To Live Like A Child

 

Time moves on. That is one thing that I do know. Time most definitely moves on. My mother knew that and she taught me to make the most of every moment and, sadly, that is one thing that I have forgotten in recent years. When my winter SAD kicks in I spend my time wishing for the arrival of spring and the lighter days. I start making spring and summer plans to give me 'something to look forward to'. My Mum would tell me "You're wishing your life away Janet" and, do you know something, she would be right. I have spent a lot of winters doing just that and wasting precious moments of my life. Following a discussion with a friend a few years back who also suffers with SAD we decided that something that helps our moods is doing things we did in childhood - maybe colouring, reading a favourite book from childhood, watching a favourite childhood movie, all these things seem to help just a little.

Lately, when I have felt my mood begin to dip I have thought a lot about that. This time of year is always hard because we seem to have had a lot of sad things happen in December/January over the years. my Mum would tell me they don't happen more at this time of year, it's just that you notice them more and remember them more because of the season. If I made a record I'm sure that I'd find sad events spread evenly throughout the year - and happy ones too. Again my Mum would be right. The more I have thought about my childhood recently the more I have realised that sad things happened then too but somehow I handled them better. Why? Because I was a child and I lived in the moment. I was sad about sad events but then I moved on and enjoyed whatever was coming next. I didn't dwell. As a child if you've done something wrong you apologise and move on. As an adult you can dwell about how you made a wrong decision and who it affected. Dwelling doesn't do anybody any good. You can't change the past, but you can learn from it and use it to move forward and be better next time just as children do. You learn right through your life and you grow through it.

So my only resolution for 2024 is to take a leaf from my childhood book and live in the moment. I won't go into January thinking I must plan something for the spring/summer to give me something to look forward to. I will live in January, and in February and onwards. With a Christmas voucher I bought a 2024 Almanac to help me focus on each month. I will look at celebrations, the night sky, folklore, tide times (I live on the coast, I should know them), nature etc. I will take walks and celebrate the area in which I live and the seasonal changes about me.

Just looking at January I already have:

1) New Year's Day which is also International Self Care Day a day to think about our mental and physical health, to take some time to plan how to look after ourselves for a whole year (or maybe just one day at a time) - and when we are on top form we can look after others so we're helping them too with our necessary pauses to recharge.

2) On the 3rd and 4th January it is the peak of the Quadrantid meteor shower. You never know we may get some clear skies on one of those nights and how better to spend an evening than making a hot chocolate, wrapping up warm and going out to watch a shower in the skies.

3) 5th January is Twelfth Night - the day to take down the decorations, start the Christmas cake and read some festive poetry

4)  6th January isThe Feast of the Epiphany - for this year I intend to celebrate by reading T S Eliot's Ariel Poems and playing some Epiphany carols on my piano.

5) 17th January - this is old Twelfth Night, before the Gregorian calendar, and the date that many people still choose for wassailing. We intend to wassail the apple trees in our garden, though this year we must tell the neighbours before they wonder what on earth is going on with the clanging of pans and caterwauling in the garden.

6)  20th January - the moon visits Pleiades - the moon passes by the Pleiades star cluster, you can spot the star cluster through binoculars and you may be able to spot the moon in the same view if you have wide field binoculars. The moon will only be a week away from being full so should be very bright. How beautiful will that look?

7) 25th January - Burns Night - a night for Haggis, Neeps and Tatties, listening to Scottish music and reading Robert Burns' poetry

8)  27th/28th January Is the RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch

9) 31st January is National Hot Chocolate Day - if it's a clear night wrap up warm, make a hot chocolate with all the trimmings and sit out on a garden bench and star gaze.

So January has many delights and if I add in walks, appreciating all my local borough has to offer, and making a note of seasonal vegetables and cooking with the season it will keep me busy. My Almanac tells me to make a space for each month to bring nature into the house - just like the Nature tables of my youth. I shall try to change my porch display each month, maybe nature, maybe something else, and I shall work on improving my garden, another seasonal activity. With all that and my books I should be kept very busy.

