Roland Ladley's Blog, page 2

Getting there … but where?

It’s been almost about a month now and we’ve not quite brushed off the woes of the summer – the loss of Mary, her funeral and then the associated angst that comes with Claire being an executor. Sure, we’ve made it to Spain, met up with Alasdair and Annie, had a week with Bex, Steven and Henry, and now a couple of days of further decompression, but we’re not yet into vagrant holiday mode.

It’s not helped that my sinuses, for which, and for a second time, I am seeing a consultant, have played up like a constant head cold. And C’s blood pressure is ‘all over the place’ which doesn’t make for a completely relaxing time. And, I guess, the terrible storms in Valencia and now further south here in Spain, have added to the feeling that we are having a private party next to someone else’s wake. Poor Spain. And, if you look back over the max and mins of the climate for the past three years, probably poor us. I’m not allowed to talk about climate change because I’m seen as a grumpy old man. But I find it difficult not to reflect on where we are when we have Henry with us. As Boomers we’ve had the best of everything … and it seems it includes the climate as well.

Anyhow.

I can’t remember exactly when we left the UK, but it was soon after we’d cleared the place after dear Mary’s funeral. We did the minimal amount of admin at home, got in Doris and headed south. We had a lovely stopover in Dover (thank you Richard and Caroline) and spent a very easy two and a bit days motoring south, this time taking the toll roads. In short, using the autoroutes cost us about 80 euros whilst saving us about 300 kms and at least half a day. We think that’s worth it.

We met Al and Annie on the French coast near Beziers and ate, drank, walked and cycled for a couple of days. It was lovely to see them and we could have stayed together longer (we were, if you remember, going to start our journeys together and head to Nice for their daughter’s IronMan World Champs, but duty prevented us from doing that), but they were heading home and we, due south.

Next was Bex, Steven and Henry. By chance we had agreed to find a campspot near Barcelona, which was the most convenient airport from KSA via Rome for their halfterm. That meant we ended up with a week in the hitherto unexplored Blanes, north of Barcelona … which was 200 miles north of Storm Nana. If we could have, we would have met them in Valencia or further south as, irony alert, the weather is better there this time of year. In the end we had a lovely time in a decent campsite with four bikes, a decent beach, and a perfect town, which was more open than closed. Henry was an absolute delight and it was fab to catch up with Bex and Steven. Just fab.

We have stayed still for the past couple of days. Blanes keeps its attraction and we are right by the beach. We have walked up a big hill to a castle and should cycle today. The weather has been warm enough, but only one-quarter sunshine – the rest overcast, with light rain and the odd downpour. We have continued to run … my pace has remained quick, although I do feel that my sinus infection drags me down during any recovery. 

And I haven’t written for 10 days. I started book 9 during Mary’s final days and got to 40k words before the kids arrived. I was, at one point, unsure if I wanted to continue and maybe I should write something else? I am still at that point but, I think, as a good soldier I will finish the book, possibly not this side of Christmas, and then let it settle for a month, coming back to it. Or not. Who knows.

That’s it from me and us. US elections this week. How it is close will forever remain a mystery to me. But, hey ho. If Trump gets in we’re all at sea, I feel. The climate, for sure, will fall to further capitalistic decadence. And that’s not great. Sorry … that’s me being glass half empty again.

Keep safe.  

End of an era

It’s been a while and, for those of you who read this drivel regularly, you’ll have guessed why. We lost Mary on the 8th of September. We buried her, bless her, yesterday. In between C and I have been rushing about sorting executor type duties, which includes dear Mary’s many possessions. We think we are on top of it, and have tried to be as sensitive as we can be, not only with Mary’s stuff, but also the feelings of those who loved her. It has not been easy … neither was arranging the funeral, which required some delicacy. But it’s done now and I think we managed to look after Mary with sympathy and care, both during her final weeks, but also by way of send off. 

It is fair to say we’re both a bit drained (although we did manage three nights in Pembrokeshire mid-September, which helped). Now, and a big hurrah for this, we are off to Spain on Wednesday. Everything we can do here is done and our next job is to clear the house, which will do in early December. That gives us up to 7 weeks away, which includes a week with Bex, Steven and Henry – they fly into Barcelona for half term. Yippee!

Finally, before I leave you with my eulogy for Mary which I read at the funeral (please don’t feel the need to read it, but if you do, you’ll understand why we loved her quite so much), I have to report that I’m on Chapter 5 of book 9 in the Sam Green series. Plan is still to finish draft one by Christmas, but I am behind.

I’ll try and pick up the posting pace of this, now we have less on our plate.

Keep safe!

++++++++++++++++++++++++  

Mary Pagan – a note of thanksgiving

Mary. Where do you start?

She was a pre-war baby, brought up on a farm in Dorset. One of her favourite anecdotes was about her birthday: 11th December 1936. Her father told her, ‘it was the same day that King Edward VIIIth abdicated – the man knew what was coming.’ Having got to know Mary, I think he may have had a point.

