Merry Christmas from just me

Video of photos made for Sam's funeral 
 


Dear friends and family

As I hope you all know, this year has been a difficult one for me. On 6 September Sam died unexpectedly following a fall and an inoperable brain bleed. You can read more details elsewhere on the blog. I should add that before September we managed some travelling and other adventures, although almost no sailing, and you can read about that on the blog too.

Sam was 83 and it was gradually getting more difficult for him to do things and for me to cope. He was walking less and using a wheelchair more, and his speech was harder to understand. I could see the time ahead when we would have to sell the boat, and only travel to very accessible locations. I don't think he was by any means ready to die, but he would have hated a long decline and having more carers, or even worse moving into a care home. 

I miss him terribly, but to some extent the Sam I miss is the one from before his stroke in 2012, which dulls the pain somewhat. The funeral and its preparation brought out many wonderful memories of Sam over the years and you can watch the video of images (also shown above) that we put together for the funeral. I know that he would have wanted me to make the most of life on my own, so that's what I'm trying to do... I'm definitely not planning to rush out and look for a new partner, but I do have plans to sail around Britain next year in his memory.

Of course Sam's death has also been a blow to his sons, all of whom have been a wonderful support for me. In autumn 2022, Guy, Kai and Ivy moved to a rented house in Leiston after they were evicted from their house in Reydon. Not long before Sam's death they were told that they were being evicted again, as the owner of the house needed to sell it. We decided to put in an offer which was accepted while Sam was in hospital. My mother and I lent Guy the money, and with house purchases a bit sluggish at the moment it all went through remarkably quickly. Ivy has just celebrated her fifth birthday, and she started school the day before Sam died – talk about life changes all coming together. At least they didn't have to move house! With Ivy at school Guy has been job-hunting and will be starting a new role in January, but despite Kai's support and Ivy being her adorable self, it's been a challenging time for him.

Ivy's first day at school, on her fifth birthday, and eating breakfast in Hoxne

Ben and Anne fortunately bought their house in Kimberley, outside Nottingham, three years ago. Less fortunately the company where Ben has been working since leaving university has been taken over. He was not impressed with the communication and management skills of the new owners, and applied for voluntary redundancy, which he got, after a fair bit more miscommunication. So currently he is taking a well-deserved breather after some stressful years. Anne luckily enjoys her job and will continue there, so they will be able to manage financially.

In November I was at a yoga weekend in Peterborough  – something I have done once or twice a year for a while. This time, of course, I didn't need to arrange for anyone to care for Sam. I realised while there that I was only 90 minutes drive away from Ben and Anne's house. It's true that it wasn't exactly on the way home, but I was able to drive up, give Ben a hug and have a cup of tea, and only the cats minded that I was home late. 

Portraits by Hockney and Holbein

So being solitary has its compensations. It still seems odd to do something spontaneously without researching accessibility or planning weeks in advance. A couple of times I have been to concerts, once very close to home in Wingfield to see Leveret, and once at the wonderful Apex in Bury to see the even more wonderful Eliza Carthy and Jon Boden. I've also seen the David Hockney portraits and Holbein drawings in London, so I have been more arty than I have for years, and it's all balm for the soul. Next spring I have booked a place on a group walking holiday in Malta, and of course I plan lots of sailing, subject to expensive work on Kalessin being completed (keel rebedded, shroud plates remade, new solar panels etc etc).

Running (new trail shoes), festive walk with the Nordic group, and a wet Macmillan Mighty Hike in Northumberland

I have realised how much I value my friends, especially the female ones. (Sorry chaps). Thank you to Alex, Dee and Mal especially, Charlotte and Carol and everyone from my Nordic walking group, and Sally and all of Stradbroke run club. Thank you to the CA and everyone there, especially Lucy, for being so understanding and supportive. Thank you to my patient and loving siblings and their spouses, and especially to my beloved mother Patricia, who is now 96, slowing down a tiny bit physically but still as sharp as ever. I have given her instructions that she is not to die for a few months at least, as I really need her! And she loves me so much that after I begged her very nicely, she is joining us for Christmas lunch at my sister's house, even though in many ways she'd rather have a day of peace and quiet. She's had a challenging year with her twin sister Sonia, who lives in Cornwall, and is struggling with both physical and mental issues and phoning my mother multiple times a day. A few days after the funeral I managed to get down to visit Sonia for the first time in many years.

Who knows what 2024 will bring to her and to all of us.

If you were one of the many people who wrote, emailed, phoned, came to the funeral or just thought of us after Sam's death, thank you to you too. Please do keep in touch. I need all of you.

