Living without children

This week is Word Childless week. If I hadn’t found myself in that category, it probably would have passed me by, but I have, and so it is. I’ve read so many Facebook groups, blogs and social media sites sharing the heart-cry of women and men who find themselves excluded from the one group they would desperately have loved to have been part of. To read them and to really understand the outpouring of pain, desperation and isolation is immense. But this year I realise how far I have come.

I’m used to being in a minority group. I have a visible disability. I’m registered blind and I wear hearing aids. I have a Guide Dog. I stand out. I’m vulnerable and I have to ask for help a lot and it’s a daily challenge to do my best to ensure that this isn’t how people see me, nor how I define myself. I am positive, optimistic and independent. I want the young people I work with tosee this and know that whatever the challenges they face, they can overcome them and achieve, if they remain focused and positive.

But being childless- not by choice, is a different matter. It’s rarely a situation people seek to identify with, talk about openly or to ask for support. Whereas with my eyesight I can ask for my needs to be met and often feel empowered to do so, with infertility, it’s unspoken, it’s not talked about and admitting that friend’s being pregnant, attending baby showers, Mothers Day and seeing back to school photos at times all cause a massive ache in my heart to be a mum and can be tough is often just too hard. And it can be a really lonely place.

Yet despite their differences, when I was told four years ago that our dreams of having children were not to be, the lessons I’d learnt twenty years before, when I was diagnosed with a degenerative eye condition which ultimately leads to blindness and deafness came into their own. Having lived with my eye condition for so long, I have learnt a lot. There’s a proverb which says disappointment makes the heart sick. Facing my disappointment and dealing with it was key. With my eyesight, I went through the stages: the shock and numbness, the anger and reasoning and I grieved the career I wanted but couldn’t have, the irony being that midwifery was top of my list. I learnt to accept that the things I had assumed I would be able to do were no longer an option. Instead, a little at a time I planned a future around the my limitations and I learned to appreciate what I do have, and to squeeze every slither of silver lining that I could find out of my life, gratitude being a major key.

Facing Childlessness wasn’t so different. We grieved, devastated at the bottom falling out of our world. Disappointment, a suffocating blanket slowly smothering me. Having gone through years and years of stifling my excitement when I thought I might just might have been pregnant, only to have that hope crushed again and again had left me somewhat fragile. But gradually we started to look at what we could do with our future and we could still be a family, even with just the two of us- and my Guide Dog. We talked about how we can play a role in our friend’s children’s lives, how we could support our friends in their parenting journeys and having the time and opportunities for these special relationships with our honorary nieces and nephews.

To get by, I now practically consider what might be tough. There are films I choose not to watch or events I may skip, or have alternative plans for. This can help, but equally, I value my friendships more than wanting to protect myself from potential pain most of the time. If that means not always being able to partake in a conversation, then so be it – in the same way I sometimes sit smiling at an event that I struggle to see or hear the others I am sitting with, sometimes accepting that talk about children will be inevitable is necessary. One key piece of advice a friend who had walked this road before me gave, was to let things roll off my back and not take offence. Simple advice, but on reflection, that’s how I manage with my eyesight every day. People don’t usually intend to be thoughtless, but it happens, and smiling and getting by is sometimes hard, but it’s the better route in the long run.

For all the people reading this who are facing their futures without children, know that you can get through, that there are others feeling the same way and who have come through the worst of it.

Hope is powerful. It pulls you through devastation and grief and turns you head towards the possibility of the darkest time passing. At my worst, in both these heartbreaking disappointments I struggled to see past the pit I found myself in. Glimpses of light and chinks of silver linings seemed a world away and both times I felt my future was futile and bleak. But my faith in a God who loves me, with or without sight or children, along with a belief that He has a purpose for me which will utilise the abilities He has given me helped immensely. That knowledge, along with the encouragement of a group of friends who helped piece me back together and a husband who is a rock helped keep my perspective on what is important. I still hope for many things. I believe and have witnessed miracles, so God’s healing on both fronts is something I won’t lose hope for, but also I hope for the here and now being better than the lowest points I have known, as well as an eternity with an able body where there are no more tears.

Challenges and disappointments, however big, can powerfully shape us. My life may not be what I expected or even longed for, but it can be more than ok. It can be rich, vibrant and purposeful. At the point I was diagnosed on both fronts, it would have helped to have been told this, which is why I am writing this post. Isolation is excruciating. Feeling that no-one understands and not having others to share with is debilitating. Having hope that these feelings can improve and life can have it’s colour return is so important.