I think that I am going to enjoy living in the moment in 2024. I shall let you know at the end of January how it is going and maybe tell you some of my plans for February. I know some days I will find it hard but I will try to make myself go out and walk even on rainy days because that bit of daylight makes all the difference as, I think, will taking one day at a time. Wish me luck xx

On Learning To Love Autumn Again

My mother always struggled with winter. Her happiness returned with the spring. She would be in bed by nine during the darker months. She would tell me that that was nothing, as a child she would be in bed by 5pm throughout the winter. Looking back I realise that my mother probably suffered with Seasonal Affective Disorder all her life but that wasn't something you heard of in those days. I, on the other hand, loved all the seasons. There was something special about them all but my most favourite was the autumn. I loved the colours and the scents. I loved how, as you stepped out of your door in your scarf and sweater, the cool autumn air seemed to wrap you in a hug. 

However, about twelve years ago all this changed. I found that I was weepy and miserable as soon as the dark months began to arrive. I would practically hibernate at times, I just did not want to go out or see people. Initially this happened just in the winter but gradually I started to get a hint of despondency as soon as autumn arrived. It was as though autumn meant that the sad season was coming and I was already preparing for it. Over a few years I went from loving the autumn to dreading it. My favourite season was suddenly gone and I waited for the spring.

Six years ago a consultant found that my vitamin D levels were exceptionally low and put me on some super strength Vitamin D tablets. My husband bought me a S.A.D. lamp. Friends offered to walk with me. People were determined to help me beat those winter blues.

When the pandemic hit and my daughter was home from university for 2020/21 she took me out walking every day of that winter and that hour walking each day helped stop me slipping into my usual malaise. Daylight certainly helps. Unfortunately last winter I was back to not going out if I could help it and, again, my mood wasn't so good. I could feel the gloom slipping in from early October.

This year, as September started to approach, I felt that familiar anxiety start to build, the expectation of feeling sad soon. But I decided that I'm going to try very hard not to let that happen. In winter it's the weather and lack of light, in September, for me, I think it's become a habit. A habit that I am going to break. Maybe my S.A.D will return again this winter, maybe not, but one thing I am sure of - I am not helping it along by setting myself up to be sad.

I have decorated for autumn and it is beautiful. I intend to go for regular walks and soak up the colours, the sights and the sounds of the season. I intend to join in the celebrations, Harvest, Hallowe'en, Bonfire night, Thanksgiving. I will bake seasonally. If we get bright days I will pop on a coat, make some hot chocolate and sit in my garden and soak up that beautiful daylight. I will read autumn poetry. I will wear autumn colours. I am determined that I will reclaim my love of this season and, who knows, maybe that will help me a little through the dark nights of winter. This winter there will be fairy lights and there will be hope. I will continue with my lists of feelgood activities to keep me on the up and I will do my very best this year to keep that positivity going. And if I slip some days, that is okay, maybe it will be fewer days than last year. Every step is a step forward and suffering from S.A.D. is not a failure, it's a struggle, a struggle against a feeling which on some days wins, but on some days doesn't and those days are a triumph.

My first step in the battle this year is to reclaim my love of autumn, which really is a beautiful season. Now that's not so difficult is it?

Weather

 

I live in England. One of the things that people in England are well know for is talking about the weather. Very often it's complaining about the weather -'It's too hot/Where is the summer?/Will it ever stop raining? It seems that the English are never happy weather wise. 

My Mum was not a typical Englishwoman. She loved the weather here and she taught me to love it too. She would say that the variety of weather was what made this such a great place to live. She would tell me that, much as she loved warm weather, she would hate to live somewhere where it was hot all the time. She loved the variety of weather that we have and that's something that I continue to share with her to this day. 

As a child if it poured with rain, and I would sulk because it meant that I couldn't play out with my friends, she would remind me that my Dad always said the reason our fields and gardens were so lush and green here was because we had plenty of rain and that rainy days were as important as sunny ones. I eventually learned to enjoy rain, the sound of it pattering down the windows, the smell of petrichor, the way it makes everywhere shine and I had plenty to do indoors anyway. It was time for more reading, colouring in, maybe try a new jigsaw puzzle, play board games with my Mum. One rainy day my Mum taught me to knit. A skill for which I am eternally grateful.

Now as an adult. I love all weathers - apart from gales. I have never learned to appreciate gales. Winds are fine. We used to go kite flying in good winds but gales, no, to me they are just scary and destructive.

In my 20s I went on a few hot beach holidays abroad. I have to say they were not for me. I'm not one for lying in the sun. I later enjoyed exploring the history and architecture of hot countries and those holidays were enjoyable but, by the middle of the second week, I was always ready to come home to our cooler temperatures.

