Roland Ladley's Blog

Well, there’s a thing

Good news, good news.

First C had her post-chemo cystoscopy and her bladder is clear. Which is excellent news. It’s not all completely over as bladder cancer has the nerve to keep coming back, and she has to have quarterly checks (next is late September) when they have another look. And they do that for the next two years. But it might have been so much worse. And … the message is: any blood in your wee, see your doctor asp.

Not to be outdone, I have had issues. I had a PSA test earlier in the year, which was high. I had a visual exam, which was fine, but a second PSA test was higher still. Ho-hum. Next was an MRI which found a growth, which led to a biopsy, which is not a huge deal of fun – with my feet in stirrups and a couple of needles to numb everything before there’s more digging around. The MRI also showed a fatty mass (‘lipoma’) in my abdomen, which needed a second MRI for more clarity. 

The outcome from the prostate was no cancer in the biopsy (hurrah!), but a confused expert (because of the growth), who wants a further PSA test in three months and maybe a further biopsy under a general. The fatty mass (different hospital – Birmingham, not Cheltenham) was also benign. They’re not completely done with that, either, but our sense is that it’s just one of things you live with until it hurts, or gets much bigger. 

Look for slow and multiple weeing; difficulty starting and stopping. And then, or just because you can, ask for a PSA test. An enlarged prostate is common for older men (mine isn’t), and that doesn’t mean it’s cancer …. but get it all checked out. Prostate cancer can kill you.

That’s the messy bit. 

The good news is that we’ve seen a lot of Henry (and Bex and Steven). We had a couple of days with them early on, and then they flew to the Maldives (someone’s got to, I guess), leaving Henry with the other grandparents. We were health focused, pretty much, also focusing on pals of ours who are also poorly. We continued with our walking/running regime, and added swimming, now we are more comfortable using the pool. C has continued to humour my ‘must have a coffee somewhere’ regime, normally aside a run or a walk. 

We also had one of C’s girls visit with her husband from Denmark, which was nice. And we did plenty of admin, including putting stickers on the back of all of our pictures and framed photos so that when we go (you might guess the sort of mindset we were in) the kids will know where all the stuff on our walls has come from – our study is a rogues’ gallery of stuff, much of it incomprehensible without a sticky note. 

And then Bex, Steven and Henry and us all went to Longleat, with Doris. The kids stayed at the local inn, and Henry remained with us. It was fab. Longleat was fab. Doris was fab. Henry was exceptionally fab. Other than seeing Henry and B&S – and all the animals – what was great was that we fell in love with Doris again. We can’t head off to Spain/Morocco/Spain in early September as we were originally planning, because of our various doctorial commitments. But we do plan to head off on that trip in late September, and Doris will be central to that.

That leaves mid-August, and a gap of over a month. I think the plan is to head up to Scotland in Doris, to see pals and maybe start a six-month detox regime of healthy food and even more exercise. There we will see pals and avoid the midges. 

Finally, we had a lovely weekend at a pals’ daughter’s wedding in Devon. No Doris this time. A rustic B&B with friends, and a super weekend at a very posh wedding.

How lucky are we? Especially as we’ve both had our eyes on the meaning of life and all that nonsense, and it seems we have survived that wobble. As my pal says, ‘we’re all in sniper’s alley now’. That leads to two things: let’s not try and talk about it too much; and enjoy every moment.

So … stay safe.    

We did Dubai

So, we did Dubai. And that was interesting. We hopped via Amsterdam with KLM (who were fab) and met Bex, Steven and Henry in a Travelodge at Dubai airport. And then it was the big smoke.

Now people tend not to go on holiday to Dubai in the summer, as its blooming boiling. And I can vouch for that. It was low 40s when we arrived and mid-40s when we left four days later. As a result, and this didn’t seem to bother the expats, we went from air-conditioned hotel, via ac car to ac mall to ac restaurant, back in the car and back to the hotel. The locals – mostly professional expats – seemed very content with that fairly pricey routine. Although, to be fair, we stayed in a beachside hotel (still in the city, but between conglomerations of skyscrapers) and in front of us was a threeway stretch of: cycle lane, running lane (padded and fab), and walking boardwalk. And, early doors and late evening, it was all very Los Angerles with beautiful people doing their thing – and, yes, bikinis are allowed and, of course, the chunky men all go topless as they jog along the beachfront. None seemed as knackered as Steve and I as we pushed out 5 kms … but I guess much of this is what you look like rather than actually how fit you are. You have to envy them.

view from our hotel balcony

We did the Burj Khalifa (which is extraordinary), the main mall (which is extraordinary for other capitalistic reasons), took the metro to the marina, ate out a lot (including one swanky Japanese brunch and another local breakfast)m and had real fun with Henry in the pool and in the sea – which was like bath water. Stepping back, the architecture is unbelievable, and it is everywhere, with new massive highrises popping up on the horizon. Definitely worth a visit, even just for that.

