Creativity and motherhood

Since having children I can honestly say I have never felt more creative, and more frustrated.

I found the process of pregnancy and birth stirred up my desire to write fiction in particular, but also my general interest in making, doing and creating.

Creativity as I experience it, as a process of flow from mind to hands to page, is a deeply alone experience. I shut out the entire world and that includes voices. I can get so absorbed in what I am doing that I don't even hear my own husband (or boss, as it used to be, or teacher, before that) calling for my attention.

And of course now I am a mother, I am never alone. I don't just mean physically, although yes I do spend large portions of the day (and night!) with a child on or about my person. I mean emotionally and mentally. The best analogy I ever read on this subject was that leaving your child physically 'isn't like parking a car'. Even when I'm not with them, they're always on my mind.

I think there's a deep biological fear around stepping back into that creative space, whereby my mind is fully focused on something outside of and unrelated to my children. Evolutionarily speaking mothers needed to have their children first and foremost in their minds and hearts, all the time - the survival of the species depended upon it.

But even more than that, it's the everyday reality of life with children that is often the most frustrating of all.

I have so many ideas - SO MANY - and like the fluffy airborne seed heads of dandelions or the witches on broomsticks about whom I read to my children, they float tantalisingly past me. I make a mental note to myself that is almost immediately forgotten in the everyday demands of life with young children. Somebody's bum always needs wiping or hands washing or stomach filling or shoes taking off or other urgent, pressing task.

By the time the need has been fulfilled, it's too late. The witch taps the broomstick and whoosh! They are gone.

I do find the frustration is eased by creating with my children, and our life together involves a great deal of time in nature, making, doing, planting, growing, painting, drawing, sticking, stirring and general making of enormous messes. Both Cherry and Violet love to create - I think all children do. They certainly love to make a mess too and I have always been happy to let them, even if as a result my home does terrify the more houseproud out there.

Of course all of these activities also stimulate the creative flow. I have noticed some really pleasing side-effects of life as a stay-at-home mother that I wouldn't have anticipated. My photography has improved no end, while I'm still very much point-and-shoot I can see a massive difference in composition and use of light and colour (although not in the photos of my children making a mess!). My home has the odd (very odd) little creative touch here and there, as does the garden. I can turn literally any combination of vegetables into a soup - that my children will eat.

And the biggest evolution of all is I no longer view creativity as self-indulgent, unnecessary, a waste of time or pointless. I can see that the process is valuable in itself, the outcome is not so relevant, and that doing what you love does lay the foundations for more and more of the same.

Motherhood has taught me the vital importance of remaining true to myself and what I love to do. It has showed me that I cannot enmesh my identity with that of my children and live vicariously through them, stand at the sidelines and coach, criticise and push. I cannot put the burden of my own frustrated creativity on them. I can't allow them to live my dreams for me. That responsibility is mine alone.

I can see ahead to a time when I have the self-belief to finish a novel and present it to my agent. I can see, no doubt many years down the line, a garden shed turned into a writing studio. But I don't just see my creativity limited to writing. All these things I make and do with the children - or just for myself - count. It's all creating. It's all connected.

It is frustrating still, on a daily basis. I have been reading The Rainbow Way by Lucy Pearce, a truly epic book on this very subject, and it has come as some kind of epiphany to realise that the way I feel about creating and motherhood is entirely normal.

There is ambivalence there. I have chosen motherhood first and foremost, decided that 'serious' creativity and career can wait - I do not regret that choice and I wouldn't change it. (I have considered childcare and at times attempted small amounts with Cherry that were successful to a degree, but by and large it's not for me or us as a family and that is a choice I am happy with).

But I think I can feel a little softer now on the sides of me that are frustrated, champing at the bit, counting down the months and weeks and days until Cherry starts school, Violet starts pre-school and I can take a huge, deep breath and be alone. I can see that this doesn't make me a bad mother. It just makes me human.

I can also see that if I adjust my expectations and perceptions of what I 'need' in order to create, and instead just look at what very small pockets of time are still available to me, I don't have to hang up my creative boots completely. I can still do. Just smaller things, smaller amounts, and expect it to take a lot longer. I can see that it's important I carve out some space at weekends, even just an hour or two, for that complete aloneness I crave.

