New York state of mind

I took a few days off. Not just time off from work or to cover half term. Actual time off. A proper break.

My gorgeous friends Natasha and Luke invited me to visit them in New York and despite my natural inclination to say 'oh no it's too difficult' they weren't taking no for an answer. So I made plans. I asked my mother in law if she could have the boys, she said yes. The biggest worry sorted out. I hadn't asked for time off work and with all my colleagues off over half term it was looking highly unlikely I would get annual leave approved. Only it was and that was the other big obstacle removed. Then I had to apply for an ESTA (no I didn't know what it was either !) and find my passport - that was a day or so of minor panic - and finally I went ahead and bought travel insurance.

Two days before I was due to fly I borrowed luggage from friends and as late as the night before I still didn't quite believe it was really going to happen. Of course part of that was due to the weather - with storm warnings flights were being grounded and it wasn't clear if I would be able to go or not. Still I had to pack and check in online. I made sure the car was packed, the CD players fitted to the seat backs  and the boys had enough clothes, boots and layers for their stay.

For a week I made plans and contacted people and put things in place so that I could go away for 4 days. The night before my flight I was crying out of guilt for leaving my boys behind and for being so selfish. As I sobbed, "I'm sorry for leaving you baby," Brown Bear put his hand on my arm and said, "Mum, you deserve this." How did he get to be so wise ?

Long story short I got on the plane after a 2 hour delay. The anxiety had built up so much I was in floods of tears as I boarded. Between sobs I apologised for being so silly. I was directed to Tracey who handed me a glass of champagne and sat me by her instead of in my seat while they boarded everyone. She reassured me and when we got the JFK 6 and a bit hours later she handed me a bottle of champagne to share with my friends. I love Tracey.

Natasha met me at JFK and for the next few days I didn't have a thing to worry about. I went running in Central Park in the sunshine, ate brunch at Tom's Restaurant (the place you see the outside of in Seinfeld) and took in the incredible sights of New York from the One World Observatory. We bought cupcakes at the Magnolia Bakery (from Sex in the City) and I ate the best gnocchi of my life. I went to visit my friends Gwen and Russ in New Jersey and snuggled their baby girl and hugged their kids and laughed out loud at inappropriate jokes that only people who've lived in the UK will appreciate.

I messaged my kids most days - due to the jet lag I was up very early - and they seemed to be absolutely fine. There was one logistical hiccup that I had to resolve, but free of the other dramas that I have to contend with it was relatively quick to fix.

So this was the thing I hadn't appreciated that pretty much everyone else could see. I needed this. I had to take a break from all the day to day stuff and to just do something for me. And doing that didn't make me selfish, or a bad mother, or any of the other things that I have felt  like for so long.

On any given day I have to make 1001 decisions (give or take). For me, for my kids, at work, at home. The mental load of parenting alone and of working full time and of being all things to everyone takes a lot out of you. It's exhausting.

I cannot tell you how much difference it has made having that few days away on my own. Doing things that I love to do, with wonderful people and no pressure. It feels like I can actually breathe again. As if I can take a step back from the things that are going on.

Since I got back I feel optimistic. I believe things are getting better. That I deserve a bright future. It is within my reach.

It has made me feel so lucky to have people care so much that they could see I was in pain and they wanted to do something to help me.

It didn't take a miracle, but it feels miraculous to me right now.

Refilling the empty cup

A one year old sat on the dining table shovelling fistfuls of cake into her mouth and searching for any leftovers on other plates. Unconventional I grant you, but in the context of visiting my parents in grandparent mode it is perfectly normal. Yesterday Blue Bear turned into a 6 year old. I had planned to visit my family so the boys could spend the day with their cousins and have a mini party for Blue. However he was not himself at all and was unwell most of the day. He barely ate anything and was tired and pale. I asked if he still wanted to go and he said he did, so off we went with a tired and sleepy Blue Bear and Brown Bear negotiating screen time with his distracted mother.

When it came to party time I hadn't had time to get the dinosaur cake that Blue had requested and he was disappointed. However, nothing is impossible in my family and within minutes we had the best dinosaur cake you have ever seen. It was a team effort and he was absolutely delighted with it. In Nani's house dreams do come true. What can I tell you - my parents love being surrounded by kids and noise and the mess that entails doesn't phase them. Yesterday as I looked around I saw my niece happily seated on the table and my boy with his mini Jurassic Park. The expression on my Mum's face with all her kids and grandkids there was pure joy and I felt so incredibly lucky.

Jurassic Cake 

We've spent a lot more time with my family in the last year as our home life has changed. It gives me a chance to get a little break as the boys play with cousins and get fed and spoiled. Yesterday I wasn't allowed to leave my boy's side as he was feeling so poorly, but I still got to eat something delicious and  rest for a little while. Both things that have been difficult to achieve since I've been parenting alone. In the last few weeks I had a complete shutdown as my body finally gave in to the stress and exhaustion that has been piling on for months now. Well, probably the last two years if I'm being accurate. It's been a relentless conveyor belt on which as well as the traditional cuddly toy there has been a grief, loss, stress and worry. It's hardly surprising that at some point it would be overwhelming. 

Earlier this week I met a friend who I haven't seen in a while. She lives in New York, is in London at the moment and kindly made time to see me for a catch up. She listened patiently as I explained what has been happening and how events unfolded earlier this year. As I got tearful she reached across and held my hand. Even after all this time I can't talk about what's happened without crying. I apologised for talking too much, she said, "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you."  We talked about my boys and she recalled when I told her I was expecting Brown Bear. I was 37 weeks pregnant at her wedding. A few months ago her husband was in London. It was during the rugby World Cup and we met up in a pub in Twickenham then went for a curry and just had a sweary, quippy, fun evening together. It was the first time this year that I felt like my old self. I am so thankful to have them both in my life and that they care enough to make time for me and that when we meet it's like no time has passed 

Christmas in flowers. 

I received a beautiful Christmas bouquet this week - absolutely gorgeous and unexpected. It's from a lovely friend who lives in Australia and when she was in the UK for two weeks earlier in the year she invited me and the boys over to her parents' home in Surrey. The boys pottered around the allotment and played cricket in the garden with her husband while I talked to her. She listened to me, hugged me and it was just wonderful to spend time with her while my kids laughed and played. At one point I looked over at my sons laughing wildly as one was held upside down by the ankle and the other one was being chased with a cricket bat round the garden. My friend knew that I needed her and made time for me and found a way to do it that ensured the boys would be busy and happy while we caught up. Both bears now want to visit them in Australia so I've got to save up for a while to make that happen. Having friends like this is such a blessing in my life and I am so grateful. 

