Day 273. Hop, skip and jump.

That pink blur heading into the sandpit is my girl practicing the long jump. I should really be in the gym while she's at running club but the temptation to come and watch her was too much. I'm glad I did as she was thrilled with her efforts and I was a proud Mum.

Day 272. Chuffed with my chutney.

There's something therapeutic about making chutney. The beetroots were purchased from a man selling surplus from his garden. The apples came from our tiny little orchard. Preparing the ingredients takes time. Cooking it takes patience. Jars need sterilising and it tastes best if you leave it somewhere cool and dark for several weeks. That's the hardest part really. Not eating it. But when we cook a ham later this month and serve a big spoonful of beetroot chutney on the side all that time that has passed will be worth it. I hope.

Day 271. While the kid's away....

... Mummy finally gets to be Emma. Feet up, glass of wine and a Sex and the City marathon on TV. Out for dinner later but for now. It's all about me. Not you. Me.

Day 270. Odd oddities.

I'm hooked on bacon savoury snacks. Frazzles - love them. M&S bacon bites - could eat the whole bag. Pork scratchings - don't even feel guilty when I'm eating them despite the fact one pack is the equivalent of six months worth of calories. And bacon Oddities - completely addicted. I have to ration my intake to stop me eating all of them in one sitting so imagine my disappointment when I thinking they tasted a bit different I realised they were stale. Purchased end of September with a best before date of 6th July. Gutted. Still ate them though. Guilt free.

Day 269. Not for the oversized.

Car that is. This has to be the tiniest parking space I've ever parked in. Thanks Queensgate shopping centre for your generosity when planning this city centre beauty.

Day 268. Dear Dad.

Dear Dad,

As I sit here in the chapel at Ely Cathedral I'm reminded that what ifs, buts and maybes are of no use to anyone. All we have is here, right now. The years behind us may seem wasted but only for the missed opportunity of knowing each other. Our lives, both of them, have been full. Full of people, full of love, full of experiences - joyous and testing. We didn't know each other well enough, that's true, but that doesn't change who we are, only removes the possibility of adding a layer that may have brought different colours and further dimensions. There can't be regret. There won't be regret. It's such a wasted emotion. That's not going to be easy but I'm going to work really hard to stand by it. Sadness? Yes, that's fine but regret? No.

Sitting here for the first time ever I don't feel guilt about turning my back on religion. Religion won't get me through losing you. A fitting tribute to the relationship that passed us by is for me to seek contact with the people that you held dear. The brother and sister I don't know. Your partner of 18 years. To learn about the man you were. That's a good investment of my time. That's I hope what you would want. If you were here I'd tell you that I'm fine. I've been lucky enough to have a Dad who has raised me well, I hope you'd be thrilled to hear that. You've raised children who I'm sure you're proud of. That makes us both very lucky.

As beautiful as Ely Cathedral is on the outside it's very dark inside. I don't flourish in the darkness. It's only been a few days and I can't promise you there won't be anymore tears but sat here in church I realise I need the light.

I wish I'd known you better. Someday I hope I will.

Emma x

Day 267. First accounts.

First full year's accounts are due next month and it's time to check my paperwork and brace myself for the tax bill headed my way. Fingers crossed my calculations are correct and there'll be no surprises.

Day 266. Just taking a moment.

The Norfolk countryside never fails to sooth me. Just taking a moment to reflect and process the last few days.

Day 265. Losing my religion.

Actually I lost my religion a long time ago but I do love a historic building. This is the church opposite my house and despite the news I received yesterday I've haven't been inside today. I really don't think it would help. Looking at it from the outside though I feel comfort. Comfort that life continues. We build, we create, we leave a footprint behind. Just like this building with its thatched roof. From another time but still here leaving an impression on the lives of people living hundreds of years later.

Day 264. F**k cancer.

I'm not that good with words. Spoken ones. I tend to use humour as a way of diverting attention away from the fact that I'm often painfully self-conscious. But the written word has always been a source of catharsis and my first point of refuge when life is tough.

