'Don't Put Your Daughter on the Stage, Mrs Worthington!'*

I sometimes get asked whether it is difficult to watch number 1 daughter when she is in an acting role. Given that her acting career has had and continues to have some moments that are not in the conventional mother-and-daughter spectrum of activity I guess that's a reasonable question.

The answer is normally, whether it is television or short film or stage, that there are a few moments at the beginning when I can only see her as my daughter and the thoughts that flash through my brain generally relate to having everything crossed that she will be wonderful, not forget her lines etc, etc - not that she ever has!  And then I become so absorbed in the drama that I almost (but never completely) forget that she is mine. Until the latest production...

When my beloved and I stepped into the theatre at the Pleasance Dome in Edinburgh last Thursday, as part of a packed house, she and Phil (Arthur really, who plays her husband) were already in bed - vertically at the back of the stage. It's a very clever piece of staging and although they hop in and out of bed during the 80-minute two-hander, there is no sense of adjusting mentally from the virtual vertical to the horizontal. So because essentially the action was waiting for the audience merely to sit down and the lights to dim, there was no time to go through the usual mother/daughter collective of thoughts. She just was Alice from start to finish.

The play is shocking, stunning and probably the most beautifully written piece she has ever done and because I am shameless (see later on...)  I absolutely agree with all the 4 and 5* reviews the play has had in the national press. It is a tour de force.

So last week for me was Edinburgh Fringe week with number 1, wedding dress shopping - also with number 1- and flat-moving with number 4, also in Edinburgh. A tight schedule of activity in which my beloved joined on the second afternoon. Some forward planning had occurred because there is just so, so much to see at the Fringe so I had booked a couple of things a few weeks ago - a Noel Coward review which was lovely but too much Ivor Novello and not enough Noel Coward for me - and a speed-dating 90s music musical which was very funny and involved modest audience participation. Those of us who have been to the theatre before with number 1 know that she needs to be at the front to hear and lipread so she brazenly walked to the front of the queue (there are no reserve seats) and explained and there we were to all intents and purposes sitting on the front of the stage with four Spice Girl-alikes singing and dancing just inches away.

We had also managed to pack in two wedding dress shops where number 1 demonstrated why she is so classically different from the other bride in the family. Number 2, whose dress is now having final alterations, stood like a bride at the altar for every one of her try-ons. Like a beautiful statue. Number 1 decided that each dress needed to be tried out for dancing so, as a consequence I not only have pictures but video too! No choices made yet but we have an idea what suits at least!

The next morning, having slept at number 4's very nice new flat and met her really lovely flatmates, she went off to do her shift in a care home where she works to supplement her student funds and I went to meet number 1 for a spot of flyering - or as I renamed it, shameless flyering. Every show in town is being promoted by bright young things thrusting leaflets in your hand about their productions. "Would you like a flyer?" is sometimes met with a weary "No". Number 1 is doing the polite thing and asking nicely whereas I am going into full-on embarrassing mother mode. It goes like this... "Can I tell you about this play? It got 4*s in The Times yesterday. It's by Jack Thorne..." (mention Harry Potter, Shameless, This is England, etc). "My daughter is in it and she's brilliant!" Cue number 1 slinking away. Having already got The Solid Life of Sugar Water mentioned on Chris Evans' Radio 2 show the day before, I am on a roll. Isn't it wonderful to be somewhere away from home where you can behave really embarrassingly and no one knows you!

Surprisingly (!) number 1 abandoned me and I went off to see Spectretown which was a fabulously well acted but not very well constructed play. Perhaps not a great choice, particularly as it barely gave me time to get back across town by taxi to meet my beloved outside number 4's flat where he had Bertha, the Land Rover, full of her stuff. And then I left my phone in the taxi... I can now never tell my children off for leaving mobiles in places where they shouldn't but the taxi driver very kindly brought it back to me. Thank you.

Which brings us to our visit as very proud parents to The Solid Life of Sugar Water which surpassed all our expectations by some considerable distance, after which some family-style celebrating was called for - need I say more?

So our final act before returning home was to move number 4's 'few bits' from her halls of residence into her new flat. Her 'few bits' turned out to be so much stuff that there was only room for my beloved in Bertha and she and I had to walk from her halls to the new flat before humping the stuff up two flights of Edinburgh-style stairs.

