I’m in York again. Yay. This is my latest walk.

Incredible boots.

I don’t wear perfume but it’s fun to smell them sometimes. There’s a lovely selection of perfume bottles in the room where I’m staying. For once I found one I liked and gave a tentative spray. Turns out it’s a room spray but I’m going with it. 🙄🙃

On the M5 in Gloucester there’s a wonderful service station aka rest stop. I look forward to stopping there because it’s an eco inspired building with a farm shop. Quite different from the usual offerings of a typical service station. It even has a grass roof and pond. 😃

WuWing’s getting a clean.

Doggo paying close attention to an interesting diagnosis of the camshaft.

Today is a good day. Today, after two months sabbatical far up north in a garage having her engine fixed, we’ll be reunited with our lovely blue car. A car we’ve had so many adventures in. A car who we thought was not going to get better. And today also means no more hire vans.🥳

This woman has been with me my whole life. Growing up she looked after me with her whole heart. She protected me. Now I’m protecting her. Because she’s getting old. In her body. And mind. Things aren’t working as well anymore. It’s hard to believe - your mum getting old. It doesn’t seem possible. Time’s passing. Life moves on. I’m now a grown up. Yikes (I’m not really).

I’ve been staying with her this past week helping her make useful choices, positive choices. Giving her strength like she used to give me. At the top of the agenda has been decluttering her entire house because she has so. much. stuff. And I’ve been living in it. Everyday. It’s crazy. Chairs everywhere. So. many. chairs. How many chairs does one need in a house? Lots apparently. There’s not a single surface/floor space to put anything down. Everywhere is covered in trinkets, bowls, glasses, books, cushions, boxes, bags, stuff. It’s a process to accept you don’t need everything, everywhere. I find it overwhelming. My head spins with objects. If I put something down, like my phone, it’s like a Where’s Wally scene trying to find it again. When you’ve lived in conditions like this for so long, you get used to it and forget there’s a world out there where space exists. Never underestimate space I’ve told her in so many different ways. Never underestimate how free you’ll feel. How you’ll be able to breathe again. She’s finally realising this. I’m so glad.

We realised that she’d made a bad financial decision six years ago. In secret. Without any family member present. As a vulnerable widow she basically signed her house over to a terrible equity release company and will eventually have nothing left due to compound interest. So she has to move house and start again before she loses everything. I have to see it as a gift. A chance to free herself from the burden of this house where there is so much history and so many memories and a hell of a lot of DUST!

I’m getting her excited again about a new adventure. She’s always liked those. Even at 75 she can still get her mojo back. She’s got a great mojo when she’s laughing and light hearted. I know leaving all her clutter behind (and everyone else’s she’s inherited) will make her soar.

This week has been life affirming for us all. I’ve given her her power back. She doesn’t need to hoard and feels supported - she’s gradually creating a space to breathe. I’ve learnt to be more patient and accept that I can’t change and control everything. Somewhere we meet in the middle. With love. And if that doesn’t work, we just have a good shouting match which soon dispels the annoyances, bringing us back to smiles, tears, truth and hugs. A cathartic week it has been. Definite therapy.

I’ve always had a sweet tooth.

Sweet little catto. She lived outside on her own for so many years that even now, settled in a loving home, she can’t help but go out into the wildest of weathers (today there were gale force winds and driving rain) to sit under the flowers and take it all in.

Growing up with furry friends.

Drops of mist on tiny clovers growing through cracks on the ground. I wish I were a fairy drinking droplets of sparkle glittering and rolling around.

I bought this giant pink octopus for Rosie when she was a wee pup. She still loves it just as much eight years on. I enjoy its quacks.

I was going to relive a childhood obsession tonight with a bag of candy floss. Turns out the pink colouring is flavored strawberry now so tastes very different from the delicious caramelised sweet memories of my youth. I threw it away. I’ll find perfect candy floss again one day.

Donuts (no photo, ate them too fast), Dodgems and the bright lights of Torquay.

Mum’s magical garden.

Drunk on pollen.

Strange experience this morning. I was dancing, my mum hobbled in. She was hunched over and breathless. The juxtaposition of us both shocked me. It was emotional.

It reminded me about keeping on dancing and looking after my body. Through diet and exercise. A strong lesson.

I’m gonna dance until the day I die.

The little Queen sleeps (after waking me up at 4am sounding like a minature lion, asking to go outside).

One of my first jobs was serving Mr Whippy’s from a kiosk by the sea. I did my first one in twenty years tonight - I think I’ve still got the magic (there was more of a point on top but some cheeky monkey ate it before the photo got taken).

Babbacombe, Devon. I’m coming for that sea and those pure water droplets on my skin. This week. I will go in.

What a cute pupper. Rosie is her name. Food is her game. She used to look like a podgy caterpillar until she went on a diet. It’s going well I’m pleased to say.