Today my travel insurance company finally advised that they will be paying out my claim for the cancelled packrafting trip. This means I’ve been able to treat myself to a birthday gift - and I’ve gone ahead and ordered a handpan.

Rain and floods scuppered my imminent packrafting plans. The raft guiding outfit is still unsure about whether the trip will go ahead, but I’ve decided to cancel.

The funny things you discover doing some last-minute shopping before a trip - apparently you don’t want to buy a blue top for summer river wear because bees are attracted to blue.

I found it hard to adjust after our 5-day, 85km walk on the Old Ghost Road. When you’ve focused on getting fit enough not to feel the rigours of walking for several hours with a 15kg pack, suddenly not having a goal leaves you in limbo - that nagging what now, what’s my purpose feeling.

If I jump back two years to the start of 2018, I was slowly, very slowly, recovering from carer burnout. The worst part was the feeling that I had failed my partner, failed myself, and the gnawing knowledge that I could never go back to caring for Bob at home. I knew that would break me.

It can be difficult to know how to reach out when someone you care about hits hard times. Most people, myself included, would usually call or send a message with condolences and end off with an offer of: If you need anything just let me know... and then step back and wait to see if they need anything.

But that is not the most effective way to offer help.

Here’s what I learnt about offering help after being on the receiving end after Bob’s stroke.

I plan ahead and am simply, never – ever – late. So it comes as much of a surprise to me, as to those who know me, to see me write this blog. But since Bob’s stroke, I’ve learnt that some things are more important that proudly wearing my punctuality badge.