As a kid I came last in the class race every single sports day without fail.  It was so predictable that my parents took to bringing me cherryade as a consolation prize.  To this day fizzy cherry pop smells of love and humiliation.  So in solidarity with my primary school self I have decided to go large and come last (probably) in the London Marathon. PLEASE sponsor me or deliver cherryade.  This is a big moment for me.  

And I'm doing it because I am flat out in awe of this charity.  Helen & Douglas House is there for families who are strung out by the day-to-day mountain of looking after a terminally ill child. As the unbelievably fortunate mother of two healthy girls, I don’t even know where to begin with that.  If my niece Martha had lived longer than 5 days we might have been one of those families.  Helen & Douglas still look out for Ed and Sophie and give them a place to connect with her just like they did in the serene days after she left. 

A few years ago I was asked in to H&D to interpret for a parent who spoke no English.  He was living in a town 30 miles away, alone but for his 13 year old daughter who had terminal cancer.  Douglas House was the nearest and only place he could take her that would look after her when he couldn’t.  I sat in a room with him and a doctor as he fell apart with grief.  In the next room, his girl was having her nails painted with glittery nail polish.  She grinned happily at the volunteer.   “You’re gorgeous,” she said.  The day was interspersed by traumatic and painful (for her) examinations where she had to be hoisted onto a bed – all performed with tact, warmth and efficiency by the staff.  Later on I saw her grab her dad’s hand and say, “I love you, cheer up.”   

I left at the end of the day, gob-smacked to find I had 3 missed calls from H&D staff wanting to check I was okay.

You don’t ever know how much you will need a place like this until you need it.  Please please help it to stay open.

And I’ll throw in a photo of my sweaty running face as a bonus.