I have work and I have friends, very good friends… both of which keep me going and stop me falling into that pit of despair when I teeter on the edge sometimes.  They ground me and give me some normality and a reason to smile (and more usually, laugh like a lunatic!).  I’m not so hard on myself at work anymore.  The persecution complex is less evident and I no longer believe that everyone is out to trip me up and watch me fail.  I accept help now and have even been known to ask for it… a major breakthrough!  And for that reason, I’m happier.  Work has been a struggle lately but only because it has been busy, not because of anything I have done or not done.  The pain is back in my arm and leg and I’m putting down to how busy we’ve been, and refusing to believe that my medication isn’t as effective as it was…  I’ll wait until we’re less busy to assess which may be the real case.  What can I say, I have ostrich tendencies??!!

I also have family.  A loving, supportive family.  I don’t think I acknowledge them nearly enough.  I am lucky to still have both my parents, in reasonably good health and enjoying their retirement fully and actively.  My dad appears to be in better health than he actually is but he continues to titivate his garden and get out for the walks he loves so much.  He emails me regularly about my rose and I have to send him photos and updates.  In return he sends me rose care instructions and demands proof that I have carried them out to the letter.  Don’t worry dad, I’ve fed it!  My own personal Monty Don!!  My mum visits regularly.  In fact I have just spent a lovely weekend with her, a weekend of brunches and walking and cake and gardening and cushions and charity shops and window cleaning and putting the world to rights.  I love spending time with her, just me and her, doing all those things you can’t do with a houseful of teenage boys, or just men in general.  Bring on Easter when I get to go ‘home’!  Of course I have Mark.  He is my rock and my soulmate and I know he will always be there for me.  But I worry about him and exactly how he will cope.  He is not coping with his dad’s diagnosis.  He is angry and irrational.  Rather than argue with him, I give him the space and time he needs to work it out.  I’m always here for him when he needs me.  He knows that.  Mark’s parents are blighted by ill health and disability.  Tom and I took them banana loaf and birthday cake this morning.  We drank coffee and updated each other with the goings on in each of our lives.  They don’t go out any more and appreciate having someone other than each other to talk to for a change.  Mark’s dad looks happier than he has in a very long time.  I think the proverbial weight has been lifted.  They may not be able to support us in a practical capacity but their support is unwavering.  We came away with a list of jobs for Mark to do at the weekend.  he copes better if he has something practical to do.  There’s plenty of that!  Mark’s sister is an amazing person and one of the loveliest people I know.  She has a lot going on in her life at the moment and is having a tough time, but she is still there for everyone else, putting their needs before her own.   I haven’t mentioned my boys because I always mention them.  It goes without saying, how much they mean to me and how utterly lost I would be without them…  Like I say, I’m very lucky…

I’ve had a lazy afternoon, photographing Olive and Moo… because I can.  Sam is cooking at school today.  It’s supposed to be chilli but I’ll reserve judgement until I see which ingredients he chose to omit this time…  I’d like to be able to say that’s tonight’s meal sorted, but perhaps not?!

Life is a delicate balancing act of good times and bad, happiness and sadness, challenges and rewards, and sickness and health. You have periods where the positives outweigh the negatives, and vice versa… When the going gets tough you have to focus on the good until the balance swings back in your favour and you can relax for a while and allow your focus to shift.

This week my highs have been exceptionally high. A Joey event always gives me a boost, makes me smile for days, every time I remember something that made us laugh until our chests hurt, and makes me appreciate what fabulously wonderful friend I have. Picture the scene… I’m double booked that evening (unavoidably and necessarily so)… a social butterfly flitting from one birthday celebration to the next… I’d already eaten a birthday meal with my lovely sister-in-law, Julie. I’d made her a cake and we spent a very happy evening finding Mark’s need to read reviews of incinerator bins, before he will part with his hard earned cash, ridiculously hilarious!! We will dine out on that one for a long time to come. Then I shot to the Joey birthday celebration of the year! I needn’t have worried about not being able to spot them in the pub… the rose plant, 50th Birthday helium balloon and huge plastic squirrel were a bit of a give away… and of course there was Mrs Shenton wearing her birthday sash – it was brilliant Lucy!! Our evening consisted of cake and gifts and spilt drinks (you never really know how quickly you can move until someone hurls a full glass of coke in your direction!) and squirrels and Cat making the funniest noises as she desperately tried not to cough (rather than check she was OK we just laughed hysterically – it was funny!) and Karen making new friends, and the whole pub singing Happy Birthday much to Karen’s embarrassment and the quiz. Oh, the quiz! No amount of revision can help us. We are all individually resolute in our insistence that our answers are correct. We are all unfathomably surprised when our answers are incorrect. We didn’t win… but we had the best night and celebrated in true Joey style. Happy 50th Birthday Karen!! I am proud and privileged to count you as one of my friends. I hope your actual birthday tomorrow is as wonderful as you deserve. A lovely person who deserves lovely things xxx

