Baby daughters do nonplussed with more severity than any adult.
Here Celia looks nonplussed in the finish area of the Hackney Half Marathon in May. Every day I remember to think how blessed I am that I have a healthy baby. This is easy to do when you have friends whose children need operations, even relatively minor ones, and you’re reminded of what an extraordinary strain it is upon them, how it shakes the foundations upon which ordinary complaints – about workload or running injuries or the heartless, self-serving pomposities who run our country – rest.
So the charity Sean, Brad (aka Brash) and I are running for, the Childhood Cancer Association, provides support for families who have children with cancer. Most of the charity I give is to cancer organisations – because it’s affected me, because I think there’s a cure around the corner, because its incidence can be reduced through informed choices, and because I am in awe of people who provide hospice care. And it’s been on my mind this week because of my friend Lisa Jardine, who finally succumbed to it aged only 71 and still at the peak of her powers. And of course I tend to give to British charities, for sound tax reasons and because that’s what I know. So Brad’s suggestion of a South Australia charity made perfect sense. Let’s think more globally, starting with SA.
Much as I would like to, I don’t believe in the power of prayer, so that’s what we need to do. Sermon over. Please give.