Come Home

I got the call that no one wants. 'Come home; you need to see Mum.' So I flew back to the UK as soon as I could, passing through Singapore airport where the curry puff outlet has been restored, Never has the name seemed more ironic.

I got home just in time to say goodbye. I am so sad, and the images of Mum's final days look nothing like her, so I look at memories of happier times, from her recent Chritmas outing for afternoon tea, and to her Mother of the Bride stint at my wedding. I love you, Mum.

Lack of sleep, lashings of jetlag, unfathomable grief and freezing mornings combine. I head to the river. 

The Weevil walks with me, until she heads off on a frosty run.

Nothing says the party is over like a frozen glass of Pimms outside the rugby club.

We take Dad for a walk around Marlow Common (one of Mum's favourite places) and the Royal Oak for lunch.

It's such a sad time. I am glad we are together to give support and to try and find some smiles amidst the tears.

Another morning walk along the Thames in the other direction to the church where we were married. 

Not everyone is happy with this cold weather.

Back at the house I found some old diaries from the siblings, in which they recount the great 'Katie got bit by a swan' saga, and a tapestry piece that Mum had started, so I asked permission from Dad to complete it. And there is always a pint to finish the day.

The Weevil's account is not overly sympathetic

Making and Sharing Memories

The bedside book pile continues to evolve. Him Outdoors is constantly remarking on the potential hazards of such a pile, but I think he's just not seeing things from the correct perspective. 

Sky patterns above the lake keep me company in my lunch breaks at work. 

After booking in for a routine mammogram, I treated myself to breakfast at a local cafe, and then brought armfuls of flowers indoors from the garden and plonked them in vases. I may have mentioned that I have no skill in the flower arranging department, although I love the colours and natural shapes and smells. The cats, obviously, had to judge them. 

We had a gala night for the Canberra Repertory Society to feast and raise funds. Our cast and crew table for Dead Man's Cell Food were too busy with the frivolity and lacking in funds to be too much financial assistance, but we had a good time, and at least we raised some money by attending in the first place.

Chipz came round for afternoon tea and, although I have no photos of them or the cucumber sandwiches we ate in the garden, I do have images of the Pimms glasses full of fruity goodness.

Calamity Sue gathered some friends and family and we had a memorial service for General Philosopher, where we hired a boat and went out on the water to toast his memory and walk on Springbank Island. It was a beautiful thing to do and very emotional. Tears, laughter, and stories were shared.