Girls on Top

Friends and their crazy schemes.

For a significant birthday recently (yes, a pattern is evolving), my dear friend Sharon announced that she would like to climb a mountain. Our birthday weekends usually involved being holed up in a forest lodge for a few days with plenty of food, gin and hot tub dips, exercise optional.
But this was on Sharon's bucket list, so without further ado and about six weeks in which to do it all, the organising began. As plans were made, my attention was not so much on the mountain (as I knew I couldn't possibly climb up with them) but on the three hour drive there and back, the activity-heavy days and keeping myself crash-free. That would be focus enough.

Wooden lodge booked (with our compulsory hot tub) with Hoseasons in Bala Town, Snowdonia, preparations were underway.
 I began my research. I'd be taking my manual chair as there just wasn't room in the car for my powerchair so my anxiety was (quietly) through the roof. I have the dearest friends but I hate losing my independence at the best of times and since purchasing my GunMetal Grey power chair last year, and while they certainly wouldn't mind, being pushed around in a manual chair always fills me with dread.
A few years ago, on another dear friend's birthday trip,  I'd toured Belfast in my manual chair and  survived but that was before GunMetal Grey was on the scene. As they say, give a girl a taste of freedom and she doesn't want to give it up!
But needs must I thought.
Planning for the rest of the group involved power walking and running. For me, it involved researching Snowdon, the accessibility of Llanberis..

I was aware of a Snowdon train  but had all but ruled it out as I remembered the rickety nature of the wooden seats when I’d been up two years earlier with my boys and sadly this would no longer be an option. I would go and be part of the holiday but mountain climbing would not be possible.

On the journey down to Wales, Debs suggested I ring the Snowdon train office and be advised by them as I now had a burning desire to somehow say I’d been part of the climb - maybe just up to a certain point or even go up anyway and suffer the consequences!
I was informed that Snowdon also had a diesel train with wheelchair spaces which is a much smoother ride. I was saved! I booked my wheelchair place there and then. Who knew? The girl on the phone answered all my questions and I felt reassured. ‘You will go to the ball, my dear!’

After arrival at our wooden lodge, we settled in with a cuppa and made plans. We were staying in Bala Town, where the largest Welsh Cake in the world was made, certified by Guinness World Records no less. We felt that getting our bearings on Saturday and eating plenty would be our only priorities in preparation for conquering Mount Snowdon on Sunday.
All we had to focus on was us. No hungry teenagers in sight. No laundry baskets bursting at the seams. Just four girls, a hot tub and a mountain to climb.

Saturday involved a wander down to Bala Town lake, the largest natural lake in Wales. We took in an art exhibition by local artists and browsed through old LPs and musical instruments in a quaint antique fair. My team pushed me the length and breadth of Bala Town as I was (allegedly) the pre-Snowdon warm up - when I saw pics of my lovely Kay pushing me once back home I could see they had some rather hilly moments bless ‘em. But we laughed lots and built up our strength with plenty of hot tea and Bara Brith.

Before we knew it, Snowdon Day was upon us and, with our lunches packed and tin foiled, we drove up to Llanberis Pass. Misty and cool, we were unsure how much of a view we’d be seeing but as weather is something one can never predict, we were undeterred.

Once at Llanberis Base Camp, the girls set off at 10.00am in order to meet me at 1.00pm at the summit. They had read three hours was an average climb time on the route they were undertaking and my train was at 12.30pm. After waving them off, I parked up with my book, my writing accoutrements and the first of many cups of tea.

Now, at this point, since the onset of my latest health crash, I’d not been out alone and began to feel a little panicky. The prospect of being on my own at home holds no fear but where being outside is concerned I’ve swung between agoraphobia and terrified day-tripper for years held together purely with various pain medications and alcohol. This was a big step. And I was sober.
About six weeks previously, I had started a Pain Management Programme via Northern General Hospital in Sheffield, which covers a whole host of areas such as the physiology of pain, psychology, stress and coping strategies. The course has been a life saver and I’d recommend any one in persistent pain to look up similar programs nearby.

