Day 324. Notes from a small isle.

That's Bill Bryson. I was lucky enough to get tickets to hear him talk about life in general and his new book One Summer in the glorious surroundings of Ely Cathedral. My friend Jane, as usual, pulled a blinder and found us front row seats also placing us directly in front of the book signing table.

If you're a Bryson fan you can imagine he's as charming and funny when he speaks as when he writes. I'll forever remember listening to the audio book of Notes from a Small Island as I drove home to Liverpool. At the end of the M62, I pulled up at the lights just as the narrator read "I arrived in Liverpool to find they were holding a festival of litter." Glancing right there were indeed a number of crisp packets and sweet wrappers dancing in the wind. I smiled, home is home and us Scousers learn at an early age to smile and wave at the criticism.

Bill had been asked to add an extra dimension to his talk by introducing some slides but after 10 minutes of frustrated clicking he admitted defeat and did what he does best; engaged the audience.

We were first in the queue to have our books signed and I even had my photo taken (fan girl). Top night and not a piece of litter in sight.

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