Of course I have equally wonderful friends in this country too. My friend who will pop over to bring things down from the loft for me and who helped manage my boys' expectations when they decided they wanted to take 4 kittens home from Foal Farm in the summer. The friends who are there for me at all hours when I am having a terrible day or feeling fear or sadness that is overwhelming. The friend who was on the other end of the phone while the worst events of this year were unfolding. She has been a constant and firm reminder that whatever comes I have it in me to get through it. I have such amazing people in my life who reassure me that whatever happens I am not alone. They are the gifts in my life that I don't know what I did to deserve.

Who is this mysterious woman ? 

I've only just started to do things just for me. Up until now everything was for the boys and that has been exhausting and at times thankless. Being out of action for a week showed me that the saying, "you can't pour from an empty cup" is true. If I don't take care of myself I can't take care of them. I've been feeding myself properly instead of thinking, "it's only me why bother ?" Going for a walk every day and swimming as often as I can. Taking care of my appearance. Treating myself to a spa, or a gig or a show just for me. Spending time with people I love and who love me.

A cake covered in dinosaurs is a good start. Followed by a night out thanks to my lovely babysitter who stayed with my poorly boy and her mum who dropped me off at the golf club so I would get to wear my  gorgeous frock, have a boogie and just have a few hours 'off.' It was just what I needed.

Today it's the birthday party for my 6 year old. The sun is out and he's feeling so much better today. Mum and sons recharged and ready to go.

The sound of silence

Apologies for radio silence. It's been a difficult time and I have wanted to write and while the words were there, the inclination to share them wasn't. I have longed for sleep that didn't come and peace of mind has eluded me. Each time I thought, 'this is as bad as it gets,' I'll be damned if it didn't just get a whole lot worse.

Then today something shifted. I woke up and looked at the clock and the house was quiet. No miaowing, no kids arguing, nowhere to get to at silly o'clock. So I closed my eyes and went back to sleep. Until eventually the boys woke up and the day began - about two hours later than normal - bliss.

We went for a swim, we had a pub lunch and this afternoon we watched Back to the Future - I think it's important to give kids a good grounding in culture. As I sat on the sofa with the cat on one side of me and Brown Bear on the other I looked over to Blue Bear on the other sofa. It was a moment in time and one that I honestly haven't felt before. A day when it feels as though I've got it right. Not perfect, but right. My kids were happy, the cat was relaxed and I was sitting down and spending time with them all.

So much has happened that it doesn't quite feel real.

I'm still not quite there but sometimes I sleep on all of the bed - not just one side.

Remembering how much I enjoy my own company has been a revelation.

Letting go of expectations and realising I am capable and can do pretty much everything myself.

Travelling through the drama and pain and sadness and finding my inner warrior.

I have found my true friends and allies. The ones who are there at the worst of times. Who express no fear or judgement, just pure love and support.

Believing I can do anything - I honestly do. I didn't before, but when I think about where I was and where I am now it's like I've climbed a mountain already.

Accepting that not every day is going to be fun is ok. My kids are going to argue with me - that's normal. They are in a lot of pain and I am the one who is here and who is holding them through this.

So whatever happens I've got it.

Scream if you wanna go faster ? What if I wanna get off ?

Apologies for the extended and unexplained radio silence over here. There are reasons.

The practical one is that my MacBook finally gave up after over 9 years loyal service. The other one is more involved. Since the start of this year it feels like I've been like sitting on a rollercoaster that is slowly creeping up the incline with the fear and anticipation that comes with it. Just as I think it's about to go over the top and gain momentum it turns out there is further to climb. Now in the interest of full disclosure I should tell you that I am not a fan of rollercoasters or 'scaring yourself silly in the name of fun.' I don't indulge in horror movies or chase thrills of any kind. It's just not my bag baby. So when I say that's what it's been like I mean it's involuntary participation in something that I can't predict and that I didn't want to be doing in the first place.

The incessant journey has included bereavements, family illness, starting a new job and the stresses that go with all of these things. At each stage I've gone into practical 'doing' mode so that we can get through it. Then it's become too much. After a while being on the edge of your nerves becomes the 'new normal.' (I hate the word normal - it's so judgie, but it's apposite here).  I've never needed much sleep and it's possible for me to function on very little, but I am at the stage where forming thoughts escapes me. Every day seems to present a situation that needs to be solved. A child who needs to be in two different places so there's the logistical planning. A work thing to attend or plan or deliver. Add to the mix the guilt at not being around to help with medical appointments or give sufficient time to listen to friends who are in difficulty.

All my energy was going into training for a half marathon and then it was done. My body kept going and going without enough rest. Each time I thought I'd get to rest it didn't happen. I gave up trying to get a break, it was pointless. Each time I think I will get to stop and rest something else happens. So I just keep going. It's like making a tower out of playing cards on a table with one slightly wonky leg. You know you're just putting off the inevitable. So I balance one more card on top. Yeah that's fine, it's only one more thing. I take another card because if I'm doing that I might as well just do this as well. The structure starts to look a bit wobbly. It's still standing though. Just.

I hate that whole, 'I'm more tired than you' competition that we're all supposed to be into these days. Everyone is busy - we're all doing too much. I'm not asking for sympathy. The reason I mention it now is that now I have a sense of a year having gone by without having had a chance to blink. The feeling of being in panic mode for the entire time has caught up with me. I am exhausted. My body aches and I am rarely coherent. This has been going on all year. No one can sustain that level of stress and be unaffected.

It's almost the end of the year and if I think about what has changed since this time last year it's been momentous stuff. Soraya was still alive this time last year. We were making radio shows and making plans for the radio station. I was at home and took my sons to school and picked them up and we were planning our first ever family skiing holiday (which was epic by the way !) I had more hair then - ok I know that's mundane, but it was a big deal to me.

So to go back to the rollercoaster analogy I am still in this rickety carriage that I don't want to be in. With fewer companions than I had before. The ones who are there are who I want to be with though. The sense of fear hasn't subsided at all. If anything that anticipation of something awful about to happen is ever present. I'm don't know when I'm going to arrive at the end of this ride, but I have to stop holding my breath in fear. After all, with everything that's happened surely I can deal with whatever comes next ?

