I have been greatly limited in email access these last few days (and we have been traveling widely!) However, I just wanted to mention that last week I walked up to St. Andrew's Church, found in a dip in the headland near Clevedon called Poet's Walk. The church grounds, manicured in the midst of surrounding rough terrain, sweep up to the coastal path which runs round the lip of the cliffs, as the sea pounds below.
I went to see my grandparents' grave, marked by a small stone which is now so weatherbeaten I could only just make out their names: Muriel Davies and Charles Eustace Davies. The day was gloomy, but as I stood there the sun came out. I noticed a bench seat was placed nearby, looking out to sea. It could have been a moment of sadness and nostalgia - I guess I felt a little of that. But what hit me most was overwhelming gratitude for them as loving grandparents, whose love is embedded in countless memories - so many fragments of past good times It's said that we only properly know our own story in the present when we honor our past story. Today I was so glad to be reminded of those who belong to my story. Whatever is true, right, pure lovely....I wonder what memories my grandchildren will have of me?