Leaving aside the routine for expats: work, shop, eat, socialise, repeat, there is a dark side to the place. The building and other blue collar jobs, of which there are many, are all done by work-immigrants from the Indian subcontinent. Which is fine. But they are definitely treated differently than anyone not of their colour (or in Arab dress). They are not, certainly during highdays and holidays, allowed in the malls, nor on the public beaches. And by this I mean they are actively shepherded away from entrances to where more privileged are heading, or just blocked. The entrance to our beach carpark was guarded, under a sign which read ‘Families Only@. It might have read, ‘No brown men unless you’re indigenous’. It is racism – there is no other term. And it’s really sad to see. 

Mall was pretty special (one of many)

So that left a bitter taste and there is no way we will go back there  – for that reason. Maybe Qatar or Bahrain would be different? I dunno.

Since Dubai we have been away in Doris for a couple of nights to make sure she’s all working, which she is. We have kept up our fitness campaign, and eaten healthily. We have used the governor’s pool, taken a trip to see C’s sister and son and daughter-in-law, met up with Jen and James often, and generally taken it easy. Mostly, because we both came back from Dubai with rubbish colds. C’s manifested itself as a hacking cough and green gunge, for which she was finally administered antibiotics. Mine was in my sinuses and made me feel pretty wretched.

The King’s there somewhere

We also popped down to Godalming for a final clearance of Mary’s house, had a wonderful day at the Garter Ceremony in Windsor Castle (thanks P&D – brilliant), and felt very privileged to attend a sherry tasting evening with P&K – with old pals Simon (the expert) and Rosemary bringing the gear and the knowledge. It was a lovely evening, although my love for sherry has yet to be ignited (sorry Simon!).

So we’ve filled the days. C has her cancer clearing check on Thursday (fingers crossed for that) and then B, S and HENRY are back on Friday for the summer. At that point, all hell gets let loose. We have things in the diary for the rest of the summer and some other stuff to stick in here and there, but we’ll make that up as we go along.

And we’ve seen a lot of these lovely people

Stay safe everyone.     

All work and no play …

We never got away in Doris, in the end. Things just got on top of us. C’s chemo came as regular as clockwork every Thursday (throughout which she was fabulous), we had a couple of issues with the Focus (a broken ignition coil and, an as yet unfixed, high pressure fuel pump), we spent some time with Jen and James, and the weather has been so good we weren’t enticed away. So Doris got her alarm fixed (the habitation door reed-magnetic switch needed replacing) and we pottered about.

C’s chemo is done. Six sessions of having her insides washed out with some form of acid has been remarkably incident free. She has a check up in 6 weeks, at which point we will find out if she has the all clear. Throughout we have tried very hard to keep active, walking most days with a figure of 5kms in mind which, on occasion, has made it to 8km. And we have sorted lots of stuff (popping down to C’s middle sister’s to help her out), made the garden pretty (‘we’ doing a lot of heavy lifting here – it’s mostly C, although I have abstractly planted some potatoes from ones which have seeded before we could eat them from Sainsbury’s), and visited more people.

Two Army pals of ours have been under the cosh. It’s not my place to articulate their woes, but C and I have done our best to visit, resplendent with metaphorical grapes. We have also met up with Mike and Anne, on the other side of the Seven, as well as popping over to see Daren and Karen, who always make us laugh. 

and we did Easter

I have got some comments back from my beta readers for ‘The Machines Came Too. I hope to incorporate those any moment now and then wing the manuscript over to Julia (my professional proofreader, who is fab), before we go to print – so to speak – sometime in July. Book sales, with limited Facebook marketing, has been better than – but not much better than – flat. I’m selling between 30 and 60 books a month, which is fine, but there’s no organic growth. I am going to share the latest script with a couple of publishers and see if I get any interest.

Along similar lines, I have had a chunk of work with a school in the southwest, helping with strategic planning. Most middle-ranking public schools are struggling with the VAT rise and the business rates knock. I am trying to provide some horsepower here. As always, I am helping more than I’m being paid, but I see it as giving something back, if you see what I mean. 

weather has been fab

But it’s not all work and a dull boy. I’m writing this in Rhodes. After C’s last chemo, we rushed straight to Tui and took the first all inclusive on their list. Bizarrely 11 nights was cheaper than 10, so here we are – hire car ‘n all. It is a tonic – the weather is ‘scorchio’ and the rugged coastline is pretty perfect. You’ll be pleased to hear we’re still walking (and I’m still running), and we’re trying hard not to drink the taps dry – they literally serve wine from taps in the dining room; Chateau-Neuf-Du-De-Pape it is not … but it’s all inclusive, so why not? To be fair the place is lovely, the staff welcoming, the room massive, the sea swimmable and food tasty. What’s not to like (4 days hire car for 90 Euros … beat that)?