How much is too much

It's been a long and tiring week. I've been up at 5am most days and have still been at work full time and also had a few late evenings. It's fair to say the boys have barely seen me and Brown Bear has been playing up to get my attention. It was yesterday that I realised that others think I'm doing too much. Friends have been messaging to check if I'm ok, they've been offering to hug me and Hubbie suggested I should lie in instead of getting up early at the weekend. If I have things to do it's just easier to get up and do them early - if I'm going for a run I'd rather it's at the start of the day, however, I'm not always at my best first thing.

I was told I worry too much. Of course I do. It's a side effect of anxiety, but actually I have always been this way. I can't recall a time when I didn't worry. As the oldest child I was always worried about my siblings. It was my responsibility to look after them a lot of the time and I would get the blame if anything happened to them on my watch. I also blamed myself if they got injured or if anyone did them wrong. I don't know why. I was also the typical worried first time Mum, protecting Brown Bear with a tigress' instinct. Woe betide anyone who fell foul of me in my first year of parenting, I was permanently worried. Then there was the whole adoption process and Blue Bear coming to live with us - that was fraught with worry. It's only now - more than three years later - that I can breathe and look at him and smile with happiness that he's happy and funny and boisterous like his brother. I do still worry, just about different things. It's who I am.

Is it possible to think too much ? I've always been told I do, so it's probably true. Of course I think too much. I wasn't one of cool kids, I wasn't popular and I was never a great beauty so I had plenty of time to think. I didn't have that instant appeal that cuts through having to make any effort. I learned to observe, to notice and to comment on life. My friend Ajay once said to me, "average looking people like us have to make more of an effort." I happen to think he's well above average looking, but that's not the point here. Really beautiful folk often don't have to try hard in life, with people flocking to them and being nice to them. The rest of us don't occupy that privileged place, so we have other skills. Mine is to analyse and try to make sense of the world around me. It's not for everyone.

For years I took offence at the assertion that I talk too much. I do, but I didn't like to hear it. I would fill silences with inane chat, make small talk and just talk over people all the time. I drove myself crazy with it, so I can imagine how much it bothered other people. It's not because I think I'm interesting or anything, it's nerves. If I have to keep filling the gaps with chatter it's because I'm uncomfortable. I have learned to stop and just let silence be. I also realised some years ago that people like to be heard so I learned to listen and reflect back what they said. It can be unsettling when they notice I haven't just been nodding along, waiting for a gap in the conversation to say my bit. I've actually heard what they've been saying and am responding to it.

I do too much. Ok this one I will admit to. I don't like to let anyone down so if I've said I'm going to do something I will do it. Even if it's to my own detriment. If it has a negative impact on those I love then I get annoyed with myself, but I will always try to do whatever I'm asked. This comes down to being unable to say no. I've read the books, I've got the prompts on the fridge door, I've even done mantras about it. I still struggle to say no. I practise on my children, it doesn't help. The people-pleaser part of me is much too established. However much I try, the instinct to say yes to everything is stronger than the realisation that I need to take care of myself.

So this week, when a friend sent me flowers and a message saying she was worried about me it touched my heart. Another assured me if I wanted to talk or not talk, be serious or silly she was there for me. When Hubbie said I needed to rest I realised he was worrying about me. When my Mum thanked me for taking the time to be around (why wouldn't I ?) it reminded me that I'm still her baby. More that anything it made me feel noticed. There was no criticism of me for not doing something or for being too much anything. It was genuine concern and kindness. I don't often need or ask for anything from others. I don't like to take or to impose.

How much is too much ? Well when it comes to feeling cared about it would appear there's no such thing.

I'm ready for the good life now thanks.

I've been thinking about endings lately.

From the minor endings like the TV shows I love coming to a series finale, my favourite fragrance finishing (ooh alliteration !) and having to stop wearing Fit Flops after donkey's years because they're not suitable for work. To the biggies - going back to work and not being around all the time for my boys any more. Taking care of Neo in the full knowledge that he is old for a cat and all the pills we are giving him will only hold off the inevitable for so long.

Maybe it's the end of the long days and the slow progress towards Autumn and Winter. That inevitability of the nights getting darker a bit earlier until it's clearly a different season. I've been teaching yoga in the evenings and it's still light outside when the class finishes. That won't be the case for much longer. However it does mean I get to teach by candlelight again and that is magical.

Then I think about how I've coped with relationship endings. My first marriage ended a long time ago now and I barely recognise the woman I was then. We had been so unhappy and he kept telling me to leave him. One day it was completely clear to me that it was time to leave. It seemed so obvious that was the right thing to do. It was painful and difficult and the fallout went on for years. I had been thrown out of my family to be with him and yet they took me back when I left. I waited every day for 2 years for the pain to stop. I'm not sure when it did, but it must have because I'm here now.

In a very sad episode I lost a friend for a few years because he was in a relationship with someone who was toxic and unkind. I couldn't bear to see him being mistreated and we lost touch. I told him years later that I was always his friend, but I just couldn't be around her and he opened up that he hadn't been happy. Being a friend sometimes means having to be brutally honest and that isn't easy. I wish I had checked if he was happy instead of taking myself away to avoid her.

The finality of losing Soraya has been the most difficult ending - obviously. It has tested my mental strength and pushed me to the limits of my patience. Someone asked me how I manage to do so many things and I smiled and shrugged. The truth is I keep 'doing' because if I stop and think it just hurts too much.  If I start to cry I might never stop. There are things that help. Music, yoga, running, swimming, cuddling Neo, Hubbie, my boys, friends. I am very lucky.

Eventully I hope to think less about what is ending and instead focus on what is beginning.

Just call me Greta Garbo

We had an impromptu after school play in the park with friends today. With the sunny weather it's easier to decide on a whim to detour to the park and I get on with the mum so I have company while the kids run around and keep each other busy.

There were the inevitable tantrums when it was time to leave, but the promise of ice cream at home seemed to quel the worst of it. As we were saying bye I told my friend I'm going away for the night tomorrow. On my own. I had planned to have a night away a month ago, but it didn't happen in the end and as a result I really need the break now.

I am having a rough time with Brown Bear and we aren't getting on that well a lot of the time. I know it's a stage and will be over at some point, but I'm also not at my best so I'm not coping as well as I would like to. Having this bit of time to myself is much needed.

