15 May 2026

The Thames Path (warning - contains emotional material....)

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith so that I could remove mountains, but have not charity, I am nothing.....

Deathbed


I have said much of this before.... I have wrought my emotions to the core.  My grief, my sorrow, my sense of loss and all that have been offered to my friends, and I know that life has to go on, and that everyone else has their stories, their loneliness, their pain.....

When you read this, I may be near Oxford, or in Oxford, or at home.... My intended walk from the source of the Thames into and around the city of Oxford may have happened, or perhaps may have been aborted, though the intention was always there....

Sarah, Amanda, Hannah

[And the intention was/is?  Ed]

Laste in the day

Despite some health problems, and with three score and fifteen years on my back, my intention was to walk a mile for every year my late wife Amanda (nearly) lived, and, with enormous gratitude to my close friend (who assisted and encouraged the project), it seemed opportune to walk the Thames Path from the source to approximately Oxford..... 

Monte Amiata, some thirty years ago


Amanda was my world, and is still there in my life and very much in the lives of our daughters, Hannah and Sarah. She was a sweet, caring person, loved by all she met, and could not have been a better mother and wife. She was never ill, and lived what can only be categorised as a healthy life.

Monte Amiata, about forty years ago

Sadly, in her mid fifties, something went wrong, and she was afflicted by what was eventually diagnosed as Frontotemporal Dementia (Semantic Variant).

In the Abbruzzi, when all was well

Little did we realise, then, what this meant, so gradual was the decline, but now we look back and think of our past:

Our wedding day with the Clifton Suspension Bridge behind us

The girl I didn't even know:

With Vidal Sassoon in Rome

Was to become my partner, my wife, the mother of our children, and my companion until death us did part.....

And there you go....

From this:


To this:


In the wink of an eye, without so much as a 'scuse me.....  Here we are, in Italy, knowing that things weren't right:


Beginning that slow slide towards oblivion that some call retirement.....




And then, moments later, you are wondering what happened, why you cannot understand each other, where the time went, how a loving god could be so cruel.....


Don't get me wrong.  Amanda was lovely to the very end.  She knew things were falling apart, but she didn't complain.  She faced the awful loss of language and control and independence, and the loss of all that went with the life she had had a right to expect, and she folded down, rather as a bright and happy birthday balloon will do when it is spent....


Gradually, almost gently, falling apart before our eyes.


A terrifying decline for a sentient being.  From mother and lover, to incontinent child.....


Needing to be wheeled from flower to flower:


And then looking at you, incapable of speech, her eyes crying out for mercy, for understanding, for peace......


This is why, in my madness and in my own decline, I am hoping that when you read this I may have walked some sixty or seventy miles of the Thames Path.  I want to draw your attention to how lives can be affected by the stealthy creep of dementia.  I am not competing with anyone.  I know there are thousands of worthy charities out there that cry out for support.  I know that many people in many parts of the world are suffering at this moment with the pains of war, the terrors of political repression, the horrors of starvation and disease.  

My story is nothing.....

But it is my story.



Should you wish to know more about the National Brain Appeal (which provides much-needed funds to support The National Hospital for Neurology & Neurosurgery and the UCL Queen Square Institute of Neurology – together known as Queen Square. This is one of the world’s leading centres for the diagnosis, treatment and care of patients with neurological and neuromuscular conditions. These include stroke, multiple sclerosis, brain cancer, epilepsy, Parkinson’s disease, and dementia) please see:


And should you wish to support me and my family, and help others in the long term, then please click on this link:



******

Dedicated to Amanda and to Hannah and to Sarah

And also to my friend, who is helping me through all this, her life having been similarly affected

*****

PS, from "Your Local Paper", May 13th 2026:




8 May 2026

Picturesque

Look on yonder earth.....



According to Wikipedia: in England the word picturesque, meaning literally in the manner of a picture; fit to be made into a picture, was a word used as early as 1703 (Oxford English Dictionary), and derived from French pittoresque and the Italian pittoresco. William Gilpin's Essay on Prints (1768) defined picturesque as a term expressive of that peculiar kind of beauty, which is agreeable in a picture.....

We have been revelling in this year's glorious explosion of flowers.  Following on from a trip to imbibe the beauty of the bluebells in Ashridge Forest, we have slipped south, across the Thames, to sip the delights of Sussex....

Not before, however, a glimpse of the walled garden at Houghton Hall, which lies just a few miles from our Norfolk village.




I am not going to attempt to name everything, partly for fear of error, but also as many names have little to do with the soul of the plant.  This one, for example, might be called Gold Dust, but then it could be Chandelier, or Grand Perfection.....  To me it is the extraordinary unfolding of the mystery that attracts - not what someone chose to list it as in the catalogue.




And this pink beauty could be Gabriella, or Garden of Clusius, but then maybe not, and does it matter?




But I do know what this is, and I wish you could breathe the perfume as well..... Wisteria, a wonderful climbing vine with cascades of lilac racemes (though, sadly, the one over my front door has not yet reached maturity - seed-grown plants can take 15 or more years to flower, and you have to prune them correctly....)



And look how it frames these potted tulips - a display to melt anyone's heart.




Anyway, below the Thames we visit several gardens.  The archetypal picturesque of Scotney Castle (where that much-loved aesthete Mrs T used to holiday) is ablaze with rhododendrons, azaleas and kalmias:




I shall leave you to put your own names to these - it is quite literally mind-blowing, though the restrictions of two dimensions, the lack of a gentle breeze across the screen and the absence of scent all diminish the pleasure (a little):









Next stop is Charleston, long-time home of Duncan Grant and Vanessa Bell and several of their children and friends (Bloomsberries). This modest farmhouse is filled with works of art and craft, of which I may wax illiterate on another occasion, but the gardens are just pure joy:




Though some might find there are too many purple passages (the passion flower may be resting):



Not far away, we climb the 217 metres to the top of Firle Beacon, from where the views south to the English Channel and north across the Weald are stunning. While the domesticated flowers of managed gardens can be thrilling, the breeze-brushed carpet of mixed wild flowers and grasses here quite takes our breath away.....



Then to Farley Farm, the post-war home of Roland Penrose and Lee Miller. Again, I intend to tell more of the story here at a later date, but just look at this riotous border:




And imagine this rose:




Then, all too soon, we are back home, where the lilacs catch the morning sun:







Later, I walk through Lodge Hill woods, where the invasive rhododendron has it moments of glory:





And the rowan trees shake their delicate blossoms over my head:




It's all too quick.  Only the other day it was dark in the morning and the world was forty shades of grey.  Now I cannot but tread over the daisies, their sunny little faces smiling at me as I trample by:




And before you know it, Spring has Sprung, and the flowers have done their job and seed heads catch the light before being blown every which-way by the air:



Laying down the gossamer tissue in Itchycoo Park that will be woven into tomorrow's world......
 



It's all too beautiful
It's all too beautiful
It's all too beautiful
It's all too beautiful

The Picturesque at Scotney Castle


                            Look on yonder earth:
The golden harvests spring; the unfailing  sun
Sheds light and life; the fruits, the flowers, the trees,
Arise in due succession; all thing speak
Peace, harmony, and love. The universe,
In nature's silent eloquence, declares
That all fulfil the words of love and joy, - 
All but the outcast man.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
from Queen Mab


*****

Red Roses for You

*****


With very many thanks to all those who have made a donation to my Thames Path Walk (which starts next Wednesday) in memory of my wife Amanda, here is a link to my Just Giving page for anyone who might be tempted to support the National Brain Appeal: