On Sunday I decided even though it was a bit drizzly I wanted to finish off my Derek Jarman inspired garden.
As I stepped out of the french doors... a good name as on a clear day we can see France.
On the terrace was one white feather. As I bent to pick it up I thought of my lovely mum who hasn’t been in my life since her death in 1971. She died suddenly weeks after the birth of my son, whose arrival she awaited with increasing excitement.
Just days before her death we left him with my parents for our first night out to see the film
‘A Lion in Winter’
funny how you remember inconsequential things?
My father said when we got back that the minute our car drove away she proudly took him around to show him off to the neighbours.
Her greatest hour in the all too short 48 year life.
A white feather, alright it was in all probability a gull’s feather, was to me a sign from her that she was watching out for me.
I needed that reassurance at the moment because it has been a huge change in my life this move to Hythe, and even for such a tough old nut as me I still after all these years... miss my mum!