And in the mean time, we continue to co-create. Because our house just isn't messy enough already.

A little Island hop

We have started to really embrace travelling with our children. Before we had Violet, we were pretty mobile with Cherry and found travelling with one young toddler quite straightforward. A second baby complicated matters enormously. At the beginning it wasn't too hard, as Violet was the sort of baby who really was quite happy in a sling going with the flow, but even so the amount of general 'stuff' we had to take with us was eye-opening.

As she got older our attempts to take holidays with children were basically what Noel described as 'really, really hard work, but in a different place'. We found the first year and a half with two very young children shockingly hard work.

It's still hard work now - it's harder, in many ways - but travelling is one of the things that has become easier now we have moved past the baby-and-toddler stage and have a toddler and a preschooler. Also after the confidence boost of our trip to Singapore I feel we have hit a groove as a family and that we could go anywhere we wanted and have a great time, which is a nice way to feel.

At the beginning of the summer we went over to the Isle of Wight for a few days. I've been there before and didn't think much of it. I don't know why, because as soon as we got there all I could think was 'this is my kind of place'. Stunning countryside and coast lines, everything rural and unspoilt, acres of space and gorgeous scenery with wildflowers everywhere. Noel loved it too, for its kitsch charm, glorious beaches and the general air of stepping back in time.

Travelling with a toddler and a three-year-old is so rewarding. They are so full of enthusiasm for absolutely everything. The ferry from Portsmouth was one of the highlights of the entire trip for them, they had an absolute whale of a time. When we drove off it at the other end Violet actually started crying. I just love how they get so into what we could think of as mundane things. If ever I needed a reminder that the journey is as important as the destination, it's in my children's approach to travel.

We stayed in Sandown, in a B&B firmly stuck in the late 1970s. Noel was mad about the dark, patterned carpets and the bar area which sadly for him, we never actually got to frequent. Cherry and Violet were mad about the bunk beds in our bedroom (although we dragged the mattress off the bed and onto the floor for Violet to actually sleep on). Their energy levels, high at the best of time, were boosted by general excitement and our B&B room, although charming, felt quite small at bedtimes and in the (very) early mornings.

One of the things that makes two children so much harder work than one is their actual relationship with each other. As individuals, both Cherry and Violet can be quite calm and easygoing and each child would be a complete dream to travel with independently, but together the excitement levels and general silliness ramp right up. Their relationship is huge, deep and vast, invisible but it takes up acres of space. Most of the time it's truly wonderful, especially if you happen to be in a very big open space. You can really see the (bottomless) depth of my children's creativity and energy. But at 8pm when you've been up since 5.30am and would really quite like them to just GTFTS now and they're hyperactively egging one another on, it's not so great.

In future I'd be tempted to camp (if I can persuade Noel) or at least hire a camper van so they can just run themselves into the ground outside before bedtime and again in the morning. Noel's not mad about the idea of camping but we're going this weekend for a 40th birthday and then again in a few weeks so we will see how we all get on.

Back to the Island though - we spent a couple of glorious, sun-soaked days on the beach and actually when the weather is good, you can't beat the British coastline. Sandown has lots of beach-front bars and cafes, Noel said it reminded him of Brighton a bit, but less crowded and with sandy beaches.

This holiday was also significant as it was the first time Cherry really enjoyed swimming in the sea. It was absolutely freezing but she wanted to be in there for ages - Noel and I had to brace ourselves and take turns to go in with her. Violet loved the beach but preferred to stay in the shallows paddling. That picture of her above, rolling around in the sand, is one of my and Noel's favourite pictures of all time. It really embodies Violet's personality - the pure, unadulterated joy and silliness is just off the scale. Noel has it as his screensaver and people often ask if we got her to pose for it. Nope. That's just Violet for you.

We also went to the Needles on a cold, drizzly, misty day in which thick grey fog never really lifted - we couldn't actually see the Needles. But we enjoyed the little fairground rides and Cherry and I went down the infamous chairlift. It was a bit scary for her, she was worried her wellies would fall off into the trees below, so at the bottom we hopped off the chair and climbed back up the stairs instead. She counted 98 of them!