With my PMP (Pain Management Programme) toolbox in mind, I sat down and opened my notebook where my To Do List lay. I was safe, I reminded myself. I was surrounded by climbers, walkers and cafe staff. But my underlying fears started to overwhelm me and I found myself almost in tears. I’d already collected my ticket and was reassured to know one of the train staff would be on hand to get me on the train at 12.00 but I had two hours to survive without keeling over and my heart beat so fast I became light headed and thought I was about to faint.
I looked at my To Do List. Deep breaths, I read. Square breathing.

For the uninitiated, this is a PMP trick I’d learned several weeks earlier. It involves breathing in for 5, holding for 5, breathing out for 5, pausing for 5, all the while drawing four lines of a square either mentally or physically. On my leg works for me as this tends to also help ground me.

While my heat pad ebbed soothingly across my back and my extra jumper kept me toasty, I repeatedly thought ‘I am safe. I am brave. I am achieving great things today’: another great PMP tool of reciting affirmations. It may sound bizarre but it really works. I also happen to be the queen of the meme so had plenty in mind to soothe me.
I sat with my tea, calmly, enjoyed a little people watching as girls wandered by kitted out in their walking gear while sporting perfectly coiffed 1950s hair dos set with diamante clips. 




I finished my book, watched and smelled the steam trains pulling in and out and before I knew it, the time had come to board my train. I was readily adopted by a fab family from Liverpool and sat next to their wheelchair-using son Marty which cheered me. I’m happier in a crowd of wheelies that’s for sure. 
Being in my cushioned chair provided perfect suspension for my bones and allowed me to flit between chatting with Danielle, her parents Mick and Dee and watching the scenery roll out as we rose upward towards the summit.

Looking out in the wilds of mountain sheep, welsh bluebells and waving groups of walkers cannot be beaten. Yes. I would have loved to have had my walking boots on and climbed it myself but as I repeat to myself at least twenty times a day, It is what it is. You work with what you’ve got. AND THAT'S OKAY.

My Snowdon Family were preparing for a sponsored Snowdon Climb the following Sunday with seventy of their family and friends. This was for a cancer charity, a cause very close to their hearts after losing three to cancer recently. We were certainly counting our blessings after that conversation.

As we climbed higher and higher, a fairy fog descended, the stuff of Tolkien and Arthur Rackham.
'Do you know why the Welsh have a dragon on their flag?' Daniella asked. 'It's their smoky breath on the mountains. That's where the story comes from.'
I searched for a dragon or two but could only see curious lambs and their mothers peeping at through the mist.

We reached the summit and there was one of my girls, Debs, waving me up the final few feet. We had made it! My Snowdon family and the Snowdon rail staff helped me down as my sticks would suffice for a gentle wander at the top. My brain fog fitted in perfectly up here as the air is thinner and less oxygen has that effect on everybody so I was in good company. My heart beat hard and fast against my ribs my chest as though I was being rewarded with my own cardiac drum roll - I was so proud of us all! 

My girls had certainly had battled with the elements: that fairy fog I had so loved was responsible for rather wet and soggy hugs as we reunited before hot coffee and our celebratory packed lunch. I wasn't able to climb up to the very top as I had with my boys a few years before but that was okay. I was near enough. What a day. The day I climbed my very own mountain. The exhilaration and sense of achievement will stay with me always. 

Chronic illness, setting the pace and saying No!

Since my first diagnosis in Oct  2007, I  maintained a perfect sense of denial to all who knew me. I had worked as a primary teacher since 1995. We were a close knit team – we helped each other, supported each other and drinks out on a Friday night were a ritual. The pace was incredibly fast and we thought nothing of 16-18 hr days. I went for a routine appt only to find out my pelvis was fractured in 2-4 places and I was signed off immediately. The ibuprofen I’d been inhaling since April when Harry was six weeks old was replaced with tramadol and I was sent home from work on sick leave.

Nothing could be done. I had an op in 2010 which got me working again in 2011 and I very quickly got into that mode of long days, less sleep, high stress. I thrived on it.

The pattern repeated itself until in 2017 I was medically retired. I’d officially used up my nine lives!

But I’d always given myself fully to work, always trying to do better – I was never the best teacher or SENCo but I always wanted to do my best which drove me on.

And here I was. I saw this as being at the end of the road. Depression, anxiety, insomnia, it all kicked in. But whenever I got the chance to help with something – be it writing or music management, music promotion or even just going out for an evening, I would rev up, take extra meds and ignore the pain. I’d always manage one or two days then I’d crash for 4-5 days. I thought this was just how it would always be.

