Our First Home
After marrying, my husband, Gerard, our honeymoon began in the roundhouses of Hermanus in Winterton-on-Sea, Norfolk—a cozy and picturesque retreat. Then, we went abroad for a week in Portugal, soaking in the beauty of a different landscape. It was during this time that I truly began to know Gerard, and he me.
When we returned home, Gerard wasted no time in making arrangements for his mother and his two sons from a previous marriage to join us. Their arrival was imminent, so I hurried to get our new home ready.
Our first home as a married couple was in Caddington, Luton. It was a spacious house with a small but charming garden, which opened up to a vast, rippling green field beyond—one of my favorite features. Gerard, an admirer of contemporary art, found the property fascinating. On one side of the back garden, there stood what looked like the archaeological ruins of a forgotten past, while on the other, a tiny cottage barely big enough to turn around in—aptly named “Folly Cottage.” Being nestled in the heart of the Bedfordshire countryside, I embraced it all. My cat, Winnie—whom I had inherited from Alan Bloom—had plenty of space to roam, so to me, it was perfect.
When Gerard’s family arrived, he was naturally occupied with reconnecting after years of separation. Meanwhile, I slowly adjusted to married life, a transition I would caution anyone about—the first year of marriage is undoubtedly the most challenging period of adaptation.
As our first year together came to a close, our rental agreement expired. We decided to put down roots and purchased a home just one road away. The move was exciting, but in the process of lifting boxes, I unknowingly compressed my back. I realized something was wrong when, during a simple ballet exercise, my back suddenly gave out.
What followed was a long and painful ordeal. Despite trying every method I could think of to relieve my back pain, it only worsened. Sciatica set in, sending sharp, relentless nerve pain shooting down my left leg. Sometimes it was a dull annoyance, but other times it was excruciating—a sensation I wouldn’t wish on anyone. This went on for a year and a half.
Finally, in a desperate bid for relief, I sought chiropractic treatment. But instead of improvement, my entire back went into a severe spasm. I could barely stand, hunched over like an old woman, the pain ten times worse than before. It reached a crisis point, and I was rushed in for an emergency operation in Luton, UK.
The road to recovery was long—six months of rehabilitation. But, remarkably, I regained 99% of my former mobility. While I still have a slight weakness, consistent exercise and core strengthening ensure that I remain pain-free.
Through it all, I’ve come to appreciate good health in a way I never did before. More than that, I look forward to the time when God will restore perfect health to all, just as Jesus did when he was on earth (Isaiah 35:5-7; Matthew 4:23,24).