And then boom, the shitty stick comes flying back. It winds you as it hits you hard in the solar plexus. After a difficult and busy shift (for me) at work, I spent 3 hours on ward 15 learning that my father-in-law has cancer. Widespread, terminal cancer. He is going home to have palliative care. We shed a tear. We all voiced the difficult things that everyone was thinking but no one wants to say. We made plans – practical plans regarding his immediate care needs. Thank you to the wonderful nurse who cared for him so well today. I can’t thank you enough for ensuring his wishes were respected. I wish I had thought to take your name. You know who you are. Your kindness today will not be forgotten. Then we hugged and went our separate ways. Tonight I had to break that news to my boys… Tonight I am reminded to appreciate the little things… it’s not what you have, but who you have in your life that matters.

I went to bed last night preoccupied by giraffes.  It worries me how little they sleep, and how much time they spend standing up.  I can relate to the little sleep, but definitely not the standing up…  Isn’t it funny how we worry about ridiculous things?!  Things we have absolutely no control over… Things which really don’t affect us…  But now I’m worrying about giraffes and the sad life they lead, unable to lie down, or sleep, for more than a few minutes at a time…  My poor defective brain, can’t make my body function in the way it should, but can occupy my mind, and an extraordinary amount of time, with thoughts that worry me and keep me awake.  I’m not a Joey… I’m a giraffe!  And now I’ve just Googled, ‘Are giraffes intelligent?’, to reassure myself that I fit more into the ‘giraffe’ category than the ‘Joey’ category…  Get a grip woman!!   They are considered to be very intelligent, in case you were wondering…

I have a very busy, exciting week ahead of me.  Two 50th birthday celebrations for two very lovely ladies.  One will be a refined, family birthday celebration… The other will not.  I’m excited about them both!  So I’m busy, beavering away with little projects and surprises which will hopefully make these lovely ladies smile.  And then, at the weekend, my mum is coming to stay.  So I’m planning lovely things that we can do together while she’s here.  And then before I know it, it will be Monday again and Tom will be 20!  He said in view of my disabilities he would just have a coffee cake…  Erm… thanks Tom?!  And somewhere in between all of that socialising, I have to fit in four shifts at work… But I love having something to look forward to.  Something to keep my mind occupied.  I want to get to the point where Parkinson’s isn’t the first thing on my mind when I wake up.  I’m not there yet, but being busy and having things to look forward to helps a lot!

Don’t you love it when someone gives you a backhanded compliment?  I was told this week that I had beautiful hair.  Not true, but I had washed it…  This was followed with, ‘It’s two colours, isn’t it?  I love the two colours.’…  Well, if you mean brown and grey, then yes it is two colours.  That isn’t a style choice.  It just happens when you get to a certain age and you go to a hairdressers that is like something out of Little Britain…  Hint taken, I need to dye my hair… *adds hair dye to shopping list*

Sam has been selected, as a child with social, emotional or behavioural problems, to have a mentor at school.  The peer mentors are sixth formers who have volunteered to take part in this little initiative.  I’m sure most schools probably offer something like this but it’s new to us.  The person they have chosen for Sam is someone he knows.  It’s someone from karate and Sam gets on with him really well.  I’m not sure, at this point, whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing?? However, they are more on board with supporting Sam than they’ve ever been so I’m adopting the ‘don’t knock it until you’ve tried it’ school of thought.   Sam is preparing an extensive list of things he wants to discuss…  I hope you’re ready for this Matthew…

 

 

