And so it begins again…

To celebrate its 50th birthday, InterRail offered all its rail passes for sale at 50% reduction in the spring of 2022.  The passes could be used at any time up to 11 months from the date of purchase.  The opportunity was too good to pass up, which is why I found myself at the start of 2023, the proud possessor of a “global” i.e. Europe-wide, senior Interrail pass, planning to travel around Europe by rail in the spring, make the most of photo opportunities and reduce my carbon footprint in the process.  

Rather than go away for a whole three months, I organised my travels by groups of countries.  Embracing my inner teenager, I set off on my first trip on a route around Spain in February, finishing in France in early March.  Why am I telling you this?  Well, it’s where and when my other journey started…

Feeling unwell

All went well until our last full day in France.  We arrived in Bordeaux, checked into our hotel and set off to visit the Cite du Vin, looking forward to a glass of wine in the Belvedere and enjoying views over the city.  I began to get abdominal cramps on the way there, and ended up spending most of the time in les toilettes (fashionably painted a dark colour with low level lighting) thinking I had diarrhoea.  It wasn’t until we returned to the hotel and a well lit en suite bathroom that I realised I’d been losing blood rather than poo.  

Looking back, I’m not sure how I managed the journey back to the UK the next day but, somehow, I made home and took myself straight to bed where I stayed for most of the next day.  Feeling no better, the following morning (8 March 2023), I phoned the GP and described my symptoms to the receptionist.  The GP returned my call and after a brief discussion, I was asked to attend the surgery that afternoon.

Suspected diverticulitis 

The doctor listened carefully, examined me, and said my symptoms were consistent with diverticulitis.  I was advised to stop taking a non-steroid anti inflammatory drug (NSAID) which I’d been prescribed to help with chronic back pain caused by damaged lumbar discs, and was put on a 5 day course of antibiotics to clear up any infection.  She also said, she’d refer me for a colonoscopy to confirm the diverticulitis diagnosis and check there was no other reason for the pain/blood loss episode, just in case…

Back at home I collected the prescription, put the NSAID away, and took it easy as I had zero energy.  The diverticulitis diagnosis seemed very plausible.  Indeed, a friend we had met up with for a meal in Montpellier a few days earlier had described his own experience of diverticulitis which sounded similar, so I thought it was a sad but almost inevitable consequence of getting old, exacerbated by long term use of a NSAID known to cause internal bleeding.  

Colonoscopy appointment(s) 

By the end of the week the pain had stopped, likewise the bleeding, but I still felt absolutely wiped out in terms of energy.  However, the surgery had sent me a link to arrange a colonoscopy appointment online, and one of the few things I did manage to do was fix that appointment for the first available slot on 3 April. Plans for my second InterRail trip were shelved then quickly abandoned as I realised I couldn’t make it work around the appointment date, but I hoped to get back on track when it was over...

Then a few days later, just as I was beginning to feel better and having dodged the Covid bullet for nearly 3 years, I tested positive for the first time since the start of the pandemic. Covid wiped me out again for another 10 days or so, but the last test was negative just in time for an appointment on 24 March for the surgery to take bloods for testing.  Then I sat back and waited for the colonoscopy appointment, little realising that it would be the first of a number of such appointments before the procedure would actually take place…

As it happened, the bowel meds for the colonoscopy did not arrive when they were supposed to, so I contacted the service provider InHealth to follow up and was told later that day that the appointment booked for 3 April would have to be cancelled/rearranged for later in the month as NICE (National Institute for Clinical Excellence) guidelines said not to carry out a colonoscopy until 6 weeks after the end of a course of antibiotics.  The new (2nd) appointment date was 26 April.  

It came as a bit of a surprise therefore when the GP phoned me on 29 March to say she was concerned about my blood test results - low haemoglobin, which explained the fatigue and high platelets, a sign of infection.  The blood loss earlier in the month could account for the former and Covid the latter, but she would fast track me (14 day referral) to bring the colonoscopy appointment forward to screen for cancer, just to be on the safe side.  The referral came through on 30 March 2023. According to the Faster Diagnosis Cancer Pathway, I should find out whether or not I had cancer within 28 days i.e. 27 April.  