Like any of us, Mary’s childhood shaped her. She spoke of an austere time. Toys were non-existent and her father made her a dolls’ house out of spare wood and cardboard. Food was what was grown in the garden. They ate a lot of eggs from their chickens.  

She went to school at St Swithins and, on leaving, you’d probably best describe her life thus far as ‘sheltered’. However, always with a sense of duty, as a young adult Mary joined the WRAC. I think it’s fair to say that life took off at that point. We were often regaled of life in the barrack room with ‘her girls’. Of managing some pretty complicated women, themselves experiencing life for the first time – I don’t think I need to elaborate further.

But I might. Here are a few lines from a letter home dated 30 June 1957. 

… (I read a couple of sentences from one of Mary’s letters here)

I think, though, Mary’s most absorbing story is travelling with a pal to the south of France in an open top MGA. To Antibes. And, wait for it, to a party where one of the guests was Noel Coward. 

Am I painting a picture here?

Life changed tack, of course it did when, in Cyprus, Mary met Archie. She had already turned down an offer of marriage from a rakish cavalry officer when she was stationed at Bovington. There, in an all-male mess she stoically attended dinner even if the presence of a woman at the table encouraged ‘carrumphing’ from the male officers … and the odd offer of a blissful future as cavalry officer’s wife.

Cyprus, though, was altogether different. 

Archie was the mess’ senior living-in officer. An attractive, untouchable, major. A thespian, a wit and a very intelligent man. Mary bagged him. The romance wasn’t necessarily whirlwind, but it was conducted in utmost secrecy. 

At a formal dinner when the romance was well beyond blossoming, Mary was chatting with a male officer. Archie joined them. ‘Archie,’ said the officer. ‘Have you met Lieutenant Mary Hancock.’ There was a pause. After which Archie offered his hand and said, ‘No, I don’t think I have.’ 

On marriage Mary became a dutiful Army wife. What followed was a series of postings to Belgium, France and Germany, and back to the UK. The role of Army wife isn’t to be understated. You are an unofficial social worker to the wives of the soldiers your husband is responsible for. You are constantly out at events, and you are always arranging the next supper party … against which you are judged. On the plus side Mary’s French improved and a love of Paris ensued; Claire and I have been lucky enough to accompany Mary there twice in recent years.

To be clear, though, Mary was never ‘a wife of’. She was always, indubitably, her own woman.

Pause

They, Archie, Mary and now Adrian, arrived at Hillside Lodge in 1972. Archie left the military and became a civil servant; Adrian went to Chaterhouse. And that’s when I got know Mary … and Archie and Adrian; they, very generously, offered to hold Claire’s and my wedding-reception in their garden. 

Pause

Adrian was everything to Mary. She did her best to give him all he needed to get on. Charterhouse was recognised as amongst the best education in the country and Mary worked tirelessly to help make that happen …

You’ll know her as a fabulous florist. She worked at Rosemary’s in Godalming arranging the flowers for countless weddings and events across the southeast. She was up marquee poles, womanhandling heavy pedestals and rushing to meet deadlines so she could then attend a Chaterhouse function. She did the flowers for Wimbledon fortnight. And I don’t mean as an assistant. She was in charge. And she worked for the famous caterer Jean Alexander in heighty locations such as St James Palace.

That ‘rush’, was Mary … all over. Where you and I would give time to get places, and complete jobs, Mary fitted something else in. When you were with Mary you wouldn’t get to Godalming station – off to see a show, say – and arrive 15 minutes early to catch a cup of coffee. You met the 11.05 at 11.03, having popped into the museum to pass on a message about the recent delivery of greeting cards. And you could never ‘just go and see a show’. You did a gallery and then caught a bite. There were no gaps. Not in Mary’s life. Ever.

The Godalming flower club remained central to Mary’s life. She was a founder member, setting it up in 1972 and later as an inspiring, three term Chairman and President. She opened Hillside Lodge’s garden to the club, organised five highly successful flower festivals, countless themed evenings and many cream teas … fundraising as she did. It is noteworthy that she is the club’s only honorary life member.

Then there was the Royal Signals Association. In 1993 Mary and Archie, along with their dear friend Noel Moss, relaunched the Aldershot Branch. Mary was an original committee member, but later took on the role of branch secretary … getting the men in order – quite right – and, and I quote, ‘producing immaculate minutes’. Beyond the routine she also helped with branch lunches – flower arrangements on the tables, of course – running raffles with the old soldiers, and generally driving up attendance. 

Are you getting the picture? 

And I haven’t mentioned Godalming museum yet. Mary was an extremely dedicated volunteer at the museum for 25 years – her main responsibility was the museum’s shop. She kept costs down by getting to know the suppliers really well. She was utterly reliable and did things properly. She looked after the other volunteers, sending them all Christmas cards and, for the annual stocktake, she provided a buffet lunch for everyone, and a birthday cake for the eldest member of the team. She worked at every museum Christmas stall in the High Street – standing all day, often in the bitter cold. She attended trustee meetings, and worked tirelessly to support museum lectures, the summer lunches and other events. But, mostly, she will be remembered, I quote, as a true and loyal friend, whose acts of kindness were so much part of her.    