It's taken me a long time to allow myself time away by myself without feeling guilty. It really is the case that you have to put on your own oxygen mask before you can take care of anyone else. I've let myself get tired, run down and have little patience. Just one night to myself isn't too much to ask is it ?

I go to the theatre by myself sometimes and I love it. I don't have to talk to anyone if I don't want to. I'm not worrying if the other person is having a good time. I can immerse myself in the show and at the end of it I don't have to discuss it with anyone. Don't get me wrong I enjoy the company of other people, but sometimes I just want to do my own thing in my own time and without anyone else around. It's a rare treat to have genuine 'free time' where I don't have to pick anyone up or take anyone to a party or have thought about what other people are going to eat.

This afternoon the boys had separate pick up times so I collected Blue Bear and when we got home he sat watching youtube videos of volcanoes (his current fascination is with lava and all things volcanic) while chomping on ginger nut biscuits. He asked me questions about lava and chose the next video he wanted to watch all by himself. It was fascinating to see how much he has grown up.

After picking up Brown Bear we went to the park and the boys went off with their respective friends. Blue playing with his 'girlfriend' and showing consideration and kindess as he helped her learn how to go on the big slide. It was touching and sweet to see how he took care of her. Brown Bear took it in turns to ride his friend's bicycle and kicked his football before joining us in the play park. He was climbing when another kid was behaving unsafely. I looked over and said, "Leave it, let's go now." He got down, came over to me and said, "He's being an idiot Mummy." I agreed and enveloped him in a big hug. He was hot and sweaty and didn't resist my unexplained affection. He just hugged me back and then we walked together to catch up with the others.

A lot of the time it isn't like this. Often it is difficult, tiring, unrewarding and just very, very loud. I love my children and I am so lucky I've been able to be with them so much. However, I also need to have time and space without them. I am sure that having some time away from them helps me be a better Mum.

This afternoon I got it right. It felt lovely and relaxed and fun to be with the boys and their friends. I am sure that knowing I will be away from them tomorrow evening was a big part of that.

Mother's pride

Every Friday you ask me to attend the celebration assembly at school and every week I dutifully turn up and try to catch your attention so you can see me there and when you do, the smile and wave I get it so worth it.

So I join in with the hymn and sing happy birthday to those celebrating and smile as all the teachers hand out certificates to their favourites. Each week I sit there and think about all the wonderful things you have done this week and hope it's your turn.

I think about how the other morning you saw a younger boy crying in the playground before school and went over to see if he was ok. I then watched you take Billy over to play a game to cheer him up.

I remember that day when a new child started and he was upset about his dad leaving him and you invited him over to join you and your friends to play football and showed him the ropes as the new kid.

I was there when you handed in your precious picture for the Christmas competition having taken time to carefully design it and thinking about all the detail and colours you used.

I know that when we talked about giving toys to children who had none you wanted to give even more than I had expected as you wanted to make sure other children would get to have something nice for Christmas.

I've seen you gently stroke Neo and keeping him company when the fireworks were frightening him and you read him a story to help keep calm.

I swelled with pride when you were struggling during the park run on a freezing cold morning, but you kept going and I watched your face break into a huge smile when you made it over the finish line.

So you see when they call out another child's name and I see your shoulders fall in disappointment I am right there with you. I am smiling, but I'm feeling sad for you too. It makes sense that you are wondering why it isn't you. I think the same. Still we put on our best smiles and are happy for those who get the praise that you don't get. I've applauded when other children get recognition for:

Swimming a width of the pool - when we both know you can now swim a length without help and on both your front and back (that took a lot of work)

Taking another child under their wing - when I know you've made time for other children to help them feel welcome or to cheer them up

Writing a whole page - when you write pages and pages of news and stories and lovely notes - in your best writing

Being kind - when I have seen how much it took for you to share your home and family with Blue Bear and now you are fiercely loyal to him as he is to you

We will always smile and be happy for others and applaud their achievements. I will be there to give you a big hug afterwards and bring a snack for the ride home.

You see I do know all these wonderful things you do. I remember every little thing you do that makes me proud and I tell you. Just because it's not in front of the school doesn't make you any less than a kind, caring, loving, bright, boy who does his best.

You and me kid - we know.

The one where we pretend we are in F-R-I-E-N-D-S

I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned that I was an obsessive fan of Friends. There are clues in the titles of blog posts that begin, 'the one where...' and the fact that a fair few of my conversations are peppered with phrases from the show. Hubbie still says, "there's no need to laugh and point,' referring to a line said by Jack Geller way back when. Anyway, at the weekend I went with my sister to Friends Fest which has been going for a while, but it's the first time I've heard of it. You can visit sets from the show, take part in quizzes to win stuff and even get a drink from Central Perk. I enjoyed it more than I expected to actually (I know, damned with faint praise) and took a silly number of photos. 

Opening credits 

Central Perk here I come ! 

Pretending to be Phoebe 

Yep I'm working at Central Perk 

I'm on a break ! 

Joey and Chandler inspired cocktails 

No comment Neo 

Monica's Kitchen 

We watched 'Monica' sing YMCA

I suspect I was one of few people there who watched the show when it first aired in the UK - there were kids there for goodness sake ! It was fun to sit in Joey and Chandler's armchairs, to look through Monica's fridge and to sit in Phoebe's singing spot. The only thing missing was the Rachel haircut I rocked 22 years ago.

Older, but definitely not wiser.

I recently had my hair cut shorter and have found it suits me better, is far more practical when swimming and has garnered some compliments. The other thing I noticed was that I can now spot the odd white hair along the front hairline. For years I asked my hairdresser if I was going grey and he insisted that I wasn't. I suspect he was sparing my feelings, but I also put it down to a mythical family trait that I had told myself existed.

You see I was convinced for years that my Mum didn't go grey until she was in her forties. She had been colouring her hair, but I was pretty sure she wasn't anything like as grey as other people of her age. Now I'm wondering if I was right after all. I mean it isn't bad to be on the cusp of my late '40s and only just noticing silver wisps is it ? I'm almost proud. Not quite, but almost.

Ageing is inevitable, but some do it better than others. It's become pretty standard to watch people in the public eye get shinier and tighter as they grow older. In real life things sag and droop, but we try and defy any signs that we're getting on a bit. A lot of the people who swim at the pool I go to are much older than me and are super fit. Maybe they would have been anyway, but the swimming probably helps.

