leukaemia-limbo-dance

The bedroom window is open, to let in the beautiful, fresh, spring air. The door is slightly ajar. Downstairs, I am masking up the floor, ready to paint the skirting boards. The bedroom door clunks shut. My thoughts fly to John and I hear footsteps coming down the stairs…… I look up, expecting to see him there, halfway down, grinning at me. But, of course, it’s all in my imagination and it’s yet another day without the ol’ man.

Yes, I’m at it again, letting my imagination run riot – and painting and decorating once more.

In a world in which I have been struggling to make any decisions, finally I made one in early March. I ordered a new curtain for the hallway, to set at the front door.

Many years ago, we had had a full width-of-the-wall curtain, but John was irritated by it as guests fumbled to find their way out once it was closed. So we opted for a curtain-that-swings-on-the-opening-door. That particular curtain material design was not my choice. It had been a leftover from a rush buy for one of the houses John and Paul were doing up. That just shows you how old it is!! So here we are, many, many years later – and I’m reverting back to letting guests fumble their way out of the house. Hehe.

Of course, such a decision comes with a price to pay. The domino effect of a brand new piece of material against a backdrop of shabby paintwork and the wrong colourway, sets more decision-making in motion, along with a flurry of activity.

So far, I have only managed to paint the front door….. such a lot of prep required – and we know how much I love that! Eeeeh, there’s a very long way to go. Wish me luck!

Meanwhile, I’m hoping all the practical jobs I’m doing – painting, decorating, gardening, cleaning and clearing stuff out – as well as all the lovely activities I’m now involved in, will prevent too many recurrences of expecting to see John sitting in his chair; or wandering down the path; or hearing him rummaging in the garage. It always give me a shiver down my spine when I realise it’s not real and it never will be again.

Hey-ho. On we go.

I have just spent the morning in a Writing for Wellbeing Zoom session and it feels good to have actually written words on a page in response to a stimulus. My daily writing days seem to be a thing of the past now, as currently, I rarely feel the urge to write regularly.

However, one stimulus in the workshop was the word ‘philocaly’ which means the love of beauty. We were offered the meaning as the love of beauty in small things, which suits me down to the ground. I am forever saying to anyone who will listen, “Look at that little flower there,” or “See that teeny-weeny insect?” or “How cute is that tiny fungus?” whenever we are on a walk or playing in the garden. I’m such a sucker for detail.

And this made me think about how life evolves. For the most part, the broad brush approach is wonderful and works really, really well for the bustle of life en famille alongside sons, their wives and their children as we tumble through the days to try and get to the other side. But I am absolutely enjoying those moments of stillness and calm in which I can watch, or listen to, the world as it drifts past.

I am so enjoying these moments that I am booked onto Jaime’s BodyMindYoga weekend retreat in June and then, in July, braving a silent retreat for a week at Launde Abbey. I’m not sure how I am going to get on with that one but, as I said to the kids, if I don’t like it and can’t keep my trap shut, I can always cut and run, can’t I?

The decision to retreat is in response to the feelings and thoughts of ‘who am I? and ‘what am I here for?’ I know these questions pop up at different times in our lives, and I’m not sure whether I have ever actually found the answer throughout my life – but I know that I am certainly not sure of the answer right now.

So, in the spirit of winkling out what works for me, I have picked up some new activities in the last month.

I am back in the fold at Centre Stage and have been offered a small part in the next production – The 39 Steps – a comedy with lots and lots of characters. That should be fun!

Then, following a ‘eureka’ moment when I was chatting to some French people in London with Ann and Nigel, I have started to go to a French Conversation Group here in the village once a fortnight. I thought my French was lost, never to be found again, but no!! Amazingly, I can still speak and understand French. Whoopee-doop!

And finally, table tennis. Well, that’s fun. Everyone is very elderly, but that doesn’t stop ’em from whipping the ball across the net so I can’t get it back! I think I spend more time grubbing around on the floor trying to retrieve the ball than actually playing! Hehe.

All in all, with the new activities, my other existing ones, and the commitment to child care twice a week, my calendar is quite full. It’s no wonder I need a retreat or two, is it?

Take care everyone. God bless.

………all passed me by in a blur. I fell ill with the dreaded lurgy on Christmas Day; languished a lot in bed/on the sofa for a couple of weeks; and then dragged weary bones around for a couple more weeks. This is the day after Boxing Day. I mean, I was ill, I don’t know what excuse the other three in this photo had……. hehe!