So we're back home now for a week's staycation and the only news at this end is the arrival of two new pets. Well, not ours actually but we have officially been adopted by two peacocks who are now named Richard and Henry which goes to prove that if you hang around here long enough you will either get a nickname or have something named after you!

*One of my favourite Noel Coward songs which was featured in the review and, under the circumstances, remarkably apropos! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7ay6E345e0

 Barr girls and wine... like that never happens! 

Richard is on the left with his head in the Russian vine and Henry on the right. 

Firsts and Personal Bests

The last year or so has been like a sabbatical from my real world. Not a pleasant sabbatical, mind you, but one nonetheless. Doors in my life that I have previously stepped through without a second thought have been closed firmly in my face and my world has been a much smaller place. I described it once before as being the pooh stick stuck under the bridge whilst the rest of the pooh sticks sail on down the stream to the sea. That is the closest analogy I can think of.

So now I am less of that pooh stick and gradually I am reopening the doors which take me back into parts of my life lost and unvisited during my illness. These new experiences (though not really new - just long missed) are so special and important. And added to that, there are genuinely new things in my world, and I love breaking new ground, trying stuff for the first time. Not all experiences have been in the 'pleasant' category and not all those doors are yet open but each day I reach out a little further towards the horizon.

I am impatient, of course, because I want to be able to do everything I could do ... and more. Anything less would be out of character for me. But I am still  having treatment and some of the stuff that I am taking will be a part of my life for a long time to come, and some for always, and all these drugs have side-effects as well as keeping me (hopefully) on an even, healthy keel.

So what's new? The properly, properly new stuff is mostly wedding-related. We now have two lots of arrangements on the go. The November bride (number 2 child) seems to have everything in sight nailed down except for the bridesmaids' shoes (don't ask...) and her father's ensemble (ditto!) and the April bride is nearly there with the marquee and about a million ideas are floating round like wedding soup and some will make it to the final day and some will not. No ideas, however bohemian or unlikely, are discounted until all interested parties have considered them. Watch this space...

I had an absolutely joyous time deciding on my wedding ensemble for the November wedding. First a trip with Lady H (my wardrobe advisor for all major occasions) to the marvellous Jillian Welch www.jillianwelch.co.uk who is making my outfit. Having seen the utterly heart-stopping outfits she has made for my friends, I know it will be fab. So I explained (badly) what I was looking for and she drew fantastic sketches and produced some amazing fabric. Meanwhile Lady H bought a stunning dress... Then the following day, the November bride came with me and gave her official seal of approval. I am so excited!

Whilst we are on the subject of appearance, I also had my hair cut for the first time by the oh-so-fabulous David at The Story of O. The last time I went to see him, a year ago, it was to cut my hair short a la Robyn Wright of House-of-Cards-fame so that the dispiriting falling out of my hair wouldn't seem so bad - there being less of it, as it were. And now I'm back! As David cut my hair I kept thinking: 'don't cut much off, it's taken all year to grow it!' but he did it brilliantly and I am now a little bit blond rather than gun-metal grey and I feel more like me at last. And the transformation from cue ball in November to someone who actually looks like she has a hairstyle (though short) is nearly complete. Thank you David. It's not just about the hair, you're good for my soul.

Less pleasant however, was my first mammogram since last June. Always uncomfortable and sometimes downright brutal, I know it must be done and it's important and I have never missed my session in the caravan in the car park at Morrisons in Boroughbridge. But this one was at York Hospital and my beloved very kindly came with me in case it was a 'results on the day' event. Now it's one thing having your boobs crushed by hard plastic plates when they haven't been traumatised by surgery but it's quite another when there's loads of hard scar tissue and train tracks of stitching. After a few attempts with the radiographer asking me if I was ok and me responding through closely gritted teeth, she announced that she had enough film but would I wait in the waiting room just in case. So I waited and back she came saying she needed to do more. Cue my heart completely in my boots. "There's nothing to worry about, I just need to get further under your armpit," she said. And more boob-clamping and crushing on the damaged side took place. Am I worried? Well, my heart is somewhere mid-thigh now as I figure that, although they say you won't get your results for four weeks, if there's something wrong it will be sooner and this was nearly two weeks ago.