One key thing I have learnt is that to be loved and to be able to love others is paramount. We can do this in whatever circumstances we find ourselves in, if we are open to being honest, vulnerable and to accepting what we have. In a world of social media telling us we will only be happy IF….. we can lose sight of being content with what we have. Being childless does not limit this, neither does being disabled, it just makes it a little harder and challenges us to find a way through, but be reassured,there IS a way.

Fab for 40

I have 14 months until I turn 40. When I’m was in my twenties, I looked forward to being 40. The picture I pained hasn’t quite happened and I have moments of chasing my tail, like I’m out at sea bobbing around when it feels the rest of the world is playing happily on the beach with everything in place the way they planned. Having the goal of the marathon helped me to look forward again, to plan for and to feel a sense of accomplishment. A few weeks before I ran it, I found myself wonderingwhat life would be like afterwards, i’s become so used to having weekly targets to work towards, and as I suspected, I’ve missed it.

So rather than continuing to chase my tail and dread the big 4-0 milestone, I want to run towards it with outstretched arms. I wrote a list a while back of things I wanted to do before I’m 40. I’ve adapted it and set myself a challenge- to be ready for 40, to get to August next year with a smile on my face and feeling good. So my challenges:

Fit for 40: much as I was much fitter than I have ever been before, and good as I felt having completed the marathon, I finished knowing that one day I want to do it again, but next time being lighter, fitter and stronger. I ended up walking a fair chunk of it, my body not having fully recovered form a 20 mile run I had done a few weeks prior. I’ve started going to gym classes with a couple of friends. I have two new goals, firstly to complete a Body Attack(more like Body Brutal!) class on full throttle- they give different options for the exercises. I want to be able to do the hard version for an hour. Secondly, I want to complete 5K in under 30 minutes. That’s taking off almost ten minutes, which I think is achievable if I start working on it now!

Bolder for 40: I felt so much more confident after running the marathon. I want to build on it and keep setting myself challenges that push me to retain my independence as my sight and hearing continue to deteriorate. One goal I have is to go into London and meet my husband for lunch somewhere. Seventeen years ago, when we first got married, I commuted across London and felt confident doing so. With less sight, it feels much harder but not unachievable, so I’m going to build up to it and go for it! 

Fun for 40: I don’t have many frustrations of things I didn’t do as a child but two that I always wanted to do were to be able to cartwheel and hula-hoop, so I’m going to try and learn these., as well as embrace any opportunities to do things that keep me smiling along the way.Inspired for 40: I love reading about people who inspire me, but I get distracted by watching trashy tv and then moan that I don’t have time. I want to make more time to read about people who inspire me to achieve my own goals and keep me focused when I feel overwhelmed with my future ahead of me.Thankful for 40: I met a lady in the park yesterday who was admiring my Guide Dog. While I explained about my visual and haring impairments, she focused her comments about how hard things were for me and how life is really tough. I was able to genuinely tell her that I am blessed. I don’t always feel as cheerful as I was yesterday, but being thankful for what I have, and for the help people give me helps me keep my perspective. I want to do this more, and more and with creativity.

Healthy for 40: The fitter I get, the more conscious I am of what I am putting into my body. I  looking at Instagram sites or vlogs of people’s healthy living tips and recipe ideas. I also love baking and enjoy being creative when I cook. I want to learn healthier ways of cooking food that nourishes me and to learn how to adapt these recipes the way I already do with cakes and biscuits and recipes involving cheese!

Organised for 40: I love reading about new ways to sort and order my life. As my sight worsens, I have been learning to adapt my methods to make life easier. I want to review how far I’ve got and keep going further in this quest.Hopeful for 40: hope is one of my favourite words. It takes me from a place where I can wallow in fear and self pity, to a place of endless possibilities. I want to hope for my future, not just to 40, but beyond it. I want to prepare myself for what’s ahead and run towards it with hope at the foundation.

So these are my challenges. They’ve been floating round my head for a while but writing them down has made them real, they are all achievable, with continued effort.  Posting them on here, and setting up my fabfor40 instagram page are my way of ensuring that I do this, so please follow me and my journey to next summer!

