In 3 weeks time I will be joining family and around 500 other people traversing the sands of Morecambe Bay to do the cross bay walk. This is something I have wanted to do for a long time and we are also raising money for St Johns Hospice in Lancaster that provided end of life care for Caroline’s Uncle Ron back in 2014, one of the many close family members we have both lost over the years, talk about a lot but will sadly never meet. We keep them alive in our hearts and as long as we talk about them and I can write about them on here then they will indeed (engage your LG vocals) “Live Forever”.

My links to Morecambe and to hospices go back a long way so I thought I would write a few words on those subjects, if this prompts you to smile or cry then feel free to chip into the sponsorship effort at this link, every donation counts if you can spare something in these challenging times.

Half way through my first year at Lancaster University we had to make a start with finding somewhere to live for our second year onwards, we quickly realised that this would mean Morecambe. The numerous holiday flats in the resort would generally become available to students for the out of season months in the late 1980’s and so Jason, Gordon and I found Belmont Holiday Apartments in the West End. We quickly discovered that out of season, Morecambe was essentially shut, therefore a lot of weekends were spent enjoying its best, and cheapest feature, walks along the promenade from Bare to Heysham and back again, and again! It always seemed cold and windy but the views were amazing when the fog cleared. For our final year we moved right onto the seafront overlooking the bay at Marine Road Central Apartments, with a lovely view right across to the Lakes. We were there when the pier burned down and laughed about the Christmas illuminations from our 2nd floor drafty flat. It was here that dreams of “walking home” from Morecambe to Scarborough using the Coast to Coast route started, something to write about another day.

Our great times in Morecambe were definitely helped by the proximity to my Auntie Elsie, Uncle Charles, Gran and Grandad who had all moved to Heysham while I was at University and would regularly keep us company, feed us, and my Gran did all my washing & ironing too. I was very close to my grandparents all of my life and their unflinching support gave me the confidence to become who I am today, so many things stand out but they were truly remarkable people with my Gran very much the family matriarch.

As my life moved forwards after University they all remained in Heysham and Morecambe and so frequent visits back were a big feature of our lives, many Sunday day trips from Durham and Leicester with the kids and it would often be the central family meeting point for us all with Mum & Dad plus Dave & Sarah joining us there. I can also sadly remember Gran reluctantly admitting that she needed to go into hospital after many months struggling for breath at home in Morecambe. She had oxygen on tap but would remove her mask to smoke a cigarette in days long before H&S dominated every waking moment. She went into Lancaster Infirmary, where I assume they stopped he smoking, although we did make a brief visit to St John’s Hospice in Lancaster in an attempt to convince her that this would be a more comfortable place to rest. However, she was determined, well bloody stubborn really, and wanted to stay on Ward 2 at Lancaster Infirmary where she passed away while I was with her just a few days later.

By that time I knew exactly what a Hospice was. A place for those needing care and dignity over their last days, weeks and months. Back in 1997 I was absolutely clueless about the general 1 way ticket nature of such places. As lovely as Bolton Hospice was for the short time my Dad was there, I just wish someone had bloody explained to me that he was there to die, not rest and recover from treatment. This would’ve allowed conversations that now can never happen and I know Arkid wouldn’t have gone home on what turned out to be Dads last night. I can recall every detail of those last days in the hospice, saying useless shit about it being nice to be able to watch the squirrels outside the window and my Dad talking to us about not letting Mum worry about a big funeral, even with all that we did not appreciate how close to the end he actually was.

So that loose link to St John’s Hospice from a brief visit in 2007 fits nicely with the fundraising for this summers walk across Morecambe Bay. The hospice provided its amazing services to Caroline’s Uncle Ron and so this walk will be a celebration for our combined family with 8 of us doing the walk and 12 of us there for the weekend including Ron’s brother, Uncle Reg. Being a part of this extended family is such a blessing in my life. Family holidays at Silverdale and Arnside, where the cross bay walk starts, were a big feature of Caroline’s childhood and I am sure a student Adi would have looked longingly across the bay and seen a stroppy teenager as a dot across the sands who would unknowingly grow up to become his wife.

We will all carry our memories and love for those who trod the sands and promenades before us as we venture across the bay with joy and laughter.