But … that was all work. And we all know what Mary’s actual favourite thing was? Bridge, of course.

Mary belonged to the Brook bridge club. She was an avid member rarely missing a Monday duplicate bridge night with her partner and dear friend Yvonne. It is accurate to say they were fab. Mary was an intelligent, wildly competitive, but cheeky player, always prepared to take a risk to try to come top of the weekly league tables – which they often did. Yvonne fondly remembers, ‘I’m doing this partner, assuming you’re still going to give me a lift home’, as Mary made some reckless call. Bridge could be three times a week, often at Hillside Lodge, where the dolly trolly – if you know, you know – was in attendance, resplendent with home made cakes and sandwiches. 

She loved bridge.  

Mary lost the great man Archie in 2000. It was a devastating blow to her, and to all of us who knew the charming, patient, kind and intelligent man. In spite of this, and perhaps because of it, her whirlwind existence continued …

… that was until she, and we, lost Adrian in 2007. That is a whole new chapter and I have tried to find a positive.

Mary continued with her life, for which a huge bravo. And we – a good number of us here – were introduced to Adrian’s delightful friends. What do you do when you lose a son and want to hold deeply onto his memory? 

You have a party of course. Every year. Without fail. Silver service, with a grand main meal and countless puddings. There was always wine. And there was always banter. And there was always fun. I was, many of you were, privileged to be invited to the annual bash. It was hilarious, whilst always fondly remembering Adrian.

Some of Adrian’s friends are here today. Tasha tells me, ‘Mary had an insatiable curiosity for the world. None of us, Adrian’s friends, could have predicted how special she would become to us all. There was a remarkable magical and radiant love for and from Mary that emerged after Adrian left us. She, Mary, ended up with lots of extra offspring.’ 

For those of Adrian’s friends who haven’t made it, have a guess what? There’s a party for Mary, and Adrian, in December. Yippee! 

Oh, hang on, let’s not forget Michael Beasley, a friend of Adrian’s from Imperial, who without being asked offered to take today’s service. He’s a Bishop you know!

So, Mary, for Adrian’s friends who are now our friends … thank you.

You may have noticed that I haven’t mentioned Mary’s brother, Tom, or his wider family. After Archie and Adrian, Tom and his family were everything to Mary. And Lucy, one of Mary’s great nieces, will eloquently fill the gaps I have missed in a short while.

On Archie’s side, I know that Mary’s passing has hurt David, Archie’s nephew, greatly. He has written a lovely, hilariously cheeky – unsurprising for those who know him – missive, for which we don’t have time, nor maybe the ears, to dwell. But I thought I’d share this: he recounted an early major event in his life which deserved celebrating. The scene is Hillside Lodge. I quote: ‘My mother walked in and put on the kettle “Let’s have a nice cup of tea, shall we?”. There was a pause. Mary and Archie had twelve bottles of ice cold champagne in their fridge, and they popped one open immediately. For that alone, thanks Mary, thanks to both of you.’

Tori, Mary’s goddaughter who will read the lesson in a second, was, in many ways, Mary’s surrogate daughter – the background to which in parts is long and sad. When penning this, I naturally asked for her thoughts. I paraphrase a little here: ‘in many ways she, Mary, was the ultimate parent and spiritual guide: an unwavering loving presence who I always knew I could turn to and who never judged me. She actively nurtured my creativity. She was generous, spirited and mischievous, and I feel blessed to have had her as my godmother.’

Mischievous? 

‘Well behaved women never make history.’ You’ve all seen that mantra on top of Mary’s fridge, right? Well, we all know Mary was impeccably well behaved. Victorianesque in a way. But that glint? 

Towards the end, when she was very poorly and hardly speaking, there were a group of us bedside discussing middle names. Mine’s John. Amanda, her carer, gave hers. After we’d all contributed, Claire asked, almost rhetorically, ‘I wonder what yours is, Mary.’ With eye’s remaining shut as they had been all day, and clearer than she had been for a couple of weeks, she said, ‘Not tonight Josephine!’ Goodness, we laughed.   

So we’ve heard of service. Of hard work and ingrained resilience. But Mary had another skill. She looked after everyone. Take Jim the gardner. Doreen, Mary’s long term helper and cleaner. Steve, a professional cabinet maker and the man who fixed everything at Hillside Lodge. These three weren’t casual staff to Mary. They were long term, decades-long, friends, who happen to help at the same time. Mary looked after them. She cherished them. And, in return, they her. Steve writes, ‘My life has been greatly enriched by knowing Mary – she became a true friend’.

