Thursday, 10 September 2015
Thursday, 3 September 2015
My grandad was a refugee
My grandad was born in Latvia in 1921.
Growing up, he liked the outdoors. He'd go cycling and fishing with his friends. I remember him telling me about how they used to go fishing and collecting crabs at a big lake, but one day they went to the lake, and there was a dead cow at the side of it, decomposing, and crawling with crabs that were eating its remains. He said he could never eat crab again after seeing that!
In the 1930s, he moved with his mum, dad, brothers and sisters to a big farm in Saldus (Latvia). He was planning to go to university to study agricultural engineering. One day he was playing out on the farmland, when, in one of the empty buildings, he saw two figures. He ran back to his house, screaming at his mum that he had seen ghosts. She silenced him quickly and said he must never mention them again. They weren't ghosts. They were a Jewish family (3 people in total) that my grandad's parents were hiding from Nazis. (I am sharing this, simply because I am so proud of my great grandparents for doing this.)
Another day, there was a loud knock at their front door. It was two armed Nazi soldiers. My grandad, fit and healthy in his late teens at the time, was told to be waiting at the end of the street at 5pm. He was being taken to work (in agriculture) for the Nazi's. He had no choice but to go. That was the last day he saw any of his family, although through the grapevine he heard that his parents and siblings had also ended up in Nazi camps, and also that his mother had contracted tuberculosis.
At the end of the war, he was transferred to a displaced persons camp in Wahlstedt, because after the German occupation, Latvia was once again occupied by Russia. It wasn't safe for him to return home. My grandad always described the Nazi occupation as friendly in comparison to the Russian. So, my grandad was brought to Britain as a refugee. He described to me his train journey across Europe towards Britain. He told me he, and the other refugees travelling with him, were each given a suitcase with some clothes as well as things like cutlery, playing cards and cigarettes. He thought he was treated like royalty. When I was little and he'd tell me about this I felt proud - proud that I lived in the nice country that helped other people who needed a safe home.
My grandad had always wanted to return to Latvia once it was no longer under communist control - but that didn't happen until he was 70 years old. So he stayed in the UK. He got married, had two children. He worked in factories, unable to fulfil his plans of studying at university, but he knew he had everything he really needed. A house, a garden, a family. Enough money to buy food and clothes. Safety. Although - he still had nightmares about the Second World War years every single night that had him shouting and crying out in his sleep.
I've copied here an excerpt of a letter he sent to him which he had kept his whole life, which someone kindly translated for us a few years ago. This describes the Russian occupied Latvia that he could not return to (and treatment of Latvians in the Soviet Gulag's that they were sent to) :
*********
I only have half an hour to write a letter to you. I can no longer think straight nor write.
From the first Russian entry day we were horrified by seeing all of those bastards riding in our streets. They were riding on horses through the streets drunk and doing all the worst things that you can possibly imagine. If you think that they are as in 1940/41 and that things are as they were back then, then you think wrong. It was nothing compared to everything that is happening here today. From day one they began looting, killing and raping and it continues every day. When it gets dark, only Russians are outside on the streets.
Do not think anything about my rough way of expression, because now I can only curse and endlessly hate all the vermin bunch, that destroys us. Hatred – this word is not strong enough to express what I feel inside. There is no limit of hate against Russians, but they are now lords in our land. It is now natural here, that people get striped of all clothes on the street, or Russians rob apartments leaving nothing in them, you are lucky if you still get to keep your naked life. And it's all done by majors or even higher position officers of the Red Army. They simply put a revolver to you forehead and say “отдай!” (“hand it over!”). Soldiers take boots and watches from people who return home from work. Top-quality robbery methods appear here. And newspapers write, that it is done by vlasovieši (Vlasovieši - Soviet Motherland traitors) and Latvian national bourgeois.
Don't believe in election results. At four in the morning (on election day) Russians began to wake up all Latvians and bring them to polling stations . With hearts full of hatred, people voted, because we're like a bunch of sheep where we have to do as we are told. Chekists or their assistants were going to every house and made them to go and vote. Cars were driving through the streets, pulling the helpless to the polls. They were in my house 3 times before 3 pm on that day, and, because of my mother was brought to Cheka for interrogation like 10 times, I was forced to go and vote as well. You see how obedient we are now. But only those who live here can understand it.