Merry Christmas, and fair winds and smooth waters for 2024.

Happy memories with Sam in 2023. From top left, with Anne and Ben in Nottingham, swimming in Germany, in Barcelona cathedral, and enjoying a beer in Reims

Eliza Carthy and Jon Boden on their Wassail tour




Around Britain: the Sam Brown memorial cruise 2024


Sam and I always wanted to sail around Britain but after his stroke it was not a practical option, as it would have been very difficult to get him on and off the boat in moorings and anchorages. So in 2024 I plan to sail around Britain in his memory. I have even set up a JustGiving page to raise money for the Stroke Association. 

  • Weather and everything else permitting, I would set off in mid-May, travelling anticlockwise from our base on the River Orwell in Suffolk, through the Caledonian Canal.
  • I hope to spend June and the first part of July in Western Scotland. 
  • In mid-July I would leave the boat and return home for five weeks or so to produce the September edition of Cruising
  • Then in mid-August I would return to the boat and (unless I decide to keep the boat in Scotland for a while) sail her inside Ireland down to the Scillies and back along the south coast, with a diversion to the Channel Islands to scatter Sam's ashes, returning home to Suffolk by early October.
If you are interested in doing any part of the voyage with me, please get in touch. I would particularly value help on the long route to Inverness, as I have never sailed north of Lowestoft on the east coast. I haven't yet decided where we'd stop but I'd definitely want to spend a couple of nights in or near Newcastle, where I was a student.

Order of service

Here is a Google Drive link to the order of service for Sam's funeral - designed by me! 

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1oH_P9d2gJ80eifj6VoPfy5zc0ZjJOJkNuYpDohu9TxI/edit?usp=sharing



Sam's funeral

I thought it might be helpful to put details of Sam's funeral online. There will be an inquest into his death because he had a fall, but we now know that it will not delay the date.

Sam Brown, 1940-2023.
The photo was taken only a couple of months ago, in Reims

The funeral will be at Seven Hills Crematorium, Nacton, Ipswich on 28 September, 2023, at 2.15pm. It is just off junction 58 of the A14.

Afterwards there will be a gathering at Haven Ports Yacht Club, Suffolk Yacht Harbour, IP10 0LN. Turn left at the entrance to the marina and head for the big red lightship.

Please don't feel you need to wear black or formal clothes – Sam would want you to wear whatever you feel is right. 

No flowers please, but donations to the Stroke Association if you wish. There will be a JustGiving page shortly, or send cheques (what are those?) to Susan Whymark Funeral Service Ltd, Chestnut House, 12 Progress Way, Eye, IP23 7HU

Sail away, my love

Sam Brown, 28 May 1940 - 6 September 2023.      

On Sunday 27 August, Sam was feeling a bit under the weather and stayed in bed for most of the day. Around 4.30pm he decided to get up, so I helped him get dressed and put on a new pair of shoes, which had been resoled to help him walk better. After only a few steps he somehow tripped and crashed to the floor, banging his head on a metal clothes stand. I was just around the corner and didn't see him go. His scalp was bleeding from a couple of scrapes but after a groggy moment he was lucid. However, I couldn't get him up, so we called 999. He was checked all over by the paramedics and pronounced ok - no lacerations, no neurological deficits, just a bit of a shock and  blood all over the place! 

On the Bank Holiday Monday he was feeling a bit better and got up and sat outside for a while, and watched TV with me, but was obviously very tired and went back to bed early after eating very little. On the Tuesday he seemed worse so I called the GP who said it was normal for him to seem tired after a bad fall. We thought he might have a UTI so they tested his urine, which was positive, and prescribed antibiotics.

By the Wednesday Sam becoming even more confused and was unable to understand what I was saying to him. I hoped that this was caused by the UTI and would improve when the antibiotics kicked in but there was no improvement. After another very disturbed night I found him at 7am on the Thursday sitting on the edge of the bed, icy cold, but asleep. When I woke him he put his good arm around me, but was not responding in any other way, so again I called 999. Two different paramedics arrived and checked him, but by this time he was drifting in and out of consciousness. With the help of three more ladies from another ambulance they got him out and loaded him up to take him to the Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital – I had decided to follow in my own car. I don't believe he regained consciousness again.

After I arrived at NNUH a consultant explained that Sam had suffered a bleed on the brain from which he was unlikely to recover. While we were talking, the consultant took a call from Addenbrooke's who confirmed that, as a stroke survivor and taking blood thinners, Sam was not a candidate for surgery. Even if he had been scanned on the Sunday evening straight after the fall, even if he had been able to receive the surgery, he would never have returned to his previous state of health. The blood thinners which had kept him alive for 11 years were now contributing to his death.