I get so busy wallowing in self-pity at times, I forget how this is for everyone else.  The people who love me and live with me and work with me and see me change from the person I was, to the person I inevitably will become…  It must be hard for them.  I try to put myself in their position and imagine what it’s like….  Knowing that the person you know, that you have always known, will change irreversibly.  And it’s such an all-encompassing, devastating change…  How do they deal with it?  How will they continue to love me and care for me and even talk to me when I reach the point where functioning is difficult? I will be the person that everyone glances at sideways and tries to avoid as they process what could possibly be wrong with me…  I learnt a very hard lesson this weekend.  I thought families loved each other unconditionally.  At least in my family, people do, don’t they?  My dad rang me on Sunday.  He wanted to talk to me about the Parkinson’s documentary which aired over the past couple of weeks.  The conversation was mainly centred around his observation of how bad the people who participated in the trial were.  He seemed surprised that that is my future.  I explained to him that the current medication that is available can only take you so far.  Beyond that, there is DBS and then clinical research trials like the one featured in the programme.  But ultimately, that is my future.  His response…?  ‘I don’t want to see you when you get that bad’…  Awesome!  Make sure you let me know when my presence upsets you!  It upset me to hear him say that.  A lot.  But I do get it.  I would hate to have to watch someone I love decline and become someone you don’t recognise any more.  I get that he finds that hard to deal with.  I really do.  But what do I do with that information?  Where does it leave me?  I must try harder not to be a burden or an inconvenience.  Don’t let that mask slip, whatever you do…

Thank goodness for the people who are with me no matter what.  I count those blessings every single day.  It’s a strange feeling, knowing your days are numbered in one respect but not knowing how many days you’ve got.  So you make the most of every single day, doing things that make you happy.  Today I chatted with my mum about her chances of surviving a week with Joe, ate McDonald’s with Tom and made cake decorations… and why the hell not?!  Not exciting by anyone’s standards, but just enough…  I look forward to Sam and Joe coming home from school and telling me about their day.  It frustrates me that women tell each other everything, every minute, insignificant detail of their lives.  I probably know too much about some people!!  But men and boys don’t overshare, in fact they don’t seem to share at all.  And it’s not that they don’t care, because they really do, but they don’t seem to have the same need to voice there feelings and problems in the same way as women and girls do.  As an example, Joe told me that a friend of his was having an operation, and I quote, ‘because some middle-aged woman told him she couldn’t find his balls’!!  End of conversation.  A few days later, I asked him how his friend was and whether the operation had been successful in locating his friend’s testicles, to be met with this response… ‘Dunno?’.  Well why didn’t he know?  Turns out he had been having multiple text conversations per day with that same friend but hadn’t thought to ask him how he was?  Men and women are inherently different.  Different agendas and different priorities.  But it doesn’t mean that they care any less.  I need to remember that…

 

For your average person, a cold is a minor inconvenience at best. Yeah you might feel rubbish for a few days, find a excuse to have a duvet day and moan to anyone who will listen about how poorly you are… In my mind, if you have to tell people you’re ill, you can’t be that bad really?! For people like me, anything that puts you slightly under par can have a massive impact on all of your other symptoms. I have demonstrated this spectacularly this week. Juggling a full cup of tea was probably not one of my finer moments but I remain stupidly impressed that the cup landed the right way up on the floor, intact with half a cup of still-hot tea (which I drank, obviously!)… the other half was rapidly soaking into the carpet and dripping off the wall and ceiling (impressive, right?!). Mark was less impressed as he scrubbed the carpet and then balanced precariously on the bed, in nothing but his pants, trying to clean errant tea splats from various locations on the ceiling. Tea travels surprisingly far! I don’t get what his problem was?! I mean, I managed to save half a cup… and it was only tea… and he could’ve put clothes on?!! So now I have to prove my tea-drinking capabilities before I can have a cup… That same night, I lost the ability to walk. I literally could not lift my foot off the floor. I can’t even begin to tell you how scary that is. How quickly you can go from functioning to non-functioning. And it’s not as if I could just hop! So I dragged myself around using walls and furniture until everyone got fed up of me. Fortunately, by the following morning I was OK, not 100%, but OK enough to go to work. It’s still not right but I can get about ok now so I’m just going to go with it. Today it’s my arm that doesn’t want to work… so this cold can do one!! So next time you get a cold, just think, it’s just a cold… you’ll get over it, and at least it doesn’t render you unable to walk and cause you to redecorate your house in 50 shades of tea!!

On a positive note, I had a fantastic night with my lovely Joey’s. Chicago was a big hit! We laughed inappropriately, had a fit of jazz hands, attracted random crazy people, got told off for trying to take glass bottles into the theatre, were very entertained by too many old ladies in the lift, and were the last to leave. But we had the best time! I hope Mrs Shenton feels this was a fitting first 50th birthday celebration? The re-enactments of the best bits will amuse us for a long time to come, I’m sure! May I have my exit music please?!

