So, what do you do in a mountain village when the heavens open non-stop for 2 days, when you walk out of the door for less than a minute and your clothes are wet through to the skin?

What do you do when the ice skating ring has melted in to a pond and the swimming pool says ‘strictly no board shorts’ and the boys are too old to go in their boxers?

What do you do when you can’t go an all-day bar crawl to drink gluhwein and jager chases like we did pre-kids?

What do you do when you know letting the kids watch back to back films and endless games on the ipad just isn’t a good idea.

What do you do when one by one, we are dropping like flies with a cold and cough?

You have to go old school.

For the time it takes to let their ski gear dry, teach the kids to play hide and seek for the pound coin, play whist, pass the pigs…. Then throw them outside again and watch them make up their own games in the snow and call them in to get warm in the hot tub with Grandpa.

And laugh til it hurts as they climb all over him and steal his swimmers and run away!

Sadly – we are going to have to do it all again tomorrow.  Sadly, more rain and no more skiing forecast… but happily just more old school family fun!

And just in one day, everything can change.

As the skies darken and the air warms, rain plummets from the sky. And our winter wonderland melts away.

A little like my health. May be I have been surrounded by colds or maybe I relaxed and succumbed to the bugs I have held off…

I hope in just another day, it can all change again…

Today I was reminded how much our children grow up to be mini versions of ourselves.

And that reminded me that we owe it to them and to the generations to follow to be and continue being and becoming the best, the kindest, the most generous, abundant, happy, forgiving, appreciative, authentic, genuine, adventurous, creative, compassionate, playful, non-judgemental, passionate, confident, thoughtful and loving versions of ourselves so that we can inspire the generations of the future.

This morning, as I have many a time throughout the last 20 years, I stood recognising my nervous fear as my companions disappear down an off piste, knee deep powder, tree lined, steep and scary passage leading to the unknown.  And I know I just have to take a deep breathe and go for it.  Leap over that boundary of the comfort zone and push myself, for I know now that on the other side of my fear is an heavenly adventure.

This afternoon, a few hours later, I watched Tom do exactly the same.  Face his fear of the unknown … and then just go for it!  His squeals of delight bouncing round the mountain.

There is pride.

And there is love.

And then there is the feeling that is the overwhelming blend of the two.  A feeling you don’t know or understand or recognise until you become a parent.

On thinking on it further, there are hints of gratitude and overtones of complete joy.

And a teeny, tiny drop of fear.  A twinge that threatens to darken this beautiful feeling and that you have to squash.

And you have to in order to really take pleasure as the feeling washes over you and through you.

Each time you look on a curve of a nose or cupids bow, admire the long lashes or sparkle in their eyes, feel the touch of their soft skin and know that you played a part in the perfection creation.

The sensation only intensifies when you appreciate and recognise the person they are becoming; something they are doing all by themselves as their character matures, as they accomplish little milestones and learn skills.

I have always dreamt of the day our boys would keep up with us and even surpass us on the slopes.  Today they did that.  Confident and laughing, Braving steeper slopes, off piste and on.

That feeling, the special feeling, that I struggle to describe, made me grin all day as I ate their dust!

If 2016 was the story of loss and grief.

And 2017 was the story of healing and rebirth.

Then what will the story of 2018 of be?

If tonight is anything to go by, it is strength. An inner strength to stand up for what I want to do, what I believe in, what I like to do and to no longer do what I feel I have to do.

While everyone else is out, in a crowded noisy bar, I am in the peace and quiet. And I love that. I finally love myself enough to do my thing rather than loving others more and doing their thing.

I think that is a bloody good start to the new year!

Bread and cheese.

Cheese and bread.

Ham and cheese.

Cheese and potatoes.

And cream.

And butter.

And wine.

Red.

White.

Fizzy bubblé!

I must be in France.

Hot and cold.

Cold and then hot.

Freezing and overheating.

Socks on, socks off.

Family.

Old friends.

New friends.

Plenty of snow.

And ice.

And rain!

I must be in the Alps.

It’s just as it was in the beginning.  Just the 3 of us.  Drinking wine.  Setting early morning alarms – then to remind us to stop drinking and ‘go!’ – now to make sure we have enough time to get children and ourselves ready to ‘go!’

The chat slightly different too… I don’t recall what it was in our very early twenties, but in our very early 40’s it is women in the army and Brexit – the London version and the northern version.

I am genuinely excited!  Can’t wait!   We bonded in those early days and years ‘on and off the piste’… and those bonds forged a lifetime hold.  And I am glad they do and that they have.

This time last year, I was facing a life as a single Mum, full of shame and embarrassment, broken by grief, flying away to be far away and to reconnect with another lifelong bond.  On that long flight to distance myself from my reality, I could never have imagined a year later I would be or even able to be going to spend a week with the one person and the one family I was then running from.

But I am.

As the year draws to an end, I conclude once again that time heals by dimming the light on past pain and memory, allowing you to enjoy the happy, more recent moments.  And today there have been many – with both my sisters and all my nieces and nephews.  All of them the jewels in the darkness that keep you moving towards the light.

*Written in deepest darkest Tring on 29^th January 2017 around 9.30pm but no wifi / hotspot connection to upload!

Sometimes there is no need for words… just images that speak a thousand truths, show the laughter and love even if no one else can understand our silly traditions..

I had a lovely message from the Queen today.  As I went back to work with the laundry and running of the house… this is what I heard..

 

“The first ten years of marriage is just like an overture, there is usually an awful crisis.  But you work it out… and settle in… and it is only then that the marriage gets in to its stride.”

 

Tonight, after a day when the Big Man went back to work and I went back to work, we are settling in.  We are in our own new stride.

 

And I agree with Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh when he refers to marriage as having tough times.  But that “in the rough, in the dark weeds, that’s where you find the treasure.”

 

I agree with both the Queen and the Duke.  An inspiration for the institution of marriage, working it out, riding the overtones and undertones and looking for treasure… and always together.

 

The house is quiet.  And there is just one final push to see out 2017.

 

And I am surprisingly chipper!  Whereas usually, by the end of Boxing Day I ready for it to all be over.  I am ready to hide under my duvet and wait until the party season is over so I can give my body and gut a rest.

 

As always, at the end of the day, at the end of anything, it is time for reflection.

 

I find myself in a miraculous position, one that myself of a year ago wouldn’t believe.  And I look back at that earlier version of me; her mantra to live in the moment, focus on the one in the present and breathe through the times of intense discomfort.

 

That practice helped me find my way here today.  In both situations.  From a crazily painful and trying year, and one I will look back on with pride at what we achieved and how we achieved it.  To this one, rather than bouncing from one event to the next, while thinking of all the things I had to do, I reminded myself to refocus and remembered to enjoy the precious, happy moments that were fleeting; washing, washing up, rain, dirty clothes and dirty floors, packing, cooking, menus, emptying the bins…  all could wait in favour of bike rides in the rain, cuddling on the sofa, enjoying the family time I missed so much last year.