By the end of January though, I thought I was well again – only to be hit with another cold in the first week of February. As it turned out, the cold was held at bay by popping Beechams pills, making a visit to Ann and Nigel in London, and then a week’s pampering at the spa, Ragdale Hall, with the college crew. Back on it at last! Phew!

I had started a blog on the Sunday before Christmas, just as the lurgy hit, and it started with: ‘Wishing Everyone Peace at Christmas‘. The sentiment is now a bit late, but very much still holds.

In our family, the Christmas Trees were carefully chosen and installed in our living rooms, twinkling in the corners; decorations and lights had been pinned to walls and ceilings, and strung across foliage in the garden; cards written and sent; and then there was a mad scramble to finalise the food shop and the gift list, with many a message among us asking, ‘What did you say you’d like for Christmas?’

In 2023, we hadn’t had the heart to ice, or eat, the Christmas cake. When it was prepared in the October, we had all stirred the mixture, including John. Icing the cake was always his job and, as Christmas approached, it remained half-naked, marzipanned, awaiting its decoration.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” I said to the boys. “I’ll cut it into four, pop it in the freezer and we can bring out a quarter each year.” So this year, there was a happier memory of hubby as I iced the little cake, then cut it into three chunks for each of the families.

What did we want for Christmas? A little bit of John would suit us all. And we had that as we tucked into the cake. Nice.

Christmas seems such a long time ago now! Here we are, three-quarters of the way through February and longingly awaiting signs of Spring. Winter has made many of us grumpy with its overcast skies and constant rain. The season of goodwill seems to be a distant memory.

Despite the ‘get up and go’ having got up and gone while I was ailing, life was full again as soon as I was back on my feet.

For example, looking after the grandkids: Freddie with his domino experiment – that was such fun!

…..and taking Oliver to have his hair cut ready for his trip to see Granny in Jersey …… what a good boy he was, as he sat patiently while the barber snipped away at his locks.

…..then popping down to Hampshire with some of the college crew to make a trip to the Opera…… ah, smashing!

I know I say it loads, but thank the Lord for family and friends. I could not have got through the last couple of months without their loving support. Andrew has been home most weekends; Paul and Michael have invited me for dinner or just to chill at theirs; and close friends have been in touch one way or another and kept me going. Brilliant.

Spring is around the corner, folks – and I wish everyone brighter days. God bless.

Advent calendars have been gifted and are being opened/lit/made; cakes have been prepared ready for icing; elves on shelves are playing naughty tricks – tipping loo roll down the stairs – or being helpful by learning Thomas’ Christmas Nativity lines; cupboards are being ransacked for stored Christmas cards, wrapping paper or ribbon; and Carols are being sung. Christmas is but twenty days away.

In my case, there are no elves but I am burning an advent calendar candle – always a tricky task. The darn thing burns beyond where you want it, every time. It’ll be Christmas next week at this rate!

I am also making an advent jigsaw that Catherine has gifted me. It is the beautiful photo of the family that I included in my last blog. Progress so far, on Day 4…. with Catherine and Ellie emerging:

Meanwhile, Oliver came on Monday and we started the ‘Santa Trail’ with lanterns lighting the way upstairs so that Father Christmas doesn’t get lost when delivering the presents after his plunge down the chimney. And, most important of all – we’ve set the crib scene in the porch.

All good so far, then? Absolutely!

Until, that is, when it came to rummaging in the cupboards today……. I was looking for my Christmas card and gift notebooks. I mean, such a rummage shouldn’t be a problem. After all, it is simply the ‘wrapping cupboard’ in which I keep all cards, ribbons, gift bags, bubble wrap and paper – birthday, Christmas, tissue and brown parcel wrap. But hey….. the cupboard also contained John’s handiwork which naturally triggered memories.

Donkeys years ago, before John built the extension, he had run a TV cable down the inside of the cupboard, and I had a flashback of us sitting cosy in bed, with our cups of tea, watching TV, revelling in the fact that we could. Lovely memory, but ouch!

Then came left-over balloons and jungle decorations from the time when we kitted out the lounge to surprise Michael at the celebration of him achieving his Doctorate. A fabulous memory in which John featured large in my mind, and all the family were there.

At that point, I decided I was done with the cupboard for a while. I left masses of bubble wrap, ribbons, paper and boxes all over the floor and the bed, and went to Pete and Dawn’s. Argh!! ‘Bedlam’! Anyone want any bubble wrap?

Pete and Dawn’s company and another poached-egg-on-toast lunch, like last week, sorted me out. As did the company of Lizzie and Flo who were visiting. Nothing nicer than a cuddle with a baby to calm things down, eh?

