Good afternoon, readers
Today I’m wearing: The Dress; Primarni strapless dress (aka Party Dress); belt which is now mine and not my mother’s because she has graciously given it to me; brogues that are waterproof; glasses so I can see things.
Behold! You see before you a girl* being buffeted by the Northern winds. The weather in Yorkshire is frightful, but it is proper good to be home.
Today is Nan’s birthday celebration, and the reason I’m back in the shire. My nan is the most inspiring woman I know. She has cancer and has had for a while now, but you couldn’t tell by looking at her. This is me and my nan:
A year ago almost to the day, she was in hospital for 3 weeks, because her kidneys failed. She had operations and we were all very worried about her. But just look at her! A year later, both kidneys are working and she is the most lively person I know. Given the recent NHS scandal(s), Nan wants it to be known that the care she received and still receives from Harrogate hospital and St. James’s hospital in Leeds has been exemplary and she really couldn’t ask for more. Every part of the care she’s had has been fantastic and as a family, we are indebted to them.
Nan is having chemo again, but is doing so well that she’s booked to come up to my graduation in June. Honestly, hearing her squeak down the phone when I told her the graduation date made my year. She says her friends in the village, her Church, and the two pubs in her village have helped her stay positive, and the family have been her bedrock.
She has taught me to always think of the bigger picture, and just how much love there is in this world. Nan is funny, clever, a brilliant cook, and has the biggest wardrobe of anyone I have ever met. I must’ve got my clothes-hoarder tendencies from somewhere, eh? When I get worried, or sad, or if I have good news, I ring Nan first. She’s a fantastic listener.
She was 78 on Friday (doesn’t look a day over 60), so we all had Sunday lunch at the Bay Horse Inn in Rainton today. As I type, I am slumped on a sofa, unable to move, let alone comprehend ever eating again. Both my brothers are here (they’re Conor and Niall) and it’s really nice to see them:
Observe how much smaller I am. Frustrating, as I can remember a time when I was taller than them.
£742.00! That’ll pay for 14 children to have sessions with a Play Therapist. Did you know that in 90% of domestic abuse cases, children were in the same room or next door to where the abuse was happening? Appalling, isn’t it?
So I suggest you donate just £8, and give 15 children the support they need.
Have a good Sunday, folks
*I’m a bit too young for woman, I think.