Walking in the rain has always been a favourite pastime. I can remember in my late teens calling a friend to ask if she wanted to go for a walk and she replied "But it's pouring down" Bless her she came anyway, and she grew to love it too and when she met her husband started taking him for walks in the rain, despite his initial protestation of 'But it's pouring down.'

What of cloudy, cool summer's days that aren't as hot and sunny as we hope? Well, my mother would tell you that there is no such thing as the wrong weather, you're just wearing the wrong clothes. Those days are best for donning cardigans or coats and going walking or getting those outside jobs done that you get too uncomfortable doing in hot weather.

I struggle with winter. It's not the weather, it's the lack of light. I suffer from SAD. If I go out for a good long walk each day and soak up what daylight there is I am much happier than if I stay home. Unfortunately my SAD often works against me and tells me that it's not nice out there and I should stay home, then I get sadder about the gloomy weather. During Covid lockdown when my daughter was living at home she took me out walking every day and my spirits did not sink like they usually do. Making the effort to enjoy the weather, whatever comes, is good for both our physical and mental health. I aim to try much harder to do that again come next winter.

What I do love about winter is the frost on the ground and the leaves making beautiful patterns and glistening in the morning daylight. Snow is also one of my favourite weathers. Building snowmen, making snow angels and having a snowball fight with friends. I love the silence and stillness the snow leaves outside and I love just looking out over our garden covered with a beautiful white carpet. 

Please don't complain too much about our lovely weather. If it is cold dig out an extra jumper, wear a hat, scarf and gloves outside. Sometimes it's so nice walking when everyone else is staying indoors. If it rains don waterproofs and wellies and go anyway - we once sat through an outside Shakespeare performance in heavy rain. Bless the actors for carrying on. If it is very hot wear cotton, a sunhat and sunglasses. Remember, as my mother always said, that there is no such thing as the wrong weather, just the wrong clothes for it!

The Call of the Sea

 

The picture above is of our lovely Crosby beach, within walking distance of my home. It is a beautiful place to visit and a wonderful place to think. 

There is an old saying by Martin Buxbaum:

“I have seen the sea when it is stormy and wild; when it is quiet and serene; when it is dark and moody. And in all its moods, I see myself”

I love that saying and sometimes wonder whether that is why I love the sea so much, because it has all the same moods as I do. If I am happy I go down to our beach and appreciate its beauty. If  I am sad I take myself down there, sit and have a cry then walk and walk along the sands to work it out. If I am cross I visit the beach and walk and walk and listen to the rhythm of the waves and it calms me down, as though it's saying 'Hush, how is this anger helping, calm down, think reasonably'. The beach and sea  is my friend and my counsellor. In all times of my life it's been there to listen, to calm and to smile with me.

A few years ago my husband and I were considering moving when he retires. We were looking at a variety of places and I suddenly said 'Unless it's by the coast or a river I'm not going, I couldn't settle'. Up to that point I hadn't realised how much I need the flow of water around me. I told this to my daughter and she said that she fully understood, that she couldn't settle fully inland either. We are coastal girls and always will be.

I take walks along our beach throughout the year. I especially like it early morning or outside of summer when it is quiet and I can walk with just my thoughts, the gulls and the waves lapping along the sands. Just walking along there grounds me, settles me and assures me that all is okay. You'll often find a walk along the beach on my 'feelgood activities list'. The beach is in my blood. I remember visiting it as a little girl with my Dad who would tell me to listen to those waves talking - maybe that's why I find them comforting. He would also point out the ships on the Mersey and tell me all the far away countries they were sailing to and that one day I could sail and explore anywhere in the world if I wanted to. As a small child this seemed amazing, I could be an explorer, an adventurer, because my Dad told me so. I often wonder what he would think if he knew how unadventurous I actually am.

My favourite holidays have always been at the seaside. Much as I love my Brontës and their moors, a few days is long enough away from the coast. Every summer my Dad would take our family to the Isle of Man for our summer holidays. We would stay in Laxey, exploring the island but always returning to the reassurance of that pebble beach and those lapping waves. My Dad passed away when I was still very young and, though we didn't go back to the Isle of Man, my Mum would always take me for a seaside holiday and I always loved it. Give me sand, rock pools and shells and I am happy.

