I’m writing this from my single room in a retreat house in the heart of Essex. I’ve just had dinner with a nun, a Rector and a saintly old lady from Suffolk. I am a fish out of water. Going on retreat has been a longing of mine for a while. I’m here for 24 hours after blackmailing Elis into…
I can’t get my head around it – a year ago I didn’t know my daughter. In fact it’s been barely 11 months since I first heard her name, saw a tiny image of her face, imagined what it’d be like to meet her. It’s impossible to put into words those first emotions. Ben came running up the stairs saying…
Saying sorry is really hard. It is not something I’m good at. It is not something I do often. I’m really good at thinking I’m right. All the time. In our home it has become a bit of a joke – “Can you even say the word?” And I’m worried I can’t. Because sorry means I did something wrong. It…