Today is one of those days.

Several months ago I was told that my biological Dad was seriously ill and had been sent home for palliative care. He and my Mum divorced when I was young and I was raised by my step-Dad - a term that's alien to me as he's just Dad. My biological Dad remarried too but I was never a part of that family. I think I visited them twice in 15 years, always hopeful that our relationship would magically come together in a way that's only true in books and films, but it never did. We lost touch fully and although I often thought of him, he became just another distant family member.

Then this happened.

We got back in touch. Exchanged emails and texts. I wanted to visit and hoped he wanted me to visit but we sort of skirted around the issue both dropping hints but neither of us taking the lead. I wanted to pick up the phone and just talk but what would I say? Where have you been for the past 40 years? He'd had a health scare a few years back, we talked, laughed and promised to stay in touch. I missed him and still all these years later wondered why he hadn't fought to keep me in his life.

He had never met my daughter Bea, his only grandchild and although I shared photos during the past few months it wasn't the same as meeting her in person. He commented how beautiful she was. That’s true. How he hoped he’d meet her some day. Again in a film this would be the point when Bea and I would arrive at the hospice just in time to say goodbye; his hand resting on her head, tears in our eyes as we exchanged grateful looks for this final reunion.

Sadly life doesn't imitate art and today I found out that my Dad, I want to call him that without the biological reference, my Dad died on September 1st. His funeral took place at 11am on Tuesday 10th September as I sat in a marketing meeting unaware that he had gone. There's no point looking for someone to blame. Our relationship was complex for us, imagine how it must be for everyone else. But I have spent the past 3 weeks oblivious to the fact that he was no longer here. Sending texts and emails to let him know I was thinking of him. I sent him another one today after I heard the news. He never read the others so one more can’t hurt.

Of course life is too short for regret but I wish I had jumped in the car and faced my fears and anxieties all those weeks ago. At least then today I'd be remembering the last time I saw him instead of feeling guilty that I have let him down and longing for one last hug.

Goodbye Dad.

Day 263. Horses for racecourses.

When you're in a hurry to reach an appointment a traffic jam is the driver's curse. In Newmarket though the jams are usually horse related and call me stupid if you must but I think this is a sight worth stopping for. The horses are breathtakingly beautiful and I was more than happy to wait for them to cross the road. My only gripe is that they weren't using a zebra crossing. And yes, I was late.

Day 262. Sugar rush.

Sometimes the only thing to get me through is the sweet jar. One of my earliest school memories is Miss Rooney's sweet jar in our classroom in the annex at Anfield Primary. If you did something especially noteworthy you could go up to her desk and pick a sweetie. Pear drops were my favourite. There aren't any here as these were Bea's choice but needs must and sugar is sugar. It's been a long day.

Day 261. Steady, aim....no fire here.

A couple of weeks into the new house and this beautiful fire's days are numbered. Having moved from a house were we had three open fires to one were the previous owners have removed both fires I'm already worrying about how we'll manage in Winter. Where will sit to drink a bottle of red? How will we manage on Christmas Day? Where will we throw our rubbish? To make things worse this isn't just a rather unattractive electric fire. It's the front of a back boiler. Yep, our boiler is in the chimney. Well that will certainly make it easy to reinstate a working fireplace. Welcome to the money pit.

Day 260. The cone of shame by another name.

So the cone of shame has been replaced by a blue cape. If only you could witness the indignation of my cat. Not in this picture obviously, she's sparko. But somehow she is managing to remove it regularly and then looks horrified when I put it back on. Needs must though if she's to have any chance of her corneal graft healing. When she's up on her feet she looks like she's auditioning for a part as the house pet on Call the Midwife. What fees do you think they'd pay for Lady Perdita of Huntingdon?

Day 259. Nothing but gyp.

These hand driers at Peterborough station are very sleek. They're also extremely close together and as effective as if you tried to dry your hands by asking a newborn baby to blow on them. Which would be pointless because newborns are generally incapable of understanding even basic commands. Much like these hand driers. Pointless.