And of course, let’s not forget The Drive. Her close neighbour and friend, Nicola also writes, ‘Mary was a vibrant force in our community, who could turn any occasion into a celebration; she was a curator of joy and had a knack for bringing people together … meticulous planning, down to the last teaspoon.’ I love that last phrase. 

You may all know that Mary was diagnosed with Parkisnon’s just over a decade ago. That didn’t stop her. Just two years ago Claire, me and Mary flew to Italy for dearest Oliver’s, Mary’s godson’s, wedding. Ten days. Three cities. Parkinson’s. And a four-day wedding. And, little did we know at the time, we all had covid. Mary outlasted us. It would be inaccurate to say she danced until dawn. But that’s the way we’d like to remember it.

In early summer Mary was diagnosed with a brain tumour. She was ordered to bed and we all settled down for the final chapter of her extraordinary story. 

Enter Luisa and Amanda. Luisa was Mary’s long-term cleaner and helper. And Amanda had been with Mary for over a year, helping her cope with Parkinson’s. They, and Claire and I, set about providing the appropriate care. 

We, Claire and I, had a vision of what that might look like. But Amanda and Luisa saw something different. Such was the bond between them and Mary, they, to all intents and purposes, provided a 24-hour, bedside vigil. They both slept with Mary. For almost three months. That wasn’t in any contract we had set up; it’s what they wanted to do. 

Luisa tells me, ‘being with Mary was a joy; kind, caring and always interested in what was happening in my life.’ 

Amanda, ‘it was an honour and a privilege …’

And I think it’s fair to say that by the end Mary loved Amanda, and that was reciprocated. There was always laughter; and there was always trust.  As such, and on behalf of all of us, I’d like to publicly thank Amanda for the relentless love and care she provided for Mary in those final months. Life would have been immeasurably more complicated for us and just as distressful for Mary without you. Thank you Amanda. 

Mary died gracefully in her sleep. In her home, with a view over her garden; constantly badgered by a stream of visitors: Paul and Jonathan, Jennifer Sibbald, niece Deborah and her hounds, nephew Johnathan, nephew David and many many more. She was charming to the end. And it was, it is, Claire’s and my absolute privilege to have known her and, similarly, to have been with her at the end. We will both miss her desperately. 

It’s a sad old time

I think I left you in this position …

We are now into week three of full time living with Mary. She came out of hospital on 27 June and we put in place a rotation of care, which included us two days a week. A further decline and a medicinal pump drive (which is a precursor to end of life) led to us moving here. We came here both committed and determined to see this through. The carers, Amanda and Luisa – who are both fab – continue to support the process. And Amanda has stepped up and filled all sorts of gaps. She has been magnificent for Mary. As a result, she has been brilliant for us. It has been and is now a team effort. That does make it easier.

But it’s not emotionally straightforward, even as an ex-military bloke. Being with somebody you know incredibly well (and love), as they obviously decline, is tough even when you have reconciled the outcome. It is clearly no fun for Mary. She is bedridden, now pretty much non verbal and has no interest in any particular stimulation. [For the very few of you who know Mary, I’m sorry if this is in any way distressing, but I do want to tell the story.] We don’t really see the decline, but others who see her less regularly, point it out.

could be any remote place, but it’s Surrey

The lack of a known endpoint, for me, is now a struggle. That sounds a little callous, but it is what it is. And I know C feels it too. How long are we committed for (noting that we are responsible for everything when Mary leaves us, which is going to take some time and effort)? How long do these things take? When we ask the experts (daily visit by the district nurse, for example), they shrug their shoulders. Nobody knows. 

In this period of stasis, we can’t get any of our own stuff done. Not really. Our life is four hours away and, even though we aim to pop home tomorrow to do some admin and see our Jen – who has had another minor operation and needs a cuddle – we can’t afford to miss a night because that’s, inevitably, when things happen. 

But … we also know we’re doing a good thing. And without us Mary would be in a home; it’s as simple as that. And that is the last thing she would have wanted. She is peaceful here. She has someone with her nearly all the time (Amanda and Luisa sleep in a recliner in the same room) and she can see her garden, which is magnificent. Visitors come here because they know where it is and they know it will be the least distressing as it can be (and they will be offered a cuppa!). And those travelling from afar get a bed. 

post run, in my caring position

In a home she would see some people, but nowhere near as many. And the staff would be good, but would not spend the time with her – she would be on her own for big chunks of time. 

So get on with it Roland! Ok then.

Finally I have had a couple of remote sessions with an AI expert for book 9 (And the Machines Came Too.) I hope to be able to start writing on 1 September. We have continued to run every second day, there are a couple of fab cafes within walking distance which give us both a break when we can, and we are making a conscious effort to walk in the afternoons when we are not the lead with Mary. I’ve forgotten how fab some pieces of Surrey are.

All-in-all then, we’re OK. When Mary does go we will have no ‘older person responsibilities’ left, and can head off into the sunset without fear that we’re abandoning someone. That’s going to be a fabulous feeling.

Till next time … stay safe.