On to more enjoyable matters. It was miserable not being able to play any sport for nearly a year. Not hitting a tennis ball, most specifically. Not running or cycling or going to the gym or doing pilates or learning to play golf badly. Just not. And gradually I have been picking these things up again though neither pilates nor golf have yet made it back into the schedule. Yet. Running hasn't been high up on the scale of activities for a few years other than in the gym on the running machine because road running made my knees cranky and endangered the all-important tennis. Though I do have a few 10ks and a couple of Great North Runs under my belt (just saying...) But whilst we were in Portugal, Little Norm encouraged me to 'jalk' ie jog and walk, with him on several mornings and more importantly, used his very persuasive powers to get to me try the Park Run on the Stray in Harrogate. Number 2 daughter is already a regular and number 4 does the same in Edinburgh and anything where I can have fun doing sport with my children is very near the absolute top of my favourite things to do.

So numbers 2, 4 and I went off to do the Park Run early on Saturday morning. The best thing about the first week is that you are definitely doing a Personal Best. Well, we had three PBs that morning with 2 and 4 lapping me (three circuits of the Stray to make up the 5k). Week 2 and another PB because I would not be lapped! But still I had to walk four times en route to get my breath back. Then week 3 and although I only walked once (and not very far either) no pb. So I will be back with renewed determination next Saturday. No walking at all (hopefully!)

And finally a first for number 3. Back in the winter when things were pretty bleak we (number 3, myself and Lady H) went to Kippax Bats. Peter Kippax was a fine cricketer, playing for Yorkshire and Durham. He is sadly very unwell now but before he became ill, he set up Kippax Bats which is a hand-made bat company which produces bats for the some of the finest international cricketers in the game today. Through Lady H, we arranged to visit Kippax Bats and purchase one of these amazing bats for number 3. We learnt so much that day about the craft of bat-making and the willow for number 3's bat came from willows planted in Tockwith. It was an unforgettable experience learning how the bats are made by hand and which of his cricket idols used their bats. And then this Saturday, number 3 hit his first century with his Kippax bat and was 107 not out. A great triumph for him and a really special achievement of which we are all so very proud.

Not the century last week but one innings last summer.

Jam Jar Moments in Portugal

The best thing about holidays is holding the moment when you know that it doesn't get much better than this. Every one of your senses is so perfectly attuned to the sights, sounds, smells, touches and tastes encapsulated in that instant that you want somehow to capture them in a jam jar. Then, in a dark dusk in chilly January, you could gently unscrew the lid and release the sound of distant wavelets edging tentatively back before joining together and crashing forwards on to the shell-sparkled beach. Or the scent of dry heat and sun cream or the taste of olive-oily and garlicked prawns. Or the tug of the damp sand as it drags your feet millimetres beneath its surface. It can't be done, of course but one day...maybe one day...

On my bucket list which consumed the blackboard wall of our downstairs loo through our very bleak winter, two sets of initials caused a number of enquiries from visitors - PDF and VDL. Both of these are special places for us and are located on the coast of Portugal. The first, Parque de Floresta is the 'half the year home' of Ebabe and Wheezy and this was our third visit to our lovely friends. The second, Val do Lobo has been a sneaky break for me for quite a few years thanks to the generosity of Lady H. From the hilarious and probably unrepeatable moments of the first two girls' tennis trips, to a fun but rather stressful family holiday to a perfect stress-busting week a couple of years ago - just Lady H and me. We have been the fortunate recipients of wonderful hospitality in Portugal and this two-centre jaunt - my first since last July - was to be no exception. 

In recent dark times, one of my sunny thoughts has been the view from the balcony at PDF, eating Special K Yoghurty and drinking freshly squeezed orange juice whilst looking across the golf course watching hapless players hack their way out of the bunker or skilful players drop the ball effortlessly into the hole. The usual fare of activity at PDF includes a lot of exercise - tennis, cycling and so on. We were stood down from the cycling on health grounds but no trip would be complete without a few sets of tennis. Day one and Maza and Caza made short work of the Bryan Brothers' incarnation of Bertie and Wheezy. But revenge was had on day two and included the traditional Bryan Brothers chest bump celebration. 

Ingrina prawns had to be done. Definitely a perfect jam jar moment. The other restaurant I wanted to go to was Agua na Boca in Salema. The last time we went there I picked up a postcard from the restaurant which has been my bookmark for at least the last four years. We showed the proprietor my bookmark which had brought us back all these years later and he shrugged "Postcard man went bust - never bought anymore." Not the romantic end to the story I had anticipated but the food was as delicious as I remembered and the company sublime.

