Warren Street

There I am on the tube to my internship induction.

A huge opportunity for me and my dream job.

Only a short journey with just 5 stops.

Next Stop Warren Street

Suddenly my heart is in my throat.

The air is thin.

My eyes begin to water.

My hands are shaking....

Of all the things to trigger me, I never thought of a tube station being one of them.

Why Warren street?

You see that is where I spent most of 2013.

Sitting on that tube.

Not knowing what I was going to see.

My sister was ill from Christmas eve 2012 and the problem is no one really knew what was wrong with her.

She was ill. Seriously ill.

I was still at university but found myself spending more time at home as my sister get more ill as I needed my family but more importantly they needed me.

That's the thing, I don't regret having to retake a year of university or losing a boyfriend as I was spending so much time away because I had to do it. 

My family needed me and I stepped up. I don't regret that.

It was pancake day, we had the usual routine of all the children sitting round the kitchen table whilst my mum tried (and on the odd occasion succeeded) to perfectly flip the pancake.

The phone rang.

What you have to try and understand is when someone you love is ill, every time the phone rings your heart drops. It's emotionally exhausted constantly trying to work out what is being said on the phone, if it is the hospital or just my nan rambling on about her cats.

This time I knew straight away it was the hospital.

I could see it in my mums face, the watery eyes, the hand over the mouth trying to compose herself when her heart is being broken.

"I have to go to the hospital now" 

She runs out the room, grabs her shoes but you can tell she has no idea what she's doing.

I grab her arm and ask her to tell me what they said.

"Charlotte's having internal bleeding, they don't know why and they don't know if it's fatal but they need me to go up there"

Tears filled eyes look at me.

"I'll come with you, we'll get the train up"

A 50 minute train ride can feel like a life time. There we both were sitting on a train having no idea what we were going to see.

Your brain goes into over load playing different scenes out in your head of what could happen, arriving and having the doctor say the dreaded "I'm terribly sorry, we did all we could"

I couldn't bare to think about it, and I could see on my mum heartbroken face the same thing was going through her mind. 

My mum had always been very strong, cold almost at times but there she was crying her eyes out. I'd never seen her look so fragile.

I think that's one of the worst things, seeing your parents cry because they're not strong enough to look after you, right now you have to look after then.

I grabbed her hand and smiled.

"I always remember when we were little going shopping in Croydon, Charlotte in the push chair, and we went into the Disney store had a look around and then left to go do some other shopping. We're halfway across the shopping centre when we look down to see Charlotte with a Winnie the Pooh bear double the size of her"

Mum began to laugh, the first smile I'd seen on her in hours.

"I completely forgot about that, I used to use it in my police talks to school about shop lifting."

Next stop Warren street,

We'd been on this route so many times we knew when to stand up, what side the doors opened and the best way to get to the hospital from the station.

The hospital is this huge glass tower. It's quite daunting but sometimes I'd be up there 5 days a week.

My biological parents don't get on. I'm sure they must of at one point but I've never known them that way.

They were refusing to talk to each other.

Therefore I had to organise when they were both visiting hospital so they weren't there at the same time.

I was the middle man.

Seems crazy you think they'd just get along for the sake of Charlotte but lets not get into that.

I didn't want Charlotte to not have a visitor so even if a family member didn't visit we'd organise for the play therapist or aromatherapist to come in and see her.

I'd basically fill in the gaps.

My mum and dad would tell me days they could do and I'd come in all the days they couldn't.

It was much easier when my older brother was home (He's in the navy) as we'd split the visits between us: it gave me a bit of a break.

Also Charlotte loved seeing him and she would always mention how she missed him.

Anyway back to the story, my mum and myself go up to the twelve floor.

Whilst Charlotte was no longer a Cancer patient as her conditions were probably caused by the cancer she was in the Teenage cancer ward, an amazing ward supported by the Teenage cancer trust.

We got into her room and she was sitting up.

Overwhelmed by seeing us she just burst into tears and sobbed her heart out.

She was scared and so were we.

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Blog love

xxxxx

Why I love my little brother.

It's not a very well kept secret but my little brother Oliver is my favourite member of the family.

He's weird and wonderful. 

When asked what kind of pet he'd like... he replied with "A turnip"

When he was around 2 years old and didn't know many words he had an irish accent. There no one Irish in our family yet my mother had some how given birth to a Leprechaun.

When we were on a plane back from holiday he asked me where the sea was, I told him it was the big blue bit and pointed out the window. He asked if that is where ducks live?... So close...but no that's a pond.

He sleep runs. Not sleep walks. Sleep runs. He runs up and down the hall in his sleep. It's very strange...

The most memorable moment with my little brother was last year.

I had just broken up with my boyfriend that evening so was too upset to read him his bedtime story like I normally did.

I couldn't sleep that night. I lay awake at 5 o'clock in the morning feeling sad and heartbroken when Oliver came in my room. Still eyes half shut.

"What are you doing Ollie?"

"I..." He obviously tried to say something but his little brain was far to tired for that.

He climbed into my bed, hugged me and went to sleep.

That is when I knew I'll be fine because there will always be one boy who loves me with all his heart.

Man that was cheesey

Sorry about that guys

Blog love

xxx

The terrifying truth

I love the new trending topic #Yestoallwomen

They have very good points and has changed the way I see some things.

You see,

I grew up with a police woman for a Mum who mainly worked on the rape squad. 

I was taught to cross the road to check if you are being followed.

To if you are being followed to run to the nearest house or most public place to get help.

To walk in the middle of the road late at night (obviously not when there are cars there) as that way you can see all your surroundings.

To if you are walking late at night have a plan of what you would do if you were attacked, where you would run etc.

This is probably the same for most girls, they were given the safety talk growing up by their parents about being safe.

I was told that if heaven forbid I ever was raped to try and notice any distinguishable features: hair colour, eye colour, clothes, any tattoos etc.

I was told if I ever was raped to not change my clothes until I had been to the police station as they are used as evidence.

I always thought rape was a stranger in a dark alley way late at night but what if the rapist is someone you know?

What if it's a boyfriend or husband, Is that rape?

What if you say no but don't physically resist, Is that rape?

What if you are both drunk, Is that rape?

What if you are asleep, Is that rape?

I only learned recently that, all of that is rape.

You'll be surprised at how many people are affected by this, how terrifyingly normal it is for a girl to be raped.

We taught all these way to avoid being raped, told not to dress provocatively or to tease guys but...

Surely we should be focusing on teaching people not to rape?