Workman

 10th October

Workman

It's 8th October. The doorbell rings. It's 8.05 am. Looking out of the window I spot a white van. 

"I was expecting you at  8.30," peeping through the half open door I, awkwardly, pull my dressing gown more closely around me.

"Yeh, I know, got off to an early this morning." 

"You can come in . I'll just..." I open the door a bit more.

"No worries," he starts walking backwards towards his van, "I'll just sit in the van and finish my coffee. Pop out and let me know when you're ready."

"Ok." I run upstairs, have a quick wash, grab my jeans and jumper I threw on the chair the previous night, brush my hair and hurry back down. The getting "ready process" took less than three minutes.

By 8.20 he and I are in conversation. I tell him, that I'm glad I didn't have to wait for him, that I'm happy he turned up  early. I tell him I'm grateful I didn't have to wait for hours, stewing and unable to settle to do anything, like the last time. I tell him, I'm really not keen on having workmen come to the house, especially since my husband isn't here anymore.

"What happened to your husband," ha asks, his attention focused on the thermostat in his hand. He's here to replace the broken thermostat. 

"He died a year ago.  I miss him terribly, particularly for sorting out all these sorts of problems. And I'm actually quite nervous of having workmen coming to the house" 

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry," he turns towards me. His words, which I've heard, repeatedly, during the last year, carry a soft, genuine kindness in them, which throws me a little.

"Thank you," I rub the tears from my eyes. "I'm finding things really difficult. He used to deal with all these issues."

 "Who plays the guitar, is it you?" he nods over to the wall where two guitars hang. I wonder if he's trying to change the subject.  Again he responds gently and  I end  up telling him how hubby died at the end of our Pilgrimage and what a blessing it was. 

"Of course, it was traumatic too," I add. "I mean, I had to get him repatriated and everything." I start to think I'm telling him too much. Surely he doesn't want to hear all my woes, I think. 

But he asks more questions. About the Pilgrimage, about hubby's health,  about how long we were married. I rattle on, everything pours out. I tell him what a wonderful man Peter was. His questions  draw me into sharing some details of our Faith, which, of course, was so important to hubby. 

Afterwards, the conversation shifts slightly and, the plumber, who's  been in the house for less than twenty minutes starts saying he wants  to get a bible. He says he wants to find out what Christianity is all about.  We have a rather beautiful discussion about Jesus and prayer. If I had a spare bible on my shelf I'd give it to him. I tell  him to talk to Jesus as a friend, that He is always there for him. He says  he will  and he keeps thanking  me as we say goodbye at the door. 

"You know, you're amazing," he stops in the driveway and looks back at me, "I'd expect you to be very sad and actually, you're so joyful. And all those years you were married, and everything. Amazing." He walks towards the van, but turns around again.

"And," he says, "you're not pushy, are you? You have a strong faith, but you don't push it on others." He is so genuine.

"You don't think so?" I think I've been a bit too open.

"No, it's more that you're, sort of, helpful." 

"Ahh, thanks."

We give each other a wave and off he goes.

I don't know what, if anything, will come from  that encounter. However , I do think the Holy Spirit is  working and maybe , Peter is too. 

Obviously, I shall pray for Michael, the plumber.  I'm not likely ever to meet him again. Yet that doesn't matter.  

comments about memoir

 "There is Plenty to recommend about this book.... It is deftly written, with an eventful and entertaining life story and has pace and vitality...                                                                    I think Marian's storytelling is, by far, the strength of her writing. She writes effortlessly, with believable dialogue and with an eye for good storytelling. The reader is drawn into the story immediately with the account of the death of her parents... The story is both lively and interesting throughout, and maintains the readers  interest from start to finish."  ( Cliff Cobb)(Part of a much longer piece!)

"Finished! A really good read and I didn't want to put it down.  I completely "got" the characters,  you're so clever!   You took such a risk, opening your heart as you did. Your courage has me in absolute awe. I hope you have already started the next book...                   Anyway, thank you for writing such a beautiful and heartfelt memoir.                                    It will remain with me for a long, long time." (Michelle Collin)

A friend says 

"It is very much your voice: direct, personal, honest. And the  thread that runs throughout is your and Peter's love for each other. God knew that your vocation was to marriage - with all the sacrifices that entails - not to a nunnery. It wasn't blind chance that brought you together; it was the providence of God... " (Francis Philips)

"...what an opening chapter. Emotional and beautifully told 💓😭 in pieces." (Kate Walker)

"...the first chapter has me in floods of tears! Do I dare continue? 😟" (Joanna Teixeira) Rhetorical question, obviously.