Then all too soon it was off to Val Do Lobo but never fear, more treats awaited us. The second part of our holiday was with Little Norm and Lady H and Basil and Sybil of Low Graythwaite Hall (the finest b&b in the Lake District - http://www.lowgraythwaitehall.co.uk/.) Clearly there would never be a dull moment but there was a chance for me to slip off for some early morning tennis with Nuno, the Portuguese tennis coach, and some running with Little Norm. Multiple celebrations for the latter with his birthday (cue purchase of utterly tasteful t-shirt which was much admired), Father's Day and the H's wedding anniversary in quick succession. 

Lady H - always the most elegant and sober of my friends - morphed into a Bucks-Fizz-at-breakfast, pink-sangria-at-lunch and rose-at -dinner girl! Who are you and where is my friend? It's a long way from the early tennis holidays when we had to convince her that sangria was non-alcoholic fruit cup! Also some scandalously haphazard use of the factor 30 caused her to be temporarily renamed Apache Warhorse - you'll have work that one out. There was also the incident of her crashing through the insect screen between the house and the terrace. I awoke the next morning expecting to see a Lady H-shaped hole in the screen (think Tom and Jerry) but disappointingly that didn't happen and my beloved who had also morphed - this time into diy supremo - re-attached the screen with very little fuss and no long term damage. 

No trip to VDL would be complete without a visit to Maria's on the beach - scene of some of the most entertaining Portugal holiday moments including dancing with the Umpa Lumpas, the 'oh that's my favourite' saxophone player and other comedy moments. It used to have some of the most disgusting loos in the area which was surprising given how much they charged for the food but now it is super-smart but still the best view for beach dining. So a week of pancakes and pina coladas (and other cocktails), red wine, white wine, pink wine, non-alcohol beer for the grumpy golfer from Graythwaite and so much chat and laughter before we all returned to Blighty and the real world. But the jam jar is replenished and perhaps there may be another trip to Portugal this summer...?

A massive thank you to our hosts, Ebabe and Wheezy and Lady H and Little Norm - special times...

Postscript: In case you wondered, we left number 3 at home alone for the first time. He was fine and the house only looked as though we had had a dinner party in every room and half washed up so quite a result really. He did, however, have a few problems with the wildlife. Andy the painter (busy painting my office yellow - looks fab!) found a dead newt behind the skirting board, number 3 found a lot of maggots on a chicken in the oven which he had forgotten we had cooked for him before we went - you don't need any more information than that it will make your stomach turn! And finally, he texted us: "Two peacocks on the the dining table in the conservatory - scared the c**p our of me!" Strange but true. They were still hanging round the place when we got back! 

The wedding connoisseur

Over the weekend my number 3 child and only boy in the family was heard to mutter "please no more wedding and dress talk!" And, of course, we still have six months before the first wedding and eleven before the second. Methinks there will be more heartfelt and indignant requests from the only one of my children not wearing a posh frock before we get to the end of this road.

This is foreign territory for our family and the rules of wedding planning have certainly changed since we got hitched 31 years ago. As I explained to number 1 daughter who is the April bride, when we got married, the adults, ie our parents, made most of the decisions and invited most of the guests. Thirty one years later, the children make most of the decisions and invite most of the guests. Talking to my friends, I realise that we are the generation who will miss out. 

Not that our opinions are not be solicited and noted. Just that, no more - and then occasionally, after negotiations between bride and groom to which we are not party, our suggestion may be deemed appropriate and added to the plan - or spreadsheet in the case of number 2 daughter - the November bride.

In the last four weeks we have been lucky enough to have attended two weddings and, added to the one we attended in the autumn, I have amassed a critical - in the positive sense - range of ideas and possibilities. What strikes me most strongly is that there is now a genuine individual character to each wedding. When we and our friends were getting married, the only real difference was the best man's speech which ranged from very long (if my beloved was doing it which was on no less than three occasions in our early days) to mildly witty - if we were lucky. Everyone stuck to the rules and when we were 'weddinging' every other weekend thirty something years ago, the memories of those occasions are almost interchangeable. Not so now.

