A mixtape for multiple sclerosis

A mixtape for multiple sclerosis

Thursday 21 November 2019

The Ballad of Barry and Freda (Let's Do It)

I'm very lucky that one of the work projects that I'm currently involved with centres around the history and heritage of a local iconic music venue.

It's involved hours in the archives and a lot of fascinating research around the venue's performers - from poets and dramatists to singers, sports stars and comedians.

One of the many, many acts I came across while gathering information was the glorious and much-missed Victoria Wood.

So in her honour - and to stave off the November chill - here's one of her finest moments. Turn up the volume and dig out the women's mags.



:: The Ballad of Barry and Freda (Let's do it) by Victoria Wood

Wednesday 13 November 2019

All the small things

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

November doesn’t have the surprising warmth of early autumn, the tingly excitement of the Christmas countdown, the new start of January or the pancakes of February.

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

So, as the traditional gatekeeper to MS crap-ness, 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 that 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. And when I get home. Hurrah. Current reads: Neil Gaiman, Angela Carter. And Viz.

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 carefully 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. Bottom. I miss you Rik.







*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.

Wednesday 6 November 2019

All together now

Both my husband and I are lucky enough to have jobs that enable us to learn a lot about our local region - it's history, culture and diversity.

Sometimes this allows us to experience very moving opportunities that we may otherwise never have had.

One of these came at the weekend when we were guests at the one-year anniversary of the unveiling of a powerful statue.

The Lions of the Great War statue honours the sacrifices made by South Asian service personnel of all faiths from the Indian subcontinent who fought for Britain in the First World War and subsequent conflicts.

It was created by a local sculptor and funded by members of a local Gurdwara who wanted to remember the men who gave their lives for a country that wasn't their own.

The remembrance service which formed part of the event was extremely moving - giving voice to a community whose part in history had previously not been visible to the wider public.

As a family, we were made to feel extremely welcome, enjoying lunch in the Gurdwara and receiving thanks for the part my hubby played in getting the statue into the public eye.

It was a wonderful event - and the sacrifices of a community we don't often hear about are truly something to reflect upon as we head towards Remembrance Sunday.





:: All together now by The Farm