On the 5th of June I'm jumping out of a plane. This is not with the intention of taking in the English countryside as I hurtle towards it at 122 mph, or because I think my breakfast would make a fetching undergarment. I'm simply not that narcissistic, unless breakfast happens to be bacon.

This is an event organised by Helen and Douglas house, a hospice in Oxford which provided Noah with constant care during one of the last few months of his life. They also gave Celia and myself the confidence and training to take him home to be with his family over Christmas and his first birthday. I can't overstate how important that was, and it would have been impossible without them.

We were at Helen House for a relatively short period, many families have to live in the shadow of their own children's mortality for months and years. It is a relentlessly soul destroying process, the end of which hardly provides solace, but the care team at Helen House try to make it as bearable for the family and comfortable for the child as possible. Any money you can donate goes towards continuing that care, and you'd probably just spend it on something stupid anyway.

Roy

 

*Raising the target by a couple hundred as you've all easilly gone over my previous targets, but don't get complacent*

 

*Had to do it again. Just keeping you on yer toes.*