Every wedding seems to have a personality of its own - some in the form of quirky details... mojitos in jam jars, gambolling groomsmen and so on... and others where the whole day has adopted a theme. Now the theme thing seems to me a great idea. So when the November bride was in the early stages of spreadsheeting, we suggested Bollywood, bagpipes, video loops of pictures of her as a child, gospel choirs and so on. Strangely enough, the answer in its most definite tone was 'No'. So the November wedding will - we hope - be elegant and stylish. No quirkiness though there may be a few minor rebellions on the day...after all the father of the bride might yet decide to dress up for his big speech as Bishop Desmond Tutu - his favourite fancy dress persona! No, I promise, it will be as the November bride wants it - absolutely perfect. 

The April wedding is already developing an entirely different character. The bride, who is not known for conforming to the norms at the best of times, has already mentioned big tops, dodgems, wellies and touch rugby under the auspices of a wedding discussion. Not to mention food stalls on the lane, camping and some ideas regarding music and dancing which I can only describe as unique in my experience of weddings. We shall see. Like all parents of the bride the cost of letting her imagination run wild may well keep us up at night - especially when we are in post-recovery mode from the November wedding. 

As very fortunate attendees of two really beautiful weddings in May, we realise that the bar has been set very high indeed but now we feel we are in the advanced stages of wedding training and we hope very much that the two brides of the family and their respective fiances will have absolutely the perfect day. All available digits crossed!

Post script... On Saturday, I went to the first fitting of the wedding dress with the November bride and I can tell you nothing, absolutely nothing, prepares you for the transformation of the taggled-haired toddler into the most beautiful bride in the world. Utterly breath-taking!

Sam and Rachel - so romantic! 

Emily and Olly - absolutely beautiful

And we scrub up pretty well for weddings too! 

Sugar Water Rehearsal Diary: Week 2

Genevieve is currently in rehearsal for a play which kicks off in London before going up to Edinburgh for the Festival. Here's her guest blog...

By Genevieve Barr, cast member

Genevieve in rehearsals at Graea

Exploding boxes, pyjamas, licking necks and lots and lots of baked beans.

After six months overseas, I returned to the UK last month to start rehearsals for a brand new play written by Jack Thorne, ‘The Solid Life of Sugar Water’. I play the part of ‘Alice’. My wonderful counterpart, Arthur, plays my husband ‘Phil’. And that’s it. There’s two of us. And sixty-six pages of script staring at us.

A tumultuous journey so far, we are finally reaching the end of the second week and gasping for a few days off – but there will be no resting on our laurels. Next week is the last week at Graeae before we take the production to Plymouth, and a dawning of dread is already starting to swirl around my ankles.

So let’s not talk about that.

I am fortunate to have some very supportive friends, whom this week, have kept me in reality check. For when asked about my day, the other day, I said:

“This morning I was experiencing the beginnings of foreplay in bed, this afternoon I went to the cinema, an art gallery and had a kiss on a bridge. I don’t know which one – the text doesn’t say.”

Bless them, because rather than get bogged down the details, they turned to me and said:

“Gen, what on earth are you talking about?”

And that’s the real struggle as you get more and more immersed in this beautiful play, you start to go slightly insane. Acting isn’t about playing the role, it’s about becoming the role. And so, every day ‘Alice’ becomes more Genevieve and Genevieve becomes more ‘Alice’. You might as well start calling us ‘Genalice’.

Thank goodness my character’s name is not ‘Tilda’.

(Try taking the first two syllables of my first name, and the first syllable of ‘Tilda’ and see if you get what I mean)…

Probably not that funny. Sorry.

When I first read the play, two things became immediately transparent to me:

1) This would be one of the toughest roles I’ve had the fortune to play.

2) My granny was definitely, firmly, assertively NOT allowed to come and see it. Our relationship would never recover.

To pinch some of Jack Thorne’s words when he was talking about the play the other day, it is a story about recovery. The couple are trying to deal with a very traumatic event – with the death of a newborn baby and through their grief, their relationship has deteriorated. They have to rediscover why they loved each other in the first place and deal with having sex for the first time since it happened. We will take you through a journey of our relationship – flashing back into the past, but also trying to have sex- an uncomfortable experience both textually and literally.

At least for me – I can’t speak for Arthur!

For while Phil and Alice have been married for a few years, Arthur and Genevieve have only known each other a couple of weeks. The trust and amount you have to give each other in a very short period of time is immense. It isn’t always easy – but we are getting there.

Amit, our director, does a great job of keeping me sane (ironically, for those who know him). He understands which buttons to push with me.