And then, after a week at home, we’re off to Dubai to meet up with R, S AND HENRY! They have a short break and asked us if we wanted to join them? Dubai has always been on my list, mostly because of the architecture. Throw in Henry and you have the perfect long weekend. Fabulous.

loving Rhodes

That’s us. For the record I put new front brakes on the bikes and C went over the handlebars and broke her wrist the other day. In my defence I did warn her. But that’s all being fixed. And I’m fine. Sinuses are still rubbish and I am not getting any younger. I tend not to wander topless poolside, in case I put anyone off their free pina coladas. Mind you …

Stay safe.  

Now, come on Doris

So, we are heading for the first of C’s chemo slots, which is on Thursday. It’’s non-systemic, so we shouldn’t have any sickness or hair loss, but it might be uncomfortable. And there are six of these, one a week, which takes us into May before she’s done. Hopefully that’s it, other than some regular check ups.

It’s not been an easy time. C bled for a long time and only recently has that stopped. And there’s residual pain and tiredness. But that’s also getting better. As a result we have tried our very best to get back into a routine. She did try a jog, but that seemed to exacerbate the pain. So now we’re walking everyday – 5 miles the other day, which is good. I’m still running every second day, but I fit that in where I can.

We had hoped to pop off in Doris for ten days (between operation and first chemo) but Doris was having none of it. The first two times we got to our first stop and then she failed to start again. In the end I got her started and I am pretty confident I have sorted her, with a new earthing strap, and a loose wire onto the starter motor actuator. Having got that done, we made it halfway through the Welsh hills when her voltage dropped and she overheated. Thankfully we were only a mile from a really decent garage, which would take commercial vehicles. We limped her there.

The outcome was that the water pump had seized and thrown the auxiliary belt. We got a taxi home (£160!) and pick her up on Tuesday. You might think our confidence has been knocked with the old (15 year old) girl, but no. Assuming that’s all done we will certainly head off to Spain and Morocco this autumn. And, assuming C’s up for it, go to a local campsite in the next couple of weeks with the red car and do the chemo visits from there. Hopefully.

In between times we have tidied up the garden, really enjoyed the fab weather, and got through a ton of admin. I finished edit 2 of book 9 (The Machines Came Too) and C has started to read it. Four beta readers are ready to get their hands on the script and then it’s off to Julia, my proofreader. We should hopefully be on for a July publication, which would be back on track. 

And we’ve seen a lot of people. Al and Annie, three times. We see a lot of Peter and Karen, our landlords (with Al and Annie last night). Daren and Karen. Simon and Rosemary. One of C’s old girls from Wells. I’ve been to Bristol to see my old boss’s husband, who’s not well. Nick and Chris. And we’re off to Devon tomorrow to see James and Sheron, old army friends of ours. Oh, and lots of Jen and James. We have never been so social, which surprises me because normally we are as miserable as sin.

Finally, you might remember my short foray into ghostwriting for an ex-Army pal of mine a couple of years ago? He has Parkinson’s and drove his VW camper to Cape Town? Well, I was sacked from that job, but his book came out (more coffee table than thriller, which was why I failed) and there’s a documentary on C4 this Thursday at 11pm. If you get the chance, watch it?

Anyhow, stay safe.  

We’re all OK

The good news is C’s had her op and she has pretty much recovered from it (a week with a catheter wasn’t the best fun). We now wait on biopsy results and further treatment. We don’t know what that looks like, but as the initial prognosis was that there had been no metastasises, it’s just focusing on making sure the bladder’s OK. We should be clearer on that in a couple of weeks. Finger’s crossed.

We finished Chatel in a flurry. Having Rebecca, Steven and Henry with us for their HT was perfect. The apartment(s) we borrow (thanks E&A) are small and four adults and an effervescent young lad is still a squeeze – but we are so lucky to have somewhere which we can rely on. The conditions were good (but how long can these resorts survive as the snow wasn’t great?) and the weather pretty fab. And we skied!

C and I did our usual fair weather skiing and then joined Bex and Steve as they got Henry on a pair of planks. Bless Rebecca. She has the patience of Jobe and only because of that did Henry manage to turn himself into a skier by the end of the week. He was fab … just like every other French 4-year-old bombing down the slopes on a pair of reins (otherwise he might get ahead of himself). There is something about watching young people get on top of things they are initially uncomfortable with. It’s so heartening. Which is why, I suppose, I loved teaching so much.