Cherry keeps asking if we can go back to the Isle of Wight and we definitely will. There's SO much to do - watersports (why do I always snigger when I write that), cycling, mountain biking, horse riding, hiking.... There was a fair bit of Noel and I saying 'when they're older, we'll do….'

We have so much to look forward to. At the moment we do find when we travel it's all very much tailored to Cherry and Violet's needs and preferences, which is as it should be of course, but it's nice to know that as they get older there will be so much we can all do together.

One year teetotal

At the end of July I looked at my journal and realised an anniversary had passed. Quietly and with no fuss. I did nothing to mark or commemorate it. But I noticed it.

It's been a year since I last had an alcoholic drink. The picture at the top is me before I stopped drinking, the picture at the bottom is after. I think you'll see it's made a big difference.

OK, so the picture on the top is actually Cherry's picture of her Granny but it does look a bit like how I felt after a few too many.

I have never had a good relationship with alcohol and I swung from one extreme to another with it. In my teens and early twenties I was completely teetotal. I didn't even like the taste of alcohol and I hated its effect on people. I really had no motivation to drink at all as I found I often had the most energy and the best time of any of my group of friends. As the non-drinker I usually ended up driving to clubs or parties, and I could easily have a fantastic time on nothing but tap water and atmosphere, then drive home stone-cold sober.

As an added bonus I could always remember exactly what everybody had got up to the previous evening - myself included - and I never had to sit around clutching my head and wailing that I wished I hadn't done that.

Then when I went off to university I started drinking small amounts. I was always really careful not to have more than one or two drinks, as I'd seen enough friends overdo it and end up vomiting, passed out or being carried home not to want to end up in that state.

When I came home from university I got a job in a pub while I took a journalism course and perhaps unsurprisingly, I started drinking more. All of a sudden I got a real taste for it. I loved getting drunk, but I also loved the camaraderie surrounding drinking. I loved pub humour, tall tales of misdeeds fuelled by alcohol, I loved lock-ins or sitting outside after closing time with a group of friends until the early hours, and the waking up in the morning hungover but euphoric and giggly, usually with a good friend, piecing together the chaos of the previous evening.

I drank heavily all through my twenties. After a while I stopped drinking during the week, as I found I couldn't really function at work with a hangover any more. But weekends were open seasons. When I met Noel one of the main things we bonded over was our love of drinking, going out and having fun.

Only it wasn't really that much fun for me any more. More and more I was picking fights and arguments with Noel when we were drunk, bottling up everything I felt was 'wrong' with our relationship and letting it all spill out in a drunken, aggressive rage. More and more I was waking up on Saturdays and Sundays hungover and exhausted and with a lingering sense of self-hatred. More and more I wanted to rein it in, drink less, have more energy and more and more I found myself forgetting all of my good intentions after the first glass, drinking until I was drunk and then regretting it the next day.

For whatever reason, I have never been the kind of person who can just have one glass of wine, or even two. I always wanted the entire bottle and no matter how good my intentions when I opened it, it always ended up empty.

Being pregnant gave me a concrete reason not to drink and I never questioned it or wished that I could. I did have the odd small glass once or twice when I was pregnant with Cherry but it just made me feel bloated and nauseous. With both children I didn't drink at all until they were four or five months old, and then I would pump milk early in the evening, before having a drink, and offer the bottle of expressed milk later if they wanted to feed.

But once or twice I did breastfeed Violet after drinking because she woke so frequently and I felt deeply uncomfortable with it. All the information available suggested it would do her no real harm but that wasn't really enough reassurance for me. I wasn't interested in 'not harming' my child as much as being the best mother I could be. And more importantly I did not really trust myself. Half a bottle could, because it always did, eventually turn into a bottle. Or a bottle and a half. Maybe not tonight, or tomorrow, but sooner or later I would end up drinking more, and more. Would I still continue to breastfeed her?

I also found even the odd glass of wine had a huge impact on how I felt the next day. Even a small glass seemed to drain my energy. Increasingly I disliked and resented the presence of alcohol in my life. It no longer felt a part of me, of what I did, and it felt wrong and unpleasant to drink even small amounts around my children.