It's ok for men to get older, they are described as 'distinguished,' but women aren't treated the same way are we ? It's like wearing glasses. Hubbie eschews contact lenses because he knows that glasses suit him. I've never quite managed to shake off the idea that, 'boys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses.' I know women who look fantastic in specs, but I'm just not one of them. In my final year at Uni I decided to wear glasses to look clever in the hope they would confer intelligence on me by stealth. No such luck.

I'm not entirely sure how I'm supposed to behave. Do I stop wearing t-shirts emblazoned with band names and logos on them ? Do I listen to serious music instead of the tunes that make my children laugh and sing along ? Do I watch my cholesterol and take preventative measures ? Do I take up soothing pastimes and start collecting things ? Or do I continue as I am. Dancing in the car and the kitchen with my kids and Hubbie. Hiding sweets from party bags that the kids bring home so that we can eat them to 'protect their precious teeth' ?

What I am going to do is all the things I enjoy:

• go swimming
• go out to eat with Hubbie
• have a lovely pampering treatment
• present my radio show
• see friends and have my hair done. 

Then when it's all done I'll take a look at the 'silver' hair on my head and consider myself lucky.

Can eating cake cure cancer ? I'm not sure, but it probably helps.

This week I'm all about raising awareness and money for cancer charities. When I was growing up no one mentioned cancer at all and I thought it was a rare thing that only happened to other people. As time has gone on I've worked with people who have developed cancer, my aunt was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and passed away not long after. My beautiful friend Soraya was diagnosed with breast cancer, was treated for it and last year we did the Moonwalk together to celebrate her recovery. In a few weeks time I will visit the lovely Penny who was the midwife who attended the birth of Big Boy. A few years ago Penny was told she had pancreatic cancer and that her prognosis was bleak, she refused to give in and defied the odds to recover from it.

Soraya and me before the long walk 

That's why this week I'm spending a lot of time eating cake. Well, not just me. I hosted a Macmillan Coffee morning earlier in the week and all the lovely guests who attended brought cake - and barely ate any - so I had loads left over. Then today we had another coffee morning at playgroup and there was even more cake. So I have started to act as a 'cake courier.' I'm delivering cake to friends locally in return for a donation to Macmillan.

Loadsa lovely cake 

I have a personal connection to Macmillan as their nurses have cared for and supported friends and loved ones who have sadly passed away. The nurses were kind enough to attend the funerals and I know how much it meant to the family members that the care extended beyond their lives. It was also great to be able to thank the nurses for providing end of life care. I have a lot of respect for Macmillan and the work they do.

All ready to raise funds for Macmillan

On Saturday night I will be walking a half marathon through London with my lovely friend Carole to raise money for Cancer Research UK. I've been a bit under that weather for over a week so my training has taken a bit of a hit, but I've walked a full marathon before so I know I can do it. I'll be bold and brave and shine brightly for all those wonderful people I know whose lives have been affected by cancer.

If you would like to sponsor me that would be fantastic. Any amount will make such a difference and I promise that this is the last fundraising ask I will make for a while. I'm a bit done in with having done the danceathon earlier in the year and I think I'll take a break after the walk.

You never know this cake courier thing might take off :)

Move aside make way, for a half term Fire Station visit

As you probably know we are big fans of the fire service and I had promised my boys a visit to the fire station during half term. It was all because the lovely guys from our local fire station had been in our street a few months ago and they had said to pop in any time to have a look around.

Is it Big Boy or Darth Vader ?

Big boy was so excited - even more so, because his friend A was coming along again and they are both big fans of fire engines. Baby boy was visiting for the first time and despite his initial reservations he got stuck in and had a drive of the engine too. Big boy wore his Fire Officer outfit to the station - it was so funny seeing him in the kit room surrounded by grown up uniforms wearing his teeny tiny Early Learning Centre version.

It was very rainy on the day we went, but the guys were amazing and let the children open the big doors of the firehouse and play with the hoses outside. I was very glad that big boy was wearing his waterproof outfit I can tell you !

It was this Fire Officer's first day - no joke !

As they drove the engine outside the children sat inside and were very excited to have a ride. At one point we were inside the control room and saw the engine driving off the station forecourt and I joked, "the kids aren't still inside are they ?" Apparently they were and as it disappeared from view I considered escaping for a cup of tea with A's mum and the baby siblings. As it turns out they were just taking the engine round to the back of the station to refill the hoses with water as they'd been so liberal with the target practice earlier.

Just checking out the dials

We were invited back on a sunnier day to have lots more fun with the hoses and I was advised to bring a change of clothes for big boy in case he got carried away.

I can highly recommend a visit to the fire station as the officers are so kind and always really happy to see children and to show them around. It's definitely something we'll be doing again.

This post is being shared as part of the fab #countrykids linky hosted by the lovely Fiona of Coombe Mill.

  

Friday I'm in love - with my magical boy

This afternoon I made that error that isn't the end of the world but makes you feel a bit cross when it happens. I was in the queue that looked shortest, but turned out to be a woman who was paying separately for 4 loads of shopping. While I sighed, told my boy for the 15th time to stop climbing onto the shopping trolley and pondered how I'd managed to visit Sainsburys 3 times in two days I spotted a familiar woman at the next till. She wasn't looking over so I had a good look to see if she was who I thought she was. Her hair was blonder and she looked a bit heavier than when I last saw her (we both are), but it was definitely her. We worked in the same office in Wimbledon in 1995 - I used to stop and talk to her on reception on the way to my desk. K was glamorous and I remember her dark bobbed hair and bright red lipstick. She was like a friendlier Magenta Devine.

As I packed my shopping my son kept calling over, "Mummy, Mummy, look over here. Look over here Mummy," as he stood in front of the kiddy vending machines festooned with pictures of Minions, Elsa and assorted other characters. I noticed that K was still there too so decided to wait and talk to her when she had also finished packing. As she did I called over, "K ? We used to work together a while back. It's Swazi." She smiled, but clearly didn't remember me. Well it was 20 years ago so it's hardly surprising really. We pushed our trollies outside the store and stood chatting - all the while my son was climbing onto the side of my trolly and I kept telling him not to.

I asked her how she was and it all flooded back to me. Her husband B and how they were struggling to have a baby. How I went to her house for waxing as part of her training to be a beautician and she told me about their difficulties conceiving and that their Christian faith gave them strength to cope. As we talked today and she told me about the failed IVF and how they eventually accepted they would not have children and they settled on a 'selfish' life. This lovely woman who wasn't in the least bit selfish then and still isn't. As we said goodbye we hugged and my boy gave her a cuddle that she was kind enough to be delighted by. It was a salutary lesson for me.

