Task 15: Have a tiny heart tattoo

From the outset I've been a little anxious that this task would cause frissons in my social circles - and in truth I've known that it wouldn't be well received by everyone because a person very dear to my heart, namely daughter Lucy, was appalled at the idea when she first heard about it.  And I don't blame her either - I would have been mortified if my own mother had suggested doing such a thing.  

In March, the Hunot family met up for dinner in a London restaurant to celebrate Mother's Day. At this point only Lucy and Andrew knew about my proposed tattoo task.  Andrew was willing to support me (how had I managed to bring him onside? Aha, more on that later) and Lucy was running the 'no' campaign. Confident that Jonathan would share her views, Lucy outed my planned 'tat' task before we'd even been served our starters.  I braced myself for Jonathan's reaction.....but to her shock and my amazement, Jonathan didn't bat an eyelid - in fact he said he'd already suggested to Liz that she should get one done. Poor Lucy. By the end of the evening Liz and I had a provisional agreement in place to get inked up together. After some deliberation, Lucy agreed to come along with us on the basis of maintaining some control over my tattoo temptations.  And thus the die was cast.

So how come Andrew was showing such a relaxed attitude towards Task 13?  Well, my tattoo proposal was based on three criteria:

a)  it would be positioned in such a place that no one apart from Andrew would ever see it 
b)  it would be tiny
c)  it would be heart-shaped

Let me show you in a photo why I reckoned 'heart-shaped' would be a winning pitch. Here are a collection of presents that I've been given by Andrew over the last 5 years or so. Can you spot a theme?

On my 60th birthday I received an official go-ahead from Jonathan in the birthday card he and Liz gave me, although there were a few caveats (and I quote): '.....please make sure the tattoo is a) small b) subtle and c) doesn't have dad or any children/pet references to it!!' 

For the next 4 months Liz and I communicated regularly about Task 13. We mulled over designs, position (I selected a discreet location on my right hip and Liz chose her left foot), level of pain involved, possible adverse effects - and crucially, where to have the deed done. Liz and Lucy did some sterling work in checking out various parlours and reported back that they were all run by people with top to toe tattoos, multiple piercings and huge holes in their earlobes. Eek...... Then we discovered that Top Shop in Oxford Circus has a tattoo parlour called Metal Morphosis, situated next to their nail bar. Now that's more like it we thought - somewhere that would understand the concept of girlie tiny tattoos.

Appointments were duly booked at Metal Morphosis. Andrew had a momentary wobble when he read about a study demonstrating a link between having a tattoo and anger/rebelliousness.  I assured him that I would attend anger management classes if necessary. 

Last Saturday tat time was finally upon us. Liz, Lucy and I joined forces at Top Shop, and introduced ourselves to our tattoo artist Sarah, aka Lady S. She knew that two of us were to be seeing her. She shook Liz's hand, then Lucy's - and then as a polite afterthought, she shook mine too. When I told her that it was me who was to be one of her clients that day and why, to her credit she sounded rather excited and gave me a high five. Go Lady S!

I was first under the needle. I felt rather embarrassed at first - I mean, for goodness sake, a 60 year old woman having a tattoo on her hip....? But once Sarah got going, my focus instantly shifted from embarrassment to aargh, as the procedure was a tad more painful than I'd expected. Fortunately it only took about 2 mins to complete (compare that against the 5 hours it apparently took to complete the tattoo on Sarah's right forearm....) 

Then it was Liz's turn. The outline she'd chosen was a small boat.  She was extremely calm and very brave whilst her tattoo was being done. There did seem to be an awful lot of ink swishing about, but once it was wiped away, the little boat came to life on Liz's foot and it looked great!  

Liz and I were both given little pots of tattoo healing cream, and off the three of us went to celebrate with a bottle of prosecco. For the past few days we've been tending to our tattoo sites and watching them settle down. One week on, here they are........I've put a 5p piece against mine so that you can see how tiny it is.

Hold on a moment, it's just occurred to me that I'm nearing the end of the blog and I still haven't answered a key question - why oh WHY did I decide to have a tattoo?? Well........I think it's fair to say that I wanted to include an item on the list that was a bit 'left-field' (as Jonathan has so nicely put it). But as importantly it's given me a permanent reminder of my slightly crazy but very special sixtyat60 year - added to which it's a celebration of 38 years of wedded bliss to that 'hearty' husband of mine! 

