The incidentals

Ack. November. Without doubt the worst month of the year. It’s cold, grey, generally exhausting and thoroughly depressing.

November doesn’t have the lovely crisp goldenness of autumn, the tingly excitement of the Christmas countdown, the potential new start of January or the pancakes of February.

It also heralds the danger period for my relapses, all of which have fallen between November and February. 

So, as the traditional gatekeeper to MS crapness, I don’t tend to greet this month with much pleasure and instead try and conserve as much of my rapidly depleting energy as possible.

Therefore, to stave off the bleakness, I’ve made a list of ten things that I could do to cheer me through the month. 

My rule for drawing up the list was any activity must involve minimal effort but bring maximum joy.

1. Hot water bottles. Oh, could there be anything more lovely than strapping a few wobbly hugs of liquid love to your torso with a blanket?

2. Yes! Yes, there could; it’s having a stack of Marmite on toast within easy reaching distance of said hot water/blanket mound.

3. And also a pot of tea.

4. If I have to leave the marmitey cocoon (which actually doesn’t sound all that pleasant when it’s described as such) to go to work then at least I can read books on the train. Hurrah.

5. Putting on high heels.* Yes. Despite my shocking balance, I LOVE the heels. I have loads of pairs from my pre and early-MS days when I could still wear them without wondering where the nearest flower bed was to cushion my fall, but I still love them, the minxy dignity-killers. So I take them out now and again, dust them down and walk around the house in them. Can’t get far, can’t manage the swagger like it used to, but rather than making me sad for what I may have lost, they still fill me with joy for what I can still do – just for slightly more limited periods.

6. Humming to myself. Particularly shoobie-doobie-doo type refrains. And not just in private.

7. Making up songs about poo with my daughter; it’s not sophisticated but it’s very funny.

8. Radio Four Extra. Drama, comedy, comforting marvellousness.

9. Visitors. As long as I can be in pyjamas, they make their own drinks and don’t mind if I stare blankly at them. I’m sorry, blame November, it makes me a rubbish host.

10. Viz. And Bottom. I am a 13-year-old boy.

:: The incidentals by Alisha’s Attic

*In the past I have tried to convince a very dear friend that high heels work much better as a mood lifter than chocolate scoffing and are a far healthier alternative. She was never sold on the idea. However, I like to think she may now wear high heels to eat chocolate and I would class that as a partial success.