Running the London Marathon

Chuffed to bits, I can finally say I’ve completed the London Marathon. There may have been 39047 runners ahead of me and I may have walked a fair bit, but we got there and I am chuffed to bits.

 Some parts of the day are a blur and some stand clearly. The most precious will stay with me for life, and the painful ones are already fading in my memory- what a Godsend that pain is difficult to remember yet excitement and joy are easily recalled! My overwhelming memory that I will take away is the encouragement I experienced and still am experiencing.  

Overall the day was so much harder than I had anticipated. I hadn’t wanted to dwell on what I might find hard, the result  of which was that my determination had remained intact, but in hindsight, when I run it again, I will be better prepared. I will practice on roads, in crowds and up hills. My guide Jenny had offered these opportunities. I, aware of my limitations chose to stick to the nicer scenic routes, where we didn’t have to run with others nor face the challenge of lengthy tarmac runs, or steep hills.  Our practices followed a running plan, which my body took pretty well until the last few weeks when the strain of 20 miles then 13 and 13 again took it’s toll and I struggled. By race day my body was rested, but having run 5 miles or so the hills and tarmac were causing my back and legs sufficient pain for going slower to be the better option if I wanted to finish. 

Despite this difficulty, and being unable to concentrate on anything other than my pain for more than a few seconds at a time, there were numerous moments which made me smile, from meeting two other blind runners and their guides at the start line, to the complexities of the ladies toilets (never again!), to standing squashed in the starting pen next to a Mr Man  and spending much of the race trying to overtake a giant rhino.  And the crowds- constantly cheering us on, from little kids and their families to pubs spilling out onto the streets, children offering sweets out amd charity groups greeting every charity runner with a cheer. Passing the Guide Dog stand with tears down my cheeks, missing my two dogs and being overwhelmed with gratitude for the difference the’ve made,  I cherished it all.  One particular cheer I got choked me and replayed in my head for hours. As we past a crowd outside a pub, over the loud speaker I heard ” Emma! You can’t see us but we can see you, and you’re amazing!”  Powerful affirmation that kept me going, Jenny’s suggestion of our named running bobs proving their worth time and time again.

Seeing familiar faces was especially precious, particularly my friends running through the crowds to catch up with us and my husband and friends greeting us at mile 17 with words of love and encouragement. With ten miles left to go and a body desperate to stop, their smiles, hugs and words set me up to carry on again and complete the task. With energy levels sagging and dreaming of the crowds handing me chocolate, Jenny’s sister-in-law appeared out of nowhere with a Kitkat for me, which I finished just before the final mile.

And complete it we did, alongside the medical coach for much of the race, so close to the end of the runners we were positioned, but we did it.  Jenny was incredible, patiant and chivving me to the end- “We can, we will…….we can, we will”  her mantra repeated throughout the day. As we neared the finish line, my husband and Jenny’s daughter cheering us on, we picked up our pace and ran…. ” We did it! We finished!”

The aftermath since has been equally humbling. To be greeted on so many occasions by friends and colleagues who  were tracking me and cheering me on, willing me to cross the finish line has been heart-warming, as has seeing donations pour in from people I don’t even know who have heard of what I’ve done.  The question I’ve been asked time and time again is ” would you do it again?” Yes, I would, but I would want to be much fitter and practice running more  in crowds and up hills!

So I’ve set a target for next summer to run 5K in under thirty minutes, which is achievable but will take some doing. I’m switching my gym membership to enable me to  join my friends at classes that they go to. I am boosted by the confidence gained in running my practice 20 mile run,. I want to keep going, to get fitter, stronger and faster.  Rather than hiding myself away at home and being intimidated at taking on challenges, I now want to throw myself at them with full force!

Tonight I had arranged to meet friends in aa pub to celebrate. I  and Gus arrived early and walked in through  the restaurant to the bar. I ordered myself a drink and sat down and waited for my friends to arrive. A small step, but one that a week ago I wouldn’t have taken, preferring to wait outside until they arrived,but I said to myself ” I”ve finished the London Marathon, I can do anything!”. That’s the legacy of Sunday, the legacy of a year’s worth of encouragement from friends and family telling me I could do it. I received a card from the family who’d cheered me on wth Simon, reiterating the words said to me when I’d declared that I would be facing this challenge ” You are bonkers, but bonkers people change the world, and that’s cool”. I don’t know about changing the world, but this has changed my world and I can’t stop smiling!

