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The London to Brighton Bike Ride 2018

I don’t usually like to talk about all the charity work I do. That’s because I rarely do any, save for giving the odd tenner to mates who are doing a bit of fundraising.

The London To Brighton Bike Ride was something different, though. Not only because it’s one of the more iconic routes in the south-east, and not because I could raise a bit of dosh for my chosen cause, We Are Family. I’d wanted to do London-Brighton for a long time because it pulled at my taut heartstrings. It had a sentimental allure.

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Toxic Ambivalence

I’ve recently had a school-related episode that has given me much heartache and pause for thought. Another mother’s ambivalence towards my daughter. How she supported her daughter's ambivalence. And where all that has left my child. Her anxiety levels are rocketing. But it is all so subtle. You wouldn’t know it if you don’t know her. How she speaks too fast, too loud, doesn’t listen, bumps into things and people too hard. Dysregulation, my old friend. Normally I see it coming, but somehow I didn’t this time. 

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Why I Was Losing Patience with Separation Anxiety

The challenge was my daughter (4 years old) clinging to me at school drop off, refusing to enter the classroom, insisting I go in with her. “I need you! I want you!” she would cry and rather than compassion towards her, I was noticing my growing irritation.

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Who Loves You?

As I hope most parents do we tell our sons that we love them every single day - often multiple times a day - and by now (almost 6 years as a family) we are pretty sure that they understand it and believe it.

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Pick Me!

The last few weeks have not been the best healthwise.

I’ve been wracked with a confusing pain and fatigue in every joint, leaving me unable to complete the most basic of tasks – let alone care for my daughter in the way that I am used to.

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Long Live the King!

My parents are agnostic and I was not brought up with any kind of religious belief, practice or ritual. 

When as a family we moved to a small village in the Midlands which had a quaint old village church, my parents thought it might be nice to give me and my brother some religious instruction via the church’s Sunday school but we rebelled - having had no prior involvement and therefor feeling out of place.

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7 Years

My mother lived to just 62, far too young of course and her death seemed illogical and unjust at the time. However, just how young she was is only now starting to sink in - more than 16 years later.

I'm 55 this year, just 7 years younger than she was when she died. 

7 years! It will fly by...

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