When we married my husband booked us a wonderful honeymoon on the Isle of Lewis. We had two weeks of glorious weather and our cottage was right on a beach. We didn't see another soul on our beach for the two weeks just us, the sands and the waves. We explored the coast too and watched the seals around the island, it was heaven.

One of my favourite day trips when up north is out to the Farne Islands to watch the birds there, puffins if you go in May. I love it there and never want to leave. I feel like I'm making my own wildlife documentary, or as the kids will tell you "Mum, that's a lot of photos of birds and seals!"

Last year was our silver wedding anniversary and my husband asked me where I would like to go to celebrate for a week. Just the two of us. I immediately replied 'Anglesey'. We had the most wonderful week and we explored many beaches there. I just relaxed and smiled the whole week because we were by the sea and I so love the sea. 

My son sometimes asks me whether I would like to go to space one day. The reply is "Not until they find a planet with a nice beach with the waves lapping up".

I do have other interests, I love museums and art galleries and I really enjoy exploring stately homes but, at some point, I must return to my lovely beach and answer the call of the sea.

On realising that I am becoming a recluse and also realising that it's okay

 

In 2020 the country went into lockdown. Many people struggled with that. It was a difficult time and affected their mental health. For me my mental health actually improved. I have realised this in conversations with my daughter over recent days. She said to me ''You were happiest of all when you were in lockdown". I have realised that she is actually right. I can talk to anybody I meet but I also need my quiet time - and I need a lot of it. 

During lockdowns I focused on my little family, my garden, reading and going for walks. It was my idea of heaven. I hadn't realised but a lot of my anxiety is caused by having to meet people on a regular basis. This is no reflection on them - my friends and extended family are wonderful but my mind requires quiet, I need quiet - more than I ever realised. During all the lockdowns I was calm, I was relaxed and I was mostly happy, even with the fear of contracting the virus. I did have that fear but the fear of not having my own time and thoughts and having to socialise was removed and my head had time to be calm. 

When we go on summer holidays we always book a cottage in the middle of nowhere and I relax in the peace with my books. I look at the busy holidays in bustling places others choose and I feel stressed just looking at them. I am sure they feel stressed looking at the remote places I choose to visit. The thing is we are who we are and we all need to know that that is okay, even if it is different from others.

Since lockdowns were lifted many friends have suggested meeting up, going out for meals and having get togethers. It's what everyone else had been waiting for. For me it has been so stressful. I try to space people out, I try to explain that big get togethers are not for me. I know that I seem odd, yet during those enforced times away from the world I discovered who I am - I am a partial recluse, I need my peace, I need my space. I often say to my husband that I'd like to move away somewhere remote. that I can't handle people. My idea of heaven. I could plan my social time, well spaced out and with space to arrange a get together long in advance.

I used to volunteer to join in so much and help with many things but I've come to realise that that also causes me a lot of stress so I do it less and less. At first I felt guilty but I'm gradually realising that I'm just becoming who I am and telling myself that that is okay.

A friend once said 'but you chat away on social media', she's right, sometimes I do but the advantage of that is that when I have reached my social limit, I can put my tablet down, walk away and read a book, sit in the garden and watch the birds or just sit quietly. 

I have come to realise that I am who I am and who I am is a part time social recluse. Sometimes I need a few weeks away from everybody to just take some quiet time to reset myself. I like quiet, I like space, I like time to clear my thoughts, I like time alone in my garden, at a nature reserve or on the beach and that is okay. My children are social being who love being out doing things. That is who they are, and that is okay too. It has taken me over fifty years to discover who I am. So, please forgive me if I cancel plans, decline an invitation or just go off grid for a few weeks. I just need my quiet time to be me and, as my daughter tells me, being me is okay, stepping back is okay. I can still chat for England if I meet you on one of my walks but I need far more quiet time alone than I ever realised before Lockdowns.

It's just finally time to become who I am.

On revisiting old friends

 

Every year we would make a trip across to Haworth to visit the home of my beloved Brontë sisters. Then the pandemic hit and we didn't visit for three years. On Friday my wonderful husband asked "Would you like to go to the Parsonage tomorrow?" Needless to say he scored a billion good husband points in that one moment.

So yesterday we got up bright and early and headed to Haworth. We were there by ten o'clock and I practically ran to see Charlotte, Emily and Anne's home again.