Initially the consultant thought Sam might live up to 24 hours. With no phone signal in the inner room of the emergency department I ended up leaning on a windowsill in the emergency waiting room while I called Guy - who was sailing Kalessin towards the Woodbridge Haven buoy with Kai and Ivy on board - Ben, at work in Nottinghamshire, and Tim and Nick in Guernsey. Guy turned the boat around and hurtled back to the Orwell, Ben drove home to collect Anne and charged down the motorway, but Tim and Nick decided against coming over because it seemed at that time they would arrive too late, and flights were still seriously disrupted following the air traffic control technology issues earlier in the week.

Then began a strange, surreal six days while Sam gradually weakened but just kept on breathing. We moved from the emergency department room to a tiny curtain area, then a very pleasant side room in the Acute Medical Unit for 24 hours, then to a windowless room known as The Cupboard on Brundall ward, and finally to a sideroom on Brundall which did at least have a window and bathroom, and view of the sky, but looked west over the hospital plant area with a constant sound of machinery interrupted by random revving noises and the sound of the delivery yard beyond. My brother Piers and his wife Dominique live in Norwich and turned their house into a welcoming hotel for Guy and Kai, Ben and Anne. On Saturday 2 September we even had a visit from my sister Lucilla and her husband Mark, who brought my wonderful mother, now 96 but still going strong, to say goodbye. 

The hospital found me a folding bed and I spent most of the time with Sam, surviving with my indispensable iPhone and Kindle, borrowed pillows, knickers and T-shirts, and a strange mixture of white toast and tea on the ward, healthy but expensive M&S salads from the hospital shop, and solid and generous suppers from the hospital canteen. I tried to get outside for a walk every day when Guy or Ben was sitting with Sam, and given the vast distances in NNUH, which is a big hospital, I did get a reasonable amount of exercise. But I never want to sit on a bedside hospital chair again.

We had wonderful support from the palliative care team. Sam was taken off all drips and antibiotics on the evening of the day that he arrived, but had hyoscine and later glycopyrronium to reduce the secretions that he could no longer swallow, and midazolam to keep him relaxed and reduce the chance of seizures, although he did have a few.

In the middle of this poor Ben developed a sore throat and started feeling quite ill. Yes, it was Covid, probably caught at the hospital, and Anne got it a day later. We didn't tell anyone and they continued to visit, much more briefly and wearing masks. Kai had to head home on Saturday and Guy on Sunday because our lovely granddaughter Ivy was about to start school – talk about major life incidents coinciding!

Finally, just before 10am on Wednesday 6 September, Sam's breaths got slower with long, long gaps, and as I held his hand he finally slipped away. Wherever you are, my dear love, I hope the sun is shining, the water is sparkling and you are slipping over a flat sea with a F3-4 just aft of the beam. Plus Mark Knopfler serenading you from a corner of the cockpit.


If you are reading this during September 2023, you might like to know that Sam's funeral will be at Seven Hills Crematorium, Nacton, Ipswich at 2.15pm on Thursday 28 September.

Not sailing

A night on board in May...

2023 has not been a good year for sailing on Kalessin. Even my plan to fit a new VHF with cockpit mic came to nothing when our electrician disappeared off the radar and declined to do anything. I did however manage to replace the anchor chain and achieve a few other minor improvements, and early on the morning of 24 May took Kalessin down to Landguard on my own, just to prove that I could. (Sam was at home in bed).

Sagrada Familia

We did manage three days in Barcelona and a short big-ship cruise in the Med. Flying with Sam was ghastly but Barcelona was its lovely self and we stayed in a pleasant corner of Barceloneta.

In June, our plan A was to join the Westerly Owners' cruise to the Channel islands, but that failed to happen after two lots of crew dropped out, for extremely good reasons. We'd planned to join the N France leg of the cruise but then David Jibb, who was organising that leg, also dropped out and the leg was eventually abandoned. With no support at all I couldn't face doing the trip with just Sam and me.

So it was on to plan B - beg, borrow or pay for crew to take us across the North Sea to the IJmuiden and into the IJsselmeer. We approached Halcyon who found us a crew member, and it was looking good. But you may remember that early June saw weeks and weeks of north-easterlies, the worst possible wind for that crossing, especially with Sam on board. We had to be back in London for a family gathering by the 25th and the window looked smaller and smaller.