Parenting is a challenge.  It is unpredictable and exhausting.  But the rewards can be amazing.  People take their right to procreate for granted, giving little thought to the bigger picture, the lives that they are privileged to shape and mould, focusing only on the cute baby with the huge eyes and dimples.  My boys aren’t little any more.  Tom will be 20 soon.  20 years of parenting.  20 years of trial and error and making mistakes… But look at him now!  He is a good kid.  Quiet and unassuming but polite and well-mannered.  Putting everything into uni to get the degree we never thought he would achieve.  Just goes to show what hard work and determination can do, when at 16 he failed his GCSEs and everyone had just about written him off.  He has faced more obstacles than most kids his age, but he just gets on with it and doesn’t give up.  I am so proud of him!  Yesterday we got good news.  For the first time in about 2 years he is in remission.  He can reduce his medications and hospital visits and be a normal kid for a while.  Long may it last…  Joseph is a good kid too.  Cleverer than he appears, and very, very funny.  He struggles with a stammer which limits his social interactions beyond people he knows well. But he draws people to him and those who know him love him absolutely.  He too will fly high and do great things, I have no doubt.  And then there’s Sam…  my frustratingly stubborn, frighteningly intelligent, unintentionally funny ball of anxiety…  Every day is a challenge for him.  And it dawned on me after an incident this week, that as he progresses through his teenage years, things will get more and more difficult for him as he tries to fit in… but he is excelling in so many ways now.  People who ‘get him’ adore him.  People who don’t, see him as a square peg in a round hole and try to mould him.  But he will not be moulded.  And nor should he be! I love him for that.  He gets his final option choices tomorrow.  I already know he can do the subjects he chose, because school are finally on our side and making adjustments to make school a positive experience for him… so tomorrow will be a happy day in the Gill household.  And before I know it he will be off to uni, doing the Law degree he has his heart set on and putting the world to rights.  Watch out world, the Gill boys are coming!!  And I made them.

I have had a difficult time recently.  I struggle to accept help when it is offered.  I feel as though it is based on a negative judgement of my capabilities, rather than a genuine desire to make my life easier.  Hmm which of my kids does that sound like…???  So I have addressed this persecution complex, and after much thought and reflection have decided to be less self-critical because I am the only person who suffers, and more accepting of generous, well-meant offers of help and support.  I have to accept that my body is slowing down (rapidly) and I literally cannot do everything I want to do.  That doesn’t make me a bad person.  I’m still the same person that I always was.  Just slower and stiffer and shakier…  But there is still stuff I can do.  I can still be useful.  At my HR meeting this week, I suggested they needed to put me on more shifts with the Joeys… the look of horror on the faces of everyone present suggested that that probably won’t be happening…  but hey, on a positive, I still have a job and they are not yet sending to the place where decrepit midwives go to die… win-win!!!  I am going to try to accept my lot as a positive and embrace it.  I am going to be the best Parkinson’s midwife there is (when I remember to take my tablets!).  Now, if someone could just remind me I said that…

One of the problems people with Parkinson’s can have is difficulty accessing the word they are trying to say.  You know exactly what you want to say but just cannot think of the right word.  On Sunday, I literally struggled with every other word so my life became a massive game of Charades, and it would appear that my miming capabilities are equally limited…or my family is just thick???  At least it gave us something to laugh about.  You have to see the funny side, don’t you?

Tonight begins the very extended celebrations of Mrs Shenton’s 50th birthday.  She’s better than royalty, being a beaver, squirrel and a joey so her celebrations must be worthy of that…  I am so lucky to count her as one of my friends.  She is the nicest (crap word, can I blame the Parkinson’s?!), kindest, most loyal, genuine and most fabulous person, but probably don’t cross her… we’ve all experienced the look!!  Love you Kaz!  I hope you have the best time tonight and on your actual birthday…  prepare yourself, the celebrations are only just beginning… excited!!!

It was destined to be such a good week…  Refreshed after a stress-free week’s annual leave… Boys back at school…  Deb’s birthday celebrations…  So I’ll start with the good stuff, the happy stuff, the stuff that made me laugh until I cried and made my chest hurt, the stuff that I don’t want to forget.

