Dear Patsie

I last wrote on your birthday : HappyBirthdayPatsie

but of course we have chatted nearly every day since.

I chatted to you at Christmas. I talked to you every day.

Every time Strictly was on I nearly texted you!

Everytime I baked my bread…I obeyed your strict instructions for proving . Did you really mean sip gin every time it doubles in size?!

Your children drank a toast or three to you and so did we….thinking we maybe had not quite reached your exacting standards of turkey and all the trimmings. I for one, forgot the essentials ie yorkshire puds!

I also put my muddy boots in the freezer, the milk in the boot room and the washing in the fridge. But you would understand that…too little sleep and feeding the 5000.

Then Antony who sat with you every hour of every day of your last days. Who chatted to me and asked me to take over for an afternoon. What an honour to let him sleep for a few hours. Whilst you and I chatted, and laughed and sipped gin. He, your ever brave, strong, empathetic army chaplain son. Those blogs he wrote from Bastion I will never forget. He texted yesterday:

This would have been a good one as I got an OBE in the New Years Honours list which she would have loved! I wish she could come to the palace with me. We do miss her terribly. ❤

Patsie, I know you will be there at the Palace albeit in spirit. I know you were already as proud as proud could be. He is awesome. What a family you have. Wowser.

But now I must hoover, and clean, and change beds and undo all that Christmas creates. Ready for the next gathering…oops that is only 48 hours away..! I will follow your lead and not iron too much. Chill the fizz, suck more antibiotics and light the fire. That is the better coping strategy you taught me.

Chat soon. Mex

Medal