Unexpectedly, Linda Connor called this afternoon, bearing a bunch of lilies. I had texted the Quizzers and said I was pulling out of this evenings shenanigans as I wasn’t feeling too chipper. What a wonderful friend she is. We sat and had a good old natter, which eased things a bit more.

Lilies….. associated with fresh life and new birth. I’m looking forward them in full bloom.

It’s the old analogy: your cup is full and it is only the surface tension of the liquid that’s holding the contents of the cup in place. Just one more drop, and it’ll burst its banks……. the liquid is quite literally teetering on the edge.

On the one hand, it’s good to have a cup that is full, but I suppose it depends what it is full of! Currently, mine is full of ‘what ifs’/’if onlys’/’I wish…..’ and sorrowful sighs.

Of course, it’s been the time of the year when the nights have drawn in, and we have had so many birthday celebrations that the poignancy of John being missing in all the fun, has hit hard. Despite the fact that ‘I am doing well’, my cup is teetering on the edge and a period of hibernation feels like a welcome option.

So, on Thursday, I had a duvet day. Well, more of a duvet morning really, because an acquaintance, Anne Horleston, came for coffee in the afternoon – but it had felt good to just stay under the covers for a few illicit hours. I think I need one or two more of those…..

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have been busy, of course. I had an exciting weekend at the Kenilworth Originals with Freddie and the pups. Paul and Harriet were off to a wedding celebration, so I babysat overnight.

Freddie was on good form and great company throughout the weekend, only once feeling disappointed and struggling to stay on an even keel on Sunday, while he waited for Mum and Dad to come home. Bless him. We had great fun – and rather a workout with the dogs when we took them for a walk!

I was kicking myself though, for forgetting to take my phone charger with me, and only came away with one photo of the weekend activities – and that was a party bag that Freddie had brought home. He’d been go-karting. I include the photo here ‘cos I thought it was a very posh party bag!!! I mean, look at those lovely iced biscuits!

On Monday I babysat Oliver, of the Kenilworth Newbies tribe, as is now my custom. We had more fun – but I failed with the photography of our time together again!! The trouble is, we’re having too much fun! Hehe!

My own birthday celebrations started early, with cards plopping through the letterbox on Monday; and then, later on, a beautiful bouquet for flowers arriving on the doorstep from Carol and John. It was a lovely surprise. Eeeh, I’m a lucky girl!

My phone was charged up and ready and waiting for the shock of waking up to snow on Tuesday though! I hadn’t taken any notice of the news or weather forecast on Monday, so I wasn’t expecting a white-out in the garden when I opened the curtains, were you?

I had a lovely day on Wednesday, my birthday, with a visit to Pete and Dawn’s in the morning – tea and biscuits, a game of Scrabble and then a spot of lunch. Paul came and collected me in the afternoon and we toddled off to the Green Man for our supper with the Kenilworth contingent, before ending up at Michael’s for a few fireworks! I don’t know who had more fun – the children or the adults!! Hehe.

The day ended with an enjoyable Quiz Night and more birthday wishes.

And yesterday? Another lovely day with Richard and Jill, who brought luscious chocolates for my birthday. We had planned a walk, but with one thing and another we cried off and just went to the pub for lunch instead!! Very nice. Then Catherine came after work and we had a bite to eat together. She came, carrying a large parcel – another birthday gift. And what a thoughtful one! An advent calendar in the form of a daily jigsaw – all to make up this wonderful family photo we had taken for my 70th a couple of years ago.

Such a heartfelt thank you to everyone who sent good wishes, cards and gifts. Honestly, I’m such a lucky girl!

‘Grief is like living two lives. One is where you pretend that everything is alright, and the other is where your heart silently screams in pain.’ Giles Paley-Philips

John’s birthday.

Have done my best to treat it as ‘just another day’. And I’ve not done too badly: general self-care (shower, hair wash, food and drink – that’s a win); WhatsApp messages with the boys; yoga class; candle-lighting and a prayer for John in church; a visit to Pete and Dawn, where alcohol was served and a glass raised to the ol’ man; and a lovely WhatsApp video chat with Carol.

Other friends have texted and sent good wishes. All healing stuff and it all helps.

Meanwhile……. courtesy of Banksy, this is the current state of affairs.

Take care everyone. God bless.

Argh……!! This time last year John died and we scurried around sorting out his immediate affairs; which means, of course, that everything that we did back then comes up for renewal right now, all at the same time!! House insurance, car insurance and breakdown cover are all hard on each others’ heels, all on top of the recent October birthdays. And then there was Twickenham….