InHealth contacted me shortly after the referral; my second colonoscopy appointment on 26 April was cancelled and a new 3rd appointment made for 11 April. I assumed that a suspected cancer diagnosis trumped NICE Guidelines regarding delaying the procedure until 6 weeks post-antibiotics. As they already knew about the course of antibiotics and dates, I assumed that InHealth would have said something if that was not the case.  I also assumed the GP knew about this guideline.  I was wrong on all counts.  

However, I didn’t find out until I arrived at the clinic, having gone through 3 days of low residue diet, 2 litres of vile tasting bowel medication which clears out the system, associated diarrhoea, fasting, then nil by mouth for the last couple of hours, only to be told they wouldn’t do the procedure as it was not six weeks since I’d finished the course of antibiotics. I was devastated given the fast track referral.  The endoscopy doctor said in so many words, not to worry; all my symptoms were consistent with diverticulitis, it was unlikely to be cancer especially as I felt well and my poo stick test under the national bowel cancer screening programme in February had come back negative.  The appointment was rearranged for the next available slot which was on 2 May - ironically, a week later than the date of the 2nd appointment which had been cancelled following the fast track referral. 

As I was feeling much better by then, I arranged my second InterRail trip - a week in Italy in early May visiting the Cinque Terre, five small towns strung out along the coast of the Bay of Poets, between Naples and Genoa, only accessible by train and boat. I was due to travel out the two days after the colonoscopy. As any biopsy results from the procedure wouldn’t be available for a week or so, and I was feeling tired but otherwise OK, this was too good an opportunity to miss.

In the run up to the 4th appointment on 2 May, I went through it all again - low residue diet, purging, fasting, nil by mouth - and finally had the colonoscopy, only to be told that there was a benign constriction (narrowing of the colon) which stopped the camera getting any further.  I’d have to have a CT scan to look at the rest of the large bowel.  Another delay, but it had to be done.  I was also told that they couldn’t remove any polyps found (standard practice in colonoscopies) as I was flying to Pisa two days later and the pressure in the plane cabin might cause bleeding.  Why don’t they tell people that beforehand, when fixing an appointment?

CT Scan 

The CT scan was arranged quickly for 15 May.  I booked my third InterRail trip to Scandinavia starting on 16 May, and then headed off to Italy to enjoy the distractions of the Cinque Terre, Italian food and wine, gelato, sunshine, photography, train rides and boat trips, and tried to put it out of my mind for a bit.

The CT scan on 15 May appeared to go off without a hitch.  I double checked that I could fly the next day (not a problem) and was told to contact the In Health doctor if I hadn’t heard anything in 7-10 days.  Then I left and headed off to Denmark to start my third and final InterRail trip and make the most of my rail pass before it expired on 23 May.

The bad news

I was in Copenhagen when the bad news came on Friday 19 May.  I had ignored several calls during the day from a unknown caller (having had a recent flurry of scam calls) but answered the final call as the code came up as Witney, where the colonoscopy had taken place.  It was the InHealth doctor who, after a few enquiries as to where I was and whether anyone was with me, advised that CT scan showed a “mass” in part of the colon the colonoscopy camera could not reach due to the stricture.  I had bowel cancer.

It took me back immediately to Steve’s diagnosis of mesothelioma, shortly after we had started our grown up’s gap year traveling.  How ironic that my diagnosis came as I was embracing my inner teenager and traveling round Europe by train.  To find out what happened next, you’ll have to wait until I’ve written next blog post…

7 years on...a letter to Steve

When you loose a loved one the day after St Valentines Day, you never forget the date of their death.  The reminders come thick and fast, with every pink heart, every red rose, every "Valentines Day Special" offer online, and in the real world. At least I still have the last Valentines card you made for me the day before you died, with its poignant message that love does not fade away...

