There is a traditional Gaelic blessing that begins 'Let the road rise up to meet you' that is said to people setting off on journeys. I am quite sure it was exactly the sentiment in the hearts of those I left behind to come to Istanbul. I think about this, almost smiling, as I feel every crooked brick under the pushchair as I go up the hills of Beşiktaş. The smooth welcoming road hoped for in the blessing cannot be found here, you just have to push over the rocks in the road.

A while ago I was really preoccupied by Anton's shyness, which was definitely worse around people who didn't speak English. When approached by someone he didn't know he would squeeze his face into the side of his pushchair and moan. When someone tried to take his hand he would wrestle free. After a particularly revealing conversation with Ville it felt clear to me that Anton was following my lead about who he really took to his heart. It wasn't that I was running away from people it was a challenge to communicate with, but I was raising my hand high when waving as if I was further away than I was, and walking a bit faster. I felt nervous communicating with curious Islanders and ashamed of my paltry language skills.

Directly after the trips to England around Neve's birth Anton would sob that he wanted to go to England when he felt particularly set upon. Something had to be done as these kinds of cultural comparisons by a three year old were doing nothing for our morale. One of the first rocks we shifted was getting residence permits for me and the children. This allowed me to make the decision not to go to the UK for a year, helping all of us to see our lives as being completely in Turkey. The next thing that happened was a beautiful flower amongst the stones, Anton felt the first flutters of love for someone outside the family. I am not at all surprised that his affection fell on my beautiful friend Sophie but I was amazed to see my little son giddy with his first crush. What power love has to stretch our boundaries! Then he had his head shaved and enjoyed a short but much enjoyed break from the cheek pinchers and we watched with delight as our shy boy begin to give his smiles more freely.

Next he made firm friends with two women, one of whom speaks no English at all, but understands the more important currency of paper boats and playing cars and treats gently given. Over the last few weeks we have watched Anton greet people, submit willingly to cuddles and melt under tickling fingers. He and I are gaining so much from our new openness. He tells us that he is not shy any-more. Turkish is much less of a foreign language to him and the days when it will be the language in which he giggles with school friends are creeping closer. The road feels smoother, though of course, this being life, I can see what needs to be tackled next......

Living on one of the Princes Islands you cannot help but spend many hours on vapur. When I leave Istanbul I think it will be the these trips that I remember most. The hour and twenty minutes it takes from Heybeliada to Kabataş is a chance to just be. There is nothing to be done but look out at the water, the pursuing seagulls, the fishing boats, the birds drying their feathers on the pier near Haydarpaşa, the changing skyline and the familiar silhouettes that have stood through centuries. You can drink tea and eat tost and feel your eyes closing.... Unless of course you have children. Our memories, and others memories of us, will be of rhythmic pacing with a baby, usually another child trailing behind. Matti's homework being done on the Sunday return to the city. Anton's cars lined up precariously on the stairs that for him are roads. Endless stories read to save fellow travellers from too much exuberance. And the occasional delicious moments when everyone is simultaneously sleepy. On the vapur I am very visible. People I have not noticed have told me how they love watching my children, when we have finally made acquaintance. They will remind me of incidents I have forgotten. Through the winter when daytrippers are scarce the commuters become a community. Everyone on the boat knows everyone else and vapur friendships are made. Many of the people I have come to know on Heybeliada spoke to me first in the companionable confines of the cafe deck. I love the holiday atmosphere of the 6.30 boat home on Friday, and the young men from the naval school sleeping, leaning in rows, on early boats. I love how early on weekdays commuters walk on and lay down to extend the night. Islanders have their own spot, unspoken and not worth a dispute, but true nonetheless. I love setting off in the darkness and arriving to sunrise illuminating the peninsula, unloading the kids into the bright morning air. On the days that I travel home sitting on the stairs, the vapur crammed with tourists I look forward to the conspiratorial nods of sleepy vapur friends next winter.

Vapur at dusk.

Ville reading to Anton on the vapur.

Mehmet, a 'vapur friend' and his son.

A few days ago I met up with a friend I had only met a handful of times a decade ago, and in an interesting twist of fate, has just landed in Istanbul. While we sat in the wonderfully empty, glossy Pera Museum cafe she told me that when we last saw each other I was 29, the age she is now. 10 years. What must I look like to her? I felt the start of tears when she told me that I am just the same. She uses the word energetic. It takes a moment to sink in. The essence of her is identical, completely untarnished, it is a warm clarity, an intelligent openness. We both describe ourselves as tired. I am so bored of using the word about myself but all other adjectives I might use are blocked by the woolly, grey mass of it.

I skip back (not merrily) to what life was like when I met her. It was completely dominated by a shared-parenting arrangement I couldn't get used to, to get out of a marriage I couldn't live with. My part of Ruskin's life being weekends and holidays I had little choice but to qualify as a teacher and work in the same county to ensure I never missed an opportunity to be with him. As it was impossible to find work in the tiny Dales village where he lived with his father, Friday meant a long journey on public transport and foot. Living in York, working in Leeds and fitting days of longing into weekends meant that I was always running. Which was good, as I was terrified of what I would feel if I stood still.