I’ve looked into the piggy bank and find just a couple of pennies rattling around in there. I wonder if there’ll be enough to send to Santa for the Christmas presents?? Hmm……. don’t worry kids, I’m sure I’ll find some, somewhere!

John was the money wizard in our relationship. He used to say, ‘What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is mine.’ And he was pretty creative with it all, so I left him to it. That pretty much summed us up.

But…. Ha! Now, of course, I’ve got to try and think for myself and sort out the money without getting myself in a tizz. ‘I am a capable woman’ is my current mantra and I am going to refuse to be bothered by something I know I can do. Just because I didn’t used to manage the money doesn’t mean I can’t, does it? Juggle, juggle, juggle – gulp!

Anyway, enough of that because, in other news, I have a gardener. I am not sure if I have mentioned this before but, one of John’s friends, Paul, called in recently, and suggested someone he knew. Oh, boy, such excitement! I have been waiting years for someone with horticultural and botanical knowledge to help me in the garden.

Viktoriia has been four times now and hoiked out tons of weeds; pruned loads of rose bushes and other shrubs; divided overgrown plants to spread the joy; and planted some flowers where the weeds used to be. Oooh, I’m in heaven! Pics may follow, but it’s dark now!

I got so excited the other day that I actually planted up some hanging baskets myself! (Woohoo…does a little dance). Viktoriia was impressed. And, what is more, I thoroughly enjoyed having a little potter. There’s lots of leaves to be swept up now which, in an odd way, I also enjoy. I have fond memories of Freddie helping me one year. That was really lovely. 4 years ago…… crikey, doesn’t time fly! Great memories, though.

All for now. Take care everyone. God bless.

Paul, Michael, Andrew and I headed off to Twickenham on Saturday, with hope in our hearts, to watch England play Australia. The rugby match itself was OK with quite a few thrilling passages of play and much singing of ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot’; and we were exceptionally excited when England scored a try and converted it in the 79th minute.

But, you know…. rugby being rugby, the game isn’t over at 80 minutes. It’s only over when the ball goes out of play and…. darn it! England couldn’t get hold of the ball for love nor money at the end, and Australia snatched a victory in the 83rd minute. What agony.

There was a feeling of general disgruntlement among our little group, as there seemed to be among many of the spectators. The boys had already drowned their sorrows mind you, having drunk multiple pints of Guinness throughout the afternoon, so I was surprised they had any emotions left to feel. I thought they’d have been numbed to the result, but no. There was still lots to talk about.

I had the answer, of course. Too much warm-up time. The poor boys in the England team were worn out by the time they started to play and had certainly had enough come the 79th minute….. I kept telling the coaches to take the players back to the dressing room a good half an hour before the match started, but d’you know what? They didn’t listen to me!! Pah! Can’t think why…..

It was a long day out, but it was good in many ways. We all raised a glass to John of course, in whose memory we had made the trip. We had a very good journey both there and back, courtesy of Paul, who was chauffeur. In the back of the car, Michael and Andrew were like they were when they were kids – chuffed to bits with a ‘tuck box’ full of edible and drinkable goodies, which amused Paul and me. We had an easy walk to the rugby ground too, as we parked very near Twickenham, in the Twickenham Masonic Centre. We raised another glass to John there, as well.

But, honestly!? Bunny ears!? I don’t think any of my kids’ll ever grow up!! Hehe!!

We all took some kind of memento with us, too. I wore John’s 2007 World Cup rugby shirt; Paul wore the scarf that he had bought when he took John to the rugby last year; Michael carried John’s little crucifix; and Andrew took John’s scarf with him and wore that.

Naturally, we had to have a photo of us all in front of the sculpture of the line-out as well….

I love my boys. Lucky me.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Danielle was holding the fort looking after the Junior Sleaths…… and they weren’t glued to the rugby, I can tell you!

Wallace and Gromit offered some sanity to the day, much to Danielle’s relief. And butter wouldn’t melt……

A memorable day, which is what we were after – even if it wasn’t quite the result we wanted.

Take care everyone. God bless.

I sit in John’s chair. I sleep on his side of the bed. I wear his hearing aids. I wear his T-shorts as nightshirts. I watch his programmes on TV. I rummage among his things and sigh. I hang my glasses on his glasses stand….

I look at the green bin that languishes half-way up the path and, in my mind’s eye, I see him resting on it, his shoulders heaving to catch his breath as he makes his way back from the Man-Shed.

I sit at his computer and am befuddled. What was the password again? I look at photos of him in years gone by and send them to the kids.

