This One's for Tim

Friday, 8th April:  Today we had a free day. Two-thirds of the group opted to take a trip to Wadi Rum. Five of us went to the Treasury to watch the sun rise over Petra. It was a lovely start to the day. The place was almost deserted, the world waking up. We ate chocolate croissants and drank freshly squeezed orange juice, sitting among the ancient ruins in the warm sun. Our group split again: two of us went to look around the shops and then took a taxi to Little Petra as we'd missed it the day before. I'm glad we went. It was only about thirty minutes away and the views from the taxi were spectacular. The place was almost deserted and it was lovely to wander around, marvelling at the skill in creating these buildings and how they'd survived for all this time. That evening, our last one in Jordan, we were to have a celebration dinner. We all got dressed up and took a coach to a restaurant high above Wadi Musa. We looked down at the lights in the town below, twinkling gold an...

Thursday, 7th April: Everyone was awake and up before Theo came round with his good morning call. Today we were to reach our goal. It wasn't far to go: around two hours of walking before we reached the back of Petra. (We were starting at the end at the Monastery and walking through the ancient city to the start at Wadi Musa where our hotel was located.)  We had a later start than usual and reached the beginning of the pilgrimage to the Monastery in what seemed to be no time at all. Ha! Look how I was getting used to this! And the policeman joined us again - it's funny how he missed out the really hard bits! And lucky we didn't come across any bandits! The approach to the Monastery isn't a gentle stroll, but a negotiation of 800 steps! Some flights rise up, and others down - each has its own challenge. They are uneven and it was hot. I leaned on my walking poles to take the weight off my toe. I'd got my soft hiking trainers on as my boots were too rigid and it felt ...

Wednesday, 6th April: I slept heavily. There were no sand storms, braying donkeys or dogs. But when I woke in the morning and moved to get up, the little toe on my right foot made me say 'ouch!'. Yes, there was a blister (and, to be honest, I'm not surprised) but the toe was twice the size it should have been, bright red, and tender to touch. I took paracetamol and prayed. The swelling didn't go down, although the pain eased a little. I managed to get my soft hiking trainers on but I was hobbling. Today was to be a gentler walk of just six hours, ending in Little Petra. But there was no way I could trek.  I was disappointed.   Theo asked the group who wanted to miss the day's trekking after the exhausting time we'd had over the last couple of days. Nearly half the group opted to stay back. Most would be taken by truck to meet the group at lunch and then walk the last couple of hours into Little Petra. Four of us were unable to do that so we'd have to miss i...

Tuesday, 5th April: Sleep last night was fleeting. Thankfully I got to sleep at 9pm, but I was woken two hours later by a howling gale. The tent listed from side to side, dust found its way in, leaving a fine layer of sand over everything. The noise was intense. The sides of the tent billowed in and out like it was breathing. Some of us were in two-man tents, but many of us in singles. I was one of those and it was terrifying not knowing what was going on outside, how everyone else was coping. There was no way of communicating with my fellow trekkers. No phone signal. The wind noise deafening. It slowed down, just the odd puff and I drifted back into fitful sleep only to be awoken again. It felt as if the wind had gathered itself, sucked in all the air it could and then blew hard, trying to shake us free. Fear, darkness and lack of sleep played tricks on my mind. Was I the only one this was happening to? Was I being punished for not finishing yesterday's walk? I'd let Tim down...

Monday, 4th April: We were woken in the early hours by barking and howling. Some of us thought they were dogs, others thought they were wolves. It was disturbing. The sounds grew close, and the darkness combined with the lack of sleep made the fear almost suffocating. I swallowed it down. This was an organised trek and we had experienced guides who knew what to do. The dogs or wolves passed by, their calling now fading and I drifted back to sleep, only to be woken minutes later by what sounded like a huge unoiled engine. It was a donkey. And we would grow to learn that this donkey got excited whenever it met other donkeys, its enthusiasm erupting with an ee-aw that drowned out anything else. It's exuberance couldn't help but make you smile..... except at three o'clock in the morning! Theo called us to wake up just before sunrise and bleary-eyed I heard the sounds of zips as we all emerged from our tents. Breakfast was a glorious affair of breads, boiled eggs, fava beans, y...

Saturday, 2nd April and Sunday, 3rd April: I awoke early, apprehension gone. There was no time now for 'what-ifs' or for bailing out. T-Day was here, and I was on my way. The drive to Heathrow was smooth and I met a group of other early birds at Costa. We bonded from the start, nerves covered by laughter and excitement. The plane journey was only five hours, but Jordan is two hours ahead of UK time, so we arrived a little after midnight. Queen Alia International Airport was quiet and small. We had a 'fixer' who moved us along, took our passports to be verified and then on to the coach. The air was warm and still. We met Theo, our guide who works for Dream Challenges . He is Dutch but has lived in Jordan since the nineties and he was the man who would lead us, push us on, and wake us in the morning. He was the man we depended on to get us through. Although at that time, we didn't realise how much we would rely on him, how much we had to trust him. The coach drive wa...

This time tomorrow I'll be on the plane, jetting off to Amman. I'll have met my fellow trekkers (although I feel I know so many of them because of our Facebook and WhatsApp groups). I'm sure that worries will be overshadowed by excitement. But ultimately, this trek is to raise money for the cancer charity of our choice. Each participant will have their own reason for taking on the trek. Each person will have someone close to their heart driving them to do this. I am no different. You all know why I'm here. And I'm feeling wobbly. Tearful. On Tuesday it was three years since Tim passed away. Tom Parker of The  Wanted  passed away on Wednesday; he was just thirty-three years old. This month is brain cancer awareness month. I am proud to have raised so much money for The Brain Tumour Charity . But most of all, I am proud of all of you who have given up your hard earned cash and put your faith in me. During the training, faith in myself has wavered, but yours hasn't...

