I think I should put a warning on this blog. Not for the contents as such, although I started blogging to help put my thoughts into some sort of order so it covers everything, but more for the fact that every e-mail I sent on Sunday contained at least one wrong word; I thought one thing, typed something else and then failed to spot it. Nothing new there then. So you’ve been warned - reading this could cause confusion.

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I’ve had hormone trouble this weekend. Not me personally – male testosterone has been running wild, shouting and slamming doors. Husband and son have been clashing; both convinced they are right. Himself has been finding things to do; he got as far as sons bedroom and met resistance. Son didn’t want his bedroom ‘sorted’ and in all fairness I can’t say I blame him. I’m very much of the opinion that when kids reach a certain age they should be allowed their privacy. If son wants to live in a tip that’s up to him, as long as he keeps the door closed I don’t care. If he doesn’t bring his washing out then he can wear dirty clothes. He learnt that lesson the hard way and I’ve not had a problem with him since. I just change the bedding with my eyes adverted.

For two days I tried to negotiate a compromise and frankly it did my head in - how I managed to live though it without losing my temper, beats me. Thank God for e-mail; it was pointed out to me that I didn’t have to get involved. They are big enough to sort it out by themselves. You never see the obvious yourself and when you are the one that everyone thinks will put it right it's not always that easy to just let it go. Walk away, it's not your problem is in fact quite difficult.

It worked out well for me in the end – I lay in the bath with my book and a glass of wine and left them to sort out tea. I found a bath bomb that Lucy had brought me for Christmas from Lush and by the time I’d gone back downstairs and eaten the meal they'd prepared, I was ready for bed. I was asleep by 10 p.m. and didn’t get up until 11.30 a.m. by which time Himself had sorted the animals and got the newspapers. Being a mother means you put your own needs last; it doesn’t cross your mind that you are entitled to nice things too.

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We went out for a walk around Highley and Bewdley on Sunday afternoon. The last time I went to Highley was with my mum. Every year we had a day out together with the kids. She was brought up in Highley and wanted to go back to have a look around. We drove around the village and she pointed places out including my Grandparents house.

Apparently my parents always took me up on a Sunday and my Granddad would be waiting by the gate to take me to the shop to buy some sweets. I wish I could remember him – I was only three when he died – because Mum said, he had worshiped me. He’d always wanted a son to carry on the family name and Mum said he’d never forgiven her for not being a boy, so she’d been surprised when after giving birth to a daughter he’s adored me. In his eyes I could do no wrong.

He died on a Monday morning after retiring the previous Friday. He’d worked in the mines all his life and never got to enjoy his retirement; he only drew one week’s pension. He loved photography and I remember looking at the various projector slides as a child - unfortunately they were destroyed in the fire.

Anyway, what I remember about my visit with mum wasn’t just the family history she recalled or the fact I don’t think we stopped laughing all day; it was sitting in the car opposite the Castle Inn. My grandparents lived in Number 69 right by the pub and my parents had held their wedding reception there. I clearly remember thinking at the time – one day she won’t be with me anymore and I’m going to remember today. When she’s gone I’m going to recall how happy we’ve been. No one will ever be able to take that away from me. A good memory stored away for the future.

After visiting Higley we drove on to Bewdley. I parked up and pushed the wheelchair into the town. The weather was something else; it snowed, hailed and then rained all in the spate of five minutes. Then the sun came out and everything glistened. We had a late lunch in one of the café, jacket potatoes with cheese and salad. All the details recorded to memory for when I needed them. We then popped into Teddy Grays for some sweets.

In the very darkest days of my depression, when at times I so badly wanted to be with her – I held on to that memory. It made me think about my family and gave me a reason to keep going, to just wake up in the morning. I very rarely think of those days now or my feelings at the time; I’ve moved on. I won’t say I’ve forgotten them because I don’t think you ever do; they’ve changed my life along with the bullying that contributed towards it and that I endured at the hands of my manager at work. I haven’t fully dealt with the bullying yet and it still affects me even today. Just lately I’ve been thinking about it more, if only to understand why I react like I do to certain things - it's time to move on. She has no hold over me now and I don't need to keeping fighting.

Bewdley and the Canadian Geese Synchronized Swimming Team