October Reflections - 2024

Dear Molly,

Today, someone unexpected mentioned they'd read a few of my Dear Molly letters over the summer. It was a lovely reminder of the joy that comes from writing to you in this way. I do it for both of us - for me, and for you - and I’ve always shared these letters for anyone who cares to read them. I write to capture time, to preserve moments and emotions that might otherwise drift away, trailing a string, a lost balloon. I usually wait for the universe to nudge me, to know when it's time to write again.

And here we are, just days away from your 14th birthday - 14! I know it may only seem remarkable to me, your mama, but I can hardly believe we've reached this moment. It's a beautiful contradiction. On one hand, it feels like just yesterday you were reaching up to hold my hand, a little head of blonde curls bouncing beside me. Yet, on the other hand, it feels as though we've shared a hundred lifetimes together.

October is our favourite month, a time that feels like a spiritual connection between us. Perhaps it’s because your birth month holds special meaning for both of us, but I think it runs deeper than that. There's a profound synchronicity between our happiness, our sense of well-being, and the arrival of autumn. We both feel it, and whether it's something learned, mirrored, or naturally woven into us, it doesn’t matter. We both love October - our month of golden light, crisp air, and a quiet, healing beauty.

This October, in 2024, feels like a time of transition for you. You are finding your place in senior school, balancing friendships, academic life, theatre, army cadets, and family - all the pillars that support you. We’re here, quietly guiding you as you arrange them to build the strongest foundation for your growth. Your dedication and work ethic are admirable, and you embrace every opportunity for enrichment. Watching you unfold is a joy.

As I observe the world around me, and recall my own journey, I understand what it takes to succeed, from my perspective. Every day, you show me how different we are, yet I see that the essence of who you are, your moral compass and your guiding North Star are not so unlike mine. I know you'll always aim higher, reach further, and embrace the truth that you get out of life what you put into it. You pour your heart and soul into everything you do, and I have no doubt that life will reward you abundantly.

Trust your instincts, go with your heart, work as hard as you can, be kind to yourself, treasure space, and always just go for it, whatever it might be. Let the ballon go if you need to.

The best moment of 2024 - The Eras Tour, Wembley

"With you I'd dance in a storm in my best dress, fearless." - Taylor Swift, Fearless

I love you poppet.

Canals, and me, and you

Dear Molly,

The British canal system, built to move coal and other raw materials, from city to city at the heart of our industrial past, has become a puzzle piece in my make-up.

I think it helps that inclement British weather is where my soul feels most at ease. I have a love hate relationship with summer. It looks cheery, but makes me feel sluggish. Spring with its hope, autumn with its cozy promise and the purity of winter are where I feel most alive. Canal holidays, in my experience, usually involve a healthy serving of spring, autumn and winter, on rotation.

One day, I will write more about the canal adventures I went on with my family throughout my childhood. From London to Oxford, North Wales, Manchester, Leeds, Sheffield, Stoke-on-Trent, Liverpool, Birmingham, Leicester, Nottingham and every inch of beautiful British countryside in between, we covered it all on our various family narrowboats. From steep flights of locks up and over the rolling green Pennines, to aqueducts in the sky, to urban voyages through steel factories, derelict timber wharfs and potteries, the canals branded a love of the UK, and all of her characteristics, onto the little girl who watched it all go by.

I put myself in the camp of people who know what they’d like to do, but who allow life and lack of time to prevent it happening. I want to do more exercise, to volunteer, to go for more walks, to climb Snowdon, to walk some more of the SW coast path, to wild camp…..I would put my desire to carry on narrow-boating in the pot with all of those things, except for the fact that we have all been going on canal holidays for the last 7 years. Maybe the universe intervenes when it is important enough.

Being able to weave my love of canals into your life, and those of our family, is a privilege and brings me so much joy. My carefully bottled past memories, bubbling out, into us.

The distinctive chugging of a diesel boat engine, my heartbeat, the smell of the grease on the cogs of a lock mechanism, the feel of a 1.5 tonne lock gate opening, the haunting, freezing air in a black, brick, drippy old tunnel, where no sunlight has been in over 200 years, the taste of a bacon sandwich in the cold morning air, waking up to see dew laden grass on the damp morning towpath through the window by your bed, and the thrill of that illusive orange or blue flash ahead of you above the water. This list could go on and on and now, you could write it too.

At 13 years old, you get very excited for our canal holidays. You revel in arranging your cosy boat bedroom, in the peaceful time that this holiday provides for you, for us all. Seeing you, wrapped up in your raincoat, holding your lock handle, walking under the brick bridges, winding up the paddles, pushing gates, writing stories, and enjoying evenings on the boat, is all like peeping back through a window at myself, 34 years ago, and nothing much has changed.

If I had never been on a narrowboat, there would be a part of me locked away. I close my eyes now, take one step along the towpath, and the magic engulfs me. I see a damselfly. Until next time. I love you x

"We could never have loved the earth so well, if we had no childhood in it" ~ George Eliot