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On Sunday, all being well , I’ll be lining up with some 25,000 entrants to run my sixth Cardiff Half Marathon, my eleventh half marathon in total. All those miles - just by putting one foot in front of the other - which started when my dear friend Ann joined a ladies running club, Epsom Allsorts, and encouraged me to go along. In what’s been a particularly wet and gloomy West Wales summer, I’ve worked really hard for this race. With support from Tom and my good friend and fellow runner Helen, I’ve run 255 miles which have taken me three times across Poppit Sands (and up to my thighs in a stream) for the 5k race series, all round Tenby in a hot 10k and on a tough, wet, hilly 10k race round Newcastle Emlyn where I managed to get lost. Not en route, but at the very end when I could see the finish line, but didn’t have the faintest idea of how to reach it! A hot 10k in Tenby Which way to the finish? Soaked to the skin in Newcastle Emlyn. Training wasn’t my only goal. After t...

I thought I’d give up this year . I decided that everyone’s seen enough pictures of me running in my Pancreatic Cancer UK vest so I’d run the Cardiff Half Marathon in six weeks time for myself. I thought it would be too embarrassing to open a new JustGiving page and announce - especially to those people who’ve already supported the charity I care so deeply about - that I’m fundraising for Pancreatic Cancer UK for a third time. But pancreatic cancer doesn’t give up . It’s still a silent killer and less than 7% of people with pancreatic cancer in the UK will survive beyond five years. A glance at Pancreatic Cancer UK’s Tribute Wal l shows what this means in terms of heartache and loss. At times it feels as if the sums I’ve raised through the generosity of others - some of whom are people I’ve never met but who have kindly lent their support nevertheless - are tiny drops in an ocean of need. What difference can such small amounts really make? Well, one of the reasons I d...

Fellow Choc Lit Author, Evonne Wareham is back with something a little different; a fun, flirty summer read set on the Riviera featuring mysterious strangers, confidence tricksters, film crews and cocktail parties.  Phew!  If that wasn’t enough to whet your appetite I’m delighted to bring you an exclusive from Evonne’s latest novel right here! "Cassie put her feet up on her desk and stared at the ceiling. She was too restless to settle to work for the moment. Images of Jake McQuire floated in her mind. And she didn’t like thinking about Jake McQuire. Too many memories. Benita and Tony, Cassie and Jake. They’d been friends all through school, part of a much bigger gang, but their foursome had always been special. Everyone had expected them to pair off. Tony and Benita had. That last glorious summer, in the weeks before Jake went on to university, anything seemed possible. Cassie had been seventeen and wildly in love. Recollection brought a lump to her throat. After years of ...

‘Mummy’ says Rose, not quite believing it herself, ‘all your and Tom’s babies have babies of their own now!’ We’re delighted to welcome our fourth grandchild, a beautiful daughter for my younger stepson and his fiancee, which does indeed mean that our children have their own children now, yet we can’t help but look at each other and ask - as in Talking Head’s ‘Once in a Lifetime’ which is on constant repeat in my head at the moment - how we got here. Neither of us feels any different from when we met, yet here we are! I’ve found myself in some interesting places over the last few weeks. The Poppit Sands race series began in true bonkers form on a wet, cold evening with a slog through mud, across stepping stones and the seemingly endless trudge along the beach. The series marks a year since I met my wonderful running buddy Helen who beat me by a minute and several places! Two days later, I was treated to a splendid day out in London by my very dear friend Jill to mark my...

“… they do things differently there.” So begins L P Hartley’s 1953 novel, The Go-Between , with its ageing narrator, Leo Colston, looking back at one particular summer in his childhood and his unwitting part in a secret affair.  This opening line also serves as a reminder that we stand on shifting ground whenever we survey the past. Our perceptions of those retrieved memories change with time and experience as I rediscovered last week when Tom attended an academic conference at my old university, UEA. Although my experience of studying at UEA was a positive one, the cumulative effect of a couple of bad decisions took its toll during my final year. I've always looked back with some regrets about what could or should have been, but as I walked round Norwich revisiting old haunts I started to be a bit more forgiving towards my anxious and confused younger self.   I started St Andrew’s Hall which was the rather incongruous setting where I saw the Stranglers at the heig...

“… because where can we live but days?” Kate Gross’s words from her Late Fragments a book I mentioned in this post, continue to resonate me in a year when it’s easy to be overwhelmed by so much bad, sad and downright stupid news in every direction. Another book which, to my surprise, has also stayed with me is Spark Joy , by Marie Kondo. On one level this playful little book is about decluttering but on another it’s a deeper reminder to choose the things that bring joy to your life. I’ve been wearing a frivolous pair of sparkly earrings even when they’re ‘inappropriate’ simply because they make me happy but this very busy month has also made me grateful for the good things in my life. My annual eye examination, which is always an anxious time, showed that my eyes, for now at least, are stable. Hurray!  The following day, Tom and I attended a birthday/anniversary party for my dear friend Hazel, one of the much-loved group of women I met at antenatal classes (we miss...

When a heatwave is forecast for Pembrokeshire , Tom checks the tide times and we decide to head for the boat. I pack thermals, a winter hat and gloves and, at the last minute, throw in my bikini. We leave the berth at Neyland late afternoon, when the tide’s in our favour. There’s very little wind so we potter down the Haven with the engine running. Apart from a few commercial vessels, there’s almost no one else about and it’s a real privilege to have the waterway practically to ourselves.   We pick up a visitors’ mooring under the fort at Dale just after half past seven and sit in the cockpit enjoying the evening sunshine, sipping Prosecco - because, hey, we’re on holiday - and posting smug pictures to social media. Mrs Smug-McSmugface At 1a.m. we’re woken up by a tremendous bang. Strong winds have arrived out of nowhere and are blowing in completely the wrong direction for our mooring. Blue Nun keeps trying to sail off the mooring and is snapped back by the...