Chilling

After a really nice day out to Fowey yesterday Alfie and I are taking it easy today - the last full day of our Cornwall holiday. Earlier we walked over to Kingsand for a Cornish Cream Tea ( the coffee kind...) and this evening I'm booked in at the local restaurant where I had such a great meal last year.

I feel really relaxed after this holiday - and a lot fitter - in spite of all the eating!

Wednesday

The internet connection here in Cornwall is a bit flakey so after a frustrating hour yesterday trying to upload from the Macbook I thought I'd do it this way.

I'm having a lovely relaxing time here - long hot sunny days - gentle walks - and big dinners! Off to see my friend G in a while - leaving Alfie Home Alone in the flat. I've left Morrissey on the stereo for him - that should keep him subdued...

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

( Editor's Note: Actually Alfie howled the place down on discovering he was to be left. So he joined us for the day...)

Cornwall Calling

Well - Alfie and I finally got here a few hours ago. A lovely sunny afternoon has turned into a fine evening and I think we're going to sit out here on the balcony and watch the sun go down.

( I see that the mobile modem gives you a reasonable internet connection too - ed )

Lilac Ties

Mum would have so loved this picture - taken on the day of her funeral.

Looking Back...

Looking towards Ullswater
Originally uploaded by Menage a Moi

...we had a great time - as the photos and vidclips will attest. I stupidly did too much at the beginning but I picked myself up and was more sensible after that. As result I've returned home fitter, heathier and even happier.

A few days at home now and then on Friday Alfie and I are going down to mum and G's flat in Cornwall for the last week of my holiday. Some readers may recall that I went there last year and had a great time in spite of chemo and bag. I feel so much better this year. The flat will make me think of mum ( but doesn't everything ? - ed) but she was so happy there that I think I'll be smiling. Mostly.

If the boot fits....

Hi - from a wet Lake District on a v-e-r-y s-l-o-w internet connection.

I really did too much yesterday. Two 7 mile walks on the fells ( one of them with 1700 feet of ascent - and of course, descent...) was pushing it. Today I ache all over - but, reassuringly, not on any of my operation sites - I just did too much.

But one thing I did realise yesterday was that I needed to replace my boots. They've done good service but really dug into my heels and hurt the balls of my feet when I was out yesterday. (No blisters, thank goodness.)

So today I drove out in the rain to Glenridding ( Alfie groaning that we might be having to climb another ridge...) and limped into Catstycam where they were incredibly helpful and spent a good hour finding exactly the right boots for my very wide feet.

So - I'm spending the rest of the day at the hotel taking it easy ( a nice bottle of wine beckons this evening I think... ) and tomorrow I'll give the new boots a gentle tryout.

One Man and His Dog

Well - after a three day preparation regime (no alcohol, simple food and a four mile walk each day) Alfie and I are ready. We're off to the Lake District for five days of the outdoor life. ( Do you mean this? - ed ) If the weather doesn't send us scuttling back that is...

Back Tuesday.

One Man and His Car

I finally did it! After nearly a year of humming and hahing about it, I ordered a new Vauxhall Meriva today. I'll pick it up at the beginning of September. Plenty of boot space for Alfie...

All Clear

I had my colonoscopy this morning and it's all clear - no polyps, nothing. Great news eh? Mr Bain will see me again in three months. He also said I can start running and going to the gym again.

But that's for later in the week.

Now I'm going for a nap....

The 'Fleet's in...

...in this case, CitraFleet. It's like Picolax.

Yes - it's that time again. I've got my first post op routine colonoscopy tomorrow so I'm staying close to home today. Need to be fleet of foot.... (Stop it! - ed)

It's not a good way to start the first week of my holiday but it has to be done. J is going to come in with me. Of course, I'm concerned about it but I'm still so raw from mum's death that it's hard to tell what's what emotionally.

Tribute

This is the wonderful tribute that my brother Owen gave for mum at her funeral on Tuesday. I've posted it here for those friends who weren't able to be there with us:

Whilst this is probably the saddest time I have ever known in my life, I felt compelled to stand up and say something today. Perhaps I should have just let this very sad day wash over me but I can feel mum behind me saying – ‘Go on, it will be OK.’ I’ll do my best to keep it together.

Today I want to pay tribute to the kindest, warmest, most loving person that I will ever know.

I’m very proud of my mum. I get all my best qualities from her. She touched the hearts of so many people. She believed that you should be good and kind and generous and look after one another. She believed that you should see the best in people and she reached out to everybody in the same way, with love, humanity, compassion and boundless energy.

Her faith was devout and strong and she knew that she was here to be a channel of God’s love on earth. Like her, I have an unshakable faith that she is in a much better place now. I feel sure that they will get Radio 4 there! She would have wanted her funeral to be in this church where she attended the 8 o’clock service until she was too ill to come. She still had communion at home right up to the end of her life. This church was also where mum and George got married and the photo in the Order of Service is from that very happy and special day in her life. We are very grateful to Walter for taking the service today as he did on that day too.

My mum could have had a simple straightforward life but that was not her way. She would not have been so strong in her faith and so loving a person if she had not seen life’s difficulties. Her life was a lesson in overcoming adversity and proving that, if you kept on believing and loving, you could have a happy ending. She knew this herself too – there’s a notice in her study which reads – ‘you’re never too old to have a happy childhood.’ Mum’s father died before she was born and her mother sadly passed away when she was a young girl. Mum was a fiercely proud woman and she would not want me to talk publicly about the traumas of her personal life but suffice to say her faith and her immense strength of character saw her through the darkest of times.