Physio got me off crutches and walking with sticks in late 2017 and improving my balance but only when I was rested. Other days I could barely get off the sofa. I did not know what pacing was.

My doctor had sent me for Cognitive Behaviour Therapy over the years which had been helpful in 2010 and 2014 during huge crashes. But this time she felt I needed counselling one to one with someone who could help me with grief and adjustment. I realised I had never allowed myself to deal with my situation as I what always been convinced I would ‘get better’. Medical Retirement at 45 was the reality check. I was officially on the scrap heap.

I confided in my counsellor at my first session that everyone seemed to want me to give up and stop doing the things I wanted to do. He soon got the measure of me and asked why I felt the need to run myself in to the ground.

‘Because then I know I’ve given my best and done as much as I possibly can.’

‘But at the expense of your health?’

‘Well that doesn’t really matter when I have to get the job done’

‘What would you say to a colleague who you saw doing this?’

I’d be worried for them’

‘So why aren’t you safeguarding yourself and your own physical and mental health needs?’

I really had no idea. To me, I’d always equated doing my best with running myself ragged. And I know I’m not alone in this. When I was a teacher, we would even compare our sleepless nights or schoolwork filled weekends as a kind of Kudos. This was the culture I’d been trained in. Accountability and the needs of the school, child and teacher were drilled in to us but we were not asked to protect ourselves.

My first lesson from my lovely counsellor was to have three days spread across the week where I was to make no plans. Have no planned visitors. I had to ringfence time for me to rest.

This has taken me three months to master. I am the Queen of reading other people’s minds really badly so every time anyone asked me to attend something I’d say yes as I decided they’d be cross/upset/let down if I said no. I could always manage to overdo it for a week or two then crash for the next three to four weeks. So then I let everyone else  down.

When I crash, the curtains stay drawn I don’t answer my phone I sleep a lot and I hide. My dear friends let each other know that I’ve ‘gone to ground’ as they call it and we keep in touch by text.

But over time I’m learning to say yes to one or two outings a week, two little pop outs for coffee and in between days I rest at home. It’s incredibly difficult and I still wrestle with my demons ‘what will people think?’  But I am slowly improving. It’s okay to say no to invitations and reschedule.

And this pacing malarkey is working. I’m still in pain and I generally rest with extra meds on my inbetween days but I’m managing to get out of the house 2-3 times a week now with the use of my fabulous power chair when going any distance  and sticks if it’s just from the car to the cafe and back.

We are all different. We have different energy levels and pain thresholds but this really has changed my life. Along with this I have had to accept going down a couple of gears in order to function day to day. But the benefits of this means I’m present and able to enjoy my days increasingly.

I have started grieving for the life I’ve lost and I’m trying really hard to like who I am now. I’m still very judgmental and critical of myself feeling sad that I can’t do what I used to do. My counsellor is currently helping me with this and I hope in time I’ll see my self in a new positive light.

Pacing myself is really helping quite this. By keeping a diary, I have learned that when I’m in pain and chronically fatigued, I am much harder on myself. A real grump in fact. On better days I can see the silver lining, I can appreciate the huge amount of good  in my life which I sometimes struggle to see through pain.

I am certainly a work in progress. But that’s a good thing. Living in the present is wonderful. I do have to remain mindful and grateful which I find easier some days than others but that’s just life I suppose!

When life gives you lemons, do you just make another G&T? Or is there another way?

I've been out of action for the last six months. In a very dark place and struggling to know how best to move forward. My family have suffered. My writing has suffered. I wasn't handling myself correctly. I know deep down how to be positive and forge ahead - but I just could not pull myself out of this latest episode.
The previous time I'd been hit like this was when I had to stop working through ill health in October 2016 and the enormous hole left in my life just completely floored me. At that time I made it my mission to feel better. I first tried yoga which i found very relaxing and inclusive until I strained my back doing twists I'd been advised not to do. I went weekly to physiotherapy to help my balance and walking until I felt able to leave the house using two sticks. Prior to that I didn't leave the house. I took up Tai Chi daily for balance and relaxation following a session at Northern General Hospital in Sheffield, mindfulness for stress and self calming strategies and it all helped over time until I started feeling more positively about my new life. I started attending festivals again and music events, meeting friends for coffee - as long as i didn't have to walk anywhere much I was okay. My Dad bought me a camping chair which I would set up for an event then pack up and throw over my shoulder after my day out. I loved this new found freedom. I was in a good place.

