This One's for Tim

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...

With the trek just eight days away, I've got a full-on schedule. Long walks have been off the menu for a couple of weeks since I strained a thigh muscle. I'm glad to say that's healed now but there are still final bits to get for my first aid kit and the final attempt at packing to make sure I can get everything in. The first attempt was dire and resulted in a few 'unnecessary' things getting the chop, like the newly-bought travel pillow. As it turns out, lots of us in the group are ditching them and someone suggested just taking a pillowcase and stuffing it with clothes. Genius! Another genius idea is to take binoculars so you can pretend to be looking at the view when actually you're just stopping to catch a breath when we're climbing up the mountain. I'm loving this group of ladies. We'll pull each other through with humour, I'm sure of that. Which leaves me a bit phased as to why today I'm a bit tearful and reluctant to get out of bed and...

It's been a challenging week: mud, mud, and more mud. But I can honestly say that Suffolk mud is not a patch on Essex mud (which is really clay - well, they make bricks out of it). But instead of squelching deeply into brown, sticky stuff, I've slipped and slided my way across fields - and even landed on my bottom. Oh, what larks! Today the mud's drying out - I even ventured out this morning in hiking shoes rather than hiking boots or wellies. But I did manage to trip on a bramble branch and projectile launched landing on my knees and hands. I haven't done that for a while - Tim used to huff at me as it used to happen so often. So I had to walk home with muddy knees feeling like a complete fool. I think the people around here are getting to know me...... This morning I've got a Nordic Walking class which I'm really looking forward to. I've sponged the mud off my walking trousers so hopefully no-one will know about the earlier incident! And now we have just 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...