I've been beating myself up a lot lately for being a rubbish parent. For getting angry, for not being around enough, for not cooking proper meals, well just everything really. Even today I was losing patience with my boy as he tried on school shoes and moaned that he was too tired to put his own shoes back on. I found it all a bit much that he asked me to save his wedges so he could eat them later and when we got back in the car he'd changed his mind so we sat in a car that smelled like fried food. On the ride home he burst into tears as I switched over the radio station so I could listen to the Archers repeat because he wanted to hear his 'favourite song.'* Sigh.

For all that I complain about how bad I am at parenting or how annoying my boy is - or worry that Hubbie sustained a head injury last week and hasn't been quite himself since - I'm grateful that I have both of them. That I have the good fortune to have found a mini packet of love hearts in the car that made my boy so very happy when I said he could eat them. That my lovely neighbour popped round for our weekly cup of tea and a catch up and brought a Tonka fire rescue truck for my boy.

Mostly I'm glad I stopped to talk to K and that I remembered what we had shared. When I knew her me and Hubbie hadn't even met yet. She opened up to me about the pain and heartache of infertility and I had no idea that years later I would be in exactly the same situation in my own marriage. I've thought of her occasionally over the years since and wondered what had happened to her and B. I had no idea I'd ever see her again, with my son, on a day that I felt overwhelmed and underpowered.

The son that for a long time I thought I'd never have. Who I love with a ferocity and a joy that I didn't know was possible. This boy who made K's face light up today when he beamed at her and waved goodbye with a cheery, "Bye, see you later."

It's like he's magic.

*mostly Arctic Monkeys, Jake Bugg or anything else that gets played incessantly on XFM.

Sunday Night and Monday Morning

When people talk about Sunday Night Syndrome it's usually with a 'back to school' feeling. One of dread and sadness that the working / school week is beginning again. Hubbie usually irons his shirts on Sunday evening while we watch TV and I sort out my lunch and organise my handbag for Monday.

Eating crisps with chopsticks - that's how we roll :)

This week we've had a crazy busy weekend with a family lunch, a quiz at the school and a party with classmates this afternoon. In between all of this we also managed to fit in a visit to the dentist and even pre-recorded a radio show. Even by our standards it's been more packed than usual. I'm tired at the end of my weekend and have a full week to follow.

There was a time when I was able to cope with all the slings and arrows that working life would throw at me, but that was before I was a parent. Now my son's social calendar defines what we do every weekend and we all work round that. The weekdays are no different and everything is organised around what time he has to be dropped off or picked up from school. If I have to go on a train journey out of London I book a train that will get me back in time to pick him up. Hubbie drops him off at breakfast club in the morning then goes to work. It's a finely tuned operation to ensure everyone can get where they need to be at the right time.

My boy and his friend hanging out

The bit that is difficult for me is that my boy is only 4 years old and he spends a long day at school so that me and Hubbie can work. He loves being at school and his friends are great, but he did ask me the other day if I could pick him up at 3.15 "like the other Mums." I said I would see what I can do. To be honest it's probably not helpful that he is leaving school in the dark so it feels like the middle of the night, but it's the first time he's expressed any discontent with the long days we subject him to.

It does make me question whether that is what I want for my child. Whether my relationship with him in the future will be compromised because of the decisions we have made right now. My sister still says that she often wished that our Mum had been home when we got back from school like all her friends' Mums. Our Mum worked full time and it never occurred to me that this was an issue. I accepted that she worked and that this was not her choice, but a necessity. I didn't have my Mum at home when I got back from school and she was often tired, but she always took time off during the school holidays and would save money to take us for days out and even the occasional holiday.

Yeah I make him do his own washing.

Hubbie has a great relationship with his Mum and they talk openly and honestly about things that matter to him. I hope that when my son grows up he feels close to me in the same way.

It won't always be like this. I won't be working long days and travelling all over the place. In a short time I will be back to taking him to school and picking him up at the same time as the other Mums. He will see me when it's daylight and we will spend time together after school and maybe even have friends over for playdates.

The main thing I want for my son is that when he looks back on this time he recalls a happy childhood. One that was filled with fun, laughter and love.

Those are the memories that I want to give my boy.

Happy Days :

I (more than) get by with a little help from my friends

I'm blessed with some amazing friends - I'm more than usually aware of this tonight as I've been struggling this week to keep up with myself. The early starts and the rushing back from work so I'm in time to pick up our boy from school has been taking its toll. I started my new job last week and have already clocked miles travelling to Brighton, Liverpool and Oxford for meetings and conferences and this week Hubbie started his new job too. Our boy has been going to breakfast club and after school creche in order to accommodate our new busy timetable and we're all a bit shattered.

Yes. it's the actual Yellow Submarine !!

This evening as I popped out to get some bits and pieces from the shops I called an old friend - he's not old I've just known him a long time - to discuss the latest adventures in our household. When discussing the work situation he reminded me that this is an amazing opportunity for me to get some great experience and that it will take time for it to feel 'normal' for all of us, but it will happen. Rob and I have been friends for over 20 years and he knows me pretty well and there's no hiding from him when things aren't great. He's right of course. I'm feeling a bit crappy about it all because I'm worried about our boy coping with the new routine. I feel guilty because I'm not at home all the time to do the things I was doing before so the house is a mess and I have a constantly increasing to do list. I'm tired because even though I vowed to go to bed by ten it just doesn't happen.

When I got home from the shops I was rushing - as I seem to be all the time lately - and was very snappy with Hubbie. As if he'd realised why he mentioned that we could make some changes to our working patterns so that it wouldn't all feel so panicky for me. We discussed it further and I think we've come up with a pretty good solution that will enable me to work smarter. He is good like that and will always try to fix things to make it easier for me. Bear in mind that he has a pathological hatred of DIY and yet he made a late night trip to B&Q last night to sort out a curtain rail that had an unfortunate run-in with our 4 year old last weekend.

You see I consider Hubbie a friend too. Not the one I've know longest, but certainly one who is just as amazing as the others. I mean he knows how rotten I can be when it's been a while since I've eaten - or just because it's Monday - and he still chose to marry me. We both have to deal with our boy when he's being difficult and it does get trying, but we don't forget that we're friends underneath it all. I don't mean we're only friends - of course there's more to it than that. This is a PG rated blog though so I won't elaborate on that.

