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.
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.
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