A big hug and thanks to Liz for being the perfect companion/partner in crime on Task 13 and to the rest of my family for tolerating this quirky idea of mine. And the last word on Tattoogate from my chief critic Lucy?  When asked yesterday how she feels about my tattoo now, she admitted that she's 'come round to the idea'. Oooh - now what tattoo was my neighbour Rebeccca suggesting I could have on my left hip?

I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

If you would like to follow this blog click here for information on how to do so. 

Task 2: Walk dogs along the Seven Sisters, East Sussex

I'm going to start this post with a small confession.  I've lived in the Sussex area for a total of 38 years, and in all that time, I've never walked a single step along the Seven Sisters......that magnificent iconic stretch of chalk cliff coastline no more than half an hour's drive from our house. 

Many's the time I've driven along the coastal road from Eastbourne to Brighton and felt a real yearning to take a stroll there - and I'd go home and say to Andrew, 'We really must take the dogs for a walk along the Seven Sisters', a sentiment strongly supported by The Times, which regularly features it in Top Twenty lists of Coastal Walks You Really Should Do (see Number 8 below).  But I've never actually walked the walk (I'm beginning to think that this blog is exposing me as a hardcore procrastinator). 

I got chatting to my friend and shiatsu therapist Paulette about Task 2, and it wasn't long before I clocked the fact that Paulette knows the Seven Sisters well. She's also an experienced hill and mountain walker (she ascended Table Mountain with ease at the age of three score years and ten) and has recently become a valued member of a local ramblers club. Added to which she and I always have great conversations (a vital ingredient on a walk).  I signed her up for Task 2 before she had time to get out her woolly hat.

I must tell you about one slight amendment to this task. Technically I was required to take dogs for a walk. However I began to hear stories of sheer cliff edges without any protective fencing in the Seven Sisters area. I pictured Alfie our lovable but honest to God mad and hyperactive Labrador charging down a hill and launching himself into thin air.  Oooh.....it just doesn't bear thinking about. I didn’t have the same concerns about Mabel, who despite achieving notoriety for her Deer Hunter shenanigans recently, is generally much more circumspect in her actions (and crucially, deer don't usually hang out on cliffs).  So after careful consideration, Task 2 was duly changed to 'take dog for a walk....'  To ensure that Alfie doesn't feel completely left out, I've inserted a fetching pic of him for you.

Seven Sisters Day dawned last Friday. The weather was cloudy but dry and very still. I smuggled Mabel into the car whilst Alfie wasn't looking, and we drove to a small and ancient church in Friston where we met up with Paulette and her husband Jeremy. The exterior of the church was beautiful, and it nestled against a very striking backdrop of fields, sea and sky. We visited the interior of the church, and were especially touched by a 17th century monument to the Selwyn family, who had 6 daughters and 3 sons, but none survived infancy. We were glad to think that each of their tiny lives continue to be acknowledged hundreds of years later.

 

The churchyard boasts a very rare gate that rotates like a revolving door.  Jeremy decided that Paulette and I should test it out - and so of course we did. 

Paulette, Mabel and I bid Jeremy farewell and we set off across the fields towards the coast, whilst Jeremy drove to Birling Gap where we were to rendezvous at lunchtime. Twenty minutes later, I had my first sight of the cliffs. Wow - totally stunning!! Sheep were grazing in a very relaxed fashion just feet from the cliff edge (Paulette and I decided that evolution must have sharpened their health and safety awareness over many generations). An image of Mabel chasing sheep over the cliffs in a replay of Far From the Madding Crowd briefly popped into my head and I clutched her lead very tightly. But she continued to sit placidly by my side and  the views were glorious, I could have stood and gazed out to sea for hours.  

 

Here's the evidence that Mabel and I were both there, although Mabel is refusing to look at the camera (has she got her eye on those sheep I wonder.....?)