As we stood and looked once again at the Piano Emily used to play and the table the sisters walked around reading out their stories I felt like I was back at an old friend's house. One who you may not see for a while but when you meet it's like you've never been away.

 

Just walking around the house, looking at the kitchen where Emily baked bread, the study Charlotte had made for her husband, which now houses the copied out manuscript of Wuthering Heights, was a joy. 

The only thing that disappointed me a little was that when I entered Charlotte's room, where they usually have one of her dresses on display, this time they had a dress made for the recent film Emily. It's a beautiful dress, made to a pattern described by Emily in her diary and I was glad to see it but I would have been happier to see it in another room - I'm too much of a purist aren't I? As you can see it is a beautiful dress.

We continued around the exhibition to see Branwell's room, made when Simon Armitage was the visiting curator and on to see some wonderful exhibits of the sister's belongings and some recent acquisitions from the Honresfield collection and even a cutting of Charlotte's hair. These personal items always take my breath away and to see Charlotte's little book of rhymes was a delight.

After a break for tea and a cream scone at Cobbles and Clay we went to visit St Michael's church again.

Though we visit it every time we go, to see the Brontë chapel and the plaque above the crypt where Charlotte and Emily lie, I always learn something new. This time I got chatting to one of the guides and he told me a few interesting facts about old ministers and showed me something that I had never noticed in the stained glass American window. I won't say what but have a look in the bottom right hand corner next time you visit and see if you can spot something not quite right.

 From Haworth we went to visit another old literary friend. This time to the beautiful village of Heptonstall. As my son said "Well of course you did, you always do." 

Yesterday Sylvia Plath's grave was still filled with flowers as it was only 7 days since the anniversary of her death. Bizarrely I always stay longer at her grave than I do at my beloved Brontë's graves. Maybe because I have more experience of depression than consumption, maybe because I am a Mum who has struggled with winter too, maybe because I just love The Bell Jar. I really don't know. I just feel a strange affinity to her when I'm there. 

Yesterday as I said "Goodbye Sylvia" and walked away the rain began to pour. Very strange - no it's not, you're probably saying, it's Yorkshire in February! Well having visited Sylvia Plath's grave many times I have never been to visit Ted Hughes' parents to pay my respects. They gave us a fine Poet Laureate. This time, rain or no rain, I was determined to find them - and I did.

I felt  a sense of completion as though my task was done. Respects had been paid and it was now time to leave. 

I just had one more visit to make before I'd earned my cup of tea in the Towngate cafe. I had to see the ruins of St Thomas a Becket Church. My husband will tell you that I have photographed those ruins from every angle over the years and I probably have but the weather may have been different and there maybe some change in the ruins that is barely discernible so I went again.

The final delight of the day was in the Towngate Cafe. They had Sylvia Plath's lemon meringue pie. I got chatting to the owner and it seems that the organisers of Plath Fest had asked if they would like to join in with the festival and gave them scans of recipes in Sylvia's own handwriting. Apparently it was tricky to make as the measurements were in American units and the method was vague but they worked it out as best they could.

My husband said it was very lemony and delicous.

So yesterday, after a long time apart, we visited some old literary friends and they even gave us cake!

On discovering Mr Bronowski

 

(Image of  Jacob Bronowski via Wikimedia Commons

 link to licence - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:J_Bronowski.jpg)

When my husband was nine he was allowed to stay up each week to watch Jacob Bronowski's The Ascent of Man Series. It had a lasting impact. When he was eleven his dad bought him the book that accompanied the tv series. I think it was thanks to such programmes as this that Robert is such a wonderful scientist and is open to learning so many new things. I, however missed this and my scientific and historical knowledge is, at best, patchy.

A few years ago I bought him the boxed set of the series for Christmas. Every time he suggested that we watched it I found an excuse. I was hopeless at science and history at school and sort of switched off so, quite often, I will still avoid things in those genres now. Last year he finally persuaded me to watch the Cosmos series with Carl Sagan. It was wonderful and I learned so much. Still I put off watching the Ascent of  Man. It seemed far too intellectual for me.

For some reason a few months ago I suddenly wanted to give it a try. I am so glad that I did. We watched it each Sunday working our way through fossils, cave painting, agriculture, architecture, elements and alloys, mathematics, astronomy, technology, evolution and so many other topics. I learned so much and was swept along by Bronowski's enthusiasm and authority. Sometimes I would have to ask Robert to pause it and explain something in more detail but that was praise for Jacob Bronowski because I wanted to understand and learn, rather than switch off and avoid. This has to be one of the best series that I have ever watched.

