A river runs through it

In many places a border is marked by armed guards, in some it’s marked by sea, often you don’t see a border at all.

I grew up on a border marked by a river.

Our border was the most invisible border you will ever see. Flanked by two villages coming together to make one community. You did your business in both. Bought your groceries on one side and went to the doctors on the other. Went to church in either, depending on your preference, and to the pub in both.  (8 in total).

Yet the presence of the border carried great significance in the minds of the people who lived there. It was a place to meet and a place to stop and go no further. “Only go as far as the bridge” mum would say, so we’d cross it. “Don’t go near the River”, so we’d swim in it.

As teenage girls we couldn’t meet boys from the other side of the bridge, the boys from our side wouldn’t allow it. So we did it anyway, under the cover of darkness, sneaking out of bedroom windows in the middle of the night.

We’d hide under the bridge, like trolls, waiting for the cars to pass so we could run across, unseen.

Yet they were close, these communities, and still are. We all knew each other and although we went to very different schools, when it came down to it we got along. The villages needed each other, the people relied on each other, it was a happy place to be.

I grew up in Wales and on the other side of the river was England. We were poor, they were posh – at least that’s what we thought. Being Welsh we were second class citizens, yet we were full of pride – despite our English accents.

I loved growing up on the border.

Two villages together, miles from anywhere and split right down the middle. Two countries but one community, with a river running through it.

Losing sleep over burglaries

This week's news agenda is making me lose sleep. I wouldn’t say I spend my days worrying about being burgled, but there's nothing worse than the fear you feel when you are woken in the early hours by a strange noise.

So add a spate of burglaries in our local area, to the ongoing discussion about the law for defending your property and you can guess what the pillow talk in my house was this week.

I started the conversation, interested to know what I should do if a burglar comes in the night and my husband isn't here. 1. Is it best to disturb them, cos usually they'll run away? Or 2. is it best to ring the police and hide in a cupboard as the burglar rummages through your house, waiting for the police to get to you.

I'd go for option 1. I reckon a mad mother-of-two, coming at you like a screaming banshee, wearing flannel pyjamas - and no bra - would scare anyone off. Husband disagrees, he thinks I should get the phone and hide in a cupboard. “You don't want to put yourself in danger” he says.

Ok – so what would he do? Oh he's very clear about that. He thinks he would go for anyone who came anywhere near his wife, his children and his property. He would reach for the nearest large implement and if attacked, hit them with it hard. It seems his protective instinct since becoming a father is stronger than I realised (and I quite like it).

So the discussion moves on to defence of choice. I'm ruling out kitchen knife, I can't even slice an apple without taking the top of my finger off. I opt for pick axe. He says it's too heavy, it would be stuck hanging in mid air as I struggle to get enough swing on it. Golf club? Too long, I'd probably catch it on something, taking out a light fitting or picking up a few toys along the way. I don't own a baseball bat (it's times like this I wish I was American.) Cricket bat it is then! If only we had one......

Anyway, I've decided that if I'm attacked, I'm reaching for a bedroom lamp, or a plant pot. Something that's likely to be nearby and not require a stealth operation to get from room to room without being seen. I've also added the neighbour's number into my phone, a lot nearer than the police and he looks like the type of man whose 'protective instinct' would kick in too.

So when you get in bed tonight and fancy some pillow talk, I think this is a conversation you need to have. Go on. And let me know what you come up with.

Don't have nightmares.