I'm back in Blighty with my walking boots on and my trusty training partner by my side (well, she's never really by my side as she dawdles to sniff out interesting things and then races past me at super speed). After the sunshine and warmth of Southern California it was surprisi ngly difficult to head out into the chilly wind. What's happened to me? Am I becoming soft in my old age? I'm the woman who loves the wind and the rain.... or have I been kidding myself? I like to think that I'm simply acclimatising for Jordan and that once the trek is over, I'll be back to searching out bad weather and wallowing around in it. With only four-and-a-half weeks to go, I've also been accumulating my kit. The kids kindly came with me on a shopping expedition which was incredibly helpful - they really were on a mission to have me kitted out. I'm not a great shopper and become bored after half-an-hour. It's testament to their commitment that we were in the shop for ...

There are only six weeks to go and I've reached 91% of my fundraising target! Thank you so, so much all you lovely supporters. Training's on hold at the moment as I'm away from chilly Blighty, visiting Mum in sunny California. Even 6,000 miles away from home I miss Tim. I suppose that ache will never go away. I've got a song in my head that won't go away: If I had words to make a day for you . I sang it to Tim on our last Valentine's Day and I meant every word. If I could've made a day that lasted for all-time I would've done it. I'd have done anything to keep him here. I would have given my life. But I'm not unusual - that's what love is, after all. And I'm so lucky to have had a love that strong. Lovely friends and supporters, hang on to those you love. Make each day special. Try to live every day with love, with all your heart. Hold on to it with all your might. It is the most precious thing we have. Jane Lomas is fundraising for The B...

  It's been a busy week. With only just over ten weeks to go, the pressure's ramping up. Training's going well. I'm not quite where I want to be but as it took so long to get over the chest infection I'm trying not to be too hard on myself. As well as walking longer distances I joined a class last weekend learning how to Nordic Walk. What a revelation it was! Done properly (and I'm still trying to refine the technique!) it burns more calories than normal walking and uses many more muscles - especially upper body. I had a super time as well as feeling as if I'd done a work out. My class mates were great fun and the instructor was wonderful. So much so, I've signed up to weekly classes. No, I won't be Nordic Walking in the desert, but I've learned better posture and how to walk more efficiently which can only help.  A lovely surprise is that the instructor and a couple of people from the class have donated to my fundraiser - so now I'm up to 86...

This Christmas has been hard. The hardest since Tim died. I'd thought it would get easier but somehow everything crashed down this year. On Boxing Day I couldn't get out of the chair and since then I've days when I've functioned (and even laughed) but days when I haven't been able to get out of bed. Perhaps it's remembering his last Christmas when he was bone-achingly tired. When he seemed vulnerable. Something in him had shifted. On 4th January we knew why - a brain tumour. But we still had hope at that point. We thought it might not be too bad, that it could be removed. It would take a couple of weeks before we learned the truth. Little did we know that we would be planning his funeral in less than three months. It's hard to say, but I've been right on the edge, these last few weeks. Weighing up if my life's worth it. If I want to face God-knows how many more years ahead. Alone. Lonely. Missing Tim. I feel selfish writing this. Tim would be so cros...

Last night I began watching the latest series of the crime drama, Shetland . I’m late to it, I know. I was full of excitement when it came out but I couldn’t watch it. Not until now. As many of you know, I found solace in Shetland after Tim died. The landscape and the people helped me to heal. Helped me to learn how to breathe again. Helped me to see that happiness might be possible again. Although Tim and I had n ever visited Shetland (well, he’d had an emergency overnight stay there once – he’d been taken off an oil rig but it was too foggy for the helicopter to make it back to the mainland. He told me he was in a hotel, miles away from anywhere, and the sun didn’t set until after ten o’clock), I was drawn to it. Instinctively I knew that I had to be there. Perhaps Tim’s memory had lodged itself deep in my mind, I’m not sure. But I didn’t remember his story until I was in Shetland and I drove past a sign for St Magnus Bay. Magnus had been the name of an oil rig he’d worked on sev...

I'm almost at the end of my three weeks in the Lake District. It was to be part holiday, part writing but most importantly..... trek training. The first week went well. I was testing out my toes, making sure they were broken in gently. I had odd bouts of discomfort but on the whole I managed. I'm learning how to alleviate the twinges before they turn to pain. Realising how different terrain creates different pressure which leads to toe trouble. I've even discovered that 'hiking' socks don't work for me - they're too thick and bulky. My Fitbit was ecstatic! It's never seen so much movement. And it was really encouraging to sit back with a hot chocolate at the end of the day and see how many steps I'd done. Yay! for the Lake District. Bring it on, week two. Well. On week two I started with a bit of a cold. Nothing to worry about. This week I'd planned to take  on two longer treks and if I could manage my toes, a sniffle wasn't going to stop me....

  I've been quiet. Too afraid to carry on fundraising as I've had some problems with my feet. Well, my toes to be exact. It turns out I've got something called Morton's neuroma which is my own fault for wearing high heels with pointy toes when I was younger. To be honest, my mum probably told me I shouldn't and I'm sure I ignored her. After all, who cares about saving your feet for when you're in your fifties when you can be cramming them in to all sorts of shiny, heely things to go dancing (and, gosh, how I loved dancing). Anyway, I've had a steroid injection in one of the toes which stopped the pain for a couple of months. I've bought the widest fitting hiking boots known to mankind (just call me Boaty MacBoat Feet as I look like I have flippers on). I've been very careful to avoid any footwear that pinches. I've done everything I can. And now I'm in the Lake District for training (well, it's a holiday really but I'm justifying ...