Our legionnaires, we wanted to greet them properly, and now they come home, but some have been killed and some die in a while after returning. Can you imagine in what circumstances they live there. After spending a few months in “Soviet paradise” people return crippled. Some are like skeletons, due to hard work and starvation, some are swollen from hunger and terrible conditions of life. Many are left blind and lost their minds. Thousands more are killed in Russia.
How much longer is this madness is going to continue? All this, that I have written to you so far, is only a tiny bit of what is happening here. Do we have to suffer now because fought against Communism? Were Germans right about Russians?
Every day more and more people get arrested and deported to Russia (Siberia). You spoke of faith once. Do you still have it? There are still few people who believe, hope and wait, but more and more, seeing everything that's going on here, have lost their hope and faith. Only thing that is left is to prepare for everything and take the “road of fate”, because nothing can save us now.
Many carry poison for themselves for, when the time comes, to put an end to the suffering imposed by the Russian bastards. Here they arrest old men and women, and 15 years old children are taken from schools put in prison to the time when the prisons are filled, all of them are deported to Russia. And so prisons are filled and emptied to make room for new people to be taken away.
Streets are full with thugs these days. All vermin now prevail here. They get a tremendous salary and a variety of food cards which is all that a man needs. I won't even try to describe the level of starvation here, all I get is bread which even a dog refuses to eat .People are exhausted. It is not possible to describe what is going on here or it would take forever to write it all down. There is no limit of hate and anger. Every day people suffer. One day all this anger will come out.
They arrest everybody as if they were fascists and then they are sentenced for 10, 15 and 20 years of hard labour in Russia. That is cruellest death ever, it drains and tortures before finally killing you.
There are only 2 types of Russians: the Communists and those who are not – the Fascists "national bourgeois" and they are destroyed. In recent days many children and adults are taken to trains, they are all condemned to torment in Russia and all of that is because we do not want Russians and their terrible system.
Growing up, he liked the outdoors. He'd go cycling and fishing with his friends. I remember him telling me about how they used to go fishing and collecting crabs at a big lake, but one day they went to the lake, and there was a dead cow at the side of it, decomposing, and crawling with crabs that were eating its remains. He said he could never eat crab again after seeing that!
In the 1930s, he moved with his mum, dad, brothers and sisters to a big farm in Saldus (Latvia). He was planning to go to university to study agricultural engineering. One day he was playing out on the farmland, when, in one of the empty buildings, he saw two figures. He ran back to his house, screaming at his mum that he had seen ghosts. She silenced him quickly and said he must never mention them again. They weren't ghosts. They were a Jewish family (3 people in total) that my grandad's parents were hiding from Nazis. (I am sharing this, simply because I am so proud of my great grandparents for doing this.)
Another day, there was a loud knock at their front door. It was two armed Nazi soldiers. My grandad, fit and healthy in his late teens at the time, was told to be waiting at the end of the street at 5pm. He was being taken to work (in agriculture) for the Nazi's. He had no choice but to go. That was the last day he saw any of his family, although through the grapevine he heard that his parents and siblings had also ended up in Nazi camps, and also that his mother had contracted tuberculosis.
At the end of the war, he was transferred to a displaced persons camp in Wahlstedt, because after the German occupation, Latvia was once again occupied by Russia. It wasn't safe for him to return home. My grandad always described the Nazi occupation as friendly in comparison to the Russian. So, my grandad was brought to Britain as a refugee. He described to me his train journey across Europe towards Britain. He told me he, and the other refugees travelling with him, were each given a suitcase with some clothes as well as things like cutlery, playing cards and cigarettes. He thought he was treated like royalty. When I was little and he'd tell me about this I felt proud - proud that I lived in the nice country that helped other people who needed a safe home.
My grandad had always wanted to return to Latvia once it was no longer under communist control - but that didn't happen until he was 70 years old. So he stayed in the UK. He got married, had two children. He worked in factories, unable to fulfil his plans of studying at university, but he knew he had everything he really needed. A house, a garden, a family. Enough money to buy food and clothes. Safety. Although - he still had nightmares about the Second World War years every single night that had him shouting and crying out in his sleep.
I've copied here an excerpt of a letter he sent to him which he had kept his whole life, which someone kindly translated for us a few years ago. This describes the Russian occupied Latvia that he could not return to (and treatment of Latvians in the Soviet Gulag's that they were sent to) :
*********
I only have half an hour to write a letter to you. I can no longer think straight nor write.