Being Guided.

Running with a guide is a powerful picture of the fine line between valuing independence and realising that to achieve your goals, with a disability, you are going to need help. No argument, it’s just the way it is. Some days this is easy. I don’t think twice about checking my make up with a friend or asking someone to tell me which colleagues are in a room when I walk in. Other days I resist and walk around in a blurry haze, not wanting to draw attention to my needs or my feelings of inadequacy.

With running, I have mixed both running with guides and trying to have a small amount of independence. I have loved the feelings of being independent as I have run by myself, plodding slowly around a little route I felt confident enough to tackle alone, but with a niggling fear I would trip and it would be my own fault. When this did happen it took a while for me to get back in the swing of things and I have only run once on that same route. I have also embraced the trips alone to the gym. I drop Gus in the office where the staff are only too happy to have him, then I timidly get myself to the changing room and back out and onto the treadmill. I relish the fact I can do this by myself, yet I still find the whole thing a tad intimidating.

Running with my guide has taught me much and Jenny has been incredibly generous with her time, patience and encouragement. I have so much respect for the way Jenny has enabled me to find the balance between working out what works for me while describing beautiful things along the way and learning what I need to be warned about and what I can see for myself. I’ve loved her descriptions of dogs that I thought were sheep and swans in fields and the flowers and people we pass. The reality is that now I would much rather be outside running with Jenny than in the gym by myself. Accepting help wins hands down!

Jenny described these swans as we passed them yesterday

Yesterday we spent five and a half hours in the countryside. We talked about the difficulty of having a condition which deteriorates and the balance between accepting I need help while keeping my independence for as long as I can. Having Jenny guide me has reminded me that being helped is a privilege. These shared moments are prescious and I never want to overlook that fact, or stop saying thank you to those who support me.

Running for Guide Dogs

Last year I committed to the running the Virgin London Marathon for Guide Dogs this April. It was step towards doing something I have always dreamt of doing, though the reality in my head was crossing the finishing line and feeling chuffed to have completed it. Given I didn’t really like running,  and I had no comprehension that of the hard work involved, it all felt very exciting.

Nine months later and I am amazed that I am still doing it! The runs in the early days were torturous, then there were a number of months when they were reasonable but perhaps not as many as I should have done and I didn’t really push myself so much. At 17 weeks to go I realised it was time to crank up the training and I found a plan to follow, which has pushed me but also felt achievable.

There have been been high points, for example the first time I ran an hour without stopping, and last weekend running twelve miles without needing to walk any of it. Yesterday the run was tough, I hadn’t eaten eaten enough prior to the run, which made things more difficult.

It’s been helpful to remind myself why I am doing this, out of gratitude to an organisation which has provided me with two dogs who have changed my life, to inspire others that no matter what life throws at you, there is always hope, and to keep challenging myself to remind myself that despite my personal limitations, I can still overcome challenges. This is definitely the hardest one yet, but, and I can’t quite believe I am saying this, I’m actually starting to enjoy it!

Please follow the link to my Just Giving page. All contributions are really appreciated’💜.

Back on track!

I’m sat down on the sofa with a to-do list of things I’d like to get done in the two quiet days we have between now and returning back to school., trying to find a balance  relaxing and getting things done. I’m very aware that we have 17 weeks until we run the marathon and my training is a bit behind….. which is a rose-tinted way of saying VERY behind. Ever the optimist I have found a 17 week plan fo prepare me and today is day one.  I could give  101 reasons why I am behind but they would mostly be excuses. When I’m running, I enjoy it and I want to keep going, but, much like my attutide to healthy eating, the moment I take my eyes of the goal I get distracted and before I know it, I’m off the wagon and sat by the side of the road eating  cake and feeling too demotivated to contemplate getting back on track.

Given that I am absolutely committed to running the marathon for Guide Dogs and in a bid to keep myself back on track I have a three pronged attack: (1) join Weight Watchers, which I did last week, (2) write this blog and commit to regular updates, which are now on my calendar and (3) stick to my training plan.  Possibly easier said than done, but still doable!

