A friend suggested I should keep a diary. She says she keeps one and it helps her to get her head round things when she feels life's running away.

So, I'm giving it a try....

Dear Diary,

Please would you help me get my head round a few things right now.

Yours sincerely


Tuesday, 13 July 2010


I’m Louise, thirty-six years old, single – well, widowed I believe is the correct term, but that makes me sound so old. Besides, Sam made me promise never to use that word. He said it wasn’t sexy. He thought I was.

Sam died six years ago, from a brain tumour. He was a lovely man and I was privileged to be his wife for three short years. Six months to the day he was diagnosed – from our wedding day, that is. And though we battled, both of us, he gave up the fight a week before my thirtieth birthday – a month after his, telling me to go out into the world, meet someone nice and have children. He would have made a wonderful father.

So here I am at the age of 36, single, foster mother of Katie, 13, and OMG, I can’t believe I’m saying this –