Friday, October 02, 2015

A moving anniversary

Oops! I really did mean to squeeze in a post before the end of September, but somehow it just didn’t happen.  The three weeks since our return to Wales seem to have flown by, with days full first of unpacking and sorting out, then of gardening, appointments and meetings, sermon-writing and service planning. In the evenings I’ve been busy knitting a sweater for my new great-nephew to the accompaniment of some favourite TV programmes.  I really don’t miss TV at all when we’re away, but it is definitely fun to catch up once we’re back home in Wales.

Talking of home, it was a shock to realise at the beginning of the week that it is already a year since we moved down from the hills into the valley. This time last year we were gradually transferring our furniture and other possessions from the old house to the new and struggling at times to work out how to fit everything in. I find it reassuring to realise that the overwhelming  sense of newness and strangeness I was so conscious of last October has long since worn off.  Now when I talk or think of home, this is the house I mean.

It has been a year of discoveries – gradually getting to know our kind and friendly neighbours and enjoying the little treasures of a new (and flat!) garden and the pleasure of being within walking distance of the village. The county council is even in the process of constructing a proper footpath from our road junction to the edge of the village centre which will save me having to leap onto the grass verge out of the way of oncoming vehicles. I can’t wait for it to be finished! It has also been lovely to discover how hospitable a house this is, able to absorb visitors comfortably and enjoyably, with three different visits on the calendar for this month alone.

Is there room for a little footpath?

My tiny flowerbed in June

And in September after 3 months away

As it happens there is another anniversary early this month, one which I am even more grateful to be able to mark every year. Ten years ago, on the 4th of October 2005, I had a mastectomy after my second diagnosis of breast cancer. For a few frightening weeks after finding that second lump, I had to face the possibility that perhaps this time the prognosis wouldn’t be as good as it had been after my first diagnosis 8 years before. Thankfully my worst fears weren’t realised and I am fortunate enough to have ten full and happy years to look back on since that significant date.

Now I’d better post this and finish getting ready for an all-day meeting tomorrow and the service I’m taking on Sunday. I may be starting to wear out here and there (don’t mention the word ‘knee’ at the moment) but I’m not going to rust if I can help it.  Life is too precious to be wasted.