So, “go fur a run” is now on today’s to-do list, as is writing a description of what to with Gus for the team at the gym. I took him  last week and left him in the office. The staff told me how lovely he was, but I suspect they fussed him a fair bit as he apparently spent his time asking for attention rather than curled up on his mat as he should have been doing. Hopefully my instruction  sheet will sort that one out. The extra walks to and from the gym, which is a 40 minute walk away will also be good for both of us, so it’s all good. My optimism will prevail and I will keep the updates coming! 
 

 

The Letter

A conversation with a colleague at work got me thinking about what I wish someone had said to me when I first got diagnosed with my sight condition. Here’s what I came up with:

Letter to my 15 year old self

Dear Emma

So you finally got the diagnosis of the degenerative eye condition you suspected. No, there isn’t any treatment, which you hadn’t anticipated but you WILL be ok. Just give yourself time. For now, focus on what you can do. Tell the teachers why you are struggling, they are not mind-readers. Be honest about how you can’t read the text books and the white boards, and how tired your eyes are getting when you revise each evening. They don’t realise that you are underachieving because you can’t see to copy things down correctly, but they will see how hard you worked when your results show and they will know that you could do it.

Ignore your peers who make crass comments. They don’t know the reality you are facing. You don’t need to go to a blind school, as they are telling you, and you are not worthless. They won’t be important to you in a couple of years time and they certainly won’t remember the comments they made.

Give yourself time. It will feel like the bottom of your world has fallen out. It will feel like you don’t have a future, but these feelings will pass and there will be opportunities for you, which you haven’t even considered yet. Let the feelings pass, and remember to talk to people you trust. Keeping it bottled up isn’t helpful in the long run. Don’t feel guilty of your family are upset for you, they are grieving too, but it isn’t your fault, nor is it your responsibility to make everything ok. Just focus on coping a day at a time.

Disappointment is inevitable, especially when your friends pass milestones you won’t be able to achieve, like passing your driving test. Expressing this is good, but once you have let the tears out and acknowledged it, the trick is to dust yourself off and start dreaming about what is ahead. Dreaming is good- you can have a future rich in possibilities, but you need to consider what is realistic yet challenging at the same time. Don’t allow yourself to think that you can’t do it, you can, you may need to think of ways around challenges and ask for support. Be your own cheerleader- you can do this!!!!

Independence is precious. Cherish every ounce you have, and set yourself regular goals so you don’t start to fear everyday situations. Pride is less helpful. You need to accept help in order to stay safe and not spend hours doing something that someone else could quickly do for you- like find your library books!! Resist the temptation to say “No, I’m fine”, as it will cause you more pain in the long run.

Remember to laugh. It is ok to make fun of yourself and will build bridges with people. Let embarrassment roll off you quickly. There will be times when you want to scream and cry for the mistakes you make, like talking to the wrong person, or worse still, a mannequin, or wearing your clothes inside out, but laughter will heal that quickly, so laugh, and if you can’t laugh, smile.

Choose your friends carefully. You need a support network who will champion you. Watch out for pity-friends who help you to make themselves feel good, they are not real friends. Stick with those who encourage you, support you and who will tell you if you are feeling sorry for yourself. You’ll need them to help you but you will also help them- you are a good friend so don’t feel like a burden.

Finally, be confident in who you are. Don’t compare yourself to others and don’t focus on what they have that you don’t, it will only drag you down. Instead like yourself. You are strong, determined and compassionate. You do not need to fear, for fear breaks you down, just take everything a step at a time and look for the positive. Count your blessings, be grateful for what you do have and focus on your future. It WILL work out, you WILL be ok, in fact you will be so much more than ok.

 

 

Two weeks in….

I am now a runner……. almost, or at least I am becoming one. I’m two weeks in and I can now run for a minute and a half without stopping, with a 90 second walk in-between and then repeated six times. Writing that it sounds like nothing, but I feel every second of it! I now have four guides all booked in each week to turn up at my house and run alongside me, which, combined with the fact I have told everyone I’m going to run the marathon is the the only thing keeping me from quitting!!! I like the idea of being a runner more than I like the achey legs, the red shade my face goes for hours afterwards and the feeling of my heart pounding in my chest. But on Friday, for the first time yet, I had moments of not thinking about when I next get to stop and walk, a small taste of what hopefully is to come!

