My Boy, the poet?

Yesterday, to make the most of the last hot, sunny day in London town this year (well, it was 3 October!) the Boy and I took the scenic route home and strolled down to Tower Bridge.

We enjoyed the walk down from Covent Garden, taking in the sights we know so well once again, this time bathed in unexpected October sunshine. It was really enjoyable, and I picked up a Peter Ho Davies book - the Welsh Girl - from the second hand booksellers under Waterloo Bridge that I've been wanting to read for quite a time.

I squeezed the Boy's hand extra tight as we walked along the river banks in the fading sunlight, our fingers interlocking easily with our familiarity and security. It felt good. One of our first dates was a walk along the river and I always enjoy the time we spend there. We stopped several times just to take in the moment, hold each other and kiss - perhaps reminded by that first flush of love that had blossomed here, or perhaps still a little infatuated with each other following our holiday.

We were going to head down to Browns where we normally go for an impromptu dinner, but this time we stopped for a bite to eat at dimt in More London - which turned out to be an inspired choice. We'd never been before but the food was excellent, and we bagged a table outside and were able to look out onto Tower Bridge, the Tower of London (finally free of scaffolding, hurrah!), City Hall, and the host of other attractions the Thames has to offer. This part of the South Bank certainly is my favourite part of London. It was really beautiful watching these landmarks encased in the orange tones of dusk, and then to see the blue skies fade to be engulfed with the dark swathes of night. 

We walked home hand-in-hand, silently but contentedly, taking in the surroundings and the night sky. I commented to the Boy that I found it a shame you could never see the stars in London - and I wondered why that was. His reply was that it's too bright in London, and "the darker it is, the easier it is to see the stars". A simple statement of the obvious I suppose, but something in his words really touched me and I stopped in my tracks. I found his phrasing beautiful, and strangely enticing and thought-provoking. I found myself looking at him once again with that feeling of wonder, aware that there is still so much of my man for me to discover. I pray I am given the time on this earth to do so. And I do believe it took us going to the heart of darkness and losing our baby, for me to really see and understand what a stunning bright star my dear Boy is.

Stunning Sardinia

Well, hello! It feels an age since I've been on here. The Boy and I are just back from a magical break in Sardinia. It was a fantastic trip, timed to perfection following a busy few weeks with my annual conference and the Boy's amazing efforts in the Great North Run.

We stayed in Baja Sardinia and it was beautiful. A perfect cocktail of relaxation, great weather, lovely scenery, amazing food - and some very nice local beers and red wines. Bliss. The Boy and I enjoyed quiet days on the beach, whiling away the hours talking, reading or snorkelling together. Late afternoon brought a few cold drinks in the bar and a couple of hands of cards, and then we either enjoyed dinner in the restaurant in the hotel - superb food and waiting staff - or ventured out to a local pizzeria.

It was exactly what the doctor ordered as I had been quite stressed and stretched before we left, and as it was the end of season the resort was very quiet and the hotel empty - at times the Boy and I had the whole private beach to ourselves, making it very romantic. I return refreshed, revigoured, and somehow even more in love with that Boy of mine. Spending 24/7 together for a week with barely a word said to anyone else was a beautiful bubble of luxury I wish I could enjoy more often. One day...

And so here we are back in London town. I feel a little uneasy about our approaching due date, we both do, but we are as rested and relaxed and united as we could be, so we stand together to face these difficult next few weeks. I will try not to taunt myself with the 'if onlys' of what might have been - but that is always easier said than done for me.

I take comfort in the Boy and our lives together. We are both really happy with each other, and we know we have blessings in abundance. We return from holidays to good families, loving friends, secure jobs, a happy home, and a stronger financial security than we've ever had. While what happens on the family front is in the lap of him - or her - upstairs, we know our dream of leaving our flat for a proper home can be realised as we have watched our finances fall into place in the last few months. There is much to look forward to ahead, and while the waters will no doubt be tumultuous over the next few weeks, I hope for calmer seas as the year draws to its close.

Here are some highlights of our trip...

