Pictures, is all. Ok, a few words too!

It was SO cold!! The wind is bitter right here.



Ahhh, balloons. I miss you my dad.


We dropped lavendar and daisies in the stream because he loved them.


This is where we scattered his ashes last year.


you have to look carefully to see the daisy heads rushing down the stream.

An exhuberant Isaac who moments ater ran through the stream!



My lovely mum......and Sister Leah with Elijah in wellies 5 sizes too big! He put these on and it was too late before we realised.



It's done. A whole year. What now?

Ok..this bit is how I feel , which doesn't matter ( should my mum read this) because what matters is all this makes her feel better and peaceful. Me? I think I hate this place. My dad loved it, which is important. It is so cold and beautifully bleak. When we scattered his ashes I felt we had left him somewhere harsh. I thought I would feel better today but I didn't. I try not to think about what it is like here when it's dark....I know it doesn't matter because HE ISN'T THERE!!
I wish he was on a mantle somewhere or under the stairs, or in his damn armchair with his leg over the arm, eating bread and jam and being a miserable old sod, not dead and scattered on this bloody barren moorland.
It isn't this place I hate if he was scattered on a sunkissed beach somewhere it would seem miserable to me, because he is scattered and he isn't here to tell me why my sodding washing machine won't empty, or spin.
I don't feel a bit close to my dad going here, it won't matter if I never go again. I feel close to him when I see my mum. When I tax my car, when I check my bank account and see I'm not overdrawn. When I see my face in the morning when my eyes for some reason seem paler, I see him ( which isn't terribly comforting because I adored him but really, I don't mind of I don't look like him! )
When I announced my horror to the girl in the coffee shop yesterday as she told me that 2 hot chocolates and 2 brownies were £7.10.....
"HOW MUCH? WHY???? HOW???? That is DISGRACEFUL! They had better be REALLY good brownies young lady!" That was my dad. He lives on. I just wish he really lived, still, here. Bugger.