A Joey Event always fits into this category.  And Deb’s birthday was no exception.  We always draw attention to ourselves wherever we go.  It’s not intentional but the helium balloons and shrieks of laughter probably help with that.  We love a good quiz night so met at the Sump to eat and give gifts and put the rest of Burton to shame with our superior intellect.  The fact that Mrs Shenton couldn’t even see us waving at her should’ve been a bit of a hint as to how the evening would progress…  It’s OK though, she would later put her glasses on and do an impressive meercat impression while trying to suss out the competition.  We are so very subtle…  Deb loved her gifts and cake and was impressed that we know her so well.  So from a birthday perspective, the evening was a resounding success.  The quiz probably not so much… after pooh-poohing Cat’s answer to the anagram question, it turned out to be correct… but I’ll never fathom how you can stroke a boat, we clearly know nothing about pirates and posh Deb thought that only geese had a Parson’s nose… but we laughed and didn’t win but we didn’t disgrace ourselves either.  Bring on the next one…

I have been keeping up with my walking.  Just little laps around the water park but it’s better than nothing.  I’m going to try to increase my distance from today although as I type this and wait for my drugs to kick in, I’m not feeling very hopeful that that will happen.  I need to find other places to walk where I don’t look quite so ridiculous with my poles… although I agree, it’s probably not the poles!  The Joey’s have decided that they want to do a walk with me too so now it looks as though I will be walking in Newcastle with my family and then Sutton Park with the Joeys.  Better get out there…

I watched the documentary this week about the Parkinson’s GDNF trial.  I wasn’t going to watch it, but then I decided that I should.  How can I make informed decisions about my condition and treatment if I don’t?  But I sobbed.  It was so difficult to watch from my perspective.  Being relatively newly diagnosed, all I could think was that these people were my future.  And I didn’t like what I saw.  My future is bleak.  I know the progression of the disease is different for everyone but it doesn’t matter which way you look at it, I’m going to get to a point where I can no longer work or do the things I want to do.  medication for Parkinson’s is better than it ever was but still has limitations.  And there is no cure, no matter how this programme dressed it up.  My neurologists guesstimate of ten good years is simply that, a guess, because no one knows.  However, I watched it in awe of the people who volunteered for this trail.  It was extensive brain surgery at the end of the day, with massive risks, and to have that done and then receive a placebo…  I don’t think I could have done it.  I do know they all received the GDNF in the end and experienced improvements in their symptoms but the results were not statistically significant…  apologies if that’s a spoiler for anyone who was going to watch next week’s episode.  I read about the trial before the programme aired so I know the results were disappointing from a progression perspective, perhaps not so for the participants though…  I am a member of a Parkinson’s group and the general feeling amongst members was that it won’t be life-changing for us…

On a slightly lighter but equally serious note, I told my mum about something I’d seen involving the use of infrared light to halt further degeneration in the cells in the brain which are affected by Parkinson’s.  I’m not sure this link will work… https://www.facebook.com/abcnorthtas/videos/378693386282030/?t=2  The man in that link experienced improvement in 9 out of 10 of his symptoms.  And formal trials are now being done.  So next time you see me, I’ll be wearing a bucket!!

Yesterday I had a brilliant day. I felt better than I have in a long time, physically and emotionally. I needed a challenge so we went to Dovedale. Sam was invited but the thought of a last minute change to his carefully planned half term holiday was too much for him. He was frantically researching Dovedale and pulling at his hair so I made the decision for him and told him to stay at home. Mark was working from home so it wasn’t a problem. His relief was palpable and I knew it was the right thing to do. It does sadden me that such a seemingly simple decision is so stressful for him… With Tom at uni all day for a change, Team Gill would have to be just me and Joe. But that was OK, the sun was shining and he was on good form. Sadly most of Derbyshire and beyond had descended upon Dovedale, and all manner of dogs, kids and stupid people were getting in my way… I mean a tutu and gold, sparkly, party shoes are perfect attire for Dovedale, aren’t they?! I was obviously missing a trick… Oh no, she didn’t get her shoes wet did she? Who’d have thought??? Now get her off the stepping stones, some of us have serious walking, with serious walking poles, to do! While I stuck to obvious footpaths which were challenge enough for me, Joe ran up and down hills like a demented mountain goat. I took the opportunity to sit on rocks and people watch. The group of people having a ‘soup party’ ( That’s a thing?? More to the point, that’s a thing you do when you’ve walked up a giant hill??), the woman screaming at her kids and shattering the beautiful peacefulness, the kids in tutus and white tights and the kids in so much waterproof protective clothing they could barely move, and the child lecturing his father about how to take a photo with his phone made me smile knowingly. My poles are changing my life, literally. I couldn’t have even contemplated that walk without them. I wouldn’t have even made it to the stepping stones, let alone up and down any hills. I love that something so simple is expanding my horizons and giving me back some normality. I should be able to go for a walk. That is a normal thing to do. Yesterday was much needed. The sunshine, the good company, the laughter, the carpool karaoke and the well deserved ice cream when we got back to the car. It has ignited something within me. I want to do it again. I want to explore. I want to challenge myself. Walking around the water park serves a purpose but now I want to get out there and see a bit more of the countryside. Who’d have thought? Couch potato to stick lady…

