Wow, I'm blogging after only 2 weeks, a good sign that the mojo is returning. Jim helped me find it on Wednesday, I'd left it on the Cotswold Way and at 9pm with headlamps on, we went a-searching.
Up until then I'd had some half-hearted runs. Spurred on my the heroics of Mandy, Gerry & HD I'd gone out on Sunday, but whilst they'd run in memory of my Dad, I found it so hard to emulate them. My heartfelt thanks to all three of them, I was very humbled and it means an awful lot to me.
Wednesday was the 2 year anniversary of our Cotswold Way Centuary, so we took in 3 miles on the Way, chatting away and reminiscing. Then the chatting stopped as we hit the road and ran up the escarpment - all good Snowdonia training. Then back to the Beaufort (Jim had the foresight to bring some cash) for a couple of beers.
The companionship on Wednesday was the same as 2 years ago and whilst we won't be on the Way in April, the companionship will continue in London with us both wearing the RNLI colours. We had both found out on Wednesday that we'd been accepted. Whilst it has its obligations, it is a great honour.
However Snowdonia looms before then (quite literaly) so on Friday, with a day off, I headed out the door, wanting to get a decent long run in before the weekend. It was raining and a bit blowy, but good to be out. Up and down (3 times) the scarp to get a "Pen y pass" ascent in, then as I am starting a flatter section the phone goes and it's one of my team letting me know that there is a large power outage at the offices. Therefore the next 25 mins (and 1.5 miles) were spent talking to various contacts until I got the welcome news that power was restored.
Then onto more hills (the climb from Beddgelert) and then a flatter section to finish off with 18 miles in the bag. They were not fast but it gives me some confidence that I won't break myself in 4 weeks time.
This weekend saw us commiting Dad's ashes to the sea. His sailing club were having a maintenance day down at the the marina. We joined them for lunch and spoke about Dad, then the floor was opened up and many members told their tales of Dad, funny, heartwarming and heartfelt.
Then it was down to pontoon, very carefully carrying the Rock Salt Urn (You can imagine how fearful I was of slipping).
Some club members had decked out Dad's yacht with flags which overlooked us as my sister said a few words and recited this poem by Joyce Grenfell, which just fitted so well
"If I should die before the rest of you,
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone.
Nor, when I'm gone, speak in a Sunday voice,
But be the usual selves that I have known.
Weep if you must,
Parting is hell.
But life goes on,
So... sing as well."
Then we committed the urn into the harbour, and it sank a small trail of bubbles to mark its passing. More hugs and chats through the afternoon, a lovely day and a fitting way to say goodbye to Dad.
So thoughts turn to "normal"(?) life, the reality is it will never be the same, but with my daughter soon to head to Japan for an exchange and my son settling into sixth form, there's not going to be much time sat down contemplating my navel.
A couple of folks asked about my Dad's OBE, it was for services to the Crown. He was a psychologist and worked for the MOD in the science branch, working on Army recruitment tests (still used today) as well as a posting to Northern Ireland in the eighties to look at what could be changed in how people operated in order to reduce tensions.
Onwards we go one and all. Onwards we go
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