I use John’s tools to drill holes, screw in screws, hammer home nails, sand down wood, glue stuff together, winkle things out, mend things. I stand in the garage and look at the Lotus. I talk to him. And I cry when someone asks me how I’m doing.

Meanwhile, and in between times, I hug my sons hard. We remember the ol’ man daily. I help with the grandchildren and giggle a lot.

I go on holidays with the family and revel in their company, whereupon I thank the Lord for amazing familial relationships.

We celebrate birthdays which come at this time of the year all of a rush. My birthday is coming up – and John’s birthday would’ve been this month, too. I sleep on the new mattress that we ordered just before he died, and which arrived too late for him, but on his birthday. Ha!

I stay with friends and enjoy their company, too. I visit them for coffee, tea or a meal; and they visit me. My friends hug me with compassion and phone me, text me and keep in touch.

I go for a swim or a walk, and take a yoga class or two. The very act of movement helps.

I pet the pets – Chester: now very elderly, who barks at me whenever I arrive at Michael’s, and who refuses to shut up until he’s been fussed and fussed; and the pups: Marmaduke and Mabel, who wriggle and squirm and insinuate themselves onto my lap and look at me with adoring eyes.

I write my blog and find it cathartic.

See? It’s not all bad. A year on, and there’s some comfort in the things I do, whether I’m by myself, with the family or with friends. Weaving the daily distractions in with the remembering makes it bearable. Much of the time.

An early birthday present from Graham and Gail set me off this week though. When we were on holiday I lost my pashmina to much heartache. But look at that! It is now replaced. Gosh, what a lovely, lovely gift and such a moving message.

But one thing I hold onto every single day is the thought that John loved us all, as we did him.

He wrote a note before he died to let us know that he knew ‘it was time’. He told us to remember how important family is, and added: ‘Your love will be with me forever, and mine with you.’. Can’t say fairer than that, can you?

Take care everyone. God bless.

This time last year, on the first Sunday of November, John had wibble-wobbled out of bed, stood very unsteadily in front of his chair, given a sheepish grin to Andrew who was hovering, and then had sunk gently into it and closed his eyes. Andrew and I had looked at each other and were of the same mind. “Let’s get you back into bed, Dad,” Andrew said softly, as we proceeded to help the ol’ man back up into his bed.

Andrew had attempted to administer some medication, but John’s lips, like his eyes, were firmly closed. We knew what was coming, and for the next three and a half days, the boys and I kept vigil. But it was on that Sunday that I had looked into John’s eyes for one last time. He hadn’t quite known where he was or what he was doing, but there was sheer trust in his eyes as he looked at me and Andrew. For which I shall be forever grateful.

A year on and I have been trying to keep up with the regular events of life as they happen. They have helped to keep me on an even keel and overcome the loss of such a vibrant, full-on, sometimes brash, forever opinionated and loveable man.

So re-wind to last weekend, when it was yet another birthday. Andrew’s this time and….how old is he? Crikey, my baby is thirty-five! Of course, we had to celebrate and have a family meal. What with one thing and another, it wasn’t that simple – the team had other things going on and we had to plan around events. So, it was a lunchtime roast this time, which everyone thoroughly enjoyed.

Here’s a fitting photo…… you can’t keep Andrew out of the kitchen, can you!!?? Mind you, he doesn’t look too happy – I wonder if I cooked the rib of beef right?

After lunch, I sped off up to church where there was a Service of Remembering, which I found very comforting. I’d requested an anthem, which the choir sang well, and John’s name was read out. We held moments of silence as we all remembered our loved ones. There was a solidarity in the sadness somehow.

Back home, while I’d been out, the children had decorated the porch in readiness for Hallowe’en. This has come to be a bit of a tradition, and I was thrilled with the result. So were the Trick or Treaters! They thought it was fab!

I didn’t think too much about it then, but on Hallowe’en itself, as I answered the door to the costumed and maquillaged children, their eyes expectantly turned towards me for a treat offering, I remembered this time last year. The ol’ man was laughing at me and teasing me as I dashed to the door every five minutes. “You enjoy this more than the kids, don’t you?” he’d said. I’d nodded, cos it was true. That memory is a lovely one, but it hurts a bit.

There’ll be more poignant memories to come as the anniversary of John’s death comes and goes, of course, and the festive season approaches. But I wouldn’t want to forget. We had lived and loved, fought and reconciled, laughed and cried together for just over 56 years. I want to remember it all.

Take care everyone. And may God bless you in whatever you are doing and whatever circumstances you find yourselves in.