At last plan C saw us abandon the sea and drive to Germany - at such short notice we couldn't get an accessible cabin on the Stena ferry to the Hook of Holland, so we made the most of a tunnel crossing by spending a night in Reims and visiting Heidelberg, long on my bucket list, on the way to Germany.


Cool beer and an excellent meal in Reims



Swimming in the wonderful Ebsermare pools

We had a wonderful two weeks in Pretzfeld with glorious weather, in the mid-20s every day. With just me to help, Sam found the stairs up to our apartment even more of a struggle than usual, so his outings were limited, but we enjoyed what we did and I got out every day, usually quite early, to walk, run or cycle in the lovely countryside.

Fabulous views

Me on a bench put up by my father many years ago

One slight hiccup was that Sam hurt the wrist on his good hand towards the end of our stay, which made it hard for him even to get out of bed. Fortunately at Lucilla's suggestion we ordered a wrist support from Amazon.de (German pharmacies don't keep them in stock) and by the day we left Sam was able to descend the stairs fairly easily, phew!

July saw strong winds and really not very nice weather every time we even considered going down to the boat. In mid-July we had a lovely long weekend in Alnwick, Northumberland, visiting our son Ben and his fiancee Anne in Kimberley, outside Nottingham, on our way north. On the Saturday I completed a Macmillan Mighty Hike, raising just under £900 in total for the 26-mile walk. On the Sunday my feet were a bit sore (!) and I couldn't face pushing Sam's wheelchair up and down steep hills, so we drove on a fabulous road from Alnwick to Elsdon, in the Northumberland National Park, and ate ice-creams beside a gibbet with a view.


On the way back we kept to the east of England, following the A19 to York, crossing the Humber Bridge and having a picnic at the southern end before crossing Lincolnshire and Norfolk back to Hoxne. It was a wonderful drive.

We managed one more night on the boat in August and for the first time since it was built managed to access the accessible shower in the "new" SYH shower block, hooray. Our plan was to sail in in early September with Guy, Kai and Ivy, and then with Lucilla and Mark, but when Sam left the boat on 19 August neither of us knew that he would never see it again.

Herrmann Brown New Year message

 


For the first time ever I have failed to send out our annual update before Christmas. Many apologies and I hope it is still worth reading.

At the end of 2022 we are not very different from how we were a year ago: Sam and I are older, greyer and slower but still soldiering on.

For various reasons neither Ben nor Guy was with us on Christmas Day 2021 (although we all got together between Christmas & New Year). Instead we enjoyed Christmas lunch with three friends from Camilla's singing group. Sadly we lost two of them during the year: Mary, in her late 80s, died suddenly in April; Sally, in her early 60s, had an inoperable liver tumour and declined very rapidly, dying early in December. Both of them are very much missed. 

Sally & Mary a few years ago

In January we managed to spend a few days at a whimsical cottage in Derbyshire which was almost accessible for Sam, and to see Ben while we were there.  

Florrie's Rest, mostly on one level, with a mezzanine second bedroom and bath reached by an external staircase

Around the same time I started the lengthy process of getting an electric charging point installed at home for our hybrid Passat. Owing almost entirely to the inefficiency of Ovo and its suppliers it was finally fitted in August. I won't bore you with the details. My experience of charging the Passat away from home has been less than brilliant (in fact only once at a public charging point, although several times from friends' power supplies), but perhaps if it was fully electric I would persevere further.
 
One of many charging points that hasn't actually worked
 

In February I took a short course in Nordic Walking to see if I liked walking with poles. Somewhat to my surprise, I did enjoy it, and have especially enjoyed walking in company with the group run by my tutor on and off through the year. My poles accompanied me on the Macmillan Mighty Hike, 26.4 miles down the Stour Valley, on a hot day at the end of July. They were also with me when I walked the distance of the London Marathon on 2 October. As long as you cover the full marathon distance on the one day and use the official app, it doesn't matter if you walk. I did it in three laps so I could get back to give Sam his breakfast, lunch and tea. I did get my medal but missed out on the adoring crowds... 