Paulette and I walked over three of the Sisters (NB we managed to continue talking the entire time, even when tackling a 1 in 2 incline - not bad eh) and arrived at Birling Gap at lunchtime. The tide was out, and visitors were strolling along the beach, studying the cliff face where a massive section of rock and chalk fell into the sea last year, and climbing over rocks to fish in rock pools. It's an idyllic setting and very sad to think that it's under such constant threat of erosion. 

Jeremy was waiting in the cafe (now run by the National Trust and very nice too) to meet and greet us. Amongst rich and varied topics of conversation over lunch, we talked about the challenges and frustrations of 21st century social media. On the basis of 'if you can't beat it....' we took a selfie. 

Paulette, Mabel and I then walked back to Friston. Mabel said that if Alfie was going to have his own photo in my blog, then she should have one too. So here she is, looking like a small sheep in need of a good sheering session.

A splendid walk indeed along the Seven Sisters - Mabel and I were expertly guided by Paulette, with Jeremy playing his part to ensure that Task 2 was completed in line with sixtyat60 rules. A huge thank you to both for a lovely day. I feel that I could now hold my head up in Sussex Ramblers society and I can't wait to return to those iconic Sisters for further exploration. And maybe.....just maybe.....we might try taking Alfie one day if a light sedative can be slipped into his breakfast bowl......

I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

If you would like to follow this blog click here for information on how to do so. 

Task 17: Pick at least 20kg of grapes in our mini vineyard

I have a rather sad story to tell you about this task. It all seemed to be going so well......

Firstly, perhaps I should give you a bit of background on this rather random sounding task. Four years ago we had our garden re-landscaped, and decided to establish a very small vineyard on a grassy slope that was looking a bit bare and empty. In truth 'vineyard' is much too grand a term to use - we have just 13 rows of vines with 10 plants in each row (see below) - but nevertheless it does make quite a statement in the garden. We planted a mixture of pinot noir and chardonnay vines, with a view to producing a very modest quantity of sparkling white wine. Ever since then, we've been under strict instructions from Lucy not to move house until we're in a position to supply the guests at her wedding reception with a nice drop of Gate House fizz. In return we've been keeping a quiet eye on her marital prospects (only don't tell her that). 

We've spent the last 3 summers pruning, spraying, feeding and generally nuturing our infant vines. There was that infamous episode last July when....ahem.....Andrew put Harvest weed killer into the leaf nutrient mix instead of potassium, which understandably the vines objected to quite strongly (and I wasn't too happy either). But they bounced back surprisingly well. In May this year we finally reached Year 4 and we've been preparing ourselves for the First Harvest.

We had a grand plan to do a 'Pick a bunch of grapes for ARUK' event. We had organised to get in some bottles of local sparkling wine to offer everyone a taster of what we would eventually be producing. I could see it all in my mind's eye - a warm afternoon in late summer, neighbours dropping by, vines groaning with ripened shiny fruit, children playing on the grassy slopes, slabs of cheese and bread on rustic tables, the sound of glasses chinking, merry laughter etc etc

Oh dear, how ignorant could I be?  Andrew and I soon discovered that vine harvesting, like any other harvesting, is entirely dictated by the weather conditions, which of course have been pretty challenging for winegrowers in these parts this year. In our tiny vineyard, multiple bunches of miniscule grapes sat and sulked, as day after day the sun declined to shine on them.  

For weeks we waited.....and waited.....and then all of a sudden, whoosh.....out came the sun in mid-September and the grapes instantly responded to its rays.  We witnessed 'veraison'  - the point at which red grapes begin to change colour. I was so excited.  Blimey, this was like being a real vineyard owner!

At the beginning of this week, it looked as though the grapes had finally reached their peak of lusciousness. All over Twitter, Sussex vineyard owners were tweeting away manically about harvesting their crops. By then Andrew and I had put the brakes on our fund-raising event and instead invited our Cobdown neighbours Rebecca and Di to join us for a 'pick a row of grapes and have a cup of tea' session. The stage was all set for Thursday morning. 

On Tuesday lunchtime I went out to do my daily vine patrol, and here's what I found.......if you're peering at the photo on the left and saying to yourself 'Er - so where are those grapes?' I can assure you I was asking myself the selfsame question. In one single morning, a gang of delinquent pheasants had feasted on the entire Pinot noir crop. I was in despair. Just one small consolation - those marauding birds clearly weren't convinced that the Chardonnay grapes had ripened enough and had decided to leave them for another day.