It took a full day to get home. Note to self: never travel on half term weekends. I’ve never seen so many Range Rovers! The route out of the Alps and all the way to Calais was packed. As was the ferry. It was, though, a small price to pay.

C then had her op and since then we’ve been pottering around. Doris has been in for her MoT (failed again on her brakes which we spent £1500 fixing last year, which was frustrating). But that’s done. And then we had a gas man come and check the gas system and fit two new Gaslow bottles. That was another story. The bottles were overfilled at a UK petrol station (even though they have 80% protection). As a result they vented and as we were unwilling to risk them, and only after a fight, did Gaslow agree to provide one free bottle –  both still had a couple of months warranty on them. In the end, though, we now have a new system and the whole thing has been checked. Phew.

Which nicely leads us onto, what’s next? Well, we can’t really do anything until we have a prognosis from C’s consultant. We should have that soon. In order to cheer up a pretty low mood, we have bought a wall planner for the year and ambitiously filled it in. It looks like: all of April in Holland and north Germany in Doris, looking at the tulips and generally meandering about; two weeks in May in Sardinia – flying, AirBnB and renting a car; all of September/October/November doing our thing in Spain and, hopefully, popping over to Morocco. That leaves the summer in the UK (with the kids). Then it’s Christmas!

And I have finished and first edited book nine. How does it feel? Well, I’m not sure. Which worries me. I’ll have to wait until C and the beta readers do their thing to wait for a sensible view. At least it’s done now. 

I think you’re up to date. We are always thankful for what we have been able to do, and what are plans are. C’s hiccup is, hopefully, just a hiccup. But if it isn’t, we recognise that we have already fitted a huge amount in and are v lucky to have done that. But the message is clear: you have to make most of what you have now. Tomorrow is a long way away. And, and this is more poignant, perhaps, yesterday was the anniversary of the start of the pandemic, during which we lost my brother. He never had the opportunities we had, and where he might have been able to take them … that time was taken from him.  

Stay safe everyone. And make the most of today. 

Phew … we almost didn’t make it.

We made it to Chatel. It is fair to say at one point we thought we really wouldn’t make it.

We had our pal’s apartment (thanks Elizabeth) booked for three weeks, a week either side of half term – so we could meet up with Rebecca, Steven and HENRY! Then C’s cancer struck and we waited for and eventually got an operation date smack in the middle of half term. C, bless her, asked to delay the op (not half term!) for a couple of days so we could spend the week with the kids, and then head home. That may be the craziest cancer thing anyone has ever done, but in the end it was just four days (25 Feb) … and we were under the impression that it could have been there for a while. 

Even so, C started to bleed again, which we were told to expect. But she found that unnerving and, what with everything else, staying at home and being vegetables looked to be the safest option. But, do you know what? She said bugger it, and here we are – interestingly, we’ve skied today and her bleeding has magically stopped! The wonders of two planks of wood.

But it was a close run thing. 

Last week we entertained Army pals on two occasions (yes, she should be taking it easy), but it was fab to see Alasdair, Annie, Peter and Karen, and then Daren and Karen. I had a couple of doctorial appointments of my own, and then on Saturday – with a full car and top box – off we jolly welled. We stayed overnight with Richard and Caroline (thank you!) and caught the 7 am ferry on Sunday, 

You might be interested in insurance? We have insurance with HSBC as part of our bank account. They offer worldwide insurance for any 28-day period, including winter sports. They are our go-to cover when we go skiing. However, having told them of C’s cancer (and noting that they have all of our other conditions covered) they said they wouldn’t cover her bladder cancer? I guess once they cover it, they have to cover it forever … and that might be expensive. However, we have European cover with LG. They give us 90 days at a time, and we use them for Doris jaunts. I phoned them up (thanks Alasdair) and an automated response said, ‘if you’re calling about a new condition, don’t bother, but raise it when your renewal comes up’. Great! And, as we always take out ‘getting off the slope insurance’ with our ski passes (£3 each per day), we have everything tied down. For now. 

Anyhow. As per usual we overnighted in Dijon (£40 for a night) and were in Chatel on Monday, early afternoon. Interesting aside – we now always use the autoroutes. Tolls are now about £70 one way, but it saves about 150 miles and well over 3 hours. And, importantly, it is extremely stress free. 

Next, we both needed some skis. Ours were well out of date and now that C has her pension, she said she would treat us (exactly as the chancellor would want). I was clear that I would buy second hand in the resort, but C wanted new. In the end we both went for 5-year-old, second hand. Both of ours come in at around £100 (one fifth of the new price) and, having skied on them today, we are both delighted with the result. (C did buy us new helmets. I now look like a stormtrooper.)