...and here we are, seven years on since that fateful day.  

There is still a Steve-shaped hole in my life, but slowly, slowly, it's being overlaid with memories of things that have happened since you left us and hopes for the future.  

So what has happened since this time last year? 

Covid is still with us, but life has resumed a "new normal" with the world opening up again and many people shifting to a hybrid way of working, a mix of working from home and going into the office.  

I have enjoyed traveling abroad again, with two visits to Spain, a short break in Athens with our son and his lady, and a few solo days in Paris, a rail-based tour of several German cities, a group photographic holiday on Scotland's North Coast 500 route and a meet up in Italy (Venice and Milan) with photography friends from my 2019 Ethiopia trip.  I've also managed to meet up with some UK based friends, but there's still a backlog of people I'd like to see after a couple of years of lockdowns on and off...Hopefully, there will be more opportunities to catch up this year.

On the professional front, I've finally retired from the world of town planning (for the third time) and I've never been busier...I've been enjoying photography, had images exhibited and awarded and took part in a panel discussion on The Female Gaze at the prestigious Photo London event at Somerset House!

I've even managed to fit in a bathroom renovation at home.  I think you would approve of the design 😊 

Both of our grown up children are thriving and happy.  After spending much of lockdown with me, our son is now back in London with his lady, and they are hoping to move a bit closer to me here in Oxford in the not too distant future.  Our daughter and her husband have turned their "doer upper" of a house into a beautiful gem of a home, and it's great to have then within walking distance.  I enjoy dog sitting for them, from time to time!

The bad news is that your brother has now been diagnosed with mesothelioma, the cancer caused by exposure to asbestos which cut short your life.  However, he is having immunotherapy (which was being clinically trialled when you were being treated) and that has proved very successful at helping people with mesothelioma live significantly longer with good quality of life, so that's a positive development. However, a father and now both sons being diagnosed with the same relatively rare from of cancer reinforces that there is a genetic susceptibility to developing mesothelioma when exposed to asbestos, so I have drummed it into our kids NEVER to take chances, whatever anyone says...

What of the future?  Well, I'm off on my travels again shortly, camera in hand, feeding the wanderlust, and there are some other exciting things to look forward to if all goes to plan. More of that maybe, next year...

Lastly, did you know you are famous?  Someone is selling photos of you and us on eBay, taken from old newspapers. Luckily, I don't need to buy them as I have the originals.  But it's funny to look back on our younger selves, with no idea what the future holds.  If nothing else, it reinforces my view that we should make the most of our lives and be kind to people.  And that's what I try to do...

Until next year xxx

6 years on - a birthday letter to Steve

Had mesothelioma not cut short your life in 2016, today we would have been celebrating your 75th birthday.  As it is, today we're marking six years since you died and tomorrow, the anniversary of your funeral when family, friends and neighbours came together to celebrate your life.  

I haven't been able to meet up with family and friends much these last two years due to the Covid-19 pandemic which effectively closed down the world for a lot of the time. Barriers came up between countries and "stay at home" and "self-isolate" instructions were issued within countries.  

Two years on and Coronavirus is still with us.  However, it feels like life is adapting to a new normal and that is largely due to the roll out of vaccines, one of which was developed here in Oxford on the same medical campus where you took part in so many clinical trials for mesothelioma.  How wonderful is that?  

Double jabbed and boosted (but taking sensible precautions like mask wearing where appropriate and washing/sanitising hands as and when necessary) I started venturing out into the big wide world last autumn.  Initially visiting places around the UK to get my photography mojo working again and enjoy a change of scenery, and more recently to Spain when the opportunity came up to stay in a place I have long wanted to visit - the Muralla Roja (Red Wall) in Calpe where we visited together many years ago.  

I think you would have loved Muralla Roja as much as I did. The place lends itself to the sort of graphic images you created!  Inspired by you, I'm hoping to produce a set of prints myself, based on the architectural abstract images I took while I was there...