 

There was no time to lose. It was us or the pheasants. Andrew came home from the office like a bat out of hell and we got stuck into picking the Chardonnay grapes. We then weighed our depleted harvest. Had we managed to cobble together the required 20kg of grapes as specified in Task 17? Well, as near as damnit. And our Plumpton college student Juanita, who's been guiding us through the whole process this year, has now taken the containers away to begin making the wine (it could be as much as a whole case!)

What a steep and painful learning curve it's been for us amateur viticulturists this year.  Next summer we're going to invest heavily in netting - for now, those pesky pheasants had better mind their backs.....oh and Lucy, you'd better hold fire on that wedding for a bit longer!

I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

If you would like to follow this blog click here for information on how to do so. 

Task 1: Run 10k in 60 minutes

This task has been one of my slow burners since starting the sixtyat60 challenge. Every so often I've had a quiet whinge about it in a blog post. And then I've just carried on training, which has meant twice weekly runs, sometimes when it's been uncomfortably warm and sometimes when it's been rainy and cold. Note my two biggest fans below. 

Over the past 4 months I've very gradually extended my running distance and improved my stamina - and most crucially of all, I've learnt to become sanguine about my appearance when caught in a deluge and soaked by spray from articulated lorries. 

But I daresay what you'd like to know is whether after all this training, I actually managed to complete the 10k in 60 mins last Sunday on Worthing Seafront??   Oooh, I think I'm going to spin this one out a bit.

In truth I wasn't feeling that fit the evening before my big run. Tickly dry throat, a bit shivery, headachey..... goodness, this was not the way I wanted to be feeling.  I used three strategies to treat the symptoms:

a) Michael's tip - 'Mum, you've just got to man up' 

b) Eat lasagne - lots of lasagne 

c) Swig Lemsip 

Guess what, the next morning I felt surprisingly chipper. We arrived at Worthing seafront in good time for the 11am start. En route for Worthing with Andrew, Michael and Lucy, I heard that Jonathan had decided at the eleventh hour to run with me, which instantly made me feel much more relaxed about taking part in my first ever competitive 10k.  

Old friends/Caterham companions Linda and Peter arrived at Hunot Support Team HQ (a bus shelter) and found us running around like crazy things trying to cobble together £13 in cash so that we could register Jonathan for the race.  Twas ever thus!

Registration all sorted (well done Lucy and Michael), Jonathan and I walked to the startline with about 300 other people of all shapes, sizes and ages. The starter claxon sounded, an extraordinary whoosh of adrenaline coursed through the entire group and we were off. All you could hear was the sound of many pairs of running shoes hitting the tarmac purposefully. Jonathan disappeared into the distance in the twinkling of an eye and my 10k endurance test stretched out in front of me. Here I am looking as fresh as a daisy, but that's because I've only run about 500 metres at that point.  

As Jonathan and I legged it along Worthing seafront, my friend Jenny arrived to ready herself for taking some pix at the finish line (she says she'll become my official photographer in return for regular tea and cakes - done deal Jenny). In the meantime the male members of my support team repaired to a local cafe to sustain themselves with bacon butties and full English breakfasts. Tough job guys, but someone had to do it. 

Out on the seafront I just kept running. I kept in mind what the lovely owner/guru at the Running Hub in Southborough had said to me - 'Start slow and and then go slower' and 'Get out there and enjoy yourself'. I'd been given some great nutritional tips by my brother in law Henry (hence the carb-loaded lasagne), which definitely helped to keep my energy levels up.  The last 3k were pretty tough, but then I thought of all the people who are currently having to live with dementia and how important it was to raise money to improve their treatment. I also thought about Carol who's recently had major surgery and Anita who has MS, and I told myself I must stick to my guns for them.  I think it's safe to say I was 100% in the zone.

I passed Worthing pier and began to see fit young runners strolling about with medals drapped around their necks. I wondered whether Jonathan had beaten 42 mins (despite nursing a massive hangover and having run a 5k the day before). And then as if by magic Jonathan emerged from a little crowd of onlookers to my left. He came towards me, holding out his hand, and said 'Come on Mum, you're nearly there!!'  He and I crossed the finishing line together - it was the best feeling ever. Oh and did I do the run in 60 minutes?  Roll of drums........yes I did, with 6 seconds to spare!