Now. Skiing. It is absolutely fair to say that we were both nervous. We didn’t ski last year because C had a lady’s op and I was working. Then we had C’s cancer, her bleeding, and the danger that, should she hurt herself, her op might be put back (although we are sensible skiers, but you can’t legislate for the other lunatics). If, this morning, C had said, let’s not bother, I wouldn’t have skied. Indeed, when we were travelling down we both said we would prefer to be in Doris heading for the dunes. And, it’s fair to say, if we didn’t ski this year we might never ski again – you know? 

And we had new skies, so we had no idea how that would go.

How did it go? 

Well it’s £80/day for 2 five-hour passes including insurance. Is it the best £80 you can spend on a day’s activity? You betcha. It was fabulous. No, it was better than that. Whilst there was little snow on the way up, the conditions on top of the mountain are fabulous. There was no wind and a scorchio sun (like Easter skiing). And our skis were fab, and we both skied well. It was fun and exhilarating and perfect.

I found the whole thing a huge relief and, even though I was tentative at the beginning (I had a really horrible accident the year before last), it was just the bestest fun ever. Phew.

Anyhow, we’re doing admin tomorrow and then skiing Thursday/Friday. The weather is set fair, so hopefully the conditions hold up. Whatever, we have both been resold on skiing.

Stay safe everyone … and, ref the orange idiot’s economic tariffs and all that nonsense about deficits and building stuff in the US, have you noticed that they’ve agreed to a ceasefire with Canada and Mexico without any discussion on economics? Nothing about rebalancing deficits, nothing about trade. It was all about power and control. He’s a flipping idiot. [And we haven’t discussed all the other nonsense that’s going on over there … I haven’t the energy.] 

We weren’t expecting that

Two bits of news, one much bigger, and much more important than the other. 

We had a lovely Christmas, thank you v much. We parked Doris on Rebecca and Steven’s front garden, and had 9 days with them and – importantly – with Henry. He was fab, and it was particularly good to see him want to be playing with C (rather than me!). We took the train into Birmingham, saw the lights at Shugborough, ate too much chocolate, watched too much darts (even played a bit in their garage), saw Jen and James a couple of times (which was lovely) and generally had a v family time. We ran and walked, ate cake and drank too much wine. Just what Christmas is for.

However … C had some waterworks issues at the beginning of December, and was dispatched for an ultrasound and then a CT scan over Christmas. The long and the short is that she has bladder cancer. It’s on the lining of her bladder and, as far as anyone knows with actually taking it out, it hasn’t gone through the lining. Which is good.

The NHS has been brilliant; everything has happened so quickly. And, after a consultant’s appointment early this week, we were expecting a call to have the operation (via a cystoscopy) within ‘weeks’ – the NHS target is within two weeks. In the end C is booked in on 25 February, and her pre-op is this week. Which has, by luck rather than design, allowed us to head off to Chatel a week today, stay for three weeks, see Rebecca, Steven and Henry in the last of those weeks, and back in time for tea and medals.

If things are as they are, C will have the op – including bladder-intravenous chemo – on the same day. Come home, recover and then live a normal life – although she will need regular check ups as bladder cancer is one of these which does reoccur. 

And so the only way to look at it is that it could have been much worse. Having cancer is scary as hell, because it can destroy major organs and spread and cause havoc. It seems that this, at this stage, is as good as it’s going to get. And C is incredibly phlegmatic about it, and I am so proud of her for being that way. Hence skiing. (Yippee!)

Fingers crossed. Oh, and why has she got it? Smoking is the number one cause. But we also think that she has a habit of not hydrating sufficiently. We have no particular medical knowledge to back this up, but I’m always complaining that she doesn’t drink enough (of the right sort of stuff!).

Phew. So our January has been full of this and, sadly, attending Malcolm’s (C’s brother-in-law’s) funeral. And a lot of other adminy type of things when you have a diagnosis such as this and start to tidy up a few loose ends, no matter how crazy that sounds. 

Oh. The second thing. I have finished the first draft of The Machines Came Too. I was after a sharp 80/90,000 words. You know, standard novel length. In the end it is 150,000 words – yes, you read that right. It wasn’t easy. I started just as we were losing Mary and tried to write at least 1,000 words a day. I didn’t pen anything when B, S and H joined us for half term in Spain, but only missed one other day. But, it was its length (my longest novel so far) that took the time. And it hurt. It was a real struggle.

Am I proud of it? Yes, of course. Is it any good? I’ll let you know when I’ve done with draft two, which will happen when C is convalescing – so, by the end of February. That job is not going to be easy as I know there are plenty of errors and changes needed. Hey … the hard part is done.

That’s us. 

What’s the lesson? Live every day. Love every day. Ignore the complete, unmitigated fiasco which is the Trump presidency. And look after your own. Stay safe.   

