All a bit much

Blimey, it’s been two months since I last wrote anything and we are almost halfway through the year. There have been some happy moments but there’s no getting away from the fact that 2023 has been pretty shitty so far. You know when you think “how much worse can it get?” and the universe says “pretty bad, actually”? Yes, that.

Our road trip to see Auntie H was even more perfect than we could have hoped. The journey down was brilliant – 5.5 hours door to door with 2 stops along the way. (Thanks to P for driving, it was a pleasure to be a passenger for once, and even in the back seat – anti-sickness tablets were consumed.) Auntie H looked so well. We all cried a bit when we arrived, we all cried even more when my cousin K and his wife and little girl arrived unexpectedly at breakfast the following morning – he had secretly planned it all out with his brother, sneaky boys, and had left Hertfordshire at about 10pm the previous evening to be able to spend some time with us all (I haven’t seen him or his brother, who lives in Cornwall near Auntie H, since my nan’s funeral in 2019 so it was all pretty overwhelming). You know when you see someone and can’t work out why they are there and how they are there and suddenly you realise what’s going on and Surprise, Surprise?! I kept expecting to see Cilla appear, although I do, of course, know that she’s dead. We all cried a bit at other points during the weekend and again, the worst of all when we had to leave. We also laughed, and laughed, and talked about things from the past – some difficult things that have never been spoken of before – and hugged and ate lovely food and walked on the beach and some of us even slept pretty well in our hotel beds. It was all pretty bloody perfect. The crying wasn’t a bad thing, it’s what we do when we’re with people we love and haven’t seen for a long time and don’t know when we will see them again.

And unfortunately, the news isn’t great. It turns out that Auntie H has got cancer, and not a treatable, remove it or get rid of it with chemo kind. She is having chemo (round 1 went in at the end of May) but it is in an attempt to buy her some more time, maybe a year. And if it makes her feel awful she won’t continue, her choice, which we totally respect. It’s so hard to comprehend – when we saw her she looked SO well. Better than she has looked in a long time. The sea air and the change of environment (they moved down to Cornwall in 2020) has made such a difference to her. But, still this has happened. It’s so incredibly, bloody unfair. We’re all devastated but being positive and supportive and loving her with all our hearts. It’s all we can do. It’s hardest of all for my mum, wanting to be near and support her sister through this, but being so far away. But we will make sure another visit is arranged soon.

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It’s hard to see someone you love in pain and grieving. My best friend in all the world has had the most horrendously sad and devastating loss of her lovely mum. I can only begin to imagine how it feels to deal with the death of a parent, at any age. I know it’s inevitable, especially as we are getting older, to see friends and relatives going through this, but nothing anyone can say could possibly make it any less unbearable. And then to hear of the death of one of her oldest friends a few short weeks later just seems ridiculously cruel. I’m so sorry my lovely friend, I know you will read this and it will make you cry some more, but I can’t not speak of it. You are a massive part of my world and your pain is my pain and I wish I could do anything to take it away. I love you.

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My Dad grew up in St Albans and the boy (Roy) who grew up next door to him has remained his friend to this day. When my parents were due to move to Harpenden via Barnet when my brother was born, they happened to be moving into the road along from where Roy and his wife Sheila were living with their 2 boys. My nan (dad’s mum) asked Sheila to pop round and see if my mum needed any help. I think she had an inkling that my mum was not very au fait with babies. My mum has always credited Sheila with my brothers survival as she remembers Sheila suggesting getting a bottle warmer for upstairs to help with the night feeds. Night feeds? What do you mean? Well, they need feeding at night as well….. Oh! They soon became firm friends, and Sheila and Roy were a massive part of my childhood and teenage years as their daughter Becky and I were also very close (we were bridesmaids at each others weddings). Anyway, fast forward 50 plus years (80 for dad and Roy) and they are still the best of friends. Becky and I have had periods of limited contact over the years but have been back in touch again more recently. Sheila was rushed into hospital a few weeks ago with shortness of breath and, after nearly 2 weeks in the L&D, was discharged home after being diagnosed with a heart condition. No sooner was she home than Roy was admitted with severe stomach pains, which turned out to be a ruptured bowel and sepsis. He was given emergency surgery with less than 1% chance of survival. He did survive the surgery but is still fighting sepsis. He is very poorly and news changes from day to day. He is renowned for his awful jokes which I have always loved. My favourite was “when we used to go to Verulam lakes as kids, the ducks would throw bread at us, we were so poor”. We are all hoping that his fighting spirit from his “tough childhood” sees him through.

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In other news – I have a new job. I am still working for the same two guys but for a new company that they have set up. I’ll be the office manager and dealing with HR admin, financial control, some procurement and anything else they decide to throw at me. I’m currently training a colleague to do my current job and transitioning to the new role by the 1st July (at which point I go on holiday for a week!). It’s exciting and challenging but I’m ready for a change and I’m going to give it a year to see how it pans out. By then A will be finished with college and won’t need the flexibility that the job allows me. For now, I’m learning some new stuff and being made to use my brain again which is overwhelming at times but in a positive way, so far!

More other news – T has undertaken and successfully completed his response driver training so is now whizzing around on blues and twos. I’m well pleased for him and proud in equal measure. He’s the youngest response driver in his nick and I think that’s pretty bloody good.

A has one more exam to go and then she has finished her sixth form at ESA. Year 14 beckons after a summer of short breaks away and bus trips and some time to chill out without any pressures. She’s come a long way in the last 2 years and she deserves some fun.

Here’s to some better news when I next put fingers to keyboard. In a few weeks we head off on our first short break – up the road to Woburn Center Parcs and I for one cannot wait. Floating on the lazy river, eating nice food, walking loads and spending time with 2 of my favourite people – bring it on.

Lots of love.