I almost lost my blog. For a few days, I was locked out and couldn’t get back in. I felt really sad, because I first started this blog in 2011. The lesson, I have had to tighten up my digital security because up until now, I have been pretty shocking at remembering passwords and emails for my various accounts across the board. This is what happened with my blog. I woke up with a huge desire to write. Which I haven’t had for ages, and when I tried to log on to my blog, I couldn’t get in. I tried to reset my password, but the username I had wasn’t working. Then the email address I thought was linked wasn’t receiving the recovery email. which also made contacting support pretty useless. So, I opened an ancient mailbox and started going through emails from 2008, trying to find my blog. I uncovered a few emails that landed up being useful and the short story is I am now writing again to a selection of readers that might or might not have followed me since the inception of this blog.

The long story is I found some incredible emails written to me from my grandad. I have spoken about him many times before on my blog, because he played a major role in my life. In many ways he paved a way for me of a life driven by richness in story and adventure. He was far from boring, everything was an adventure with him. Everyone was interesting to him and he spared a second for most people along his daily path. So much so that when he passed, the local pharmacists and florists all shed a tear. He was extra-ordinary.

My Uppa and Nunny used to write to me when I was living in London. They had this pink stationery with their names engraved on the bottom. And the letters were handwritten, detailed descriptions about their daily life and the adventures of their dog, Jock. Jock, by no means led an adventurous life. So, it was page about a vet visit or a walk on the common. Nothing I could have written about here (ironically, until now). I would get so excited when the matching pink envelope used to slip through my door in Fulham and I could get a little slice of my grandparents, who I loved with all of my heart.

When I started yachting, the method of communication had to change, as I could no longer rely on a fixed address. And so, they started emailing me. Over the last few months, I have been using my grandfather’s joyful energy to connect with to heal parts of myself. When down, I find myself journeying back to belly laughter at the dining room table, silly games around the braai and opera singing while driving with him to the pharmacy at 25km/h. He was full of life. So, the journey back down his emails was so nostalgic. Reading the various stages of loss he had to endure towards the end of his life – first Jock, then my Nunny and then his health. All of these he met with a poetic understanding that God was in control. But towards the end, his deepest desire was to be with Nunny.

And while this particular blog has not been my finest piece of creative writing, I just feel so happy to write and share again. It makes me feel good. I love to be able to express my thoughts.