And so I decided to stop. After two pregnancies in quick succession it actually didn't feel like much of an effort. I rarely drank on weeknights so I didn't have to give up the classic glass of wine once the kids are in bed. And at weekends I was often so tired after a busy week with two young children and broken nights with Violet that all I wanted was an early night anyway.

One year on and I can honestly say I don't miss alcohol in the slightest. I don't miss one single thing about it, because my relationship with alcohol has always been turbulent. I never liked myself drunk, and I never liked myself hungover either. I hated how energy-sapping alcohol was and how small it made my outlook. I wanted more to life than pubs and bars and hustling the kids into bed so we could have a drink.

I was a bit concerned that my relationship with Noel might suffer a little if I wasn't drinking. Would we still function as a couple without alcohol, a glass of wine on the sofa with a film, a bottle with dinner on a Friday night? Realistically of course if all that bound us together was alcohol then our relationship was in trouble regardless of whether I drank or not.

Noel was concerned about boundaries. If I wasn't drinking did that mean I expected him not to drink? Would he offend or upset me if he had a beer? Would it be unkind of him - would he be rubbing my face in it, flaunting at me what I have decided I cannot have?

Me choosing not to drink certainly did have an impact on him and on our relationship, but not a negative one and I hope not one he has found hard to adjust to. He certainly says he finds me far, far easier to live with and be married to since I have chosen to stop drinking. I also find I am kinder, more patient, more loving and less aggressive with him and more able to speak my mind as and when I need to.

Not drinking alcohol is a decision completely personal to me. What other people do is their business and their choice. I would never stop anybody drinking in my company. However I would sometimes choose, and have chosen, not to be in the company of people who are drinking heavily or drunk. The way I see it the choice is mine. I can be present, or I can go somewhere else and do something else.

More than anything though I completely identify as a non-drinker. It feels like a natural part of my identity, probably due to my teetotal teenage years. In the same way that some people identify with a political party or with a lifestyle choice or hobby or movement, I just identify as a teetotaller. I never worry about being 'boring' or 'square' or 'no fun' or any of the other things we can sometimes associate with those who choose not to drink alcohol. I never even think about drinking anymore or wish I could have 'just the one'.

I think I'm still pretty good fun, I am sober and I am happy. I also want to say a big thank you to the lovely Jo Payton for her amazingly honest and inspiring blog Mocktail Hour which really gave me the push to stop boozing for good. I just love the internet.

House rules

When we were in Singapore Cherry was tickled pink by this signpost, which we quickly christened Don't let your dog have a poo. She wanted her picture taken by it most days. Singapore is quite heavy on signposts, and when we got back she continued to notice them and ask me what they said or meant.

It really reminded me how children can respond to visual or written cues, even if they don't necessarily understand what they mean. As Cherry becomes ever more thirsty for knowledge, questioning just about everything (and I do mean EVERYTHING. Last week we found ourselves watching a Kendo class. If you thought three-year-olds came out with some tough questions at the best of times, you want to try standing next to two of them during Kendo) wherever possible I think the shortest and simplest explanation is often the best. I find we frequently return to discussions around taking care of our bodies, being kind and other general principles to live by.

As exhausting as it can sometimes (often!) be I do genuinely enjoy the process of stretching my own mind and becoming more questioning myself. I really try hard to help Cherry find the answers herself, usually by asking her what she thinks then taking her through leading questions until she gets there. Of course often I do have to eventually offer her the answer but I do like her to at least try and tell me what she thinks before I do so.

But there are some things - basic fundamental principles - that I explain time and again that I thought deserved a more concrete place in our conversations.

All of this has led us to write down a few rules. Hand on heart, I never thought ours would be the kind of home to have 'rules' and part of me feels a bit anxious that anybody reading this will now think I am a madly authoritarian dictator with a list of regulations for all who darken my door. Our rules are very simple and relatable, and they apply to all of us - Noel and I as well as the children.

Cherry, Violet and I discussed our rules together and we involved them in the process as much as possible given their tender ages. (Violet in particular had little of actual substance to add but she was at least present during their inception which is as much as any 23-month-old can reasonably expect I think!) I was very keen that our language and tone was as positive as possible - the last thing I wanted was a big list of ''don'ts'' and I think what we have come up with is much more of a list of 'do's'.