"Thoroughly enjoyed reading the fabulous Marian Green's recently published memoir. It was as though she was with me, on my train journey, telling me her story." (Claire Upton) 

"Had to contact you to say I started reading your book and love it." (Maddie)

"Dear Marian,                                                                                                                         just started   reading your book last night and was   in floods of tears at the picture you painted of your parents' deaths.

You are very good at making the scenes come alive by describing the little details. For example, the purple blanket that you and Peter first bought in London which you couldn't bear to get rid of. 

You seemed such a warm and plucky person full of determination and full of fear simultaneously. I can relate to that!. The early times in Northampton when you felt the darkness inside you before you found Faith. And Peter's steadfast love for you even when you annoyed him!

I am hooked by the story and find it very heartfelt ... I haven't finished the book yet  as I want to savour it for a bit longer. " ( Emily Jacobs )

      "Finished reading your memoir. I didn't want it to end . I was hooked from the beginning and wanted more..." (Karen Mcgown)

" Wow, what a lovely memoir. I definitely wanted to know more about your life. So interesting." (F)

And  many people ( well, probably over  ten ) have said  they passed it on to others, their family member, or friend.   

Someone came up to me and said she'd been reading my memoir - her friend gave it to her and told her it was brilliant.

Another person told me , "your memoir is doing the rounds of all my friends. I'm sure they'll love it. " (Wendy Blanchet)

Blessings

 6th Oct 2025

Blessings

It is true that I have been extremely sad for weeks, with it  becoming more and more difficult to find any joy in my days.

Today, though I'm aware it might be a temporary relief, I am feeling slightly better. I will just enjoy this day and be thankful. 

Early this morning, at 7am, my friend and I took a walk along the coast. Part of me didn't want to bother. Didn't really want to bother with anything. However, when I looked out of the window I thought, "you know, you might as well go. It's not raining. It'll do you good." So, I went, and was very happy that I did. It turned out it was a good way to  distract me from myself and the overwhelming sadness. Even if it's only for a little while. 

 

Interestingly, saying yes at the start of the day led to more positive decisions. Making a doctors appointment  I was putting off, and being seen within an hour,  became easy, and it ticked another box of something needing to be done.  Initially, I wasn't too happy about the time of the appointment as it meant I  missed Mass at my Parish Church, and I particularly wanted to get to Mass today , it being the anniversary of the canonisation of St Josemaria.  

However, yet again, saying yes proved fruitful. I decided to go into Canterbury on the bus to another Church. It worked out better than I could have hoped.  I was early enough to join in praying part of the rosary of the day with the parishioners who were there.  On the bus coming home, again , I was so thankful for the way the day was turning out.

But that is not the end.

Getting off the bus a couple of stops before my stop, I  walked to the cemetery to spend some time sitting at the grave of my husband. There, I met a lovely lady who was also there visiting her husbands grave. And what joy to share our experiences of widowhood, her being a year ahead of me  in the process.  After nearly an hour chatting and telling stories, I was home holding my head high and my spirit lifted. I doubt she knew how much she gave me today. I am so grateful for meeting her. I hope I meet her again. 

Thank you , Father God.  

Joy of joys.

 3rd Oct 2025

Yes, Joy.  

Well, how about that, I'm writing on my blog easily, as I have access to a new ( to me anyway) computer. Let's hope it works. So far, so good. 

Of course, now I have the ability to write, nothing occurs to me. I'll have to have a little think. 

Maybe I need to give myself a prompt. 

Let's see.

Little Bird

Little Bird looked around, her head sore after the fall. 

Her wings, were they broken?

That fall, during the storm, had done damage.

Her house, most of it strewn around her.

Was there anything left to build upon,

Even if she managed to heal?

Little bird wondered how it had come to this,

And what must she do now,

How would she survive.

She tried to stand, but fell back.

There was no one left who would miss her.

She whispered,

"It's no use, I might just lie here and die."

At that moment, a small , juicy worm

 crawled in front of her.

With not an instant of hesitation,

She reached out her tongue and  he was gone. 

Regaining  her courage, she stood up.

Though she felt the pain, she spread her wings.

"I'm not giving up" she sang

Writing

30th Sept 2025

A writer  once said 

"I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see, and what it means. What I want, and what I fear."

This is how I usually approach my morning pages, which,  with a few exceptions, I've tried to do daily for the last 12 years.

There have been times, usually busy life times, when I didn’t get to them, with the unfortunate consequence that many important life events have been blown away like feathers in the wind. And memory doesn’t always capture the colour of a situation.

The warmth of the morning sun has crept into the living room and a brightness has rested on my foot as I sit and appreciate this gift on the last day of September.

It’s not easy working on my blog with my phone, but unfortunately I have no computer that works at the moment.  Something else I have to sort out.

