkinson’s A God in Ruins . I can’t believe it took me so long to get round to reading this! I absolutely love Kate Atkinson’s writing but was a little bit put off by Life After Life which is my least favourite of her novels (and that’s a very qualified ‘least favourite’ - it’s head and shoulders above the pack). Atkinson is so good at demonstrating the best and worst of human behaviour through her characters and A God In Ruins is simply dazzling in its brilliance. It’s one of the best novels I’ve ever read. Long runs.   I’m not sure how I’ll fare in the Llanelli Half which takes place in a couple of weeks - my Women’s Troubles have taken their toll (‘Stick with it,’ advises my GP of the remedy t...

Boats do not look their best in Winter - not even after a slap-up lunch of sawdust sausages and greasy chips at Milford Haven - especially a boat that’s out of the water, drenched by weeks of rain and standing under trees. Poor Blue Nun has acquired a slimy green coat and Ken, my father-in-law, who is staying with us for the week looks at her doubtfully. ‘Nice,’ he says, rallying. Tom and I talk merrily of how we’ll all go for a sail in the Spring, conscious that even ‘tomorrow’ is too big a concept for the man who has just lost his wife of sixty years. One day at a time is quite enough to cope with and this week we’re doing just that, offering small distractions every day, not to deny grief, but hopefully to provide a small glimpse of future possibilities. ‘Oh, lovely - a table by the window!’ we cry, piling into seats, glad to get out of the cold Tenby rain. What could be nicer than a grandstand view of the magnificent beach? And, look, the sun’s just peeping out! Refreshments...

On Monday we said our final goodbyes to Tom’s mum, Rita, who died at the end of January after what had been a very distressing four months.  I wrote this poem to banish some of the most painful images and to remember my mother-in-law instead in snapshot moments when she had seemed so full of life.  I showed the poem to Tom who asked for it to be printed on the Order of Service for Rita’s funeral, but was asked by Ken, my father-in-law, to read it instead.  Rita, it was my great privilege to do this one last thing for you.  Release Be carefree.  A child again. A Devon maid, plucked from London, dabbling bare feet in the dappled Dart. Be glad at heart.  A bride beside a steadfast groom.  A marriage spanning sixty years, paper to diamond. Be supple and strong.  A champion, a huntress in white, your name glowing gold in the Sussex sun. All pain is gone.  There is nothing to fear. Be a breath in the wind. B...

‘Happy New Year!’ my dear friend, Jill, and I chorus, delighted to hear each other’s voices. We start to swap news which quickly becomes a reciprocal roll call of the sick, the dead and the fragile elderly. ‘Whatever happened to fun?’ we ask ourselves, laughing as we recall our carefree younger selves in our dark green school uniform and ridiculous platform shoes. Many moments of 2015 were not much fun, but it was the year when I had the most precious gift of all, that of seeing my new granddaughter come into the world. And lately, when we’ve spent many, many hours on dark, rain-soaked roads, or waiting by my mother-in-law’s hospital bed, I’ve had to remind myself to look for the joy in each day, to remember there is light in the gloom. We were fortunate to be able to share Christmas with my daughters, our sons-in-law and our granddaughter. One blustery day, we took Smallest Person to the beach and it was an utter delight to see the world afresh through her eyes, seeing her l...