Kathleen Hart

This is a story about uncovering the things that really matter, and discovering what makes us feel alive. It is a story about finding that inner strength and resilience, and never giving up hope. Eight years ago, Kathleen Hart was diagnosed with breast cancer. Further complications led to a protracted recovery and months spent in hospital, where Kathleen had to learn how to walk again. While recuperating, she came across a small whitewashed cottage for sale in Wigtown, Scotland. Driving hundreds of miles on nothing more than a few photographs and an inkling, she bought it that very same day, and named it Devorgilla after the formidable 13th century Scottish princess. Devorgilla Days is the story of how Kathleen left behind her old life to begin again in Scotland's book capital. From renovating her cottage to exploring the seemingly quiet, but actually bustling town, she encounters a whole community of book lovers, beekeepers, artists and writers - and Lobster Fishermen. Kathleen starts wild swimming, a ritual that brings peace and clarity to her mind as her body heals. And, with the support of her virtual worldwide community who know her as PoshPedlar on Instagram, she rebuilds her life again. Heartwarming and deeply moving, Devorgilla Days is an inspiring tale of one woman's remarkable journey, a celebration of community, and a call-to-arms for anyone who has ever dreamt of starting over.

A Memoir of Hope and Healing

Devorgilla Days

Laura Dobie

I have no idea what happened to the other members of the crime reading group. It's a mystery.

I begin to write messages of encouragement back, little snippets of motivation and positivity. We teach what we most need to learn, and it comes back in spades. I look through this little window on my phone into another world, and it gives me a glimmer of hope beyond this bleak grey room.

Once dry, I return to my boulder, enjoy a long slug of water, and crunch into my apple. I try to do mindful eating, savouring each mouthful, chewing, tasting, engaging the senses, taking notice. Paying attention. Usually I notice that the apples are very bland with tough skins, and wonder why I'm eating them.

Nothing compares to the precipitation here in Galloway; it's world class, fierce and relentless. When it rains, you know about it, and if it's not raining, it's on the way. That's why everywhere's so lush, I have to keep reminding myself. No rain, no flowers.

It's a simple, undemanding way to live. I don't need a choice of sixty-five varieties of cheese, twelve types of milk, six kinds of broccoli. The choice is made for me. What's in season, what's available, will do. I don't stress over it. It's a pared-down, stressless existence, the edited version; a much-needed holiday for my head. My brain has been frazzled; fourteen general anaesthetics have made it slow, fuzzy, and so, so tired. Some days I feel as though I'm wading through treacle. It's repairing slowly, like the rest of my body, and in the meantime this is life made easier.

The other dancers are so graceful and light on their feet; they've been coming for years, and most learnt the steps when they were in primary school. My head aches from everything it has to remember, and towards the end of the session, when fatigue really sets in, my brain implodes completely. 

But I love it. It's fun, and a metaphor for my new life: join in, learn a few steps, keep up, and avoid collisions. Everyone is smiling; dancing is therapy, and learning something new is a challenge I'm ready for. I'm not sure the others are quite ready, but they are very welcoming, and assure me all will soon click into place.

A lovely description of doing something for the sake of it and not comparing yourself to, or competing with, others.

Loch water temperatures are much colder, and I prefer the saltwater and seaweed, gulls and shells, tides and fishing boats of the coast. But more than this, I know how uncomfortable and awkward I'd feel swimming with others, with the sense of competition. Who is first, last, oldest, newest? It's not about time or distance, winners or losers, it's just about the sea and me, how it makes me feel. It makes my spirit soar, and my soul sing. Others would be a distraction, alter the meaning, change the experience.

I can't make out whether the Baldoon honey has won anything, and actually, it really doesn't matter. A few months before, I'd never heard of Auchenmalg or Tonderghie, or willowherb, or dancing bees. It's enough just to be here, learning a skill, meeting new friends, building a colony, harvesting honey, having a mentor... I don't need a trophy. It might just be that finally, after all these years, fingers crossed and arse to the wind, I'm winning at life.

So far so good; the calendar is filling up fast. Everyone is enthusiastic, and the feedback is encouraging - it's a good idea to attract people into the town, there's something to look forward to every day, and it's great to include all of the businesses. Even Shaun, the owner of The Bookshop, who is not a fan of Christmas, will be handing out humbugs on his chosen date.

Devorgilla Days quotes

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