I had to sort out some pictures of me and my son for a magazine feature this week. This was difficult for many reasons, mainly, that there are few recent ones (and it was up to date ones which were needed) of us together. Another side effect of the Ridiculous Situation - there's no one around to take pictures of us in normal situations. Holiday snaps are either of me or William, not of us together.
The other reason it was so difficult was because I ended up getting sidetracked and going through an archive of around 3000 pictures chronicling my son's seven and a half years. The very first picture of him was taken seconds after he was born, red, angry, a little fist curled hard in his mouth, me clutching on to him for dear life, a look of shock, wonder and adoration on my face.
It was heartbreaking going through all those old pictures. There were things I didn't remember, even though they only happened a few years ago. I felt guilt at not recognising certain sleep-suits, certain toys. But it was the 'happy snaps' that really choked me up. In particular, around two hundred images of a holiday we took in Portugal when William was about two and a half. Such an adorable, inquisitive age. He had a Sylvester soft toy which he simply called 'Cat'. At the villa we were staying in, the owner had left some of her children's toys in the garden shed. William spent all his outdoor time wheeling 'Cat' around in a doll's pram. I was transported back to that time; my odd worrying that he was playing with a 'girls' toy', my paranoia about the sun on his fair skin, his loathing of the sea and sand (he would not get his toes wet or go bare foot on sand).
So many memories. And recalling them, so many tears. What I wouldn't give to go back to that sunny Algarve springtime of 2005.
Kelly recently wrote an article in the Daily Mail about being separated but still living with her partner.