Then and Now

This is not my first time in Jamaica.

Almost twenty years ago, when Mr SM and I had just started 'dating', we were invited by another couple - great friends of ours - to stay with their wonderfully eccentric cousin, M.

M was an artist. He'd emigrated to Jamaica, along with a bunch of other wild young things, back in the 1970s when the lifestyle to which they'd been accustomed - living in large houses with butlers, cooks and maids - became unaffordable in England.

M lived in a fabulous Jamaican Great House, up in the hills, but he, the house and the staff were becoming increasingly decrepit. When Mr SM and I lay in bed at night we could see the stars through a hole in the roof.

Dead romantic, until it started to rain.

M was a wild and extravagant host. Over the years everyone who was anyone, from Princess Margaret to Marianne Faithfull had been to stay.

The days revolved around sitting on the terrace, drinking cocktails, planning the next meal and talking about life, the universe and everything with an endless succession of visitors, from famous reggae producers to M's various Baby Mothers.

We'd get up late, and as it was practically noon, would drink Bloody Mary's or Bucks Fizz pretty much straight away. We'd carry on drinking through the afternoon, and party into the night.

By the end of the week I was only held together by the toxins. It took me at least a week to recover - mentally and physically, and I was young back then.

Do I regret it?

Not a bit.

Would I do it again?

Hell no. It'd probably kill me. This time I'm doing Jamaica a different way.

And that's where I am in life right now.

Do I regret any of it? Not a bit. Would I do it again? Hell no, it'd probably kill me.

I'm doing it a different way now. And that's all good.

Love SM x

Anticipation...

Back in November, when I was in the middle of he whole cancer thing, and it was still possible that I didn't have long to live, Mr SM asked me a question.

He said "SM, has this whole experience made you look at your life and wish you'd done anything differently?"

This was a bit of a shock to me. Mr SM is an Old Etonian. He thinks that asking if you take milk in your tea is getting too personal.

I thought for a while, then I said "You know what? I don't think I'd change anything apart from one little thing."

"What's that?" he asked.

"I haven't had enough room service." I replied.

(I am aware that this is going to make me sound terribly spoiled, but please bear in mind that at the time I thought I was dying).

It struck me that for the last twelve years (since #1 was born) we hadn't had one holiday without the children. Plus, every holiday we've had has been self catering, which means that I do all the cooking, washing and cleaning, as per usual. Different setting, same chores.

So, I said "If we manage to get through all of this, can we please book a week away, just us two, somewhere hot with a glorious beach, where I don't have to do anything but lie on a sun lounger and order mocktails?"

Usually this sort of request would be dismissed out of hand, but I had picked a moment when Mr SM was feeling weak, and he agreed. I made him book it, and persuaded my sainted mother to hold the fort at home, before he changed his mind.

So, this Friday we are going to Jamaica! And I am beside myself with excitement (mixed with equal measures of panic about how my parents will cope with the three children and dog while we are gone).

Preparing to go away is a nightmare of pulling favours, writing lists of instructions and trying to anticipate what might go wrong. But I know that the more stressful the build up, the more amazing the feeling when we get onto that plane and fasten our seatbelts (and isn't that a great metaphor for life?)

I confess that I've had a number of moments when I (accidentally) picture myself holding a glass of chilled white wine, or a cocktail - when we're on the plane, the welcome drink at the hotel, the cocktail at sunset my the beach - and I feel a pang of regret like a kick in the stomach.

But I remind myself that the last few holidays I've done sober are the best I've had in years.

We're only away for seven days, I may never get the opportunity again, and I do not want to waste one minute on a hangover, or all blurry. There's going to be enough to get high on...

Whoop! Whoop!

Love SM x