Phew … we’ve stopped driving

Me again. After many trips up and down the M4 and then a weekend with Bex, Steven and Henry in Penkridge (lots of DIY), we have finally moved down to Godalming for good. I think it is fair to say we are in the final chapter here. How long will it last? We’re not sure, but we are where we are.

and, of course, we’ve seen the adorable Henry

The move will cut down on the interminable driving and allow us to settle into a routine. We are keeping the excellent care regime in place, which means we will be observers for much of the time, but never more than a room away from any issues. Already it is proving to be a good move. Especially as the Olympics are on (soundlessly) in the background. We can also have a better overview of the visitors (of which there are many) and keep that to a sensible level. I will report back.

In between we have been doing our best to catch up with admin whilst resting. I have sanded down and relacquered Doris’s alloy wheels. I tried to change the oil/filter on the Focus (wet cambelt = must be done every year with very specific oil), but couldn’t get the sump plug out. Thankfully the garage which did its MoT last week did that work in a jiffy and, hopefully, next year it will be less of an issue for me. I have changed the oil/filter on the Pug, which is great, and now I need to think about doing Doris … 

… which is not so straightforward. I have changed the oil before, so it is possible. But it’s almost 10 litres and takes a bit of an effort. As such, I am a bit nervous (why does everything become more stressful as you get older?) … and I don’t know why. Anyhow, I will bite the bullet and get it done before we (hopefully) head off in her for the autumn to Spain. (I CAN’T WAIT!)

changed some oil

Other than that, there hasn’t been much to report. Book sales dropped off by the end of July and I made about as much money as I spent on marketing – which is not a failure. Interestingly, sales and page reads have still continued into August, so there may be some organic growth going on. I will look at rebooting the marketing in a couple of weeks’ time. More excitingly, I am meeting with an AI expert next week in London. Book 9 in the Sam Green series is called ‘And The Machines Came Too’, and the antagonist(s) is AI. Don’t worry, it’s not an Armageddon read, but it will be Sam and her team against AI. I am so looking forward to kicking it off (on 1 September).

That’s it from me. Keep safe.   

I laid a floor …

Where are we with the summer? I mean, first, the weather. Then, our routine, which is perfectly manageable, but it does mean we can’t take any chunk of time away. But … we did have a fab time up in Penkridge helping Becca and Steven and Henry lay a new kitchen floor and other DIY stuff. And, last week on the way to Mary’s, we managed to get to my uncle’s funeral, which would have been so easy to miss. Sure, it meant we had to drive from Penkridge to Norfolk and then onto Godalming all in a day. But the Focus didn’t miss a beat and we arrived fresh enough to begin our stint.

He’s such a lovely lad

Things in Godalming are steady enough. It remains, in its way, exhausting – but workable. Interestingly looking after Mary is tiring, but it’s managing the visitors – of which there are many – which requires some effort. The problem is we have to be nice to people, and offer them tea and coffee, and sometimes lunch, etc. Actually, the offering them stuff is the easy bit. It’s being nice to them which can be the challenge, especially as Mary doesn’t necessarily do a great deal of talking. Having said that, they’re all lovely people. So don’t feel that sorry for us. Well, as you know I’m a grumpy git and C likes her space, so maybe a little bit of sympathy. Other than that Godalming is fine.   

Mary’s diet laid bare

Becca and Steven and Henry are also fine. They love their new house and it will be great for them; coming home from Riyadh and having somewhere to base themselves rather than living out of a suitcase at our and other places. They’ve kicked around a bit seeing friends and we’ve seen them three times. It will be four the weekend after next and at least one more time before they fly back to the desert. Henry remains the apple of my eye and he and I have been on a couple of walks, cycles and scooter rides together. He’s as chatty as anything, but he’s still a little difficult to comprehend. There are full sentences, and he knows what he is saying, but, like a deep Irish accent, you have to have an ear. We think it’s the Korean grandmothers’ daily creche followed by a Filipino nanny in Riyadh. I struggle with just English … Things will be fine.

Before And after

We’ve tried to keep up with running etc, still managing every other day. I was close to being at my best before we all got covid, and it’s taken me some time to get back into a groove. I’m not quite there, but I am hoping to push out 5 kms in under 23 mins before we travel to Nice (fingers crossed) to cheer on Rosie (A&A’s daughter) at the World Ironman champs in September. I think that will definitely be my zenith (if it doesn’t kill me). But it is perfectly clear to me after a lifetime of running (since I was 14) that running hard makes me feel better. It seems to do away with the odd loose virus. I’m sure there’s a study somewhere …

We have a few things in the calender. We’re off to Windsor Castle tomorrow to see good friends Phil and Denise. Yes, it’s as grand as it sounds and I have been made to wear my best shorts for the occasion. Then we back up at Penkridge next weekend for C’s birthday with the kids, followed by a night out at Jesus Christ Superstar and Billy Joel at Cardiff before they fly back. Both of those will be fab. 