Her choice of careers reflected her personality. At first she was a nurse in Salisbury. After she’d raised us three boys, she went back to college and qualified as a teacher. Never wanting to take the easy road, she taught in a pretty difficult school – it’s a bit disconcerting when your mum comes home and says she was threatened with a knife today. In the end she taught at Frenchay and combined both careers as a teacher at the Hospital School. She was very happy there and really felt that she had made a difference to those young lives albeit for a sometimes short and traumatic time. She took a well-deserved early retirement at 50.

I’m glad she did, because it allowed her to indulge her new career of keeping in touch with people. It’s as though it became her new job to spread warmth, love and happiness. Only two days before she died she was still furiously scribbling letters to people. She was happy to use email, but she knew how good it was to receive a real letter. So many people I have spoken to have said – ‘but I was only on the phone to her last week’ or ‘I’ve just got a letter from her’ or ‘we called in last week’.

We often wondered why she would never rest and was always worrying and planning things. We used to tell her to relax but I think she knew she didn’t have long on this earth and she had to cram a lot in. One of the few joys at this difficult time has been realising just how many close friends she had – these were not just casual acquaintances, these were people who loved her deeply.

When I think of my mum, I think of the sacrifices she made when we were growing up. I remember odd things like her sleeping in the dining room at Filton Road so that we could each have a bedroom. When one son plays the guitar, the other the drums and the other is in to amateur radio, that’s probably a good idea anyway! She carted my drums to band practices in that old Morris Minor of hers without complaint. I’m sorry I never made it as a rock star mum, but there’s still time!

Her sacrifices were a lot to do with her desperately wanting us all to have a good education and I guess she was very proud of the way we all turned out. There was a section in her filing cabinet called ‘Famous Sons’ and it contained various snippets like newspaper cuttings. She would say to me – that’s a nice picture dear but I wish you wouldn’t have that spiky hair.

Most of all though, when I think of my mum I smile to myself. I think of the great times she had with her boating friends in Bristol after the three of us left home – driving around in her bright green Triumph Spitfire. All those powerboat parties! I think of her meeting George again after all those years. What a fantastic story that is! I think of their happy times together in their ten years of marriage, whether it was travelling the length and breadth of Britain on their narrow boat or holidays to far-flung places or doing housesitting for people or pottering about in the garden. More recently, the flat in Cornwall was somewhere beautiful for them to visit and relax. She doted on her grandsons, Nattie and Ben. She loved those boys in a joyful, wide-eyed way that only a grandmother can. She was never happier than when she was playing with them. I’ll never forget her excitement at seeing a photo of Nat in his new school uniform for the first time a few weeks ago.

I think of her funny little ways – furiously circling things in the Radio Times that she wanted to watch or tape (but I don’t watch much television dear): her owl collection that Nattie like to rearrange for Grandma: the radio tuned to Radio 4 morning noon and night; eating cold chips from the fridge the morning after (a bad habit I have inherited). As I said, she would insist on seeing the best in the most difficult of people – something that used to infuriate me at times – but she was right and I was wrong.

The music today is something that we particularly shared mum would have wanted. There is no way that mum would have chosen any gloomy hymns – Lord of the Dance is mum to a tee – it sums up her faith and her approach to life. I first saw The Seekers in pantomime at Bristol Hippodrome when I was five. Apparently I was captivated by Judith Durham and her voice. Mum and I saw them at the NEC on their reunion tour. The two of us also watched Judith at the Hippodrome a few years ago from almost exactly the same seats as we had 40 years earlier. The song Colours of my Life reflects, for me, her life. They sing about shedding black and grey to take on red and blue and that is a perfect metaphor for her 69 years on this planet.

Shores of Avalon, at the end of the service, is quite poignant. When mum was in hospital at the end of June, she asked me to buy her a novel from the hospital shop – something light dear, not a thriller. She got most of the way through this Josephine Cox book, but it wasn’t until after she died that I realised that it was titled Journey’s End. I felt awful but then realised that perhaps it was just meant to be. I chose Shores of Avalon because it’s a beautiful song and then afterwards I realised that the last line of the song also talks of the journey’s end – but a journey’s end together.

I try not to think too much about her last couple of days, but how she dealt with her illness summed up her character. The last year since her diagnosis was very difficult. She showed such courage despite the agonies that come with a cancer in your spine and she rarely complained. She was still the same person – always warm and loving and anxious to know your news. During this time, George worked ceaselessly to look after her and make her comfortable. Nobody could have done more and loved her more than you George and I want to thank you publicly for that. Even when she was in hospital, one couldn’t suppress her zest for life. On the bedside table there was a card from Walter thanking her for her recent £100 donation to the African village with which this church has a connection. Even twelve hours before she died, she was getting me to introduce her to the woman in the opposite bed and apologising that she wasn’t well enough to have a chat. She was looking forward to visits from Nattie, from my Goddaughter Lucy and from Grace her latest adopted grandchild.

After mum died, we came back to the house. I went into the garden and there were hundreds of butterflies everywhere. Despite being in floods of tears, I knew that she was very close. Later on, Simon and Andy mentioned that they had noticed the same thing even though they were in a different part of the garden. A few days later I watched a video of her sitting in the garden chatting away to Simon and it helped to erase the memory of her last hours. Seeing her chatting away, worrying about whether I was going to get to Wembley to watch Rovers, cheered me up immensely and I felt I’d got my mum back.

That’s all I wanted to say. I really do hope that in these few words I have done justice to this wonderful, vibrant and caring woman. I am so proud to be her son. She was my inspiration and my guide and I have so much to thank her for. I loved her more than anybody could ever know.