I've often wondered why gyp is called baby's breath. Now I can make the connection because that's precisely what you get when you use these. Gyp.

Day 258. A longer lens.

Lunch with grandparents today and Bea was trusted with Grandpa's camera. This is a big thing. If digital cameras didn't exist Grandpa's house would be over-run with slides of the old school, slide-show variety, not PowerPoint.

Bea was learning about zoom by photographing a pitchfork that has been nailed to a beam in the restaurant ceiling. With the prongs pointing down. A pitchfork. On the ceiling. Thankfully we weren't sitting directly underneath it. And there is another beam just below it should it fall. Of course it would then fall off this beam and land on the floor. Or a diner.

A pitchfork. In a restaurant. NFN.

Day 257. On the palm of her hand is a blister.

Assembling flat pack furniture starts in the seventh circle of hell - anger - and shortly after reading the first page, which has no words but instead shows you what is and isn't recommended in cartoon format, you enter the ninth circle - violence - ready to attack the maker of said flat pack with an allen key. Alan, Alan; seriously cannot say the name Alan/Allen in any voice but this one.

Also, why is the text so small in the instructions? My eyesight may have declined in recent years but this text is enough to fire me from the ninth circle straight into the eye of hell's storm without a thought for the three faces of Satan. I'm armed with a phillips screwdriver and a handful of leftover dowels; nothing is fazing me.

Halfway through putting this cabinet together I realised I had a blister on the palm of my hand. It's nothing to do with Liam Gallagher and more to do with the fact that the pre-tapped, minuscule hole does not hold any size screw. It's merely a pencil dot showing you where to screw in the fitting and requiring brute force to get it in. Three quarters of the way towards eternal damnation the blister burst.

Balance was restored to the world of furniture buying when I headed to our local second hand furniture shop 'Reloved' and bought a shelving unit for the bedroom. Not a flat pack in sight. Brutus, Cassius and Judas can only dream of this place. Not an allen key to be found. Speaking of Allen...

Day 256. Lucky escapes.

Friday 13th is just another day. What could possibly go wrong? An exploding shower? Yep that just about covers it.

I switched the shower on and was just about to get in when I realised I'd forgotten something. As I turned around to the bathroom cabinet there was a loud bang and I saw a bright flash out of the corner of my eye (love that expression) as the shower hose had exploded out of the bottom of the shower unit. I'm not sure what would have happened if I'd been in there at the time but the end of this pipe is quite sharp, it could have had my eye out (it's all about eyes in our house at the moment).

Not the best welcome to a new home but at least it happened with me in the bathroom and not Bea or a guest. Let's hope we're not about to star in a real life version of The Money Pit*.

Happy Friday 13th.

*Starting quote from electrician £200 then we need to look at the fuse box and go from there...oh dear.

Day 255. Collarless.

Again I have discovered the cat has managed to get her post surgery collar off. Not sure how. She has slept even more than she usually does and looked so comfy I didn't have the heart to wake her to put it back on. I saved that joy for later on.

Day 254. Foot off the pedal.

I've annoyed drivers all the way home from Six Mile Bottom tonight, and yes that is a real place.

I picked up a rather unhappy cat from Dick White's clinic after having surgery on a corneal ulcer and a graft to repair the hole that resulted. I don't know who Dick is but he runs an impressive place. Not one person there managed to leave without a few tears as they collected injured or ill pets and received instruction on how to care for them at home.

Once back in the car I was conscious of every pot hole, sharp bend and speed bump and suspect I was on the receiving end of many expletives from drivers stuck behind me and my Sunday driving. I wonder if I'll be a bit more considerate next time I'm behind a slower driver? I doubt it but today I was happy to take my foot off the pedal.

Day 253. Is this kosher?

Salt beef bagel with pickled cucumber is one of my favourite sandwiches (not technically a sandwich when you use a bagel though) and it's one of the things I miss about not working in Radlett very often anymore. There's a deli there that serves exceptionally tasty salt beef bagels but they're not that easy to come by in Norfolk. So imagine my delight when I spotted this place in Kings Cross today. Not sure how kosher they are, in both senses of the word, but I'm going to try one next time I'm in London.