Not this time

I woke up early this morning and found to my surprise that my lady has arrived - four days early! I hadn't even had time to wonder whether I might be pregnant this month. I almost feel cheated for not being able to wonder whether every normal sign that my period was on the way was potentially a symptom of pregnancy... not that I do that, of course...

Once again I am of course a little disappointed, but it doesn't feel like as big a deal as I would have expected - which I am surprised about. I thought after the miscarriage only another pregnancy could heal the ache inside of me, but I know now that I was wrong.

The baby we lost was unique and we won't ever forget or replace. If we are to fall pregnant again that will be a completely different pregnancy and a completely different baby. I think accepting that has meant I don't feel in a rush for our circumstances to change. In fact today, I just thought: 'well, it wasn't meant to be this time, better luck next time, and I can enjoy a few guilt-free glasses of wine with the Boy in Sardinia next week'. I surprise myself I am so seemingly relaxed - long may it continue!

My hero

On Sunday the Boy, my hero husband, ran the Great North Run in Newcastle for the Sands charity. It was an incredible day, and I am even more in awe of my Boy than I was before. Sands is a charity that means a lot to us, having lost our tiny baby Beans earlier this year and also having good friends who have been through the terrifying ordeal of having a stillborn child, and I was very proud that the Boy chose to do this event for such a vital cause.

The Boy completed the race - a half-marathon with most of the first-half uphill! - in two hours 19 minutes. He was a little disappointed with this time, but he was carrying a foot injury and I could not be more impressed by him. He ran with his father and his brother, they were all round in two and a half hours, and between the three of them they raised around £1,500 for really important charities.

The day was very powerful. The Boy and I, as is our way, arrived very early so we had plenty of time to find key locations and work out what was what. Local radio was broadcasting from the site, pumping out tune after tune like 'Run', 'Run to You' and - my favourite by far! - 'Born to Run'. The energy of the participants and spectators was palpable, and I haven't experienced an atmospher like it before.

The presenter interviewed lots of the runners about the reasons they'd chosen to take part, and which charities they were running for. I found myself feeling very emotional as I heard the inspiring stories of the perseverance of the human condition in the face of extreme adversity and loss. Almost everyone there was running for someone who is no longer with us, and I found that quite amazing. I couldn't hold back the tears when at 9.45am 'Abide with Me' was played in memory of those who have died - my heart ached for our lost baby Beans, my friend Alex, my uncle, and the two colleagues we've said goodbye to this year. So much loss, so many gone too soon. And a beautiful piece of music and lyrics - if I recall correctly both written by a man who was dying himself.

But in the sadness of that moment there was a tremendous strength in unity. People from all walks of life together as one to take on the challenge, and to grind out those miles to make a real difference for the greater good. I couldn't help but admire that - in fact it almost took my breath away and I found it difficult to keep my composure throughout the day. After the weeks of dissection in the aftermath of the riots - what caused them, why people behave in such away, why there is no unity in communities or respect for others - I was reminded of the potential for goodness and strength in people, and their relentless ability to survive, endure and overcome. I take such heart and inspiration from their courage.

Isn't it ironic?

Just about catching my breath after a tremendously busy week. It was my work annual conference this week and I've been doing even more crazy hours than normal - the joys of being a press officer in the age of 24 hour media! I was in work for 5.30am which was a bit of a struggle. I felt panicked every night that I would oversleep - despite setting three alarm clocks! - and as a result pretty much woke up on the hour, every hour, all through the night convinced I'd missed my wake-up call. It's going to take me a while to recover I think!

This year's conference was even busier than usual. I'm used to quiet times, where I've had an hour off here and there to grab a sandwich, do a bit of shopping, or - when we've been in Brighton - just sit on the beach and look out at the sea and unwind. That didn't happen once this year and it was manic until the close of the day, I was running round getting quotes, setting up interviews and briefing journalists until my voice was about to give out. I would arrive home from work feeling like I'd been through a small trauma, and it was all I could do to muster the energy to keep my eyes open long enough to cuddle the Boy and say hello.