(By the way … if anyone wants to discuss cancer, or bladder cancer, then please get in touch.)

Merry Christmas!

Hi everyone. As always this time of year I post the Ladley’s circular, the ‘Cat’s Letter’. Have a lovely Christmas and a very relaxing New Year,

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It’s getting rather full up here.

I know it’s hardly the apocalypse – although looking at some of the decisions you’ve made we are making the appropriate preparations – but the Ladleys have lost two dear friends this year: Mary and Malcolm. And Jen and James, bless them, a niece.  

Mary took up a good chunk of mum and dad’s time. Firstly looking after her for three months as her Parkinson’s and then a brain tumour took her away. It was, in its way, a loving time as Mary got to see out her final days at home with wrap-around support provided by some excellent carers. And then, for mum and dad, a couple of sessions of sorting out an old lady’s estate, exposing a lifetime of memories … and, sadly, multiple trips to the dump. Malcolm, mum’s brother-in-law, also joined us after a period of dementia and a peaceful demise. The good news is that Mary has already brightened the place up with fabulous flower arrangements. And Malcolm has organised a car boot sale so we can get the funds together to build a dyke to protect us from rising sea levels. It’s all go.

I told you last time that dad had got a job, like a proper job in business? Well that didn’t last long; he’s much more flaky than you think he is. He kept it going until May. At which point he realised that retirement, a bit of leadership coaching, and pretending he’s a world-famous novelist, was much more fun. Which, by complete happenstance, fitted in with Mary’s final months. Finish one job – start a different sort. You won’t be interested but, although slightly later than routine, he’s almost finished book 9 in the Sam Green series. That’s almost 1.2 million words … that no-one in particular is reading.

Mum held it together. She had a ladies’ operation at the beginning of the year which prevented the usual ski-trip to Chatel (in any case, dad was pretending he was working for a living, so couldn’t have gone). But they did manage a trip to Lanzarote with dear friends Annie and Al, to watch their daughter race a professional IronMan competition. The summer was all Mary and – and this will surprise you all – mum showed remarkable compassion and humour, using all her care home experience to ensure Mary was as comfortable as could be. Mum even managed to extend that good humour when dealing with everyone whilst clearing the estate. The subsequent trip to France and Spain in Doris was much more her thing, where running and cycling and drinking red wine came to the fore – business as usual!

Bex (and Steven and Henry) are thriving in Saudi. She’s now an academic deputy and has glasses and shoes to match. They both live to work in term time, and then live to play when the much needed breaks come. They brought, as Henry calls it, ‘a holiday home’ in the summer – a house in Penkridge, which gives them a firm place to call home during the hols. That hasn’t stopped them from travelling, tho. A week with mum and dad in Sharm El-Sheikh (with swim up rooms, don’t you know), and another week in Dubai with Steve’s mum and uncle (with direct views onto the Burj Khalifa, don’t you also know), ticked their travelust bug.

Henry now deserves his own entry. Now four years old – and a demon cyclist, scooter rider and proficient at not drowning – he’s at school! Where have those years gone? Dad/grandpa won’t have a word said against the lad who is always smiling, and happy to share most things which aren’t chocolate. Bex and Steven are looking at darts as a career option and have installed a board in their new garage; his nickname might be ‘the Littler Littler’, I guess.

Jen and James hang on in there. It’s been a particularly tough year. Jen’s health woes continue and she now has an abdominal peg fitted. Unfortunately it doesn’t work yet and so she continues to feed herself through a nose tube.  On the plus side she’s now on weed (prescription, of course) to help with the pain. It’s not cheap and dad’s doing all he can to set up a production line in one of the stables. Unfortunately James lost his niece, Summer – Henry’s age – in the autumn, which has been horrible for all of the family. As you have come to expect, they get on with it all with stoicism. Jen continues to be the best smiler and hugger in the business; and James, who deserves his own accolades, finds humour in almost everything … a tonic. 

And what’s next? Mum and dad are pretty keen to spend everyone’s inheritance. You only live once, as they say. After another very enjoyable autumn in Doris they intend to match the same thing later in 2025, possibly with a trip to Morocco (dreadlocks and nose piercings included), Between now and then they’re definitely off to Chatel skiing for three weeks, with B, S and H joining them for the February half term. Before then they hope to slip away for a couple of weeks for a short slice of sunshine somewhere hot. Then possibly Scotland in Doris over Easter, followed by Sri Lanka before the summer holidays kick off? In the meantime dad expects to publish book 9 in the summer and has asked me to print at least one recent review, so that you all don’t think he’s completely wasting his time.