From the first Russian entry day we were horrified by seeing all of those bastards riding in our streets. They were riding on horses through the streets drunk and doing all the worst things that you can possibly imagine. If you think that they are as in 1940/41 and that things are as they were back then, then you think wrong. It was nothing compared to everything that is happening here today. From day one they began looting, killing and raping and it continues every day. When it gets dark, only Russians are outside on the streets.
Do not think anything about my rough way of expression, because now I can only curse and endlessly hate all the vermin bunch, that destroys us. Hatred – this word is not strong enough to express what I feel inside. There is no limit of hate against Russians, but they are now lords in our land. It is now natural here, that people get striped of all clothes on the street, or Russians rob apartments leaving nothing in them, you are lucky if you still get to keep your naked life. And it's all done by majors or even higher position officers of the Red Army. They simply put a revolver to you forehead and say “отдай!” (“hand it over!”). Soldiers take boots and watches from people who return home from work. Top-quality robbery methods appear here. And newspapers write, that it is done by vlasovieši (Vlasovieši - Soviet Motherland traitors) and Latvian national bourgeois.
Don't believe in election results. At four in the morning (on election day) Russians began to wake up all Latvians and bring them to polling stations . With hearts full of hatred, people voted, because we're like a bunch of sheep where we have to do as we are told. Chekists or their assistants were going to every house and made them to go and vote. Cars were driving through the streets, pulling the helpless to the polls. They were in my house 3 times before 3 pm on that day, and, because of my mother was brought to Cheka for interrogation like 10 times, I was forced to go and vote as well. You see how obedient we are now. But only those who live here can understand it.
Our legionnaires, we wanted to greet them properly, and now they come home, but some have been killed and some die in a while after returning. Can you imagine in what circumstances they live there. After spending a few months in “Soviet paradise” people return crippled. Some are like skeletons, due to hard work and starvation, some are swollen from hunger and terrible conditions of life. Many are left blind and lost their minds. Thousands more are killed in Russia.
How much longer is this madness is going to continue? All this, that I have written to you so far, is only a tiny bit of what is happening here. Do we have to suffer now because fought against Communism? Were Germans right about Russians?
Every day more and more people get arrested and deported to Russia (Siberia). You spoke of faith once. Do you still have it? There are still few people who believe, hope and wait, but more and more, seeing everything that's going on here, have lost their hope and faith. Only thing that is left is to prepare for everything and take the “road of fate”, because nothing can save us now.
Many carry poison for themselves for, when the time comes, to put an end to the suffering imposed by the Russian bastards. Here they arrest old men and women, and 15 years old children are taken from schools put in prison to the time when the prisons are filled, all of them are deported to Russia. And so prisons are filled and emptied to make room for new people to be taken away.
Streets are full with thugs these days. All vermin now prevail here. They get a tremendous salary and a variety of food cards which is all that a man needs. I won't even try to describe the level of starvation here, all I get is bread which even a dog refuses to eat .People are exhausted. It is not possible to describe what is going on here or it would take forever to write it all down. There is no limit of hate and anger. Every day people suffer. One day all this anger will come out.
They arrest everybody as if they were fascists and then they are sentenced for 10, 15 and 20 years of hard labour in Russia. That is cruellest death ever, it drains and tortures before finally killing you.
There are only 2 types of Russians: the Communists and those who are not – the Fascists "national bourgeois" and they are destroyed. In recent days many children and adults are taken to trains, they are all condemned to torment in Russia and all of that is because we do not want Russians and their terrible system.
I haven't been in Riga, but Alma has. Rubbish everywhere. Streets full with poor, homeless people. Latvians will sell the last piece of cloth to be able to live somehow. Do all that is possible to end this nightmare.
Has everyone forgotten that there are three small countries who are waiting for their freedom?
************
My grandad was a refugee. I am alive because, displaced from his home country as a result of war and military occupation, he was able to live, work and raise a family in Britain.
Has everyone forgotten that there are three small countries who are waiting for their freedom?
************
My grandad was a refugee. I am alive because, displaced from his home country as a result of war and military occupation, he was able to live, work and raise a family in Britain.
Yesterday we saw the image of the 3 year old Syrian boy, Aylan Kurdi, washed up, drowned, on a beach in Turkey. His mother Rihan and his 5 year old brother Galip also drowned after the boats they were travelling to Kos on sank. His father is alive, but was unable to save his wife and children.