Day 252. Pets and moral dilemmas.

My cat has been diagnosed with a corneal ulcer today. The vet was hopeful that he'd be able to debride it which basically means removing dead or damaged tissue to improve the healing potential for the remaining tissue. But it was worse than he thought and she's being referred to a veterinary ophthalmologist. There were several hours of fun and games with the insurance company trying to confirm if her operation would be covered by our policy and conversations about what we'd do if it wasn't. Less than pleasant when you try to weigh up the value of a pet against the cost of treatment but in the end we decided to go ahead. Here she is with a very sore eye from the debridement, unaware of what lies in store for her tomorrow.

Day 251. No secret. Just a key.

For the past three years my house key has been a 4/5 inch monster which despite its size I constantly seemed to be misplacing. I'm delighting in these scaled down versions which fit onto a keyring and are much easier to find in my handbag. Well, a little easier anyway.

I've got the keys. It's no secret.

Day 250. Flowers and friendship.

Yesterday a homemade cake, today these stunning flowers from one of my dearest friends. Feeling totally spoilt and reminded how women always seem to know what to get each other. Simple, white flowers with plenty of foliage. Stylish and beautifully scented. Garage or supermarket flowers just can't compare but you guys know that already. Right?

Day 249. Welcome to the neighbourhood.

We've moved to a small Norfolk village. Well, given the fact the last place we lived in only had four houses, by comparison it's pretty large but by non rural standards, small. When I got home from work one of our new neighbours had dropped off a wild blackberry cake. Now that's the sort of welcome to the neighbourhood I like. Delicious it was too.

Day 248. Those summer nights.

One last hurrah before the nights draw in. After finishing a meeting with a prospective new client for once I joined the masses and headed to the pub. A former boss who's travelling the world on a mid-life gap year is back in the UK for a flying visit and meeting with friends and colleagues to gloat about, I mean share, his experiences. Walking up to the pub I passed many places where people were taking the opportunity to enjoy a drink al fresco before the weather changes. A perfect end to a mighty fine summer.

Day 247. Life in a box.

The big day has finally arrived and almost 5 months after viewing it we moved into our new home.

Despite having moved house four times in the past 6 years it still catches me by surprise when I see our life boxed up in a lorry, even a lorry as large as this. Unlike the previous two moves, these guys have made it especially painless. Almost all boxes have landed in the right rooms, beds have been rebuilt and all furniture placed where we (currently) want it to be and before they left we were asked to take one last look around to see if we'd like anything else moved.

Now just the minor job of unpacking our life, all over again.

Day 246. Back to the '50s.

This is my primary job today and for the next few days. Making tea and coffee with plenty of sugar of course. One when the removals guys arrive at 8am, another about 10.30, lunch a few hours after that and then a mid afternoon cuppa. Mid morning coffee break is accompanied by plain biscuits and then chocolate for the afternoon. No phone calls, minimal emails and confirmation that I love my job. Anyone fancy a coffee?

Day 245. (What's the story) morning glory?

Stop sniggering. Yes I know the meaning behind the phrase 'morning glory' and I'm pretty sure Oasis did too but a sunrise like this really is glorious and originally the phrase meant 'What's happening?' or 'What are you doing up so early?' so move along, nothing to see here.

I'm up early for this. This view. This is what I'll miss most about living in Roxham.

The removal team arrives in a few hours to pack up our house and before our home becomes a building filled with boxes I wanted to take 5 minutes to appreciate the start of the day.

What's the story? Morning glory.

Day 244. Lights, lights and more lights.

We may have too many solar lights.

Although as we live at the end of a lane, pretty much in the middle of a field, street lights aren't very common. Add to the near darkness the fact that our house seems to be sitting on top of a set for Watership Down, walking around the garden at night can be a hazardous experience.

Still, with another 10 or so solar lights in the house I do think we may have a few too many.