Race for life

We raced.

It was a sea of pink and fancy dress. More pink than had ever been seen on the Royal Racecourse in Windsor before, I bet, even on Ascot day.

As we joined the crowd at the starting line we stood behind a woman with two girls. Her placard said she was racing in memory of her husband; theirs said ‘Daddy’. I wanted to cry for them. I didn’t: I don’t know how they feel. But on the eve of Fathers’ Day, I felt sad not just because those barely-ten-year-olds had lost their daddy, but because they will keep losing him. Anyone you lose when you’re small is an absence felt for the rest of your life.

Whoever you are, if your horizon is grey at the moment, let me quote the always-wonderful Stephen Fry:

It will be sunny one day. It isn’t under one’s control as to when the sun comes out, but come out it will. One day.

Until then, I’m thinking of you. Happy Saturday.


Talk to me! I'll put the kettle on.

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