On the admin front, I’ve sanded down Doris’s alloys and resealed them with lacquer. Have I done a good job? I doubt it. But we’ll see. The Focus goes in for her MoT on Monday. I tried to change her oil, but couldn’t get the sump plug out, so that’s an additional job for them. I will change the oil on Doris and the little red Pug in August. I’ve done Doris before, and that will be fine. Let’s hope I can manage the Pug, otherwise I’m a hopeless mechanic. 

Looking fab

C’s fine. I think the routine is wearing, and I get that. She remains fab with Mary and, as you’d expect, that isn’t always a natural position – palliative care is tough and frustrating. But she remains kind and calm at all times.

That’s us for now. Another visitor is on their way, so I better affix a smile. Look after yourselves everyone (and well done Biden/Harris. They’ll see the orange monster off yet). 

A routine of sorts

I suppose we’re in something you might consider to be a routine. Mary is home. She has 24hr companionship: we do two days, and we pay two girls (Amanda and Louisa, 4 and 1) to cover the rest. It’s a live-in duty and so far, so good. The NHS provide carers four times a day to do the heavy lifting (Mary does not get out of bed) but, in the end, we’re all acting as carers – for which your imagination needs no pushing. Amanda and Louisa are both just fab. We trust them with everything and we have a small contract with both. In short, Mary is getting the best possible care and that should stay in place for as long as it takes.

Mary has had some visitors

And that, of course, is the rub. Bex, Steven and Henry are home and we want to see them. We have friends we want to visit and two pretty big evenings in the diary, including Billy Joel in Cardiff. And then, importantly, we need to get away this autumn. We’re going to get away. We can put further care in place if necessary and that may be a bridge we need to cross. We shall see. However, I’m pretty amazed at how invested we both are in this. C has been absolutely fab with Mary. Ex-nurse and carer, she has a natural way which puts the patient at ease. And nothing is too much trouble. I’m getting better at it, but two days a week is probably as much as my back will take. Again, we’ll have to see how that goes.

We hired a van

But we have been away already. Last weekend we hired a van with B&S and moved a whole lot of kit around the country so they could move into their new house. Whilst there I assembled three beds and a complicated chest-of-drawers. Their house, which is in Penkridge ‘up north’, needs some cosmetic work, but nothing we can’t handle between us all. I sense it’s going to be a busy summer in that regard. Henry, as you’d expect, is a fabulous bundle of joy. He’s talking, up to a point, but gets everything. We’re not yet at the ‘reasoned’ end of arguments, but he is delightfully well behaved. We’re back up again with them this Sunday, after a brief respite back home. Back to Mary’s next Wednesday.

We’ve all been busy

Oh, and we’ve had covid. All three of us. I think we caught it in hospital. I have to say we both felt pretty rubbish for a couple of days, but it didn’t put us out of action. I have tried to keep running. I’m working really hard to break 23 minutes over 5 kms. I think I might have been there just before covid struck, but it’s now back to the drawing board. I’ll get there with a little bit more effort.

Book sales have flattened and I am tweaking sales locations and the ads. Up until the beginning of this month I was close to doubling my money. I’m now running a flat line (which is something I would have bitten your hand off for at the start of the process). I haven’t really found the time to work out why things have dropped, but I will. 

Mary’s view

And book 9? Still v much in gestation. I’m meeting with an AI expert towards the end of August as the proliferation of AI is part of the plot line. I would like to think I’ll start writing on 1 September, with a first draft complete by Christmas. That was my previous routine, but time has moved on and I have no idea if I might keep to it. We’ll see.

Politics – fab to get through a week without hearing of some disaster or government embarrassment. Long may ‘boring’ continue. As you’d expect, I have so much to say on the subject but energy levels prevent me from venting. We just need Biden to step aside and for the Dems to select a younger version and I might feel slightly more at ease.

Football? Cricket? The Olympics? So much still to look forward to, thank goodness. Anyhow you lot be safe. Covid is rife at the moment.   

All change

Well, work got done. The last couple of weeks was a combination of checking and handing over. In the end it was a huge relief to finish and, supposedly, get into Doris and head off to France for a month. Work has been, and there’s no other way to describe this, ‘an experience’. As with my previous two stabs at full time work, I wouldn’t have missed a moment of it and, already, I don’t miss it for a moment. I learned a huge amount, the people were lovely and, it’s fair to say, it proved that leadership is leadership, no matter which walk of life you choose. It was good to have that reaffirmed.

I was keen that with finishing work on a Friday, we’d be away in Doris heading somewhere by the Monday. Unfortunately our dear friend Mary had a little turn and so we unpacked Doris on the Saturday and were in Godalming on the Sunday. A week later with everything in Surrey sorted, we were ready again. This time we cut our cloth and thought 4 weeks ‘up north’ would suit. And, for a while, that worked. We did Lyme Park (fab), a long cycle around some reservoirs, Harrogate, and Fountains Abbey (also fab). We got as far as the North York Moors when we heard that Mary had been taken into hospital.