Us? Well we are aghast at some of the choices you are making. Four more years of His Orangeness is going to test everyone’s sanity, and if the Labour government don’t find a gear who knows where you’ll all end up. Climate change continues to test us … think of it as Her dusting off the ark solution. And remember, only two of you please, and then watch out for the bitey tigers.

In the meantime, have a fabulous Christmas and peaceful New Year. And if you’re ever in Gloucestershire mum and dad would love to see you. If not, just stay on the M5 and promise to pop in next time. It’s what I would do.         

Courtyard Cottage

Owlpen Hall

Owlpen

GL11 5BX

Roland: 07795 314423

Claire: 07585 667106

the.wanderlings@gmail.com

Well, we’re a bit knackered

So, day eight at Mary’s as we sort her house and contents. It has been a struggle, I have to admit. It’s a combination of things: simply being at Mary’s without Mary here; managing her stuff, a good chunk of which, unsurprisingly, has no monetary value (other than sentimental); dealing with the expectations and sensitivities of family (Mary had no immediate family); managing my own anxiety of taking too much to the tip and overburdening charity shops; whilst maintaining our own mental health (we have fallen out a couple of times); and trying very hard to seen to be calm about it all.

We are a day away from finishing. The auction house people came today and are almost finished packing up and taking stuff that will sell away. And tomorrow, we have the lovely Amanda and Luisa (Mary’s fab carers) coming to help us clean. At that point we hope we can lock up, leave the house and come back sometime in the New Year to finish some minor points. 

To be fair we had a bit of weekend off. On Saturday we went to Windsor Castle and had a lovely lunch with Phil and Denise (thank you!). And on Sunday we popped up to town to a lunch party with Mary’s son’s (Adrian’s) friends. That gathering has pretty much been an annual thing to celebrate Adrain’s life. Mary normally hosted the lunch, with our help, but now the (mostly) boys are pulling it together themselves. Bless them … we had a fab time. 

London was fab

I think, maybe, it would be worth making a few notes of things we have learnt for those of you who are older, or have elderly parents or relatives; so that managing post-death affairs are as uncomplicated as possible. If it all seems a bit patronising, then sorry!

charity shop manPlease make a will. Please. It really helps.Please make a ‘list of wishes’, which divvies up chattels. Interestingly, this doesn’t have to sit within the will, although it should be mentioned. It is not a legal document and executors are at liberty to amend it. But without one, some relatives might get really sticky about ‘that gold chain’, or similar. Print it out and sign and date it.If the estate is likely to be less than £650,000 (for a passed husband and wife), and this includes house, chattels and all gifts given in the past 7 years (less £3,000 for each year), then your job is going to be easier. I have managed this twice very recently and it can all be done by you online.If the estate is worth more than £650,000 then you will have to complete an IHT400 form and submit it to HMRC before probate is applied for.  Inheritance tax then has to be paid (at a blanket 40% on anything above £650,000, sorry) … although you do have 10 years to pay any tax due on property, but you will pay interest on that loan.There is a clause about houses and children and £1million. I can’t help here.As we understand it HMRC have doubled down on checking inheritance tax, so it’s probably best not to cut corners.In terms of ‘gifts’, save the usual run of the mill Christmas and birthday gifts. If you do have 7 years worth of bank statements then bravo. If not, the banks will take forever (12 weeks) to get that information to you. We counted anything over £100 as a gift, put it on a spreadsheet and gave it to the solicitor.. Note that even though the deceased may have money in the bank, it’s not the executors’ to play with until probate is issued – except for a single payment to the funeral director. Make sure all funeral costs are accounted for by them, including the wake if you can, (we didn’t, which was a mistake) and they present a single bill. If you are managing the affairs, the bank will pay this one bill. If not, give it to the solicitor and they will process it for you..If you use a solicitor, then expect a bill for a medium sized estate to be in the order of £15 – 25,000. They charge c£400 an hour. If the estate is complicated then having a solicitor is a Godsend. You pays your money …Probate (which the solicitor has yet to apply for) cannot be submitted until after HMRC have told you that you can. Apparently it takes 12 weeks for probate to be processed once submitted. All-in-all for bigger estates you’re looking at a year, maybe more, before probate is issued. I did my mum’s in 7 months, but there was no tax to pay. You can market but cannot complete on any property until probate is issued.But you can sell chattels, after the list of wishes has been dealt with, but you cna’t spend the money until probate is issued. Executors have to find the cash to pay all incidental bills, including cleaning, house insurance etc. Repeating myself, you cannot take that money from the estate until probate is issued, but you can charge for reasonable interest. If you don’t have the money then either: think about whether or not you want to be an executor; or you can take a loan out, but these are more and more difficult to find apparently. Note that major creditors and utility companies will wait until probate is issued. They have no choice.Finally, house clearance. There is no payment for being an executor. And whilst it might be tempting to take stuff from the estate by way of payment, or just because you can and no one will notice, you should not. Either the stuff is gifted or, if it has value, it should be sold and shared with the estate. Now … … actual house clearance. I made up a value for mum’s and my brother’s estate as both were well below the inheritance tax threshold. However, our solicitor was clear: we need to provide a professional probate valuation. We chose a regional auction house and they provided a probate valuation (early on) and were prepared to do a complete house clearance – that is take everything, sell what they can, get rid of the rest. Beware. All of that costs money, even the probate valuation. I think we were told £1000/tonne for them taking stuff to the dump.  So. If you have the energy, then everything you can take to the tip or the charity shop will save the estate money. I have made 20, maybe more, trips to the tip. And I have embarrassed myself in far too many charity shops to be bothered to remember. Probably close to a tonne’s worth. 