At the start of the week, I was really grappling with with the physical aspects of the play – the movement on the bed (for the bed is upright against the wall, so when we are lying down, we are standing up and when we are standing up, we are lying down)…the mind just boggles. There are a lot of technical aspects to figure out – for the play jumps back and forward, in fact it just hops all over the place. During all of this, I have been trying to understand who my character is and why she feeling the way she is – in every word, sentence, paragraph of the play.

We are getting there – and I am proud of the amount of progress we have made – though there is still a way to go. So it is with excitement, tremulation and slight trepidation that I look ahead to next week and what it brings.

Back in the Saddle Again... part 2

I posted a couple of weeks ago that I had decided I would start the annual Acorn Charity 100k (that's 62 miles in old money) Sponsored Bike Ride http://www.acorncharity.org.uk/index.php?option=com_content&view=frontpage&Itemid=17which took place last Saturday. A number of people kindly got in touch to say that they would sponsor me as I would be cycling in aid of Acorn (dementia and scleroderma research) and the Sir Robert Ogden Macmillan Centre at Harrogate Hospital where I had some of my cancer treatment. The deal, if you read the blog, was that I would only cycle if the weather was very, very kind. But then, so many folks offered to sponsor me that I felt that there would have to be the combination of a tsunami, tornado, snow drifts and a plague of something from the Old Testament (frogs, locusts etc) for me not to cycle. Hoist by my own petard, as it were.

I did the absolute minimum of training - 3 rides including 1 fall and then the weather was too wet and windy to do anything more. I had originally planned to cycle to Helperby on Bike Ride day which is 11 miles but then I was getting giddy with the thought that I might be able to cycle further so I settled on Easingwold which is 17 miles and I thought that I could do that fairly comfortably. You see, the thing is, I think I can do these things, and then once I start, my competitive spirit kicks in and I don't want to stop. However, realistically, and given that I have my first 3-month cancer check-up this Thursday, I simply have to squash that instinct and be sensible - duh! (There's a first time for everything!)

My next challenge was to acquire a cycling buddy as the singing, dancing doctor couldn't face doing another care-in-the-community cycle ride with me, as he so kindly calls it. But my most long-standing cycle partner actually volunteered for the job and his girlfriend Mandy even more kindly volunteered to pick us up from Easingwold.  Tim was the most wonderful cycle buddy because a) he always has lots to chat about and b) unbeknownst to me prior to the event, he is very strict!

Now when I woke up on Saturday morning, as my beloved crashed about in preparation for a day's Acorn signage duty (and a very nice lunch in Helperby apparently!) I looked out of the window and it was both drizzling and blowing. Not good omens. Resisting the very strong urge to turn over and go back to sleep, I donned the lycra and loaded the car with the cakes that I and my friend Susan had spent all of Friday knocking out. The Acorn Bike Ride is rightly famous for its cakes!

At Bishop Monkton Village Hall all was as it always is on Bike Ride day. As I pulled into the car park, Roly, our longtime car park attendant didn't recognise me straight away - a big reminder to me that I am not the person I was twelve months ago. The usual razzmatazz of cyclists greeting each other, registering and doing the last minute checks on their bikes. And then the lovely Tim arrived and we got ready to go.

When you haven't done a lot of cycling in a very long time, it's hard to get your rhythm but we soon got going and as I waved goodbye to number 2 child who was marshalling at the start, Tim told me that he had had the very hard word from herself that 'Mummy is not allowed to do too much'. Tim told me that he had joined the club of folks who are more scared of number 2 than they are of me and that we would be stopping at Easingwold whatever!

So an hour or so later we got to Easingwold but I wasn't done yet! With a bit of cajoling my cycling buddy reluctantly agreed to cycle as far as Stillington which is the last proper place to stop before Sheriff Hutton which is half way and lunch - and which the old me would usually have eaten at about 10.30am. As we reached Stillington, the rain started to come down and waving goodbye to braver, fitter folks who were continuing, we loaded our bikes in the boot of Mandy's car and with Chloe, the terrier, on my lap acting as a hot water bottle, we headed back to Bishop Monkton for cakes and tea - the only time I have been back first ever! The first proper cyclist who had done the whole route arrived half an hour later.