This is not the same Britain that helped my grandad. I don't feel very proud of my country right now. It's wonderful that people are organising donations of tents and sleeping bags and warm clothes and food via, for example, Amazon gift lists. I'm glad people are signing petitions and planning marches. I like that people are speaking out together on social media to say refugees are welcome. But as individuals there is only so much we can do unless our government will accept more refugees. These people need a place to live, in a country where they are safe. Instead of coming here (and to other European countries) on organised trains, being supplied with provisions, and treated with compassion and dignity, they are drowning in European seas. What a disgrace. If he were alive, this would break my grandad's heart. It certainly breaks mine.
This is not the same Britain that helped my grandad. I don't feel very proud of my country right now. It's wonderful that people are organising donations of tents and sleeping bags and warm clothes and food via, for example, Amazon gift lists. I'm glad people are signing petitions and planning marches. I like that people are speaking out together on social media to say refugees are welcome. But as individuals there is only so much we can do unless our government will accept more refugees. These people need a place to live, in a country where they are safe. Instead of coming here (and to other European countries) on organised trains, being supplied with provisions, and treated with compassion and dignity, they are drowning in European seas. What a disgrace. If he were alive, this would break my grandad's heart. It certainly breaks mine.
PS My friend has set up a page on Facebook which is sharing links to various ways in which people can do a little to help. https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Refugee-Crisis-How-you-can-help/1024139637625890?fref=nf
Monday, 24 August 2015
Ticking things off the Bucket List... Thank you Willow Foundation!
What a difference a year makes.
This time last year was my first chemo cycle. The start of my cancer treatment. I'd had my diagnosis, my first scans and biopsies, and my first dose of poison. I fainted when they put the cannula in and I was so sick after the first chemo I told the chemo nurses I didn't want any more. I was ill, and I was scared. I'd not yet had a CT scan. I didn't know for sure that my cancer hadn't already spread. I didn't know if the chemo would even work, or how ill I would get. I still had months and months and months of treatment ahead of me. 5 more chemo cycles. Mastectomy. Radiotherapy. There wasn't yet any light at all at the end of the tunnel. I was tugging at my hair, waiting for it to fall out. I was staring at the wig sat on a polystyrene head on my bedside table, knowing that this thing that was freaking me out to even look at would at some point need to go on my head, and out in public. I didn't know if my friends would stay my friends. I didn't know if I would keep my job. I didn't know if I would even be alive at this point.
People told me about the Willow Foundation. It is a charity that organises special days for seriously ill 16-40 year olds. I thought it sounded wonderful but I didn't really think I should contact them. I didn't know when I would be well enough for a "special day". I didn't think I could or should plan anything for the future. I didn't want to tempt fate. I didn't know if I should have a special day. I have a job, I thought, I should probably just organise my own special day.
But just before I finished radiotherapy I decided to go for it. I filled out the form and gave it to my Breast Care Nurse to fill out the medical sections and send it off. So many of the friends I had made through the Younger Breast Cancer Network had been on special days and weekends organised by Willow and at the point when I was coming to the end of active cancer treatment, I realised there was light at the end of the tunnel. I could plan something nice. My Willow application was approved, and I was allocated a "Special Day Maker" Dominic who would organise everything for me!
I decided I'd like to go to Brighton, and discussed ideas with Dominic. The Willow Foundation covered travel, accommodation, and an amazing meal out, and Dominic booked and organised everything.
I can't really put in to words how grateful I am to the Willow Foundation, or how much this weekend has meant to me. It truly has been special. To know that I was able to have such a wonderful time without any of the hassle or stress of organising it (at a time when, quite frankly I've been that exhausted after further surgery that I just wouldn't have organised it) and to know that all of it is thanks to a wonderful organisation and all the people that fundraise for it and donate to it and work for it. It was amazing to go away for a special weekend that was selfishly all about the things I wanted to do, and to feel like, actually, yeah, I deserve it! It was amazing to do things that I had wanted to do for so long and feel so happy and excited that I could burst.
To anyone reading this who is aged 16-40 and undergoing treatment for a serious illness like cancer - please do get in touch with Willow. You deserve a special day, you really do!
In the future I'm going to fundraise for Willow. I want to be able to give something back, and help raise funds so that others can have special days too. Maybe once my surgeon lets me run again I'll work towards a half marathon or something!
Anyway.... here's what we did in Brighton! ........