While in the area, I wandered round Calpe old town exploring the narrow streets and historic buildings.  Emerging from a narrow passage and turning a corner, I found myself in a small square, bounded by the whitewashed walls of a church, with a couple of tall cypress trees reaching up into the blue sky and a bench lit up by a shaft of sunlight.  And I was transported back in time.  We had sat on that bench many years ago to rest our feet and drink water.  I can remember you taking some photos of the cypress trees against the whitewashed walls and blue sky.  You made one of those photos into a greetings card; I still have one.

I must admit, I had one of those moments...sitting on the bench alone where I had sat with you many years ago.  The tears welled up and I was glad to be wearing sunglasses!  But it was lovely to experience such a happy memory, so vividly.

All being well, I'll be traveling again soon to Paris, Athens and Andalusia in the spring, and a photography road trip along Scotland's North Coast 500 in the autumn.  And I hope very much, in between these trips abroad, to visit family and friends in the UK that I haven't seen in person since lockdown started in 2020.  Lots of catching up to do, covid and wars permitting...

In other news, our son Jack is still living here with me for the time being - what we thought would be a short temporary arrangement in the first lockdown has gone on much longer than anticipated...but he'll be moving on soon, back to London to live with his fiancé, Laura.  Yep!  You read that right - he's engaged!  It's been a delight to welcome Laura into the family.  I know you would have got on well.  So sad you will never meet each other, but so happy for both of them!

Our daughter Katie and husband Davie have moved back to Oxford and now live within walking distance, close enough to meet up easily/be around if needed, but far away enough to be independent.  Perfect!  You would be proud of all the work they have put into doing up their new house - it looks great. Katie has certainly inherited your design skills. 

As for me...after "retiring" twice already, I'm going to do it again at the end of this year - finally leaving the planning profession as I step down from the Guernsey Planning Panel in December.  Time for some new blood for the Panel I think, and a new challenge for me, maybe...

...After 15 months or so of letting my camera gather dust, I picked it up again in earnest as I started traveling last autumn.  My photographs have been well received where I've shared them, been published and awarded on 1x.com, received a special mention in the Travel Photographer of the Year Competition and been featured in this month's edition of X-posure Photography magazine which is devoted to female photographers..

As I write, it's just under a week until the launch of Shot By Women, an image library which promotes the female gaze in the world of editorial and commercial photography.  I've signed up as a contributor and was thrilled to be one of their featured photographers recently, promoting the launch of the platform.  

How it all pans out, we'll just have to wait and see...but it's exciting to be in at the start of something different and a bit special!

Last but not least, our memorial to you...We thought you should be remembered with an artwork of some description and ended up choosing to contribute to a "human sundial" to be installed at Osney Lock Hydro, a green energy scheme on the  Thames near where we live, that we both supported. The sundial is a set of mosaic numbers and pictures of local wildlife set into the ground in front of the Hydro building.  The "hand" of the sundial is made by someone standing on a central mosaic platform so that their shadow points to one of the numbers to tell the time.  

It's a beautiful original artwork that will eventually be accessible to the public.  I was invited to get involved with the central platform where the human stands to cast a shadow.  I helped the mosaic artist with the design which centred on a depiction of the sun and also cut, laid and stuck the first piece of tile in the centre of the sun. I'm not sure whether I was a help or a hindrance (it's not something I'd done before!) but I was invited to return for a few more sessions working on the central platform, so hopefully I improved as I went along.  

All the mosaic panels are now completed and installed, and we're waiting for a date for the grand opening which had been postponed due to the pandemic.  Maybe next year I can share a photo to show the sundial in action!  For now, here's a couple of iPhone shots of the work in progress and in situ.  I do hope you think it a fitting way to remember you.  

Until next year, all being well xx

5 years on - a letter to Steve

Can it really be five whole years since your last breath?  