I’ve been doing a little experiment while I’ve been on annual leave. I’ve been trying to see whether it makes a difference to my symptoms if I do nothing or if I push myself to do more. Obviously I’ve started proper walking every day… it’s not a huge distance and it’s not at great speed… but it’s exercise of sorts and it’s more than I was doing before… when I wasn’t actually doing anything. Other PWPs report an improvement in their symptoms for several hours after a period of exercise. I don’t find that. In fact I find that the stiffness and rigidity in my right leg is much worse. But it’s still early days so I’ll keep going… plus, I love my poles! So my right arm is moving and has a purpose for the first time in forever. That can only be a good thing? Yesterday I went for my walk and did housework all morning. Then I gave in to the insomnia-induced exhaustion and fatigue and went to bed after lunch. I slept like the dead, or rather, my husband, which tells me I needed it, but I woke up feeling terrible and consequently had a very bad night’s sleep last night… So today I took the boys to Birmingham to endure the Manga Store and Nostalgia Comics and to have a peaceful coffee in Waterstones while Joe indulged his literary passion… we walked a fair distance but I decided to keep up my walking promise when I got home. It was a difficult lap of the water park. The uncharacteristically warm, sunny weather had brought everyone and their grannie and her dog out, with bikes, scooters, pushchairs and balls and frisbees… I dodged and tripped and cursed my way round, but I did it! I could so easily have gone home and put my feet up but I didn’t. Against my better judgement, I went out walking, attracting stares and comments by the dozen, but I did it… Mark reckons putting my phone in my knickers drew more attention than necessary… dunno what he means?? When you have a pole in each hand, a phone is difficult to accommodate… Especially when your walking app talks to you after every kilometre… Tomorrow we’re doing Dovedale for a change of scenery… I’m hoping the poles will draw less attention there… maybe it’s not the poles???! Probably avoid Dovedale tomorrow if you had even the merest thought of going…

Last week I had a bad week. I was exhausted and broken. That is not the me I want to be, or the life I want to live. So it’s time to make a change! I’ve had my moment of despair and now it’s time to take charge of my life… so I’m focusing on positives.

Yesterday I was up at 4am. At least it wasn’t the 2am of the previous morning. See what I did there? Positivity!! Starting my day so early means I can get a lot done before anyone else is awake, then I have the whole day to do what I want to do. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not ideal and I’d much rather be asleep but it’s peaceful and there are no distractions, if you don’t count the cats!

So I’ve started walking. My body doesn’t want to do it and resists at every turn with pain and stiffness and rigidity. I’m not designed for exercise but the benefits of exercise have been drummed into me by every healthcare professional I’ve seen, so I’d be crazy not to at least give it a go. So I set off, armed with my walking poles. It was like a miracle. Using the poles forces me to lift my arm which doesn’t normally swing, which in turn changes my gait. I mean, it’s not great to watch, a fat, physically challenged woman occasionally tripping over her poles and cursing loudly at any wildlife which even looks in her direction… might go a bit earlier tomorrow so there’s less chance of being seen… Speedy I am not, which was evidenced by the guy who lapped me 4 times, but I did it. I walked almost 2km. I literally could not have done it before. It hurt and I struggled last night but I did it and I’ll do it again.

I’m on annual leave this week. I’m trying to balance getting stuff done so I can cross things off my impossibly lengthy To Do list with a bit of selfish Me time. I’ve been cleaning and reorganising my kitchen cupboards, in an attempt to maximise the storage potential in my badly designed kitchen. I’m getting rid of my kitchen table because it’s never used, other than for dumping stuff on… so Joe and I have been trawling second hand furniture shops and charity shops, looking for a bargain to upcycle to fill the gap where the table was. I love that Joe loves mooching around these places and gets as much joy from other people’s unwanted items as I do. However, my lanky 15 year old still has a thing about getting into things… boxes, chests, cupboards, wardrobes… it’s like a compulsion… he can’t help himself. So yes, that probably was my mansize son who burst out of that wardrobe… I’m sorry. I think I’d like a Monk’s bench or a church pew, or ‘pugh’ as it was listed on a selling site, so if anyone is getting rid of one, I’m your woman!