Here I am a few minutes later with my slightly naff but much appreciated medal (I declined to wear the tee-shirt).

And here's my brilliant support team (apart from Liz who's taking the photo) on Worthing beach - such a striking backdrop, could Storm Nigel be approaching?

So I can now tick Task 1 off my list - hurrah!  However I do intend to keep running and do hope that I might be able to quietly improve my PB over time. I may have shaken off the tickly throat but I could just be developing mild to moderate runner addiction.....

To date I've raised £1370 for ARUK, more than double my original target, which is fantastic!! I'm so grateful to friends and family for their generosity. 

I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

If you would like to follow this blog click here for information on how to do so. 

Task 27: Watch a performance of Swan Lake somewhere in the UK

I saw my first ballet at the age of 10, when my class at school was taken to a matinee performance of Coppelia at the Arts Theatre in Cambridge. I learnt two things that day - firstly, that if you have seats to the extreme left or right in the stalls, you miss at least 50% of the action (the balcony scenes at the centre of the story passed me by completely) and secondly, that men and women are built differently (cue outbreaks of suppressed giggles by 30 small girls each time a principal male in tights grand jete-ed onto the stage). 

Despite that somewhat inauspicious introduction to classical ballet, I've gone on to see some great productions over the years. But I've never seen Swan Lake, which in my view has resulted in a gaping hole in my cultural education.  So you know what's coming next......a certain ballet pirrouetted its way gracefully onto my list. 

On my birthday (well technically it was a couple of weeks after my birthday but who's counting), Michael handed me a large card. It felt a little bulky and heavy. There was something inside the envelope. Here's the card and unwrapped item below.....

Wow - so Michael had chosen Task 27 from my sixtyat60 list as my birthday present!! And it soon became clear that the performance for which he had bought tickets was both fab and easy to get to. It was to take place at Sadler's Wells, a theatre that I've never been to before (another hole in my cultural education nicely plugged), and the ballet company was the Birmingham Royal Ballet, who were performing Swan Lake as part of their 25th anniversary celebrations. 

My Swan Lake day dawned on Tuesday. I fluffed up my feathers and preened myself in readiness for the evening ahead. At 3pm I decided to take the dogs for a last minute walk before heading up to London.  Bad idea Vivien....very bad idea. At 4pm I was patrolling local fields, woods and roads for the umteenth time searching for a certain wheaten terrier, last seen in hot pursuit of a adult roe deer and oblivious to all my commands and shrieks to return. I pictured her limp and lifeless body lying in a forest glade. I had written off any chance of getting to see Swan Lake. I was beyond despair. And then suddenly just before 5pm a small miracle occurred - that limp and lifeless body emerged from the trees, uninjured, a little tousled and cool as a cucumber.......I couldn't make up my mind whether to give her a big hug or put her in prison and throw away the keys.

Just over two hours later Andrew and I were in the foyer of Sadler's Wells, still in a state of high alert, but with time to buy a programme and get our bearings. 

We settled into our seats - bang slap in the middle of the stalls (well done Michael) - and so close to the conductor that I could see through the lenses of his glasses. He raised his baton, the orchestra played, the curtain went up and Swan Lake began to work its timeless magic.

It was a truly beautiful production. The sets, costumes, Tchaikovsky's music and above all the dancing were awe-inspiring. One scene that will stay in my memory for ever is of the swans emerging from the early morning mist.  For one heart-stopping moment I thought I saw a wheaten terrier's head pop up amongst them (oh no Mabel - surely not swans now.....?), but thankfully the image quickly evaporated. 

As the curtain came down and the dancers took their bows, I resolved that if I don't have a grand-daughter in 10 years' time (no pressure Hunot off-spring), I shall have to beg, borrow or steal one, as it would give me the perfect excuse to see Swan Lake again (or even Coppelia?)  I promise we'll have seats in the middle section of the stalls, and I'll do my best to prepare her for those men in tights moments.