If someone could have told me ten years ago that before the next decade was up I would be able to see Ruskin whenever I wanted and make decisions about his life again, have met a man I could imagine loving and respecting to the grave, have two new children and a step-son just the age to unify the brood, that I would get to travel and live abroad, I could have stopped the tears sooner and smiled more often. How is it only ten years since I felt I had been checkmated before the game had begun. I hope the next ten years will feel as long as the last, despite the promised sunshine.

Of course, life hasn't become less complex. I would also have struggled to believe that I could fight for a year to have Ruskin living with me full-time only to find that being educated in Turkey didn't work for him, and the solution be boarding school in England. Or, after promising myself I would never do it again, raising children far from the support of family (though I did pop back to the UK for two home births at my Mum and Dad's house!). I am hopeful that there will be days ahead that are a bit simpler, a lot more secure and even containing some luxury, but I have a strong feeling that if Ville and I get the chance to grow old together we will say 'Do you remember?' most about what life contains now. We are running, but our arms are full of the best things money can't buy, and moments of stillness nothing to fear.

So, ten years from now? Will we have moved to Finland as we plan? Will we finally have a garden? Will we have our first Grandchild? The only thing that really matters is that our little cast of characters are all still on the stage. What a difference they have made, Ville has made.

10 years on.

Ping, Anton and Neve.

How soothed I would have been by this image 10 years ago. How much it delights me now.

On the bus to the airport the boys struggle to stay awake but Anton is determined not to miss a single car.

Waving Ruskin off after the summer holidays. Till half term.

Neve on the vapur back to Heybeliada.

The children often make new friends on the vapur.

There are usually people on the boats hoping for a cuddle with Neve.

Well I started the week determined, in a relaxed kind of way, to photograph some of the tulips that Istanbul is famous for this time of year. Then Anton got ill yet again, and when I actually got out of the apartment for half an hour the rich colours of the tulips in the bright sunshine just didn't appeal as much as this little patch of white flowers under a tree. Tuesday was a public holiday here and as Anton seemed a little better we dosed him up with calpol, put him in the pushchair wearing his pyjamas under a blanket, and took the boat to Üsküdar. We walked along the shore with hundreds of other people enjoying that time off had coincided with glorious sunshine, and then carried Anton up to a roof terrace cafe to bask. Happily the sun seemed to revive him and as we walked back he asked to get up and play. He rushed off and came back with the gift of a tulip. Job done.

Being in the sunshine was such a boost that I decided to spend Wednesday walking along the Bosphorus from Emirgan to Bebek, after a visit to the Sakıp Sabancı Museum. The area lining the Bosphorus is paradise in the sunshine. The beauty of the water, abundant flowers and wooden villas is perfection. One of my life-changing helpers, Florence, was with me making two kids very light work and lots of pleasure.

After a great morning at Atölye 5 on Thursday we wandered down Bağdat Caddesi and then took a dolmuş to to the Beşiktaş ferry terminal in Kadiköy. I have decided to stop apologising for the amount of pictures I take on boats and just say that this week's vapur pictures show how, now that it is warm enough for people to be sat outside on the benches on the sides, Neve has a new opportunity for making vapur friends.

Today, Anton bouncy as a bean, we took some of the kiddos' favourite toys to enjoy a picnic and it seemed like a really good moment to indulge in one of the ladybird cakes Anton has been admiring for a long time. I am also glad that Neve understands that one of the things she should do in life is to go and crawl into beautiful patches of light!

For our last few days Heybeliada put on her most vibrant clothes. One afternoon I sat on the kerb watching one of the men who sweep the street with a brush and an oil tin cut for the purpose. The pools of debris he collected were only brittle shards of old leaves and freshly fallen blossoms. Even the rubbish was exquisite that day! Talking of rubbish, I have really enjoyed seeing the Island recycling in practice this week. Determined not to take anything at all that we didn't need or love to our new home (and we were taking every item in suitcases by boat!)  I put box after box of stuff next to the bins. Over the following days I saw the things turn up in the places they were needed.

We arrived, nearly four years ago, to an apartment with vomit-coloured lino, peeling paint, a toilet that wasn't really attached to the floor, no lock on the back door and the name of the previous occupant's son written all over the walls, and that is also as we left it! So much money has flowed through our hands during the last few years but none of it into creating a little comfort at home. However, this Island has given all of us air and space and natural beauty so close to the overwhelming, overcrowded city we are now excited to take our place in the heart of. But first, tomorrow, we are going to Finland....

This weeks pictures are of Anton chilling in the baby bath before it goes to Island recycling. Of Neve on our kitchen balcony that never had a single plant on it, while the one opposite had an abundance! There are evening walks and sleeping children on late night vapur trips laden with luggage. There is fun with fantastic friends. Here is Anton (with Başak) and Neve being carried onto the vapur on our very last day and Ville cleaning the windows. Here is our record of Ruskin's incredible growth, the flowers Anton picked and we gave to the apartment in deep gratitude for so many happy days in its walls. I caught Anton, on our last vapur as Islanders being persuaded to give kisses to girls! On Monday Ruskin and I walked to our new apartment to pick up the key and we took a few shots of our new neighbourhood. We were (easily) persuaded to drink a few glasses of Calvados with the current occupants and I took some pictures of their girls in their final days in their home. The last pictures are of Ruskin getting a haircut and the shoes that form a ring around the Beşiktaş bird, part of the on-going, though thankfully relatively calm, protests.