When I was a child my Mum used to criticise how close I was to my friends. She would say that I did far too much for them and that when they didn't reciprocate I would get hurt - she was only half right. You see some friends are like dominos - they lean on you and you in turn lean on others. Then there are the ones who know you so well that you don't even have to tell them the whole story. They just say the thing you need to hear or do something that you didn't know you needed. Like Neil doing a 'Smiley's People' style meeting this week over the road from my office. Or Gareth changing plans so he could join me and Hubbie for a gig at very short notice. Or Carole checking in with me to see how I am getting on in my new job. Or SJ putting the bollard down on her drive for us - no I'm not even going to elaborate on that.

What I've realised over the years is that great friends are the family you choose. The really good ones are priceless and if you're lucky enough to have someone who is both a friend and family then be thankful.

Yes, I'm talking about you Hubbie :)

No more a baby and not yet a man.

You know how you see a forlorn tiny mitten in the street, or a sock that has lost it's mate ? I feel sad for the child who has lost it - and to be honest for the Mum who won't notice it's missing until she's home or at least too far away to go back and retrace all her steps to find it. Well, once I had a child I realised how easy it is to lose things - often just the mundane things like socks or mittens. I thought I was very adept at taking care of the valuable toys and loved cuddlies. Until the day he dropped Ellie in the supermarket. 

He was sitting in the trolley and wanted to hold the toothpaste tubes so I let him. Then when we almost reached the till I asked where Ellie was and he said he didn't know. I frantically asked everyone if they'd seen Ellie and they said they hadn't. Some were genuinely concerned until they asked what she looked like and I described a small fluffy orange square with a trunk on one corner that was all chewed and smelly. The concern on their faces was palpably reduced when they realised it was a comforter that I was looking for and not my missing daughter. I'm not being too dramatic when I say I was distraught. I looked at my son and with tears filling my eyes I said. "I'm sorry we can't find Ellie. He looked at me and said, "It's ok Mummy, we have a new Ellie at home." He wasn't wrong. I had bought spares just in case of this eventuality. He styled it out with his seeming indifference to the loss of his most adored toy, but he never loved the 'new Ellie' the same as the original. So you can see why I thought my boy might have some experience in dealing with loss.

Today was my boy's first day at school. He's in the nursery, but it's in a school with uniform and book bags and all sorts of formalities that help get the children used to going to 'real' school. He finished at his old nursery at the end of July and we've been talking to him about the new school and what to expect. We have noticed he was getting a bit upset at times, like when we went uniform shopping or when anyone asked about 'big school' so we stopped calling it that and said, 'new nursery' instead. In preparation he had a haircut last week and every morning this week he has woken up asking, "Am I going to school today Mummy ?" In the last few days cracks started to appear, though, as he said, "Mummy I don't like my hair, I won't go to school until I get a new haircut." or, "I'm not feeling well, I can't go to school." I started to see signs of his fear and worry about the big new change.

Then today arrived and he bounded in to our bedroom asking, "Am I going to school today ?" and we said, "Yes, let's get ready." He had a wash, brushed his hair and then put on his uniform - causing his hair to get all messed up - so he brushed it again and admired himself in the mirror. We all got ready to go and he part walked and part scooted to the school. When we arrived he went straight in and started to play with some other children. When we called out to him he gave us a cursory, "yeah, yeah, whatever I'm busy." wave and we smiled and left the school. I didn't cry, but I did feel a bit choked and hoped he'd be ok. He hadn't eaten much breakfast and I know how ratty he gets when he's hungry so I wondered how he'd make it to morning break time without a meltdown.

When we went to pick him up this afternoon he was sitting nicely on the carpet and when he got up to come to the door I noticed he seemed a bit tired and down. He mithered all the way home, wanting to be carried and I assured him that he'd get used to walking - we both have to ! He wasn't too keen to talk about what he'd done or who he'd played with or in fact anything about his first day. Then we took him out for dinner as a special 'first day at school' treat. He was a bit moody and I put it down to tiredness, but he managed to wolf down a big milkshake and got a balloon from the lovely owner of his favourite diner so he cheered up a little bit.

After a bit of a fuss at bedtime. I went to his room for our usual end of day chat and calmly asked him, "Have you had a good day ?" He said no. Then he burst into tears. I mean massive wracking sobs that made his little - still damp from the shower - body shake. I held him close and kept saying, "It's ok. It's ok baby. It's ok." He cried and cried. I felt terrible - I wanted to cry too. This wasn't tiredness, this was something else. He eventually said, "I don't want to go to new nursery any more. I want to go to my old nursery." I held him close and said, "New things are a bit scary and it's sad when we have to leave somewhere we like, but you will like this nursery too." I asked him what he missed about the old nursery and he said, " My toys..." pause, " and my friends.' More tears. I held him closer and kissed his still wet head. He kept saying he just wanted to go to the old nursery and pleaded with me not to take him to new nursery again.

I felt my chest constrict and my throat tighten. We had spent time talking about the fun new things he'd be doing, but we had neglected to prepare him to leave things behind. Because he can count and and he is very funny and fluent in his speech we think he has a maturity that isn't really possible in someone who will only be 4 at the end of the month. I thought that because he was putting on a brave face he was dealing with this big change in his life. Up until now I've been sewing in labels, getting photos taken and dealing with the 'cosmetic' part of moving on. Now, the real work begins in helping my boy to let go of the past and move on to the future. To help him learn to have faith that things will get better. That this transition from knowing everyone and being well versed in what goes on to everything being new and unknown will only be temporary. The teachers will no longer be strangers and he will make new friends.

You see when I look at my boy I don't just see someone who can dress himself and who plays tricks on me and Hubbie to a make us laugh. I see the tiny newborn who I held close and kissed on the head. I see the smudgy scan that me and Hubbie gave thanks for. I remember the bump that we used to sing to and who I whispered to that I'd love and protect for as long as he'd let me.

If I can't let go of the past just like that it's hardly fair to expect my boy to is it ? It's going to take time.