During a painting session I created this little rainbow and Cherry and Violet were very taken with it so we decided to write the rules on it and stick them on our wall. They are there now for all to see. Cherry in particular absolutely loves them. Every now and again, apropos of nothing, she will suddenly ask 'Mummy, what's number six?'

Rule six is in fact the only rule we have around food. I have always been very scrupulous about trusting and respecting my children's natural appetites and hunger cues and have never forced, coaxed or cajoled them to eat. There is no expectation upon anybody to clear their plate, regardless of whether or not pudding is available and nothing is conditional upon anybody 'eating their greens'.

I do however draw the line at providing snacks only for them to be discarded half-eaten, so we insist that they finish whatever snack they have (usually an apple) before they have another one, if they want one.

Rule five is not so much an attempt to potty-train Violet as a reaction to a rather unfortunate habit she's picked up as a result of going nappy-free a great deal of the time. Rule seven might seem a bit odd - making 'having fun' a rule? - but it's more to address the point that we all deserve to enjoy ourselves in life and if one of us constantly feels their preferences are not being considered and respected they have the right to raise this. It's also to help the children understand that not everybody will want to play 'that' game for 'that' long so sometimes you must compromise, and that jokes, pranks, games and the like are not actually 'funny' unless everybody is amused. This in future should help with conversations around concepts like bullying and abuse.

I find these rules generally good principles to live by, and having them also neatly side-steps many issues of control and rebellion. Admittedly my children are still very young, but they are both strong-willed and more than a little defiant by nature. Having rules that everybody in the house adheres to makes discipline far more of a democratic process. I think it's easier for both of them to accept 'in this house, we all get a turn' than it is for me to arbitrarily dictate that they must 'share' everything.

Rather than making Noel and I authority figures who must be blindly obeyed, having house rules means we all live by a unanimous contract, and I hope this means we all live a little more harmoniously. It also helps ensure we all know what to expect from one another, and that our communication remains open and democratic. It's empowering for children to feel they have a say and I encourage Cherry to call me out if she feels I have violated one of our rules. She has started, quite rightly, reminding me to 'speak kindly' if I become too animated and in danger of ranting and lecturing to hammer home a point. This feels to me a real affirmation that she knows her voice will be heard.

Do you have rules in your house?

Ten things I learned from long-haul travel with my children

Earlier this year we flew to Singapore to spend some time with my brother and his family, who moved out there at the end of 2014. This would be the biggest and most ambitious trip we'd ever undertaken as a family and that I personally had ever undertaken full stop.

I never really travelled when I was younger, bar the odd family holiday. Noel and I went to the Maldives on honeymoon and to New York for my 30th birthday so travel has featured more in recent years, and we took Cherry to Provence for a week when she was a little baby, but this was the first time we'd attempted anything like this as a family of four.

Our plan was to fly out together and stay with my brother, sister-in-law, nephew and niece. Noel would stay two weeks then fly home and Cherry, Violet and I would stay on. That meant me flying home solo with two children, which felt like an enormous undertaking particularly as I am not the most confident air traveller. I know it's pretty much the safest form of transport but I have never really got past the 'but how does it STAY IN THE AIR' thoughts and I can get quite panicky on flights, particularly during take-off and turbulence.

The trip didn't go exactly to plan by any means. It was however one of the most empowering experiences of my life and I have noticed a difference in all of us since returning home.

Here's ten things I learned along the way.

1. Know YOUR children
I'd read various 'top tips for flying with young children' ahead of the trip, but I also know my own children. Cherry and Violet are just not the kind of children who would sleep and watch TV all through a 14-hour flight, they are far too energetic and curious. We didn't go overboard with entertainment, treats, distractions and surprises as we were pretty sure the flight itself would be exciting and interesting enough for them. We planned for this and arrived very early for our outbound flight so they could soak up the atmosphere of an airport, explore, watch planes taking off and generally enjoy the new experience.

2. Expect the unexpected
About nine hours into the flight Violet began vomiting. She was sick for a couple of days then our nephew came down with it and was poorly for nearly a week, then Cherry had diarrhoea for a few days, then Noel was sick.
This put a big hold on any activities and exploring once we were in Singapore, but it did mean we got to spend plenty of time with our family and enjoy the condo and swimming pools. We managed to get out and explore later on in the trip.