The run up to yesterday's anniversary was all too familiar in some ways...Six Nations rugby matches to enjoy on the TV (and a repeat of England's victory over Italy!) plus memories of Valentine's Days past, with your last card to me still having pride of place on the mantlepiece in the bedroom where we had our last conversation on the morning of 15 February.

But in other respects, it's been a year like no other - something happened which was unimaginable this time last year.  The world has been closed down with the Covid-19 coronavirus pandemic.  Plans to mark my significant birthday abandoned before they had got beyond the ideas stage; travel arrangements, hotel and B&B bookings cancelled; contact with family and friends for the most part limited to phone calls, WhatsApp messages, emails, FaceTime and Zoom meetings; groceries and other items delivered rather than shopped for in person...And the human touch limited to those you share your house with or in your support bubble.

For many people, it has been difficult living with uncertainty about the future.  I won't pretend it's been easy for me, but the experience of supporting you through mesothelioma for the best part of 7 years has helped.  I know much better now how to live in the moment and seize opportunities as they arise.  From being an inveterate "planner" with a good idea at the start of the year as to what would happen and when during the next 12 months, I got used to living with time horizons no further into the future than your next quarterly assessment.  Even looking ahead during that three month period came with health warnings that things could change without warning (and they frequently did...) So in that respect, I was better equipped than most to deal with the strange times we have all experienced since the first England lockdown in mid-March 2020. 

In other respects too, I consider myself to have been more fortunate than most when it comes to living through lockdown, with a garden to enjoy, a park at the end of the street and lovely walks close by. The street's WhatsApp group has been hugely supportive of each other and is still going strong. I'm now on friendly first name terms with most of the people living in the street; I've got to know some of neighbours much better as I talked to them from a safe social distance while taking a series of lockdown photographic "rainbow" portraits to keep the creative juices going.  

I have a confession too.  There is another man in the house! Don't jump to conclusions - I don't think that anyone could take your place...But when working from home became not only possible but mandatory, our son returned to live in the family home whilst working remotely.  We never imagined back last spring that he would still be here approaching a year later, so we've had to adjust as we've gone along.  

It's been mutually beneficial.  Lovely to have someone to talk to, hug from time to time, do the heavy lifting/carrying so as not to aggravate my back problems while pain management injections have been cancelled during the pandemic.  He's got me out walking, encouraging me to explore an area I thought I knew well, but now realise had not really got off the beaten track.  I'm much fitter as a result!

In return, he's had someone to discuss work with, cook meals for him from time to time, share a love of walking with and convert to "Strava" to keep track of where we've been.  It will be strange when he finally leaves..whenever, that will be...

I've had little face to face, in the flesh contact with our daughter and her husband since the pandemic stopped "normal" life.  We did manage a weekend away in the Cotswolds for my special birthday...

...and have had occasional socially distanced meet ups since then, but it's difficult when they currently live so far away.  So most contact has been "virtual".  However, they are in the process of buying a house within walking distance of here.  If that all goes through, it will be wonderful to have them so close at hand.  Fingers crossed!

I've used the lockdown periods to progress work on the house, which is moving forward after the disruption of building works in 2018/2019.  I think you would approve of the things that have changed.  As I stripped wallpaper, I even discovered a note we wrote on the wall in 1995, the last time the living room had been stripped back to the plaster.  You can just about make it out...Quite nostalgic...

As I write, we are in lockdown 3, but at long last, there is some light at the end of the tunnel as vaccines are rolled out. I've had one dose already.  It remains to be seen when life will return to the "new normal".  Where we will be when I write this time next year?  

I can't finish without mentioning the Mesowarriors, who were such a big part of our lives for such a long time. I'm still in touch with friends in the UK, USA and Canada who lost their loved ones to mesothelioma, like me.  We are bound by a common thread which not even a pandemic can destroy. Although you lived much longer than most diagnosed around the same time as you in 2009, the amazing Mavis Nye (diagnosed around the same time) battles on, Wonder Woman that she is - acting as a focal point for those who find themselves dealing with this man-made cancer either as a personal diagnosis or as a loved one/carer.  Hope lives on through her, and long may it last!