"I want to leave plenty of time for discussion, I've heard myself speak before." Tony Benn

The news that Tony Benn had passed away came early in the day and I kept trying to pretend it wasn't happening. I caught the end of a tribute during the Today programme and dismissed it as my having misheard. Then I avoided any news bulletins all morning and took the boy and a neighbour out to the shops and for lunch as it was so lovely and sunny. I managed to convince myself it hadn't really happened. Eventually while I was waiting for the Archers repeat to begin I finally listened to the news and had to accept that yes it was true and he had really died.

It was like hearing that a family friend had gone. Someone I hadn't seen for years, but who I still had a soft spot for. When I was at school and was first becoming interested in politics his son was a local councillor and I became fascinated by him. I was a member of CND, a feminist, second generation immigrant and from a low income family. Where politicians were out of touch and 'other' he seemed to be genuinely interested in the people that were frequently ignored or dismissed as unimportant. I didn't always agree with Tony Benn's views, but I like how he listened and spoke in equal measure and didn't do that thing that all politicians do now where they interject aggressively in any conversation/ interview with, "look," while ploughing on with their pre-prepared directive from party HQ.

Just now I heard a tribute programme on Radio 4 where David Davies talked about Benn's career and their friendship. It is telling that there were so many from all sides of the political field who spoke fondly about him and many who were honest in their complete disagreement with his politics. I started to compare this week where two figures on the left of politics died with what happened when Margaret Thatcher died. Neither period of mourning propelled the nation into the outpouring of grief that baffled me (and many others) when Diana died. They did, however, offer an interesting insight into how public death is now and what is allowed to be said and what is chosen to be said. I noted two things in particular.

1. When talking about Thatcher the words Iron Lady were used most frequently and when talking about Bob Crow and Tony Benn it's been about loyalty and being an upstanding champion of the people in once case and a homely, tea obsessed chap on the other.

2. The left and right (politically speaking) behave quite differently in the face of the death of a public figure. They don't see eye to eye politically, but do say the right things for the media - it isn't the done thing to speak ill of the dead after all. However, I don't think there have been any street parties celebrating the death of Crow or Benn, even though I'm pretty sure they inspired the same level of passionate hatred in their detractors as Thatcher did in hers.

I've mentioned before that one of my closest friends and I do not agree on politics. I don't mean we politely disagree and clink tea cups and get on with discussing how to make the smoothest butter icing. I mean there were years when I would come home after a night out with her where I'd feel I'd been mentally and verbally battered and even now there are times when we look at each other with an acknowledgement that we just aren't on the same page on this issue. I suspect this is why we always meet for afternoon tea or a meal, it's a conciliatory way to discuss contentious topics and even if you have a far reaching and painful disagreement at least there was cake or a great glass of wine. Regardless of the disagreement we are still the greatest of friends and I love her very much.

If we only ever befriend people who agree with us we live a small life where our views are never challenged and we never learn anything. I accept that at times I am in the wrong and I'm no longer afraid to admit it. I never used to as I saw it as a failure and would argue my side even as I realised I wasn't even convincing myself. Hubbie and I broadly agree on politics and it is because I'm married to him that I have learned tolerance - bear with me here. You see my father-in-law is someone whose politics are the polar opposite of mine in every sense. He does not listen to anyone and bulldozes on with his Daily Mail informed point of view without any irony or shame. I used to try and get a word in or to argue, but now I listen politely and if I find what he's saying really appalling I change topic or go and do the washing up. Hubbie does not agree with his father's politics, but he respects the man - as do I. It is ironic really as he look a bit like - and sounds a lot like - Tony Benn.

My admiration of Tony Benn isn't a tacit agreement with all of his political views. He wasn't always right, but he was not unkind. His belief in equal rights for gay people was way ahead of the fashionable thinking and he supported nuclear disarmament at a time when that meant you were just mad or living on Greenham Common. He showed respect for others and stood up for what he believed in in the face of great criticism.  He said in 1975, "If I rescued a child from drowning, the press would no doubt headline the story: 'Benn grabs child.'"

You don't have to agree with me on any of the above. I do ask, however, that you watch this video clip of Tony Benn taking on Ali G and winning. He doesn't pander to idiotic views in order to look "cool" or pretend to understand where Sacha Baron Cohen's character is coming from - for that I direct you to the Sir Rhodes Boyson interview.

Anthony Neil Wedgewood Benn (1925-2014)

Black Thoughts and Blue Skies.

Today this cartoon appeared on my timeline and I felt so moved by it that I shared it. It's taken from a website called www.robot-hugs.com which you should check out - it really is quite lovely.

I was moved by this because the sentiment in it is so important for those who don't live with depression to understand. It's not always possible for someone with depression to express what is wrong or what they need. I remember my housemates in a shared house at Uni asking me why I was the way I was and being so confused and tearful I just didn't know what to say. It didn't matter how much Rachel harangued me to explain I just didn't know. I still don't really.

Just as one of my other Uni housemates used to play Pink Floyd and lock herself away sometimes and be really excited and happy at other times and we just accepted that was who she was. When she was sad we would be around, but not in her face and when she was manic we'd be carried along by her enthusiasm and rapid fire chat and laughter. I've since found out she has been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and this was what we were witnessing, but without any knowledge of it. I like to think we were not a hindrance to her and that she knew it was a safe space to be herself in.

It's not always possible to know what you need to make you feel better. Equally it isn't always easy to know what to offer to do. When my closest friend almost died (actually she technically did die and came back) I went to see her in hospital and I asked what she needed. She said she had everything - her ipad, fruit, etc. I thought for a minute then said, "do you want me to wash your hair ?" She looked so relieved and said, "Yes ! That's just what I need." I'd taken a guess because I remembered being in hospital with my newborn son and just wanting clean hair. It made such a difference.

Sometimes is isn't much, but it's just something. When my first marriage broke up and I moved back to my parents' home I was in a daze. It was a miserable time and I didn't know what I was going to do. My sister was living at home and she came to the room where I was going to sleep and said, "shall I sit with you until you fall asleep ?" I had no idea what I needed or wanted, but at that moment I knew that I didn't want to be by myself. My sister brought in a chair and sat next to my bed in silence. She stayed there in the dark until I nodded off. It was the single most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.

This is a difficult time of year for so many people. The weight of expectation is so high and we are all supposed to be having a wonderful time. If you aren't full of festive cheer it can be impossible to be around people who are. It's ok to feel sad, or angry, or fed up, or nothing.

If you are around someone who is depressed bear in mind that you may not be able to do anything. Just being there might also be just enough.







www.mind.org.uk

www.sane.org.uk