3. Your children may change in ways you don't expect
Both Cherry and Violet seemed younger and more vulnerable in Singapore. They were both terrifically excited about the whole thing and Cherry in particular adored the experience of a new country. She glowed with happiness for much of it and she visibly grew in confidence, and her delight at being reunited with her beloved cousins lasted a good two weeks. Violet was far less independent than she is at home. She was only a baby when her cousins left the country and doesn't have the bond and shared history with them that Cherry has, so she was a little left out and consequently wanted far more time and attention from me.

4. The climate does make a difference
Singapore has a tropical climate and both Cherry and Violet found the humidity tiring. They slept really well, went to bed very easily and slept later than they usually do. Cherry, who is pretty responsible and independent at home, wanted help dressing, asked to go in the buggy and was less trustworthy on roads and in car parks. Violet wanted to be carried most of the time. I took the sling, but I found it hard going carrying her in the 35degree heat and intense humidity.

5. It's emotional
Quite apart from the emotions associated with being reunited with family, our big trip brought out emotions in all of us. Good ones and bad ones. In particular I felt more fearful and anxious than I usually do, and much of this was anticipation of the flight home by myself with both children. It really hung over my head a bit, even though the flight over was a resounding success bar the vomiting, and I found it hard to fully relax.

6. It's really hard work
Just two years and nine months separates Cherry and Violet's older cousin and Violet, the baby of the four. Living in an apartment with a one-year-old, two-year-old, three-year-old and four-year-old is noisy, messy, fun and seriously, seriously hard work. There wasn't much in the way of R and R for Noel and I, we managed one lunch out without the children in the entire two weeks we had together.

7. It's quite scary
I was so preoccupied by the flight home that I didn't really give much thought to how I would feel when Noel left. After he flew out I felt terrified. Even though I was staying with family, I suddenly felt completely alone and scared of this hot, strange, regimented country with patches of wildness spilling out in unexpected corners. I went to pieces for a few days and Cherry, who is highly sensitive and empathetic, picked up on my turmoil and became enormously challenging.

8. I'm pretty strong
After a dreadful couple of days of challenging behaviour from Cherry, lots of fighting between all four cousins and completely shot confidence from me, I found my mojo again. Cherry by this time was very anxious, with a newfound fear of thunderstorms and a loss of confidence in me, and I found depths of patience, tolerance and courage I didn't know I had in soothing and comforting her.

9. Some things are universal
At home, we spend as much time as possible outdoors. We do lots of trips and adventures, but we also spend lots of time outdoors closer to home - in the garden or out playing on our very quiet street and in a wooded area opposite. In Singapore the climate is such that time outdoors is pretty limited with small children unless you're at a water park. The heat is simply too fierce, the humidity too intense, and the country itself, once nothing but jungle, is very urbanised. We spent far more time indoors than we do at home, which felt quite counterintuitive. The more we got outside, to the Botanic Gardens or the jungle or any one of the amazing water parks, the more we all enjoyed ourselves. My favourite day by far was spent at Bukit Timah, a rainforest nature reserve and the highest point in Singapore.

10. Flying solo with two young children is all about your attitude
By the time our flight home came around I was more than prepared. I had had my crisis of confidence and come out the other side, and was feeling pretty unstoppable. I knew all I needed to do was focus on my children and be with them, rather than attempt to distract them with passive entertainment. The fourteen and a half hours literally flew by. Cherry, Violet and I had a lovely time. It was intense and tiring for me, as neither of them slept more than four hours and I didn't sleep at all. We read stories, talked, played games, drew pictures, went for walks around the aeroplane, and just generally enjoyed the experience.
We were sat very near a couple with a nine-month-old baby and a four-year-old, both of whom slept and watched TV for the entire flight. The couple certainly looked well-rested at Heathrow, whereas I suspect I did not, but I am pretty sure I had the better experience for having shared all of it consciously with my children.

And here's a bonus.