I have now borrowed Robert's book, one of his treasures, but I want to learn more, to catch up on any bits that I missed or didn't quite understand. Jacob Bronowski has won me round to exploring more about our world and its history. Last Sunday I was so disappointed to find that we had watched the final episode. I will miss Mr Bronowski on a Sunday night, like a favourite teacher you leave behind.

Robert has suggested that we try something new, now that I have more enthusiasm for the subjects. He has shown me clips of  James Burke's Connections and Jonathan Miller's The Body in Question. Neither seem to have the enthusiasm and sheer enjoyment of the subjects that Jacob Bronowski had but of the two I have opted for The Body In Question. This was another series Robert thought wonderful in his youth and, as he says, I can try it and decide if I want to carry on after the first episode.

Maybe I will enjoy it, I'm getting more interested in subjects that I never thought I would try and, if I do, there will be another book to explain the bits I don't quite get - and, as you know, I love books!

January brings the gloom

                                                         January brings the snow,

                                                         Makes our feet and fingers glow.

                                                   (from The Garden Year by Sara Coleridge)

I can remember as a child reading the poem from which the January quote at the top of this page comes. I always thought that Sara Coleridge's words must be right and that is how the weather should be each month of the year. I was disappointed when it wasn't. As I grew up I came to the realisation that the world isn't like that and as I have grown older I have found that, for me at least, January brings the gloom. It's the month of the year when my SAD hits worse than all others. Maybe because we have the bright lights and family get togethers of Christmas and then, come January, the lights and decorations have gone, family have departed to their various homes and the dark days press down on me more. Far from bringing snow, the month usually only brings dark, dull days and lots of rain. Plenty of time indoors to reflect and remember. January brings many sad memories and Facebook has a habit of reminding me of them. This year has been harder again because it began with the loss of one friend and then another passed in the middle of the month. Unfortunately both funerals were today, at the same time. I could only attend one. January has really hit hard.

My mother would tell me that it is no use moping or complaining, that that won't help me or others, She would say never to apologise for caring and it's good to cry for a while when you lose someone but then you must focus on continuing life for yourself and those around you. 'Look for something beautiful' she'd say. So today that is just what I have done. I have seen huge numbers come out to say goodbye - a sure sign of being loved - and that is beautiful. I watched the drizzle turn to sunshine as the funeral ended. I saw my first snowdrops at the cemetery. My mother always came home with a smile on her face each year when she had discovered her first snowdrops 'The worst of winter is over' she would say 'Spring is on its way.' I would watch my mother's mood lift and she would sing as she pottered around the house.

Today those snowdrops lifted me. They told me that winter is nearly over, that better days lie ahead. They brought back memories of my mother and in doing so reminded me that no-one is ever really gone, so long as love for them beats in our hearts and memories of them play in our heads. I am lucky enough to have very happy memories of many fine friends to make me smile on a dark winter's day. I have photos of fun and crazy times, fancy dress, birthday parties, holidays, sports events, us all wearing the weirdest clothes which we thought were cool at the time. I have folders where relatives and friends have written poems and recipes. I look at their handwriting and remember the time that I asked for each recipe and they patiently wrote it down despite having a million other things to do. The more that I think about it my Mum is right I should be smiling at my life and its memories because I have been so lucky to have such amazing people in my life. They shared their love and their time for which I am eternally grateful. They have given me encouragement when it was needed and, as true friends do, firm words when I really had to hear them.

So tomorrow begins a new month. I intend to take that month and use it to look forward and watch for the beauty and the joy in each day. While I pick myself up I will spend it with my lovely family but I will use my time to make new memories and share love and laughter. I will plant summer bulbs and tidy my garden. I will also take time out just for me to read, to be quiet and reflect. That time is needed sometimes, especially as the winter weather continues but then I will get up again and have some fun. Then maybe come March I'll be ready to explore and try new things, The days will be lighter, there will be new life all around me and I will smile, look up at my Mum in heaven and tell her 'Oh Mum, you were right, it is a beautiful world and I will enjoy every minute I spend in it.'  Because, after all, that is why we are here - to live, love and share happiness.