Four years on....a letter to Steve

On 14 February 2016, we exchanged Valentines cards, had a few beers with family and friends while cheering on England playing in one of the Six Nations rugby matches on TV.  Later that evening, we hatched plans to make life easier for you by converting the first floor bedroom into a bedsit of sorts, so you didn't have to make the increasingly difficult journey up and downstairs.  

On 15 February 2016, I brought you a cup of coffee in bed around 8.30am.  Our daughter, visiting at the time, was already up and out on a refresher driving lesson. You were due to go to your first music therapy session later that day, at the local hospice.  Appointments were in place for a further course of radiotherapy; your next session was to be the following day.  We knew you were getting closer to the end of your life - nearly seven years post-mesothelioma diagnosis - but, based on the consultant's advice, thought we had still had a few more months to prepare ourselves mentally, emotionally and practically.  

Then the unthinkable, but inevitable, happened.  By the time I returned to the bedroom half an hour later to collect your empty coffee cup, you had breathed your last.  Life would never be the same again. 

Today, unprompted, I woke up at 8.45am.  Exactly four years since the day - and probably the time - of your death.  In some ways, it feels like a lifetime ago; in other ways, it feels like it's only just happened; the memories are still so vivid.  But life goes on...

If I learned anything from your experience with mesothelioma, it's not to take anything for granted.  If there's something you want to do, then do it (if you can) rather than put it off to another time on the assumption that there will be another opportunity.  

So I have taken that thought to heart, relishing the opportunity to travel while I'm still mobile and able to enjoy the experience, with a fascinating trip to Bolivia last summer ...

Lying down on the job and jumping for joy with the Frui gang at Uyuni Salt flats, Bolivia

...and the most amazing experience visiting Ethiopia in January...

With the Mursi tribe, Omo Valley, Ethiopia

as well as visits to family and friends in Europe (don't get me going on the B word.  Thank goodness, you missed all that...)

With the ex-1Xers Doel, Belgium

and, of course, closer to home in the UK.  Our friends and neighbours continue to support me in every way imaginable.  For that I am truly grateful. 

But by far the biggest event of the year, and the one which brought the most joy (and tears) was the wedding of our daughter Katie to Davie in the Scottish borders last November.  I had the honour and pleasure of walking her down the "aisle" to the ceremony - a role that would normally have fallen to you.  

Although you were not there in person, you were remembered with love in the speeches of both the groom, Davie, and the Maid of Honour, Kathleen.  I have to admit that tears were steaming down my cheeks as I listened then...and again now, as I remember.  But it was a truly joyous and magical occasion, which you would have loved.  So I will finish this "letter" to you with some photo memories of the day.  

Who knows what the next 12 months will bring, but you can be sure I will be seizing the day, especially as the next big birthday is on the horizon...

With love that will not fade away xx

Anniversary musings....

I'm thinking of you especially today, Steve.  

We should have been celebrating our wedding anniversary together.  Instead, I am marking the day without you, for the third time since your death in February 2016.  

It's got me thinking about anniversaries when we were together.....including the memorable trip to Marrakech to celebrate our "Ruby" wedding anniversary, toasting each other on the roof terrace of the KozyBar, watching the storks fly back and forth from their nests on the walls of the El Badi Palace.  

Believe it or not, I was back there a couple of weeks ago, at the end of a second tour of Morocco with fellow photography enthusiasts.  The storks were settling down for the night, but we watched from the roof terrace of the bar, drinking wine as the sun disappeared from view, the mosques became illuminated and the call to prayer echoed around the city. 

It was a calculated risk, taking the group to the same place where we had celebrated a special anniversary, but the right decision.  I now have more happy memories to keep me going when the going gets tough.

