Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day. A gym day, stepper and upper body weights. I talk to a flustered son on the phone, who has been working hard troubleshooting and improving my website. It’s his evening in Australia, my morning. I’m teary on the phone and he too has struggled with the significance of today. I’m reminded of the Australian wall calendars he bought Anna for Christmas, gifts he was able to give in person. With help from his aunt and uncle in the US, he was able to surprise Anna and travel home for Christmas last year. Anna and I traveled up to Manchester for a fews days, to have Christmas with Alex and Howard. After some food on arrival, Anna excitedly answers the phone as her son is calling from Melbourne and after a brief catch up, he walks through the front door! Much to the bamboozlement, screams and delight of his mum. We all spend a few precious days together and he flies back to Melbourne, with plans to return for Anna’s birthday in March. Not three weeks later, under the advice of Anna’s doctor, Max returned.

Left the house to Anna’s cherry blossom looking stunning in the sunshine. Today my daughter celebrates her first Mother’s Day as a mother! I send her my love and reflect on how much has shifted.

Today's walking buddies are Theresa and Paul. They are taking me on a pilgrimage to St Kenelm’s Well in Winchcombe. St Kenelm a mercian boy, king and martyr, grandson of King Offa, murdered by his older sister between 829-822AD. His remains were being transported to Winchcombe Abbey and he rested here and a spring burst forth where miracle healing occured. This shrine dates from 1549 and an inscription inside is perfect for me.

“OH TRAVELLER STAY THY WEARY FEET,

DRINK OF THIS WATER PURE AND SWEET:

IT FLOWS FOR RICH AND POOR THE SAME.

THEN GO THY WAY, REMEMBERING STILL

THE WAYSIDE WELL BENEATH THE HILL

THE CUP OF WATER IN HIS NAME.”

This building was really in the middle of nowhere..

Winchcombe from the top of the hill, another fabulous day of sunshine. Anna is walking with me every step of the way. I think of my mum.

Enjoy an end of walk beer at The White Hart in Winchcombe.

End of a full day, sat at Gatwick arrivals waiting for clients. Loads of older couples coming through. Will I ever be free of the constant triggers for all that I have lost?