 

Running  with a guide takes getting used to. It’s a mind-shift to run around corners without stopping at each kerb and I have to stop myself from saying “good boy” regularly out of habit! But more daunting  is  the speed at what’s ahead looming up in front of me as I don’t have the time to logically try and work out what it is I am running towards.  Each time I run it feels a little easier and I and my guides are becoming more in-tune with each other. We both wear a guiding tape between our wrists which they tug as they want me to take their lead. They then count me down to the next kerb or direction change. That part is a reversal of the way I am used to doing things with Gus, as with him, I am responsible for directing the way, he then navigates to the point I set.

As we jogged this morning, it was the first time we had allowed Gus to free-run alongside us. He wears a bell on his collar to help me keep track of where he is. He was in his element running alongside me, tail wagging high in the air. At one point he got distracted by some other dogs but aside from that we was one of us. As our routes get longer I’ll have to keep an eye on how far he can come, but for now, I have four guides and a four legged waggy-tailed buddy to cheer me on and keep me company.

 

 

I got a place!

Exciting news!!!!! I got a place running the London marathon next year. This is also pretty daunting for lots of reasons, mainly that I am currently unfit, and need to lose weight, but also because, having been there to watch it this year, I realise how crowded and litter strewn it will be. Si has offered to guide me and Jenny is going train me and be my back-up guider, so I and my marathon- running friend Jenny have 47 weeks to get ready to run it and comfortably with a person rather than a dog guiding me. On the positive side, I get to challenge myself, raise money for Guide Dogs and focus on something positive, which I am in  need of.In typical Emma-fashion, my initial preparation has been to read books on what to do, tell  lots of people (to make sure I can’t back out!), to check out any equipment/gadgets I need (phone holder, trainers, maybe a pink water bottle!) and now I am sat down drinking a cup of tea writing about it…… yet I haven’t actually put my trainers on yet!

I’ve been asked by people whether Gus would guide me, and I think I heard about one dog being trained to run, but that isn’t Gus’ training, so he’ll just accompany me on my shorter runs on a lead but not in harness. He ran round a lake while I cycled round it with my friends last week and he loved it, so I’m sure he’ll enjoy trotting along next to me.

So tomorrow morning I start my training plan. I have various friends who have agreed to help me train once a week each and both Si and Jenny have slots to see how guiding me goes. I met up with Jenny yesterday and since running the marathon herself this year, she needs a project to focus on, so I’m her new project! She’s already bought us a running book and is organising for a guiding wrist band to be made, so I’m sure I’ll be mentored well! It’s new for all of us so we’ll see how it goes and I’ll keep you posted!

 

 

Road Trip

Half term has enabled us to take Gus in a tour of our northern friends and relatives, so bed washed, Gus brushed and a host of towels, blankets, food and his favourite cuddly hippo packed and we were off .Having stopped off for lunch with my in-laws, we made our way up to Lancaster. Si and I met at university there and our good friends, Marcus and Lou pastor a church in the city-centre. We had a wonderful time catching up and enjoying the company of their beautiful boys.

Si and I went on a trip around the university campus, bringing back fond memories of an amazing time of our lives. He surprised me and took me down to the duck pond where we had our first proper  conversation . I remember walking away and telling a friend that I’d talked to this guy about the sort of weddings we wanted and I wondered whether we’d end up marrying! Nearly twenty years later the duck pond hasn’t changed much.

 Next stop was a trip to see my family in Cheshire. Again, more walks, delicious food  and catching up ( the theme of our week!). Gus spent time with my Gran’s retired hearing dog, Troy who has lived with  my uncle and aunt since my Gran passed away.

Having visited more friends, we made our way over to Doncaster to spend time with our friends that Isaac retired to. This was our first time there since he’d passed away, so an evening of  tearful reminiscing about the buddy we had all adored and miss so much. Si showed us footage he’d taken of the last day I’d had with him before he retired, Tess and Al recounted  how people had brought flowers to the house  when they’d heard the news and I wept at the sight of the plaque they’d had mounted to mark Isaac’s final resting place. Throughout this, Gus lay at Al’s feet, clearly smitten with each other, bringing yet more laughter at how, of the seven years I’d had Isaac, at least five were spent telling Al tet Isaac ” in a couple of years….”. Plans for Gus to follow Isaac’s path and retire to this wonderful family are now firmly in place……… but not for a long time yet.

Our last day was spent enjoying the company of our friends. We walked and cycled round a lake with Gus galloping alongside us. A beautiful end to a wonderful week.