Friday
I met Emily in London and we got the train to Brighton together. Being the good planner and organiser that I am I was armed and ready with bubbly for the train journey. :-)
We arrived in Brighton and were taken by taxi organised by Willow to our B&B, Strawberry Fields, located right by the sea and the Big Wheel. It was lovely! We were given ice tea on arrival which was much needed as it was so hot in Brighton - perfect weather! We dropped our bags off and headed to Daisy's Nail Company to get our nails done. Being the good planner and organiser that I am I was armed and ready for that with more bubbly! :-) It was SO nice to be pampered. The staff at Daisy's were absolutely lovely and both me and Emily love our neat, pretty nails!
That evening we went out for fish at chips to Bardsley's, which was recommended by some of my Brighton friends and which I'd recommend to everyone else too.
Saturday
One of the most fun, most best days OF MY LIFE! The day was started with bacon and egg butties brought in a basket to our room while we got ready to head out for a day at the beach and pier. The weather was absolutely stunning!
First we went on the big wheel. This was Emily's suggestion so I was a bit surprised when the door to our little pod shut and she told me she doesn't like heights and might start freaking out when we reached the top! Hahahaha! Luckily she held it together, the views were absolutely amazing.
Next we went to the Pier. £20 wristbands get you on all the rides, as many times as you want. The rides on Brighton Pier were on my bucket list so I was EXCITED to say the least! Ridiculously excited! The rides on Brighton Pier are ace... the best one is this one, Booster. (Emily has some silly pictures on her camera of me on it so I'll have to add a couple later!)
It goes round and round and you kind of swing round and upside down over the sea. It's A. MAZE. ING.
The pier has all the classics - rollercoaster, crazy mouse, waltzers, carousel, haunted house, dodgems, helter skelter (the one thing I refuse to go on. Helter Skelters terrify me.)
After several hours on the pier we headed down to the sea. The beach was absolutely packed. It was a perfect summer day and everyone was happy! We got cockles and muscles, and ice creams, paddled in the sea.....
To finish off the day we had a drink on the beach then went back to the pier where we attempted but failed to get into the haunted house (just closed!) and played on the 2p slot machines. Here's a handy tip for your next trip to the pier! If you are kicked off a machine because the arcade is closing, they give you the toy you were trying to win :-)
I honestly think this might have been the most fun day of my life!
Sunday
On Sunday we had a few hours to mooch around the Lanes.
The chocolate cake and dipping pots were so huge and chocolatey that.... we couldn't finish.
I left chocolate. Unfinished. Me! Choccywoccydoodah defeated me! In the most heavenly way possible though. And only temporarily - as I sit at home typing this I am eating choccywoccydoodah chocolate I bought in their shop!
I really had the best weekend ever. THANK YOU SO MUCH to the Willow Foundation.
This time last year was my first chemo cycle. The start of my cancer treatment. I'd had my diagnosis, my first scans and biopsies, and my first dose of poison. I fainted when they put the cannula in and I was so sick after the first chemo I told the chemo nurses I didn't want any more. I was ill, and I was scared. I'd not yet had a CT scan. I didn't know for sure that my cancer hadn't already spread. I didn't know if the chemo would even work, or how ill I would get. I still had months and months and months of treatment ahead of me. 5 more chemo cycles. Mastectomy. Radiotherapy. There wasn't yet any light at all at the end of the tunnel. I was tugging at my hair, waiting for it to fall out. I was staring at the wig sat on a polystyrene head on my bedside table, knowing that this thing that was freaking me out to even look at would at some point need to go on my head, and out in public. I didn't know if my friends would stay my friends. I didn't know if I would keep my job. I didn't know if I would even be alive at this point.
People told me about the Willow Foundation. It is a charity that organises special days for seriously ill 16-40 year olds. I thought it sounded wonderful but I didn't really think I should contact them. I didn't know when I would be well enough for a "special day". I didn't think I could or should plan anything for the future. I didn't want to tempt fate. I didn't know if I should have a special day. I have a job, I thought, I should probably just organise my own special day.
But just before I finished radiotherapy I decided to go for it. I filled out the form and gave it to my Breast Care Nurse to fill out the medical sections and send it off. So many of the friends I had made through the Younger Breast Cancer Network had been on special days and weekends organised by Willow and at the point when I was coming to the end of active cancer treatment, I realised there was light at the end of the tunnel. I could plan something nice. My Willow application was approved, and I was allocated a "Special Day Maker" Dominic who would organise everything for me!