Last Goodbyes

 22nd August 2025

Last Goodbyes

Thinking of this time last year :

Being the summer holidays, there were visits from family during these days, as there usually were. 

For some it was the last time they saw their Dad, or Grandad or brother , or uncle. Three weeks later he was to die. 

And actually, how can that even be true??

That he died

That 49 weeks ago, he died ??? 

He So long ago, and yet,  it seems as if everything has just happened.       

It's such a different world without him. A world I have no idea how to navigate yet. Nothing, not keeping busy, not being with family, not watching TV or reading, no nothing takes the place of him being here. 

And I wish I'd realised while I had it, the pearl of life that was mine, mine and his, ours. 

No, not everything was perfect, but it was "ours" and I miss it . What is my life now, I ask. 

Who am I ?

One day after another goes by, goes by, and I put one foot in front of the other. I hear him say it:

"Just put one foot in front of the other. Get on with it girl, you've got work to do." I hear it. But how? No one tells you how!!!

But I apologise , I digress with all this "me" stuff. Let's go back to the memories of those last days before we went on our Camino. 

I remember going to Liz's on 15th August to help her pack the van. In my mind, because he always would have done, I imagine Peter there helping. However, I realise when reading through my journal that he didn't come. Funny how the memory works. So the journal helped jog the old memory and I conclude that the last time Peter saw them all was the day before, the 14th. And, I remember that he didn't come because he felt he wasn't able for the heavy work, which he wouldn't be able to avoid taking on.  Luckily, Dave, Ben's was amazing and packed up everything in a meticulous fashion, with help from the army of children and others. 

They left for Hereford the next morning, the 16th August, and Peter didn't even get to see where they were. That was a shame. He'd have love it, especially the countryside and the mountains. Yes, he'd have had a great time there. 

That same morning Peter and I worked hard to get the house ready for our visitors. Changing beds, cleaning, going shopping. I miss him these days for the changing of beds. Kate and Jo, with their families,  were coming to us for one night on their way home from their holidays in Europe. Jo was also collecting George, their dog, who'd spent a week with us. 

We chatted, I recall, as we worked together, about our  upcoming Pilgrimage, which was now only days away. I was getting anxious about it, thinking we'd maybe bitten off more that we could chew. But my dear hubby, in his usual loving stlye put my mind at rest.  

They all turned up the next day, the 17th. We'd planned to stay in the camper, making it easy for the eight of them to fit in the house.  We stayed up chatting till gone 11 pm. I so wish I could remember the conversations , but suffice to say, Peter would have talked all things Pilgrimage, music and grandchildren, because that was his way.

We all went to Mass together the next morning and it was a precious moment lighting a candle with two of the grandchildren who'd made their First Holy Communion in June. They were so sincere and ernest as they remembered and prayed for a close family member who was dying. We even sang a hymn together, one they both knew, "As I kneel Before You".  This Grandma's heart was swelling, as I rubbed the tears from my eyes. 

Looking Back. - 2016

 Looking Back  - 2016

31st July 2025

Hello everyone. How are things for you today? Do let me know. Maybe you will leave me a message. Then, I will probably answer you. 

This morning, deciding  to organise my journals, I find an interesting entry for 13th September 2016. Firstly, the date strikes me as significant given that Peter died on the 12th Sept 2024, and this year it will be 9 years almost to the day, since that entry.

The irony strikes  me when  I see that I' ve reflected on preparing for "our camino", especially, given that Peter died at the end of the one we finally got to do. To be honest, I didn't remember that we'd looked at it seriously at that time. So seriously that we were practicing.

 I write in my journal at that time: 

13th Sept 2016:                                                                                                                               ......"We went out on our first trek this morning to see if we will be able to do the Camino. Going out early, around six thirty, we completed a seven mile walk, to Reculver and back, setting a surprisingly good pace of about  about 3.5 mph. Not bad, I thought. As we walked we watched the golden sunrise in front of us creating a changing yellow light  across the sea, a blueish sky  unfolding  before us with each step we took. We hardly spoke, not wanting to break the meditative silence which was only interrupted occasionally with the gentle movement of the waves. 

We really started yesterday walking the two miles to mass and back. Not much, but it's a start , and Peter is totally behind the project now.  In fact he's more enthusiastic than I am. 

I have another challenge  on my mind. No, it's not my writing . I want to do the London Marathon.  Doing the park run most saturdays has inspired me. That, and Jo was talking about applying for it. Well, I filled out the form and sent it off. Next week Ill find out if I got in. If I have, I'll concentrate on that, putting the walking practice on hold for a while. 

If I don't get to run the marathon, we plan to walk the Camino in the Spring of next year.  And yes, we are mad. 

Peter is now reading everything he can get his hands on about doing the Pilgrimage. We will be so well prepared.”

