It has been quiet on here. There is lots to talk about but I don’t have enough time to talk about it. But here I am with a bit of time.

Today is Father’s Day. It is also my 13th Wedding Anniversary. The first time a dad-related thing has happened on the same day as something else. In October it’ll be ten years this year since he died. I frequently feel sad H will never meet her Grandad, but happy I can talk about him and know that he’d love the fact she loves history (his favourite subject).

I’ve been thinking too. I know we’ve become cut off from lots of things in the last year – I see pictures of groups of friends having meet up’s that we don’t get invited to. It’s fine, and I don’t expect to be invited anywhere by anyone, but it has made me think. Really, Shaun, H and I are in our own little bubble, our own little island. Sometimes we get off and join the mainland, but mostly we’re in our little world. I’m not complaining about this – it’s how things have panned out and that’s that.

I’m reading Brix Start-Smith’s book at the moment, and she mentions how many “vagina friends” she has. As in, how many people, if she had an issue with her down-belows, she would happily phone up and talk to about them. It has got me thinking – as really, I only have Shaun. I’m very much of that ever-so-British nobody would actually want to know anyway. I just can’t imagine phoning anyone up to talk about having a period for three weeks or any other issues. I may have spoken about it in the pub after several glasses of wine (in the hope they’ll forget afterwards, I guess?). But it isn’t something I could bring up in sober conversation.

Then again, I wouldn’t expect a conversation with anyone else about those parts of the body – about anything too intimate. I’ve had to go over some really personal stuff and have talked about it with friends but it feels like I’m taking over the conversation when it starts as there’s so much of it the words tumble out of me, I trip over my talk as there are so many tangents to it all. Then I run away. Again.

I worry H will be like me. Stays on that safe little island. My little island is somewhere I forget about bad stuff when it has happened, as it’s safe there. Shaun still doesn’t quite get how I can forget some of the stuff but I guess just goes along with it these days.

But I encourage H to talk. To say what makes her angry, to laugh with her when she makes up a joke as she seems to have an amazing sense of humour. To make sure she isn’t me. I am me, but I’m part of my family, and in turn my family are part of their family before them. If there are problems, they’re part of us. H isn’t going to inherit those problems. Those problems didn’t make it onto the island, you see.