Fab Fountains Abbey

All change. The last two weeks have been back at Godalming, visiting and sorting out 24-hr care, which includes us. I have to say that The Royal Surrey have been fantastic. There has been none of that NHS lag which people rightly complain about. Mary has had multiple scans and numerous doctors poring over her notes. And, as she is now due home, they are putting in 4-times-a-day nursing care, plus all of the medical gubbings to make that work. C and I have pieced together 24 hour companionship and that should work. We’ll have to test the system next week.

Of course we’re lucky. None of us are living hand-to-mouth. None of us are bereft of support. None of us should want for much. The ward here is full of white haired, older woman. And it is clear that a number of them will struggle with their care at some point in the near future. 

We are so lucky.

What next? Well, Bex, Steven AND HENRY come home the weekend after next. We have designed our piece of cover in Godalming to allow us to have time with them this summer. We will not be able to get away in Doris until we get a conclusion here, but that’s fine. We still have an eye on making Rosie’s World Champs in Nice in September and then onto Spain for a good chunk of time. And I am absolutely up for writing book 9 and there’s nothing which seems likely to prevent that. And … sales are good. I am consistently earning more from book sales than I am from paying for Facebook Ads. I do need to hone that further (no time at the mo), but I will do. It is so great to see people reading the Sam Green series every day – sometimes all eight books on the go from eight separate people. That’s fab.

So that’s me, from Costas in the Royal Surrey. I should go upstairs now to see C and Mary. 

Keep safe everyone. And don’t do the NHS down unnecessarily. I do feel that they are doing their best.

Don’t worry, we’re still here

Well, bless some of you. I’ve had numerous people ask if we’re OK as I haven’t penned a blog for ages. You may remember I started in 2014 and then, as we headed off on our 8-month European tour, I wrote every day. Every day! And then I went down to twice a week, then once and, more recently, when I can pull it together. Now is one of those times.

It’s not that not a lot has happened, it’s that I have to find a window when I’ve got the energy. It’s fair to say that since Sharm in the Feb half term, even with a short break over Easter where Bex. Steven and Henry were back, it’s been tricky. I’ve been on this cycle of not feeling great (physically) to feeling OK. And then, with work – which keeps that balance of amazing interest, lovely people, but too much like hard work with some anxiety thrown in – I have, at times, felt a little overwhelmed. But I’m fine now. And so is C, as far as I can tell.

we’re still here

Easter was fun with the kids, even if the weather was rubbish. Henry was his usual darling self and he disappeared far too early back to RSA. C and I took Doris for a shake out down to our besides-the-Severn field, and had a really relaxing couple of days walking, running and cycling. Doris was fab until she wouldn’t start for the trip home. It took me 40 minutes to work out that the engine’s earthing strap needed a quarter turn to tighten, and then things were fine.

And … we’ve just come back from a long weekend in Lanzarote with Al and Annie. We went to cheer on Rosie, their paratrooper daughter, as she took part in the first Ironman as a pro. What a fab race that was. She came fourth, which meant she qualified for the world champs that are being held in Nice in September. Either side of the race we had a lovely time. Al and Annie are dear friends with similar age kids, and we have often been on holiday with them. This time, without youngsters, it was a hoot. So much so (and they have a motorhome) we made a pact to do it again soon. Lanzarote, btw, is a visit once kind of place. The amazing scenery (volcanic blacks and browns lit up with mostly single storey bright white houses) is bewildering. And some of the high-cliff views are perfect. But I’m not into small islands as a longer term visit option. And when the scenery is almost monochrome, after a while it loses a little of its charm. 

Had a fab time with these two

Thankfully, going away again can be any time after next Friday. I think I discussed that I had given notice (3 months from the end of Feb) and we are almost there. It has been a helluva year and one I wouldn’t have missed. But, at 62 with a heart which doesn’t need any particular stress (don’t worry, but I am under doctor’s orders), it’s time to get back to writing. And travelling. 

Doris on shakedown

We already have the next 8 months planned. All of June we hope to be in northern France, just unwinding. July and August is back in the UK. Henry and his parents are home (love them too) and we aim to be helping them move into their new house in Penkridge. September and October will be somewhere in southern Europe (with a trip to the Ironman world champs for more frantic cheering). We will probably fly somewhere hot before Christmas and then we are off to Chatel skiing (which we missed this year) for four weeks either side of Feb half term. How’s that sound?

I have book 9 in the Sam Green series up my sleeve [working title: And The Machines Came To]. The ambition is to get that written in first draft by Christmas, and published by July 25. And I want to expand my marketing. You may remember that I paid a woman to do some social media marketing at the end of last year. That came to nothing, but it did inspire me to try my hand at Facebook Ads. And I have. I’m 4 months in and I’ve earned more than I have spent. As a example, in March I spent £120 on Ads and made £210 in return. This profit was made all the sweeter knowing that people were actually reading my books – starting from the first and then going on and through to book 8. It is quite something. 

