8 July 2023

Our pilgrimage, to Cornwall

Dear Molly,

There’s something here. I don’t know what it is but I feel it deep down inside me. We first visited in 2017. It was the holiday that shaped so much of me, and of us.

We drove here today. 6 hours of motorway driving. It felt like a pilgrimage. Our journey through life. As we grow together, the threads that weave our story grow clearer to me. What I learnt recently, is that, today, we also followed a ley line to get here. An ancient pathway from here to home. Over 300 miles. From here, to where we live.

Cornwall is steeped in myths, legends and folklore and whether you are enchanted by the stories, or nonchalant, the air, the landscape, the warmth, the feeling here is real. It is for me.

Tonight we stumbled across Polkerris Beach. The most beautiful hidden gem of a beach with a soft sandy shore and rich green forested cliffs and headlands.

Cornwall keeps surprising me in the most beautiful of ways. Polkerris is in Daphne Du Maurier country, and she is one of my absolute favourite writers. It feels appropriate that we should roll up there, unexpectedly, on our first night here. ‘Rebecca’ links me to my own mother, whose copy I read and re-read as a teenager and adult. I will forever be enchanted by the opening line, “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.” Then I read ‘Jamaica Inn’ whilst visiting the north coast with you in 2017. You read ‘The Railway Rabbits.’ You were six years old and the sweetest girl.

You are happy here now. I feel that too. You have a peace about you, a smile, and you find joy in everything you see. I made the right choice bringing you back. I feel that inside. I want Cornwall to shape your story too. Your now and your future.

Let’s have adventures whilst we’re here. Let’s find all the secrets in the steep windy streets, leading to colourful stone cottages, by fishing harbours and secluded beaches. Where the steep, green rolling hills meet the sky and the sea beyond. Where mists roll in and shroud the hills before the warmth of the sun glides through once more. Let’s leave with happy hearts and with footprints of Cornwall deep down inside us.

I love you sweetheart xxx

“Because I want to; because I must; because now and forever more this is where I belong to be.” ~ Daphne Du Maurier, Jamaica Inn.

25 July 2022

Another bend in the road

Your last day of primary school. It is unfathomable that we are here. And yet, here we are.

I always knew it would be hard, that it would be a wrench. I just never knew how hard.

We came to the school community when you were 3 years old. Your bubbly blonde curls, framing your chubby baby face with your big blue eyes and your happy, articulate, caring and eager to please personality shining over everyone you encountered. I brimmed with pride at every interaction. You made wonderful friends of girls and boys alike, and I made friends with their parents. Those people, in that building, were more than classmates and teachers, they were family.

A small rural school meant that you had a small class. You were all thick as thieves from the moment you were jumbled in together in those welcoming little classrooms, with their tiny chairs and huge hearts.

And now, you are 11. Your primary school journey has come to an end. That last day was one of the most painful days. The amount of emotion hurt my heart and head. The joy of the memories, the friendships, the achievements, the love, mixed with the fact that it was all over, was a heady concoction. It hollowed out a space in my stomach which felt like the air was being sucked from me. I was always going to cry, but watching you and your friends sobbing into each other’s arms was so beautifully painful that it broke me.

The cherry on the top was you being awarded ‘Pupil of the Year’. You have worked tirelessly since you got to that school. You’ve read, and written, and researched and soaked up every last bit of knowledge that they have given you. You deserved that trophy with everything you are. Now take all of those experiences onto your next adventure. You are going to fly my love, I just know it.

All my love, Mummy xxx

"my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does." ~ Anne, Anne of Green Gables, L.M.Montgomery

9 July 2021

The Hidden Paths

Dear Molly,

I write to you less these days. I tend to wait until I feel it all brimming over, which it is right now.

We are two weeks away from Mummy and Kevin getting married. We have lived through a global pandemic. You are growing up before my eyes and I want to write, to keep this snapshot of our lives, here in 2021, on record forever.

With the wedding only two weeks away, I feel like our lives and past are playing out, constantly, in my head. I was driving home from the school run today and an old song came on. It triggered a slow-motion, home video style, memory of me playing in the street with my friends as a child. My memories with you are playing on repeat and my dreams are vivid.


New beginnings have always been happy and sad for me. I have always felt emotionally attached to our lives as they are. I even find it difficult to even throw away something that has been on the side in the kitchen for a few months. Even losing a negative element from my life, and gaining a positive one, is difficult for me. You have a lot of that in you, but you are leaning back from it as you grow up, and I will encourage that. Not to lose it, just to cut a few of the threads to make it a little more comfortable. It has always felt like a heavy emotion for me.

