My heart broke for BBC news presenter Joanna Gosling, who was so moved reading the terrible story of the four children who fell through the ice in Solihull she cried live on air.
To me, that is not a sign of unprofessionalism in a journalist but proof of a tender heart in a woman.
I have barely stopped thinking about the children’s parents since then. I tried to imagine what I’d say to them, but could think of no words.
Losing a child is unimaginable. Those parents are in a hell none of us can understand. My mind is so scared of experiencing even a second of their pain it dare not let my thoughts go anywhere near there.
So the only thing I can think to say to those poor, broken parents is: “I can’t imagine how you feel.”
When you’re in deep grief like that, you hear other people’s words but they don’t reach far enough into your heart to help heal it. When I lost my husband Colin 10 years ago, people rubbed my back and said, “I know how you feel.”
But they bloody didn’t.
When Colin was diagnosed with dementia, people stopped talking to me about him as if his condition was taboo. I know they didn’t talk about it in case they upset me, so I coped on my own.
But Sandra, my daughter-in-law Kim’s mum, had looked after a family member who had dementia and she really did know what I was going through and how to handle it. Colin always had a smile for Sandra. She really helped me.
Everyone grieves in their own way and I did my crying on my own. I hope the parents of those lovely children lost can somehow help each other.
Ronaldo whine not fine with me
I’ve explained before that, as a born and bred Welsh woman, I will always support my home country above all others. But that doesn’t mean I support whichever team opposes England and, since we’re all British, I was disappointed to see them kicked out of the World Cup.
Penalties are the worst way to lose. Putting so much pressure on one player feels unfair. No wonder some of the team were in tears because they’d played so well.
I remember our Robert missing a penalty against Man City when he played for Crewe. He cried all the way home. Mind you, he was only 13 at the time.
So although I feel for the England players’ tears and young footballers who cry when they face big letdowns, I have no sympathy for Cristiano Ronaldo blubbing when Portugal lost.
While his players were still applauding fans for travelling all the way to Qatar, Ronaldo – a role model to millions – spat his dummy out and stormed off. His were huffy, spoiled tears and I’ve no time for them.
Choccies are my new bad habit
Still no cigarettes. My cousin John rings me every Sunday and said, after breaking a 53-year habit, he is proud of me.
But now I’ve got an addiction to Cadbury’s mini rolls. And crumpets spread with so much butter it runs down the grooves in my chin. Then there’s the £5 boxes of Marks & Spencer biscuits which I keep buying for presents then thinking “sod it” and scoffing the lot.
I’m in agony but those biscuits are so delicious I make myself get upstairs to unearth them from my hiding place.
I love the hexagon ones, with really thick chocolate, the ones in orange paper, the ones in blue paper, the ones with ginger. Hell, I love them all, which is why a box only lasts two days.
I was going to give all my friends and family a box each so we could share their gorgeousness. But I’m too ashamed to keep asking Kim to buy me replacement boxes, so now they’ll be getting bottles of wine.
Go steady, Freddie
Thankfully Freddie Flintoff is going to be alright after his latest Top Gear crash.
It shows what huge risks people take when they want to do something they love.
Why else would Grand Prix drivers and astronauts take their lives in their hands?
If my Robert was driving cars at speed like that, I’d say: “Where’s your sense? You’ve got a family at home. How old are you, for goodness’ sake.”
Keep calm & Carey on
I’ll be alone this Christmas, just like last year, and I’m honestly happy with that. I can’t put one foot to the floor without it hurting and I don’t like people to see I’m in pain.
But I’ll be speaking to people all day on the phone. And Kim, who’s married to my eldest son Jonathan, will pop round with Christmas dinner.
I can belt out Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas Is You from my imaginary stage.
And I can eat as many brussels sprouts as I like with no one to apologise to afterwards.
And I’ll imagine that next Christmas, if I have my new pair of hips, I’ll dance the Hokey Cokey around the street.
Tone down the Meghan-phone
I’ve had enough of Harry and Meghan. I’ve never forgiven them for doing the Oprah interview when the Duke of Edinburgh was in hospital. This Netflix nonsense is way too far.
I loved Meghan when she married Harry and applauded him marrying for love. But I did think it was strange that, apart from her mum, none of her family or non-famous people were her guests.
Where was the overweight auntie, the niece who cut her own fringe and the cousin who wore a suit for the first time in 20 years? Don’t we all have them – and doesn’t gathering them all together make weddings wonderful?
Instead, Meghan invited Oprah and Serena Williams. To me, that showed she was an actress playing to the cameras and she hadn’t learned the most vital lesson in life: that family always comes first.
Thank you for all the beautiful cards, craft, letters, calendars and, of course, chocolate you have sent.
Even though I live on my own, you remind me I’m never really alone.
I’ll be imagining you all enjoying a cosy Christmas and wishing you all a wonderfully merry time.
And I’ll be back early in the New Year – hopefully wearing a new dressing gown if Santa can overlook my naughtiness.
If you would like to contact Val, please email features@mirror.co.uk or write to Val Savage, PO Box 7290, E14 5DD. The Mirror makes a donation to the Alzheimer’s Society in lieu of payment.
