In an effort to get some steps in I walked to Geilston with Dash the dog. I shouldn’t drive there anyway, as it is just on the edge of our village.

That week was wonderful; all the things we did because the weather was so good. Blue skies from dawn till dusk. Bird song and the scent of the flowers and a breeze that was warmer than it had been recently.

We are a bit bored of the walks we do so it was a relief to go to the RSPB nature reserve for the first time this year.

This reserve is the setting of Wendy’s one and only ‘losing it’ episode that I have ever witnessed. They have a ridiculous app you need to use to pay for the car park and it wasn’t doing what it was meant to do, leading to a huge queue of disgruntled people begging to hand over their two pounds and being told that they had to do it on line. I think Wendy made a sarcastic comment about it but for her that is the equivalent of a full blown rage in another person!

She tells me she has ambitions to stop being so nice to people one day but she is really bad at being unkind in any way. I wish her luck and think it would do her good, though us people who benefit from her general good humour might be in for a surprise if it happens!

This time the app tried to make us pay fifty pounds for the car park so we quickly abandoned it; again feeling some tension rise as our desire for a walk on a spring day was getting clouded by the car park. Luckily the reserve have now invested in a card reader and our tension quickly diminished.

True to form Wendy was lovely to the staff member who had been bearing the brunt of other disgruntled visitors; slightly unfortunately the staff member, encouraged by Wendy’s praise for how she managed to keep calm and smile, despite provocation, then spent ages trying to persuade us to become members.

As we wandered into the woods, with their wild garlic, blue bells, celandines and wood anemones we talked about how, yet again, we had been getting stressed by the car park. Talking about it unstressed us which meant we relaxed and giggled a lot about nothing much.

At the pond we remembered the red squirrels we had seen last time and I saw marsh marigolds I wanted to take photos of but they were in the middle of a bog so remained unpictured. We did see our first butterflies of the year though.

In the orchid field Wendy noticed there were no orchids and pointed this out to me she then decided to start talking to me in French. As she knows about ten words in French this is always a bit confusing. When she was younger, she did the same with her friends in a tourist office. Every day they would go in, pretending to be French and every day the long suffering tourist officer would kick them out when they pretended not to speak English.

On this walk Wendy decided to be French again and greeted each person we passed with a cheery ‘Bonjour’ to my whispered entreaties for her not to. Still, she enjoyed it. The walk goes through woods and then along a board walk on a huge marsh where otters live, then through more woods, finally ending up at Loch Lomond where ospreys are often sighted. Despite Wendy’s silliness or maybe because of it, it was lovely walking beside her holding her hand. Luckily, she did not speak in French to one young family, as the man turned out to be a photographer who remembered taking pictures of me for a news article when Blackbird Singing came out. I did not recognise him and now feel slightly embarrassed at my awkward chat when he tried to hold a conversation. Wendy said later that I was delighted to be recognised and yes! I was. I like that sort of thing!

We saw no ospreys but we did see some geese!

In the evening we sat outside on the decking for tea. The day before we had found a new walk near Dumbarton. A long glen covered in wild garlic under the trees that covered its sides. That walk was truly special. We had set off determined to go somewhere new and there we were in the green space of the valley floor, next to a stream and then ultimately up in the fields that led back to Dumbarton. We collected bundles of the garlic and at home I made them into pesto with pine nuts, parmesan and olive oil and that is what we ate on the decking. Pesto Pasta which tasted like, I think, spring should taste. I drank white wine and Wendy drank coke and slowly the dusk gathered.

Anyway, by the Saturday, I was up at Geilston. Wendy hadn’t come along as her endometriosis was playing up. Initially, I sat on the bench by the entrance to the gardens and luxuriated in the sun and the daffodils in jars until Kath and others from Jeans Bothy arrived.

We spent ages chatting and I loved that, until finally we moved into the gardens. Within moments I had deserted my lovely group as they were concentrating on taking pictures of daisies and I had already spent ages in the area they were before they arrived. Also despite the ever present welcome, the wonderful connection that I treasure so much, I am always filled with doubt and often find my own company the safest. I can only harm myself when alone, no erratic comment can cause offence when I am alone. I daily do far worse to me in my ever present vision of myself and in some ways, I am at peace with that, alone, I am no threat at all.

Dash and I wandered down past the burn, past the walled garden and on to where the gunnera are just beginning to unfurl again. It was a smooth relaxed amble of a walk where my mind was quiet and the feel of the ground under my feet lovely. The shadows under the trees were wonderful as were the new blossoms and the sparkle of the sun on the water. Moments like these are very special, when there is no hurry and the pressure of work is far away and you know your friends are somewhere nearby and your family at home.

Back at the entrance to the gardens, I waited on my friends but concluded that they were caught up in their own worlds or had been way laid by the people making willow baskets besides the big house.

Memories of times like these are precious indeed. Slowly I have a gathering treasure chest of them which by and by might tip the scales away from my natural propensity to see only the sadness and darkness of life.

For this dawning light I have Wendy to thank, many other people too, but without her joy in life and still surprising to me; love of me, I imagine I would still be going in and out of hospital or maybe just wouldn’t be at all.

I am very, very, lucky. So many of the people I know have nothing approaching this.

As usual this is Schizophrenia too!

Thank you for reading this. You could can read more about our life in my memoirs START and Blackbird Singing, best to get it from Amazon just now, though you can message me for a discounted copy.

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