There is another important event on the horizon this year. Our daughter is getting married in November!  You would love her partner, Davie.  So sad that you won't be there to walk her down the aisle - or more precisely to where Davie will be waiting for her, as (like our own marriage) as this won't be a religious ceremony.  But it will be a joyful one!

You would also be very proud of our son Jack, who has just completed the London Marathon.  Where does he get his strength and endurance from I wonder?  ;) 

Rather than running away from home like I did on the first anniversary without you, or spending the day alone with my thoughts like last year, I will be with others, hosting a meal here to say thank you for some of our lovely friends / neighbours who have given me practical help and emotional support when I need it.  That's a good way to spend a special day.  

You will be missed.  

You are missed.  

But you are not forgotten.  

Remembering you with love xx

May 2012 - Marrakech

May 1972 Oxfordshire

1947-2016

Two years on....

Well Steve, we have reached the second anniversary of your death. Your last Valentine to me has pride of place on the mantelpiece, as it did last year and the year before.

I was stirred yesterday morning by bright sunshine slanting through the blinds and it took a few seconds to wake up properly before the significance of the date kicked in.  I confess I shed a tear on reading lovely messages from friends who also remembered this anniversary.  

However, it wasn't all sadness.  Daughter Katie joined me at lunchtime, and we walked, talked and dined together and toasted your memory.  She has returned to London this morning, so a chance to finish this post to mark the second anniversary of loosing you. 

Unlike last year, the run up to this anniversary has not been nearly as stressful.  Maybe its because I’ve been through many of those “first time without you” experiences and survived, even though its been difficult at times.....such as when I walked out of a Cuban music evening barely able to hold back the tears - the only person trying to salsa without a partner - remembering how much we enjoyed dancing together....

While the Steve-shaped hole in my life is still there, the void is slowly being filled with new experiences of living as a single person.  

I’ve carried on our grown up gap year, traveling far and wide over the last 12 months: Namibia, Scotland, Portugal, France and New York City, as well as getting out and about in the UK, meeting up with old friends, making new friends and enjoying some quality time with our grown up kids along the way.

The camera has been my companion on these travels, and photography is still proving to be a creative and social lifeline, as it was when you were alive and going through treatment.  For some reason, a few days ago I was flicking through old photos of our travels together, and I came across this one of you in Spain, at the memorial to those innocent people who lost their lives in the Madrid train bombings back in 2004, before you were diagnosed with terminal cancer.  The image has taken on a new significance now, watching you walk away from me in the darkness, but towards the light flooding in from above.  Sadness and hope at the same time.

I’m still in touch with the Meso Warriors - mainly those who have lost their loved ones to mesothelioma - but also the amazing Mavis Nye who was diagnosed with the disease around the same time as you but is now in remission after taking part in an immunotherapy drug trial which has given hope to so many.  Mavis has even started up her own charity to help others in her position and their families.  I was honoured to be invited to the launch and to take some photos to record the launch last December.

People like Mavis and Linda Reinstein in the States (who runs the Asbestos Disease Awareness Organisation) have my utmost admiration for the work they do.  I sometimes feel guilty that I’m not more actively involved in mesothelioma awareness advocacy, especially now this blog is only updated infrequently.  However, people still read it from time to time, and I’ve had nice messages from those who have found it helpful, including a lady who had no idea what to expect at the Coroner’s Inquest but didn’t find it quite so scary after reading about my experience on the blog, so I guess that’s a contribution in some small way....

The idea of creating a public artwork as a permanent memorial to you has moved forward another baby step, with discussions about its form (a "human" sundial) and location in what will be a little pocket park next to the Thames at the Osney Lock.  However, its taking a while to get lottery funding for the overall landscaping scheme, and there is no sign of anything happening on the ground as yet. Hopefully, some time over the next 12 months, the project will reach fruition, or at least take another step forward....

Who knows what the next year will bring to me, our family and the wider mesothelioma community?  It will be interesting to look back in 12 months time to find out.  Until then - your memory will not fade away....