It’s been so long since I last wrote a diary entry that I’ve quite forgotten how to do it. I seem to have spent the entire summer glossing and sweeping, mopping and sanding. My diary has been woefully neglected, but the result of my extended labours is that my house is now in a fit state to cope with the ravages of winter, which gives me huge satisfaction, even if it has meant that I have spent a good deal of the last month with paint-splattered legs, broken nails and a dusty scalp. I was very worried about the rotten glazing bars in my spare-room window, but one call to my friend Walker soon sorted that little problem out. He sent round a man the very next day; Steve, the chippy, soon set to work, took out the windows, replaced nine glazing bars, and put the windows back in place again, all within the space of a day. It’s nice to have friends, but it’s especially nice if they also happen to own their own building company…

The American visit was a great success, but I have to admit that it was exhausting having to cook for 8 people every night and act as their tour guide and chauffeur during the day. I think even Saint Delia would have been pushed to the limits of her patience under such circumstances. I didn’t quite get to the stage of throwing a Gordon Ramsey-style temper tantrum, but I did come pretty close. It came as a welcome relief to de-camp to London for our whirlwind sightseeing tour, and we were lucky enough to see the capital bathed in glorious sunlight for the duration of our stay. We had a brilliant time and I’m taking Rosie back up for her birthday. She wants to see the Tate Modern and I’m really looking forward to spending some time alone with her. Rosie adores shopping, but unfortunately Alice doesn’t share her enthusiasm, which usually makes our trips into Plymouth somewhat of an ordeal. A trip to London to stay in a flat only yards from the best Top Shop in the country will be a dream come true for Rosie; we can sit and drink cappuccino, walk, talk and have a wonderful girlie time.

I took Alice out for a different kind of shopping trip this week whilst her sister was enjoying her first day of school. Alice found me a rather lovely purple saw, which I had to buy, as I think it has to be the ultimate in woodworking chic. I think they should make more tools in pretty colours, because it makes them so much more user-friendly for people like me. I’ve just been trying to compose a song based on the Prince classic, ‘Purple Rain’, but it’s hard to sing about a purple saw without sounding like I’ve picked up a dose of something really unpleasant in the Bangkok branch of B&Q. I think I’ll leave song writing to the experts and stick to writing my diary…


The holidays are at an end and now it’s back to reality, and the grinding monotony of my day job. Rosie has moved up to secondary school and I know she’s going to blossom there. I clearly remember her first day at primary school, and of how some of the other mothers cried when they saw us together in the playground. It had only been five months since Rosie and Alice lost their daddy, and I knew that many people felt deep sorrow at seeing a lone mother amongst the throngs of proud parents. All that seems so far away now; all that emotion, all that pain. Rosie had a tough time at school, and I was worried for her future happiness, but she’s come though it, and can now go forward and show the world what she’s really made of. Alice is back at primary school today, and I’m left in the quite of my home, contemplating the future and wondering what the rest of the year might hold. I have an exciting day planned for tomorrow – well, I think it’s exciting, but many might disagree. I’m off to take part in a course on lime rendering and pointing. My house has lime pointing which needs a bit of attention, but aside from the obvious practical applications it’s a really useful skill to have. I am desperate to find a job in which I can utilise all of my practical skills, and come home feeling like I’ve done a really worthwhile day’s work. It’s gnawing away at me to such an extent that I know I’m going to have to do something about it very soon.


On a happier note, I’ve been keeping an eye on the message board and I’m really delighted with the way it has taken off. I get a huge amount of satisfaction from knowing that so many people are giving support and encouragement to others, and I sincerely hope that it goes from strength to strength.


Autumn is on the way and it’s time to dismantle the swing seat and tidy up the garden. My girls did their annual Bramley apple sale around the village on Sunday, and managed to raise over £40, which is a reflection of the kindness and generosity of my fellow villagers. It’s a lovely thing for the girls to do, and I know their father would approve of the continuation of his work in aid of The British Heart Foundation. I could almost smell the sweet fragrance of apple and blackberry crumble wafting up from the square, and I hope everyone enjoyed theirs as much as we did.

I love the Autumn, and I think the changing seasons have a lot to teach us in the way we understand and deal with grief. Many people on the message board have expressed feelings of deep regret about the life they have lost, especially those in the first year of mourning. This is perfectly understandable and it’s exactly how I felt seven years ago. Loving somebody and then having them unexpectedly taken away, is like being bathed in the warmth of the sun, and then suddenly being plunged into chilly Autumn. It’s a shock to the system. The body feels the cold; the mind misses the feeling of euphoria evoked by the heat and light of the sun. You think that you will never feel warm again; that you will never again be bathed in glittering sunlight.

Autumn is not as chill as it first appears, but before you can truly appreciate it, you must learn to stop longing for summer. Autumn is neither harsh, nor depressing, it’s just different; if you walk around in a t-shirt and shorts then you’re bound to feel cold, you’re bound to miss the summer; but if you learn to adapt to the season, then you learn to appreciate all the good things about it. Life after death is all about adaptation, about learning to accept a different life and appreciate what you have within that life. Autumn has damp, dark, miserable days, but equally, it has brilliant, blissful mornings; you see your breath as you walk out on frosted grass, you see cobwebs strung with glistening dewdrops. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot and the smell of wood smoke are joyous things; nobody wants summer to come to an end, but what comes after it is only unbearable if you continue to long for what has gone before. So when you’re ready, put on a thick sweater and take a walk outside your misery. There’s a whole world out there, and it’s beautiful.


© Kate Boydell 2004. All rights reserved. e-mail: [email protected]. Close window.