There is another reference on 24th Sept:

After pages about writing group and the exhaustion of minding grandchildren, 

I think his enthusiasm shines through  here:

..."In the the background to all this , Peter is checking out extra lightweight tents so that we can go backpacking, especially on Pilgrimages. We are now planning our Camino  for next year, and looking forward the the adventure of it all. I hope that I'll be up to the hardship of sleeping in a small tent night after night and carrying everything we need on our backs . We'll see.

Peter's  friend and his wife recently completed the Pilgrim's Way from Winchester to  Canterbury. They camped with a small tent and big rucksacks. They're older than us. Of course he is more eager than ever now  and wants us to do this soon too. He says it could be a first real practice , apart from the long walks that we are already doing , that is.   We'll do more research and when we do it Ill write up the adventure. Look forward to that. Maybe write a book - "Our Camino" . That's  a little way off yet, but not so far that we can't work towards it.   Till next time..."

As I copied this entry from my journal it occured to me that the book , "Our  Camino" has yet to be written.

Obviously it'll  be a very different book now.

We never did get to do the Pilgrims Way from Winchester to Canterbury. I don't remember why. But I'd sure like to do it now, given that it was on his mind. Must look into that.  

 

Yes, you know, it's 

so  interesting, 

so meaningful, 

so comforting,

now,  to me, 

that exactly nine years ago, 

we were getting ready, 

you and I,

getting excited,

 about Our Camino. 

And that, eventually ,

nine years later, 

you died, 

left me, left us, 

having completed your  beautiful,

 spiritual pilgrimage,

as your grandaughter said,

"all the way to Heaven, Grams.

 You were so happy,

we were so together,

had so many plans, so much to do,

together. 

Now, there is no longer,

we,

no longer together,

no longer one.

Now I remain, recall, remember,

Now I am  thankful,

Now, I  hold our oneness close,

as special.

Yes, it's  hard. 

But, what we had, I give thanks for,

Yet,

Who am I now?

Who am I now?

San Martin Pinario

( Where Peter died)

 

All over the floor

2nd October 2023

 

All Over the Floor

All over the floor,

From one side of the room 

to the other, 

strewn haphazardly,

lay little mounds of clothes.

She sits in the midst,

her hand reaches for  

a purple jumper,

a tear falls 

and she breathes out 

a slow sigh.

As she always does, 

with black bags that 

are  left on her doorstep,

she tips  them out, 

all over the floor. 

It's something she always 

gets excited about. 

What will she find

among the many clothes, the odd assortment of brick o back,

 the varied collection of books.?

Always something she needs, 

for the children,  the house. 

And  always, the unexpected 

treasure.

This time its no different

nearly Christmas,  it is, yes. 

What does she find?

She finds shoes, 

burgandy coloured,  patent shoes.

Holding them close, she contemplates her reflection

And remembers at time , long ago,

dancing in shoes just like these,

being swirled around the dancefloor, 

laughing with him.

She loved those shoes, 

she loved him, she still does.

As she ponders, she delicately

 wraps her new treasure in tissue

and places them, with love in their box.

She wear them to the Christmas Dance.

A present for him.

This post is dated 1 year before the date of  Peter's funeral. Something struck me about it today. It seems like another life to me, the time i used to write so happily on my blog. 

He died in Santiago

 21 st July 2025

Hello everyone.

It’s been such a long time since I wrote a blogpost.

Since the death of Peter life has been difficult and very different. 

A practical part of that has included the dying of my laptop which I used to work on my blogposts.

I tried working with hubby’s but it wasn’t easy and my attention span has been rubbish.

Now, today, I find myself writing this blogpost using my phone.

Let’s see how that goes.

 It’s not easy, but I am determined to get back to the blog. After all, there might be some who would appreciate my words.

I have to discover who I am.

More than 10 months since he died and I can’t say I’m any nearer to finding out.

His death was sudden and traumatic, but also, in many ways beautiful.

This man of faith completed a Pilgrimage, the Camino de Santiago, a dream he and I held for many years, and which health issues prevented us from attempting sooner.

Though we were married for 52 years, that last year had been our happiest, our most joyful, as we’d grown closer together, and we were crowning that with our Pilgrimage, in Thanksgiving and in petition.

He died on the night of the last walk, having reached the end, having celebrated the Pilgrims Mass, having made many positive plans for the future. 

He went to bed happy and fulfilled, with great hope for the future.

He had no idea, we had no idea, how different God’s plans were, for both of us.

But, folks , what a beautiful way to die. I was and still am happy for him. He is with Our Lord and enjoying his eternal reward.

Me?

I’m still on my pilgrimage.

More to follow. That is , if I get a handle on this working on my phone!!! Not easy!

❤️