I arrived back in London yesterday after Nannan's funeral. It had all gone as well as it could have, but it was draining. The realisation that she was gone. The weird family stuff that seems to be par for the course with a huge Irish family. And the memories of dad's funeral (held in the same church with the same priest and the same hymns) which hit me with unexpected force during I Watch The Sunrise. It was sad, but we were together, the weather was glorious and, as the sun blazed down upon the beautiful blood-red roses, I thought about how much Nannan would have liked it.
I didn't half miss my boys, though. So, reunited at last for the Easter weekend, we decided to go on an adventure to Sydenham Woods this morning - somewhere I've wanted to visit for an age. It's a good walk up there, but once you're through the gates (which, with a bulky Bugaboo that refuses to fold down, is a challenge in itself), it feels like the hustle and bustle of London is a world away.
Samuel treated the whole trip as a meet-and-greet with dogs, running towards any pooch that he spotted and looking nothing short of delighted if he was rewarded with a lick on the face. He giggled as he ran down woodland steps. And then up again. And then down again. It took us quite a while to make it around the whole wood.
We had a few detours. Samuel would dive off the path if a nice-looking log caught his attention. And I was completely distracted by the ruins of an old monastery that we happened upon. And the bluebells in a sun-bathed glade a little further along the track? Pure springtime magic. I'm tired now but my heart feels lighter.