I think that is it. In short, have a will and have a list of wishes. Use a solicitor for bigger estates, but you can probably manage a smaller one on your own. And, with HMRC on the prowl, don’t try to avoid the tax. I’m not sure what the penalty is, but I sense that if you’re reading this you probably don’t want a police record. 

there were two of these boot fulls of books. Charity shop again!

Stay safe. 

Driving home for Christmas

I’ve just looked at the photos from my last post about three weeks ago. Goodness we had a good time with Bex, Steven AND HENRY! As we sit on the ferry headed home, the good news is we’re about 4 weeks away from seeing them again (and our Jen and James of course, who we are meeting up with tomorrow night) … and that is excellent news. In short, we’re all Chris Rea and are ‘driving home for Christmas’.

I have to say that we leave France feeling very relaxed. I think I mentioned that we were both struggling to get into the motorhoming groove, even though Doris was being her exceptional self. After the kids had left us we did nothing. Well, we ran and walked and cycled, tried to eat sensibly, and drank in moderation. We did little touristing but enjoyed some pretty settled weather and long stints parked by the beach. We didn’t get as far as having a tattoo, or me getting my ear pierced, but it was lovely – really relaxed and content. What was lovely, and a little unexpected, was that C said, on a number of occasions, that she didn’t want to come home. Well done Doris!

We left Spain, as we didn’t want to share or add to their pain (ref the floods) and we weren’t the only ones. We spoke with a couple of other MHs who had the same thoughts. And headed to France, just above the border and, eventually, back to our home-from-home, the Camargue.

We stopped at a couple of places, including Bezier, spent a week at an aire on the beach close to Sete (which was fab – like Venice, but French), and then a final three days back at our old haunt at Le Grau-du-Roi, again by the beach. The weather held and I didn’t put long trousers on until we were halfway up France. It was all fab.

Interestingly our route home was on the Lyon side of Paris and, as on the way down, we used the French autoroutes, including tolls. So here’s the calculation: it’s around £120 in toll fees on the right hand side of France; about £80 on the left hand side (there’s a slab of free motorway across the Massif Central which makes it cheaper). Is it worth it? We think it is. On the way home motorways take about 5 hours off the journey – that’s about a ¾ of a tank of diesel, equivalent to £80. The biggest issue though, is that it’s so easy. And so smooth. Doris is not a small thing and I’m a bit of an expert at getting her in and out of tight spaces. But it’s never without stress.

So motorways it is, then.

What else has been happening? I’m close to 70k words into book 9. I have to say I have been riddled with self doubt over this, and the process, what with starting when Mary was alive, and then decompressing, and then the  kids with us (when I took a week off), it has all been a bit hit and miss. I spotted a plot hole a couple of weeks ago which took some time to sort, and I know that the words currently lack the fluidity which I would normally feel was there. But I’m absolutely convinced that I’m going to finish the book … and then we’ll see where we are.

Other than that we’re fine. I’m still immersed in global politics and could spend an age venting here. The recent storms add to my woes about climate change and where that is heading. And don’t get me started on His Orangeness. Next year is going to be interesting, isn’t it?

We have a full programme ahead. Claire’s brother-in-law, the lovely Malcolm, has left us, and we have some responsibility there (when will this sort of thing stop?). We are due back at Godalming in a week (for ten days) to continue the process of sorting Mary’s house. And then the kids come back (yippee). 

Visited the French memorial to all of the fallen in Pas de Calais … very poignant.

And Doris has a cracked windscreen, which is no small job. There are three companies trying to find a replacement  and then they will fit it. That needs to happen between now and the end of February when her MoT is due. 

Skiing? We missed last year because C wasn’t well and I was working. Not next Spring, though. We are due to meet the team (inc Henry) in Chatel for February half term and would hope to tag on a couple of extra weeks to make the most of it. Fabulous.

Anyhow, you stay safe. And I’d hope to update you before Christmas. Love from both of us.