A wonderful present from Michael,  which more than makes up for my 9-year wait to have a spin in his finished Caterham.....and I'm delighted to announce that with the completion of Task 27, I've now ticked off 20 tasks on the list! 


  

I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

If you would like to follow this blog click here for information on how to do so. 

Task 35: Swallow an oyster at The Gallivant restaurant

................stop press!!!...................

Just 4  days to go until the Worthing Seafront 10k fun run - not sure if I can beat 

that 60 minute target but I'm gong to try my hardest! I shall be wearing my

 Alzheimer's Research UK top with pride - donations can be made via my 
JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

___________________________________________________________________

When Jonathan and Liz were married last October, they held their wedding at The Gallivant - a gorgeous boutique hotel by the sea at Camber Sands. One of the canapes on offer that day was a large platter of oysters. Andrew made a beeline for them - and his eyes gleamed when I told him that he could have my share with absolute pleasure as I had never tried them before and I wasn't intending to do so.

When I started compiling my list of 60 tasks, it occurred to me that I was taking a very blinkered approach towards oysters. Was it fair to draw the conclusion that I didn't like them if I'd never actually attempted to swallow one?  It seemed only right and proper to confront my prejudice against them.  And the prejudice? That frankly to me they look like.....how can I put this delicately.....the contents of a sputum pot.

And so it was that on 11th October, exactly a year since the wedding, we returned to The Gallivant with Jonathan and Liz for Sunday lunch in the bistro to complete Task 35 and raise a celebratory glass to their paper anniversary.  Our friends Anita and Tim agreed to come with us to monitor The Swallow (Tim has had the honorous responsibility of being Jonathan's godfather for the past three decades - I blame him for nothing of course). Oysters weren't on the menu that day, so Jonathan and Liz made special arrangements for a dozen of them to be imported to Camber Sands for the occasion.  

The oysters arrived. The platter looked magnificent - the oyster shells were nestling on a bed of crushed ice, adorned with small seashells, lemon slices, fronds of greenery and a tastefully carved starfish. The oysters sat resplendent in the shells like glorious globules of......well, you know.  I tried not to look at them.

The waiter gave us jugs of shallot vinaigrette, worcester sauce and tabasco.  I doused the first oyster in the vinaigrette. Liz and Tim had their phones at the ready to record my virgin attempt. I had already worked out my exit strategy to the washrooms (thank you Will at Toni & Guy for that little tip). Andrew demonstrated the oyster swallowing techique with, it has to be said, consumate professionalism. Then it was my turn. I threw my head back in a bravado gesture, tipped the shell towards my mouth, the oyster tumbled in......and I swallowed.  Down my throat it slipped....and it stayed down. Hurrah!  Liz took a slo-mo videoclip, but Blogspot is refusing to download it (phew) so here's the evidence in a single frame.

After that, there was no stopping me. Anita and I had an oyster each.  And then Anita, Tim, Andrew and I all swallowed one each in unison. Wow - so liberating!

Andrew went on to gulp his way through at least another half dozen oysters. I made my excuses and stopped. Was I converted to oysters?  In truth, no, I really don't get them at all. To me, they just taste of vintage seawater. I asked Andrew why he loved them so much. His response was to direct me to a column in the Guardian by Jay Rayner, in which Mr Rayner declares that if you don't like oysters, you'll never be a grown up.  Looks like Andrew will have to carry on being the grown-up in our relationship then. But in my defence, even if I never swallow another one again (no offence oysters), at least I can now express an opinion about them in a vaguely informed way. 

The rest of our lunch at The Gallivant was brilliant - the bistro serves great food and the fact that it was Jonathan and Liz's first anniversary made the whole occasion truly memorable.  

A big thank you to our lovely anniversary couple for sorting out the oysters/sharing part of their special day with us, and to Anita and Tim for being very fine oyster companions - they made Task 35 a lot of fun. I think I'll leave the last word to The Gallivant, who did a little blurb about us on Instagram afterwards.

I'm doing the sixtyat60challenge to raise funds for Alzheimer's Research UK. For further information or to make a donation please visit my JustGiving page at https://www.justgiving.com/Vivien-Hunot  

If you would like to follow this blog click here for information on how to do so.