I was determined that I would catch up on my blog today, so here I am. 

There have been tough times this year - my MS diagnosis in March, my Dad dying in September.

There have been good times this year - moments of joy with my lovely husband, my family, my friends and colleagues, daft jokes, fine baking (I do tasty, not pretty :) ), writing, reading, learning, teaching, laughing, crafting and mucky time in the garden.

The most active space on this website has been the Personal blog and the associated tools (Flickr and blipfoto). twitter is proving a valuable way of combining everything and getting me back into the habit of writing, reading and researching as mobility returns to my fingers. One of my goals for next year is getting the Professional blog up to speed.

Today, just after his dinner, my Dad fell asleep for the final time.

Dad was sick on and off my whole life, but he was a patient, optimistic man, and with the incredible support of my mother, he kept going through the hard times and kept his sense of humour.

Last year, he was taken off the heart transplant list as he was no longer well enough to survive the operation, should a heart become available. Earlier this year, we were all told he didn't have much longer. But Dad had always pulled through before, so somehow it didn't seem real, even after he had gone. He was Superdad.

Miss you Dad.

This is the man who, though 6 foot 4 inches and an ex-rugby player, would skip down Patrick Street in Dun Laoghaire and try to clip the shop signs with his fingers. The man who perfected eggy mash and thought that a head of garlic was a clove. He loved jigsaws, puzzles, quiz shows and Sue Barker. He could draw the most amazing Celtic knot patterns for us to colour in and always drew a cowboy sitting on a horse smoking a cigarette. He was Robin Hood, one of the three musketeers, Andy Pandy, Jason Bourne. His favourite sayings were "Who sees the rain when the sun is shining in your heart" and "If I wasn't so much in love, I'd be miserable" - he was very much in love and died one month before my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. He lived his life with passion and indeed had a fondness for yelling "Passion!" at random moments of happiness, usually followed by a bear hug for my mum :) .

I would watch the Six Nations rugby each year with him, and the World Cup when it came round. When we got the chance, we would go to Murrayfield to see it live. Last year, when he was too sick, the Scottish Rugby Union called for people to send in movies - they planned to create a mashup of people throwing a rugby ball to create the Longest Pass. So we filmed Dad throwing a toy rugby ball in his chair in the sitting room. It was included in the official movie and he was up on the big screen in Murrayfield even though we were sitting in Dunbar. He threw like the pro he was - see him immortalised at 0.33 below. The next time the Six Nations is on, I'll be watching wearing his Scotland/Ireland jersey. I like to think he'll be watching too.

Love you Dad.

(Posted on 31st December and backdating it as this is the first time I've been able to write about this.)

... I guess this blog is me trying to open my suitcase, though I don't find it all that easy :)

It's been a strange couple of months, a sort of in-between time. The Weebly theme of the bridge in the mist seems appropriate somehow. I've thought about changing it a few times, but in the end, it fit better than any of the others.

I described MS as a "learning experience" and a friend pointed out that I have always said I love to learn... :)

While most people celebrated the warm weather in May, I discovered that heat really does cause MS symptoms to flare up. The MS team had prepared me for possible consequences, so I knew what was happening and didn't panic. I tried cold showers, which bought me an extra day, but instead of taking it more slowly, I kept going at my old pace. Bad decision!

I lost the feeling in my hands and arms and experienced vertigo again and had to spend a day in the cool and dark. I was a little frustrated (always thinking about what "needs to be done"), but was too tired and brain-burned to do anything but, literally, lie back and chill :)

Thankfully, flare ups are not relapses, so recovery is swifter - when you're sensible (as I'm learning to be). Taking things more slowly has its benefits - time to look and listen and live.

In listening, we're hearing the silence as well as the sound - how the tick of the clock in the living room of our quiet house highlights the peace inside compared to the bustling sound of the town outside. I've never been comfortable in busy crowded places, they seem to rub my thoughts raw. This house calms me, the silence fills me and brings me back into balance. It's quite a nice peace - full and comforting. 

Life has been full of synchronicities too - funny little things like walking out of the office and meeting exactly the person you need to see, but not necessarily the person you first went looking for. Or picking books on seemingly different topics in the library and finding that, as you read through them, the same places, historical references or character interests keep recurring, or seem to run like a chain linking each book together. I like that feeling of connection, of flow.

Aren't libraries marvellous? Silence and synchronicity under one roof... and now that the rain is back, time to sit back and lose myself in a good book :)

I have just finished reading The Library Book and it is brilliant.

I'm not normally quite this determined about something, but if education and social equality are important to you too, you have to read this and you'll see why I'm so set on encouraging everyone to do so and to defend their libraries.

It contains a selection of short pieces written by well-known authors either about their own experiences of libraries or extracts from library-associated pieces they have written (fiction and non-).

Again and again I was reminded of the long walk my mother took with us to reach our nearest public library (no mean feat with two wee ones in tow). How she made sure that, even on holiday, we joined the local library to be kept supplied with reading materials. (I still have a fear today of being caught without a book.)

I laughed with Val McDermid remembering how closely the librarians guarded the adult section - my Dad bravely volunteered his adult book allowance so I could venture into the forbidden haunts and access the works of Gerard Durrell and J.R.R. Tolkien before my alloted time.

I loved my introduction to China Mieville's UnLunDun (have to read that) with the librarian "bookaneers" and a Kate Mosse tale was a suitably ghostly fiction teabreak.

I cheered each and every defence of the library and the unsung heroic genius of librarians (and not just because some of them are my friends).

And an excerpt from Lucy Mangan's work is always good value - I totally agree with her 10 rules, though I'm prepared to stretch to any pet, not just kittens :)

Public libraries must be saved.

Scottish Book Trust
The Reading Agency (receive proceeds from the sale of this book)