This time last year I had to deal with midnight guests sneaking into my room. Fear and mistrust arrived, uninvited and unwelcome. Very unwelcome… A new lump in my breast had popped up during the night and ignoring it was my go to response. ‘It’s probably nothing,’ I’d told myself.
Last night’s rain lingers on the confetti bushes and I’m hoping for more this morning. I shared my egg on toast with Archie and Xena, exactly one corner each, or war would break out. Egyptian geese are shouting from our rooftop and I am hoping that their chicks are in
Yes, I still remember my 2020 Xeloda phase. But I don’t dwell on it. Today has become enough. And the months have sped by, despite the lockdown slowdown. The sun is out again, after glorious rain and my little patch of grass is springing up in gratitude. Late agapanthus blooms
I was bunkering down. It seemed like the only thing to do. And a year later, I am venturing out a little more, masked and sanitised. It feels normal in some ways and in others, it is still surreal. There is a seriousness about life that permeates every decision. Even
This week I said farewell to my father-in-law. It was an unexpected parting, even though it shouldn’t have been. And I wasn’t there… Having lost my dad as a child, I’d spent a large part of my youth looking for a father figure and yes, in all the wrong places.
What if I could travel back in time, turn back the clock, ask for a ‘take two,’ on things that shouldn’t have happened? Would I make different decisions, come to unexpected realisations? Of course. I would steer my life down very different paths. I’d never have stopped