I decided I'd like to go to Brighton, and discussed ideas with Dominic. The Willow Foundation covered travel, accommodation, and an amazing meal out, and Dominic booked and organised everything.
I can't really put in to words how grateful I am to the Willow Foundation, or how much this weekend has meant to me. It truly has been special. To know that I was able to have such a wonderful time without any of the hassle or stress of organising it (at a time when, quite frankly I've been that exhausted after further surgery that I just wouldn't have organised it) and to know that all of it is thanks to a wonderful organisation and all the people that fundraise for it and donate to it and work for it. It was amazing to go away for a special weekend that was selfishly all about the things I wanted to do, and to feel like, actually, yeah, I deserve it! It was amazing to do things that I had wanted to do for so long and feel so happy and excited that I could burst.
To anyone reading this who is aged 16-40 and undergoing treatment for a serious illness like cancer - please do get in touch with Willow. You deserve a special day, you really do!
In the future I'm going to fundraise for Willow. I want to be able to give something back, and help raise funds so that others can have special days too. Maybe once my surgeon lets me run again I'll work towards a half marathon or something!
Anyway.... here's what we did in Brighton! ........
Friday
I met Emily in London and we got the train to Brighton together. Being the good planner and organiser that I am I was armed and ready with bubbly for the train journey. :-)
We arrived in Brighton and were taken by taxi organised by Willow to our B&B, Strawberry Fields, located right by the sea and the Big Wheel. It was lovely! We were given ice tea on arrival which was much needed as it was so hot in Brighton - perfect weather! We dropped our bags off and headed to Daisy's Nail Company to get our nails done. Being the good planner and organiser that I am I was armed and ready for that with more bubbly! :-) It was SO nice to be pampered. The staff at Daisy's were absolutely lovely and both me and Emily love our neat, pretty nails!
That evening we went out for fish at chips to Bardsley's, which was recommended by some of my Brighton friends and which I'd recommend to everyone else too.
Saturday
One of the most fun, most best days OF MY LIFE! The day was started with bacon and egg butties brought in a basket to our room while we got ready to head out for a day at the beach and pier. The weather was absolutely stunning!
First we went on the big wheel. This was Emily's suggestion so I was a bit surprised when the door to our little pod shut and she told me she doesn't like heights and might start freaking out when we reached the top! Hahahaha! Luckily she held it together, the views were absolutely amazing.
It goes round and round and you kind of swing round and upside down over the sea. It's A. MAZE. ING.
The pier has all the classics - rollercoaster, crazy mouse, waltzers, carousel, haunted house, dodgems, helter skelter (the one thing I refuse to go on. Helter Skelters terrify me.)
After several hours on the pier we headed down to the sea. The beach was absolutely packed. It was a perfect summer day and everyone was happy! We got cockles and muscles, and ice creams, paddled in the sea.....
That evening we had a table booked at Riddle and Finn's beach restaurant courtesy of the Willow Foundation. Riddle and Finn's are the best seafood restaurant in Brighton and I was about to tick another couple of things off the bucket list - eating lobster and oysters. OH MY DAYS. It was incredible. When I am filthy rich I'm going to move to Brighton and go there for champagne, oysters, and lobster every week! We ate oysters, lobster, crab, mixed shellfish mariniere which included clams, muscles, whelks, winkles, razor clam and things I couldn't name! I love seafood so much, and it was so nice to try so many new things, all of which I loved.
To finish off the day we had a drink on the beach then went back to the pier where we attempted but failed to get into the haunted house (just closed!) and played on the 2p slot machines. Here's a handy tip for your next trip to the pier! If you are kicked off a machine because the arcade is closing, they give you the toy you were trying to win :-)
I honestly think this might have been the most fun day of my life!
Sunday
On Sunday we had a few hours to mooch around the Lanes.
The highlight was "lunch" (cake and chocolate) at the incredible Choccywoccydoodah, which, if you haven't heard of it, is probably the most extravagant and surreal chocolatier in the world.
I left chocolate. Unfinished. Me! Choccywoccydoodah defeated me! In the most heavenly way possible though. And only temporarily - as I sit at home typing this I am eating choccywoccydoodah chocolate I bought in their shop!
I really had the best weekend ever. THANK YOU SO MUCH to the Willow Foundation.
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