I therefore couldn't help but find a wry irony in the fact that as I was preparing to go to work at 5am on Monday, I did my fertility stick test (been doing it this month just to experience what it's like, and make sure I am ovulating again after the miscarriage) and it came back with the smiling face - my optimum 48 hour window to conceive, at the time I am the most busiest at work for the year. Someone upstairs has a sense of humour I think! The Boy and I did our best to make the most of this, but suffice to say I won't be hugely optimistic about a happy result this month... but I guess we'll see! At least I know that my body is physically back to normal and behaving as it should. Hopefully that means the rest will fall into place soon enough. And so the two week wait begins...

What goes up...

What goes up... must come down, as I discovered to my cost yesterday. Having spent most of the day on Cloud 10, looking down at Cloud 9, I merrily made my way to Shoreditch to meet some old work colleagues for a good catch up. I was fine when I left work, but after an arduous but not out of the ordinary tube journey (Lord love the central line in rush hour) I started rapidly going downhill.

I found myself uncomfortable and upset, even though surrounded by good friends, and I began to fluctuate between feeling incredibly angry or really sad. I became irritable and tetchy, at times feeling like I couldn't breathe and at other times wanting to stand on the table and scream to that everyone in the pub would hear. I'm not sure what happened but I kept thinking about the miscarriage and our lost baby Beans, and also my uncle and my friend who I lost earlier this year.

Perhaps it was guilt at having experienced happiness earlier in the day, perhaps it was because I saw some pregnant people on the tube, perhaps it was because our due date is only about six weeks away now, perhaps it was because I always anticipated I would be heavily pregnant at our annual conference - which begins next week - and of course as life has worked out I am not even slightly pregnant... I don't have the answers, but the questions are certainly there and I'm sure my friends now have questions about my odd behaviour and why I left the pub so early and so abruptly. Hopefully they will understand - but then I still don't really understand myself.

I guess grief is a complicated thing, I know that from my experience as a bereavement counsellor. And some of the feelings I am experiencing now resonate with how I've felt in the past when I've been bereaved, and what my clients have told me about their losses. I have to accept it's going to be difficult. I have to remind myself of my blessings - the Boy is amazing and we had a brilliant chat last night when I got home, my relationships with my family and the Boy's couldn't be any better, I do have lovely friends and great colleagues, I enjoy my job, our flat is lovely, we have a lot of fun together - and yesterday's windfall means I am completely debt-free, bar the mortgage, for the first time in 15 years. Sometimes I wish my head ruled my heart - while life might be more boring, it would certainly be easier!

The jackpot!

Today is a GOOD day! It began by making me smile, with a retweet from Pearl Lowe who I adore - am quite a novice on Twitter and this was the first time a 'celeb' had engaged with me. But the day was to improve ten-fold.

For more than a year I have been in a battle for compensation with HSBC over payment protection insurance that I was mis-sold when I took out a graduate loan after completing university. I was fooled into thinking I had to take out this insurance to guarantee the loan, when in reality there was no such requirement. At times I have almost given up this struggle as I have found the correspondence and numbers of hoops to jump through quite overwhelming. But I'm never one to walk away from a fight, and today I reaped the benefits of my persistence. I had anticipated a settlement offer from the bank to be about £1,000, so you can imagine my amazement when I was told the figure would be substantially more! It took every single iota of self control for me not to scream down the telephone, and pretend this was what I had been expecting all along!

As soon as my conversation with the bank ended, I called the Boy and then much screaming ensued as I shared the happy news. We're both in shock and disbelief and I think this will take some time to sink in. Money is probably the thing we worry the most about, so to have a windfall like this will make a real difference. I suspect the majority of the money will go into clearing any remaining debts and into our savings, but I'm hoping there'll be enough for a special trip somewhere. The Boy has never been to New York and I'd love to take him... we'll see. For now it's all I can do to stop grinning inanely like a doped up Cheshire cat!

Fickle as I am, I wonder if this is the start of things changing for us. It's been a pretty dreadful year, losing my uncle, two colleagues, the baby, and then a friend to suicide. There have been more tears than normal shed in 2011, and at times I have really felt the strain. Maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of a different phase and hopefully the happy times will come rolling back again. And where good news begins, perhaps more will follow...