With my Nordic Walking group

It was a very hot day but lovely Suffolk scenery and good company. I raised just over £1000 for Macmillan 

Three laps to walk the virtual London Marathon in October. I started in the dark

London Marathon medal

Not running a half-marathon that day

Running has been less of a success this year. In April I was due to run the Black Dog half-marathon at Beccles. I'd done all the training and felt reasonably good about the event itself. Then three days before, I went down with what seemed to be a bad cold. Three Covid tests were negative but I just didn't feel up to a 13-mile run, so I stayed at home. On the day after race-day I woke up with no sense of smell and tested positive - as did Sam. Despite all the vaccinations I had a week of being not able to do much at all, and my lungs and overall stamina have never got back to where they were. The longest run I've completed since April is the Adnams 10k at Southwold in November. Grrr. Here's hoping things improve. Sam coughed for a few weeks but otherwise was probably less affected than me.

In May my brother Piers managed to get all of our generation of family together - my siblings and our mother, my first cousins and their mother, and everyone's partners, children, and Ivy (our granddaughter) as the the sole representative of the next generation. I had to drive to Chelsea with Sam and my mother, Guy and Ivy, but it was worth it. My mother is now 95 and her horizons are reducing, but she is still pretty healthy and capable, and living on her own in her huge house. (although with the price of fuel as it is, only heating select portions of it at the moment).

All the living descendants of my paternal grandparents, plus partners, in London


Ivy with her second cousins once removed (possibly...)

My wonderful mother, now 95
 

We didn't sail as much as we'd hoped this summer but we did manage a three-week cruise with friends and family to London, Chatham, Burnham and Brightlingsea. If you're interested you can read all about it in this blog entry. We are also looking for crew to sail with us to the Channel Islands for our summer cruise, mostly in June - contact us if you'd like to join in.

Under the QEII bridge at Dartford, with Ben

In August Sam and I cruised on a big Princess ship to the Canary Islands. Our P&O cruises in March 2020 and March 2021 were cancelled because of Covid, but we had another booked in March 2022. In February 2022, P&O phoned to say they were proposing to downgrade us from an accessible balcony cabin to an inside cabin (no window) because our cabin was needed for Covid isolation. We were not impressed, and cancelled. We managed to get a cabin on a summer cruise to the Baltic with Princess, but unfortunately the ports of call included St Petersburg and Mr Putin put paid to that one. We ended up on a cruise at a time of year when we didn't really want to go (school holidays) to a place we didn't really want to go to. With a certain amount of dogged determination we managed to enjoy ourselves, helped by an excellent accessible excursion in Madeira.

Accessible excursion in Madeira

And in September Sam and I took a road trip to the Herrmann family house in what was once East Germany, now in a highly newsworthy location with the Tesla gigafactory just a few kilometres away and the German section of the Nordstream 1 and 2 pipelines running literally through the woodland behind the house. Part of the house is on one level (although with four steps up to the front door) so Sam was able to get about and use most of the facilities. The slightly mad three-storey "tower" was too much for him, however, so I was able to retreat to the top of the tower for time on my own. On the way there we stopped in the stunning city of Schwerin, at an excellent hotel, and on the way back we revisited our old haunt of Dordrecht in the Netherlands, and stayed in an extraordinary hotel in a converted water tower. It was a lot of driving for me but a lovely adventure.

Sam and Schloß in Schwerin

Tea outside the house in Wulkow. Sam managed the outside steps ok

My mountain bike is now more than 30 years old but was perfect for the flat but sometimes very bumpy forest trails

Happy memories in Dordrecht - we have moored here in Kalessin a couple of times
 

Sam is now 82 and is noticeably slower and less mobile than before - and there are many days when I don't understand anything he says. Still, we continue going to Second Chance Stroke Club near Bury St Edmunds each week, communications group once a month, and we're making a big effort to get back to swimming once a week in our lovely local pool. In summer I became chair of the new East of England Patient & Public Voice Group for Stroke (that's the short version of the name), which involves understanding NHS acronyms, structures and strategies, and meeting every two months online to give our views on current projects (and much more stuff behind the scenes). We have managed to get to two workshops, and a conference about stroke care, in person, and Sam has very much enjoyed being a star of the show each time.

Guy has been creating beautiful ropework - it will be on Etsy soon

Ben is now a German citizen

Ivy (top centre) completely irresistible as an angel in her first nativity play

Guy, Kai and Ivy have recently moved from Southwold to Leiston, which is not too far away. Ben and Ann are living just outside Nottingham. It was lovely to see all of them on Christmas Day this year.

Anyway much love and Happy New Year to you all, and may we have fewer UK Prime Ministers and cheaper fuel in 2023...

Old rockers never die. Wishbone Ash on the Argus 50th anniversary tour at the excellent and very accessible Apex in Bury St Edmunds



Merry Christmas from just me

Video of photos made for Sam's funeral    Dear friends and family As I hope you all know, this year has been a difficult one for me. On ...