The future is really exciting, and through these days leading up to the big day, my instinct is to hold you so very close to me. It is so strong that I imagine binding your body to mine. You are my insides, living alongside me, and I need you like I need to breathe. I will never lean heavily on you, but you will always know how much I love you.

Overwhelmingly I want to be at home, to play outside with you, to talk to you, to hug you, to share with you and to listen to you. Your chatter is so mature at the moment. You want to achive high standards in all that you do. Yesterday, I said that “practice makes perfect” and you replied, “no one is perfect Mummy. Practice makes progress.” I mean, seriously, when did my child get so wise? Although, you were crying at not being able to do the monkey bars at the park at the time. You went from not being able to even hang from the bars to doing two of them that day. That was the “progress” you referred to and I was as proud of you then as I was when you aced your maths tests. Please don't be too hard on yourself. It is a blessing and a curse. Be as kind to yourself as you are to everyone else, that is all I ask.


My wish for the next two weeks is to enjoy your company and to soak up as much of my little girl as I can. It is just something I want to do. And then, on our wedding day, I will have you by my side, where we can make our memories, as a family, to last forever.


I am so excited for our future. I can not wait to support you to become who you will become, to enjoy our family life and to love you forever. Life has had a way of laying out our path for us. Sometimes it is overgrown and sometimes it is clear. We just have to hold each other’s hand, and walk together. We will be ok my love. I know we will.

I love you eternally.

“Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate
And though I oft have passed them by
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien

18 December 2020

"Love her, but leave her wild"

I read this quote today and it resonated so strongly somewhere deep down in my psyche.

North Norfolk this summer

My second favourite film of all time is Born Free, but you know that. Joy and George Adamson’s journey to setting Elsa the lioness free symbolises so much of what I hold dear. If I am grateful for anything, it is freedom, and if I had to fight to the death for anything, it would be freedom. And you a free spirit and I am privileged to be able to spend my life with you. Watching you grow is like watching a seedling unfurl.

My strongest instinct has always been to let you be. For people to let you be. I have said it so many times in Dear Molly. I want you to have space to uncurl your leaves, to push off your husks and to flower, and wilt, and to flower once more.

With you, there is a gentle but firm barrier in terms of how I share my views. An invisible wall. A voice. One which whispers to me on the breeze and reminds me that I really don’t want to tell you what to say, what to think, what is right and what is wrong. Instead we talk about issues and I encourage you to care. I furnish you with as much information as I can and I let you process the world in your own way. I can’t explain what stops me but sometimes, especially in recent years, I have felt a gentle hand on my shoulder which has shown me the right way when I was leaning the wrong way. I can see it when I look back, and I want to thank it, whoever, or whatever it is, but it is gone. Just footsteps in the snow remain.

Our garden this winter

I fill my spare time with my hobbies. I read, write, paint and bake and I listen to Joni Mitchell way too much. And when you want to join me, you do and I cherish that. I can see that you know how happy it makes me when we paint together and I see you doing it now, because of that. Your joy at creating a pastel piece that you were really proud of recently was beautiful. And then I love that you chat to your friends online. Playing Roblox, Among Us and chatting on Houseparty has kept you sane in 2020. I can see that you have become more streetwise, savvy, confident, and so very capable with technology, through your 2020 downtime. I love that you are already showing me what to do with technology, which is the correct order of things. I showed my parents, you will show me. I learn from you, you learn from me. We exist together, shaped by our stories and held together by the threads of our past. 

Your pastel piece

Your compassion for everyone in your class, people who are less fortunate than you, your cat, your friends, your family, for me and for the world around you is just mind blowing, to me anyway. You will ask for guidance from time to time, and I will give it to you, but I know, deep down in my heart, that letting you be will serve you better than all of the plans that I could formulate for you. I know that you will hear me, you will take in who I am and I am certain that that will have more influence than anything I could ever tell you to do. Like our tomatoes this summer, the rambling plants which seeded alone, which were left to find their own way in a tumbledown jungle, bore the very best fruit of all.   

Our runner beans this summer

So as with our seedlings, I will watch you grow with the same pride that we had for our little runner beans this year. I will love you, but I will always leave you wild, my darling.

 “She was born free and she has the right to live free” – Joy Adamson, Born Free