11. There really is no place like home. Singapore is stunning, beautifully lush and abundant, a proud and noble country with heritage and history. The flora and fauna is breathtaking and the climate is pretty hard to beat, as long as you are near a swimming pool or other water source. But there is nowhere like England and flying back across our green and pleasant land really did bring a lump to my throat.

Cherry and Violet took a while to settle back and all of us experienced far more jet lag on our return than we had over there. We had a couple of weeks of staggeringly early starts even by our early standards, before life slowly settled back to normal. Only our trip really has left a mark on all of us. We are markedly closer as a family and we have all grown in confidence.

I feel particularly enriched for the experience, with much more of a can-do attitude and sense of self-reliance. Cherry's thirst for adventure has been well and truly ignited, as has Violet's although I am not sure how much of our trip my younger daughter will remember, at such a tender age.

What's really lovely is that they enjoyed the journey as much as the destination. I love their zest for life and their delight in things that could be seen as so very ordinary and almost tedious.

Every time we spy an aeroplane in the sky I ask where they think it's going and they both instantly reply 'Singapore!' Then Cherry will look wistful and say 'Mummy, can we go back to Singapore?' and I tell her that yes, of course we will go again, and lots of other places too.

This is just the start.

Love and 100 miles

RideLondon100 has been a milestone in my vision since its inception three years ago.

I took a place for Tommy's, the baby charity, last year and began training. It was stressful and I didn't enjoy it one bit. Getting my strength and fitness back after two pregnancies and births in quick succession, getting my confidence back, and finding the time to rack up the miles felt like another chore on the list, another thing making life difficult.

So I deferred my place to 2015. As luck would have it my lovely friend Kerry Bircher from Revolution Cycling came to me with an absolutely brilliant training programme with a fantastic bunch of women, and so my fate for 2015 was sealed. I was Riding London, and Noel signed up to join me and help raise more cash for Tommy's.

Training was tough but brought huge victories for me, mastering cleats at last, the first time I rode more than 50 miles, the last long ride I did before RideLondon when I breezed down to my parents house via a roundabout route of about 55 miles barely breaking a sweat. Getting to know the amazing women I rode with every month and watching us all progress and become stronger, faster and fitter.

Perhaps because I had built the ride up so much in my head I was pretty nervous all Saturday, and on Sunday morning as Noel and I lined up with the dawn, I was excited but fearful. Fear has been a real theme for me this year, and it was there on Sunday. I was afraid for Noel, who had a stomach bug and was unsure if he could go the distance. I was afraid for myself, unsure if I could really get round the course in the time allowed. 

But courage has also been a bit of a theme for me this year. Noel led the way with great courage in even starting the ride with a stomach bug and as soon as we got going the adrenaline carried him through. And me. I have never ridden so fast - the first 20 miles absolutely flew by and we notched up half of the distance in just three hours. I think we both felt a bit apprehensive that it felt too easy, and more than once we told each other we wouldn't be able to keep up with our blistering early pace.

We didn't get the chance to find out, as my phone battery packed in and my Strava with it, and we were delayed for a very long time at Leith Hill and for shorter periods through Dorking and at Headley. By the time we were able to pick up the pace again, just outside Esher, we were pretty well rested from a slow, stop-start 30 miles or so. The final 20 miles flew by. Noel nearly vomited as we approached the Mall (gels + protein bars + stomach bug = not comfortable) but the utterly epic finish proved the best medicine of all and we finished, as we rode, strong and together. Holding hands, actually. Why not eh?

Riding 100 miles with my best friend, having raised a four-figure sum of money for an amazing charity, is hard to beat. I will not forget it in a hurry and having shared the experience with Noel makes it truly special.

I also want to say a huge THANK YOU to every single person who cheered us on. The streets of London, Dorking and Kingston were lined with noisy, enthusiastic spectators and cheering squads from all the major charities, and it made all the difference. Most of the quiet country roads were full of spectators camped out to enjoy the show, and their support really lifted all of us. It was unforgettable.

Noel pointed out it's probably the most time we've spent together without children since we first had them. I certainly can't remember feeling closer or more connected to him. Although I'm sure he could have ridden the course much faster even with an upset stomach, the fact that he stayed by my side the entire way round means more to me than I can put into words.

Our page is still open if you would like to sponsor us and help us raise even more for Tommy's.