So, first of all, thank you to all the marshals, registration team, kitchen teams, car parking (especially Roly), water stops, signage crew, Giles and Jenna for taking the photographs http://www.gilesrocholl.com/, Chevin Cycles http://www.chevincycles.com/, St John Ambulance and all the cyclists taking part who raised over £35,000. A special thank you to Tim and Mandy who kept me safe, stopped me doing too much - even when I wanted to - and were great buddies in my own personal challenge.

If you offered to sponsor me for either Acorn or the Sir Robert Ogden Macmillan Centre at Harrogate Hospital, thank you so much. I cycled 21miles or 34.5k. If you would like to send me a cheque to either of those causes, that would be wonderful. If you would prefer to BACS me, just message me with which charity you would like to support and I will send you my bank details.

This will be my last Bike Ride as part of the Acorn Committee as the time has come for me to resign and do other things with my life. Being so ill makes you re-evaluate what challenges and adventures are still left to take on. But Acorn has been a big part of my life for 15 years and some of the things we have achieved in that time will be highlights of my life. And friends I have made through Acorn will be with me always. Thank you.

Channelling my inner Mrs Bennet

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife."

How times have changed! Mrs Bennet would have been in a state of over-excited mob-cap vapours if she, like me, found herself at the start of Pride and Prejudice with two daughters engaged. Yes two! We were floating along in a state of calmness and spreadsheets with the proposed nuptials of number 2 daughter to JS, son-in-law-to-be in November when up pops number 1 with the exciting news that she too has a ring on her finger of the engagement kind and is planning a wedding next May. Or rather we are planning a wedding next May. That, of course, means two weddings in a space of six months - or 'doing a Barker' as we call it in this village.

So wedding progress so far... number 2, a true accountant and always more grown up than the rest of us put together, on her engagement last summer, immediately initiated spreadsheets, budgets, guest lists (over which we had no control and therefore no responsibility) and plans. She researched venues and she and JS presented us with a shortlist which we then visited with them. Her sisters were selected as suitable bridesmaids and despite the fact that as a family we have not all been together since last September, bridesmaid dresses were selected down to a shortlist of two. The wedding dress was chosen, church visited, colours for bridesmaid dresses, flowers, chair covers, band, dance floor, food, cake, wine... have I forgotten anything? And all with the minimum of fuss and in the manner of a benevolent dictatorship. Then the inevitable happened and there was a slight wobble about the colour of things and a new directive was issued. All calm.

At this point I, of course, am quietly having a Mrs Bennet-like mild fit of the vapours (not quite at the smelling salts stage) because I don't know what to wear. Having an appearance which can only be described as 'fluid' over the last twelve months, it's hard to imagine myself in full mother-of-the-bride regalia. However I am sure once my Annie Lennox look grows into something more luxuriant (hoping anyway) it will be easier to go and try things on and grasp the nettle as it were.

Then two weeks ago on a mother and daughters 2 and 4 weekend in Edinburgh which was my lovely treat from the aforementioned siblings, number 1 and Valentine, the boyfriend, ambushed me in our Saturday night restaurant of choice. Of course, the sisters had organised this and it was wonderful to see the child I had not seen since October. But, unknown to her sisters, she had also received a proposal from her bf - now fiance - on her favourite beach on Colonsay and was now sporting a very sparkly solitaire. Excellent.

Fast forward two weeks and we are now working on a second wedding which is a completely different ball game - if you'll pardon the pun as touch rugby has definitely been mentioned. And here we are again with rather less spreadsheet precision, a lot more variables, suggestions of fairground attractions (not the band of the same name), different types of tent, multiple bridesmaids, wellies and a whole lot more. This will be interesting...

And in the meantime, we have been to another wedding where I am practically making notes on proceedings for future reference and where I was honoured to read the lesson. Not the lesson about the dinosaurs which was full of comedy value but the one about the art of marriage which was very serious and absolutely lovely and I only nearly cried once whilst reading.

So this is the current state of play. We shall, as Mrs Bennet would say, be very poor, pulling off two weddings. But we shall be very happy and most importantly, my beautiful older two daughters will be marrying wonderful life-long partners both of whom are undoubtedly the best boyfriends they've ever had.* Now we just need the other two siblings to wait until the family coffers have recovered before following suit.

*They have previously had some delightful and some less delightful boyfriends. All I'm saying is that you have to kiss a lot of frogs!!!

Fairground Attraction singing Perfect - exactly what these weddings will be: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txapREGWHp0

My beautiful girls!