Me building some stuff

The Ads take a little time to set up, but I do all that myself. And once they’re running, Facebook algorithms do their thing. Next, you’re selling books. Fab. I’ve changed the advert three times, and every time there is a little spurt of interest. In short, it’s fair to say I’m selling about 4 books a day. I’ve always wanted to sell 10 day – almost 4,000 books a year. And I think I can get there. I’ll keep you updated. 

Anyhow, that’s enough from me. Next time I write I shall officially be retired (again, although I still have 2 seniors teachers on my leadership consultancy books). From there on in, occupation: author. And that’s blooming great hurrah!

Some mad Lanzarote house

Come on Spring!

Would you believe that we came back from Sharm and the first thing that happened was I got a streaming head cold? I’ve been unwell, it seems, since December. And, even though that has cleared up, I’m on a cycle of good days and bad days. Is it age? Is it some form of viral infection which won’t go away? I can really understand when people say they’ve got ME and haven’t the energy to get out of bed … I really get it. Of course, as an old soldier I have got out of bed, and I have got on with it (work and C, more of which presently). But, blooming hell I could do with a medical hiatus.

C’s getting there

C had her operation two weeks ago. It’s a woman’s thing and it appears to have all gone well. She was instructed to take 4/6 weeks bed rest (don’t pick up anything!) and, two weeks in, she’s managing really well. I don’t think we’re through it all yet, but let’s hope so. Work and C’s operation means that we’ve not made it skiing this year which, notwithstanding one year of covid, breaks an almost unbroken seam of the white stuff. And, whilst the snow in the Alps has been rubbish, it has, all of a sudden, got better. Our pals Daren and Karen are there now and we both are as envious as hell. Next year, then. 

Like old times

We have, pretty much, kept ourselves to ourselves. That is until Alasdair and Annie popped in at the weekend. (Warning, more envy on its way.) We had a fab time with them. Lots of laughs. He and I go back to the early 80s – we joined the army on the same day. Annie and C, soon after. After a fab supper, we ran first thing on the Saturday morning, which really was ‘old times’ sake’. And then they were off … to Portugal and Spain … in their motorhome! Yes, that’s something which we should be doing. And that will come again. But they’ve got an almost 8-week package planned, with plenty of sunshine to boot. What we did arrange was for a trip together to Lanzarote at the end of May. Fab.

Other than that, it’s the same old routine. We have Bex, Steven and Henry back over Easter (two weeks away now, hurrah!), which is something to really look forward to. And then six weeks until we can, with impunity, head off into the hills in Doris. Can’t wait.

Walking is now allowed!

Keep safe everyone.   

Charming Sharm

Three things by way of update. First we made it to Sharm EL-Sheik. I’m not sure what I was expecting but it passes muster. We went the whole hog: swim up room and all inclusive. The resort, Sunrise Diamond, is big … so big we haven’t ventured outside (it takes me 6 minutes to run a lap, if that helps). It has everything you need, including four a la carte restaurants and bars at every corner. There are a number of beaches, a coral reef and, as well as our own pool, three other pools, one of which is huge and is equipped with wall-to-wall entertainment. C and I got roped into aqua aerobics the other morning and happily took part. There’s a slide pool and a jetty out beyond the reef. 

But what makes it special is the way it’s been put together. It’s all v tasteful with manicured grounds, awash with flowers. It’s immaculately clean and the staff are uber friendly. And the weather has been a perfect 24 degrees throughout. So, what’s not to like? Well the clientele are a bit Russian. Well, quite a lot Russian, really. A number of Brits … the measure of which you’d expect at a more expensive all-inclusive resort. But we’ve not spotted any Western Europeans to speak of. And, as we know, the Germans know how to suss out a decent resort. So maybe …

We’ve run and swam and drunk and eaten … and, of course, met up with Bex, Steven and Henry. Which has added a magical dimension to it all. He has been as a fab as a three year old can be. He now knows how to say ‘sorry’, which he employs often to cover a variety of misdemeanours. But that’s all fine. Alas, we all head home tomorrow … rested and having had a fillup of Henry. Fab.

Second, I am stepping back from work a bit. I gave it my best shot, but our disposition has slouched and, as is always the case with me, work takes over everything. And, and this week has reinforced the point, we only have so many decent years in us to spend with our family. I’m going back to the pre-Christmas regime, which is more consultative than executive. Doubtless I will work hard, but I have every intention of getting away with C and doing plenty of stuff. Let’s hope it works out.

Finally, Doris failed her MoT just before we flew here. I asked for a radiator flush, a diesel filter bleed and for the brake fluid to be replaced. The garage, who have been brilliant, couldn’t get the nipples off three of the brake callipers as they were seized on. So … total cost to replace them all looks to be well of £1000, but it’s work which needs doing. We pick her up on Saturday.

That’s it from me. I hope you are keeping well and safe.