In October 2017, after many appointments and a year of letters and form filling, assessments and consultations, I received medical retirement on the grounds of ill health. Only one other person in the borough had been offered it to my union rep's knowledge. It indicated that I was unable to work in any capacity. I did not handle it well, even though it was the result I had hoped for. If I could not work, then I would volunteer.
Soon after, I was offered the chance to use my writing to promote and support unsigned musicians on a voluntary basis. I took on this challenge and I loved it. I spent a year travelling around meeting promoters, musicians and venue owners, writing reviews of gigs, introductions and interviews with bands - established and new - and it was fab. The drive of these bands had spurred me on to do as much as I could to support them in their bid to play their music to audiences across the city.

We started putting on gigs in local venues, then those further afield and I found myself working many hours a day in between naps and physio trying to keep up. The pace was incredibly fast and I struggled to keep up more and more until my health just took another nose dive. I had again used something to distract me from my real self. I was behaving as if I could work, albeit voluntarily, only this time the consequences were huge.
Not only had my mood crashed but I could not walk around the house. I was dizzy, having one panic attack after the other, feeling sick, sleeping while the boys were at school - it was just a mess and I had no idea what was going on. Everyone I spoke to just sat with me and let me moan. Life wasn't fair. I was letting people down. I wanted to be useful and now I wasn't.
One morning I woke up with chest pains. I did my  morning Tai Chi and spoke to a friend on the phone. Next thing I knew I woke up face down on my carpet, my body twisted and hurting, my chest tight.
I rang an ambulance after my parents and a friend came over to tell me that's what I needed to do. After many tests and scans, my consultant ruled out cancer, Multiple Sclerosis and Motor Neurone Disease to name but a few. But my depression was worse, my blood sugar was incredibly low, I was suffering from complete exhaustion and my CFS/ME had worsened considerably. I was not pacing myself. I was not eating properly. I was not sleeping. I had become very anxious about practically everything. I was falling apart.
I was ignoring symptoms until I crashed and would spend a couple of days being active at the expense of the rest of the week. I didn't hide this from anyone - in fact I told anyone who'd listen I was having to write from the sofa when I could as I was running myself into the ground over a couple of days. My motto was 'If life gives you lemons, make a gin and tonic' and I was. Far too many while pushing myself, masking the pain with alcohol and medication so I could pretend for a couple of days a week I was absolutely fine.

 I loved every minute of this time I spent working with these musicians. I was volunteering for causes I believed in - we did gigs to raise funds for Crisis as part of Musicians Against Homelessness - we managed a fab band called The Kavaliers and I met and worked with some incredibly talented people. But for me, something had to give.

A week later I broke down at my doctors. She reminded me that I was medically retired due to chronic pain and ME and was on maximum doses of meds and seemed to be taking more codeine on top of that just to keep up with people, something I really didn't need to do. She said, eyebrows raised, that my health had indeed crashed and my symptoms were worsening. This would continue if I didn't stop living the way I was living. I had to accept my situation and maintain my current health before I made matters worse. Self-care was a priority.
I offered to still write for people but could not commit to any deadlines so decided to bow out of that situation all together. I must admit, I did hide away for a while and spent most of July and August crying every time I talked about it or saw one of my articles online. Even now I miss that time but my doctor had laid it on the line. I had to make big changes. This notion of self-care was completely alien to me. I always popped myself at the bottom of my list as many single mums do! My priorities were my children and paying my bills. If there was time or spare funds then I had spent anything spare on putting gigs on, travelling, promoting gigs and so on. I had some learning to do.
I was offered a higher dose of anti-depressants and gladly accepted them. My meds for nerve damage were upped again and I was put forward for one to one phone counselling which i accepted rather cynically. How was that going to help? My situation felt hopeless.
Yet, with the support of my family, friends and key professionals, the next twelve weeks were life changing.

Mermaids, Moon Magic and Powers for Change

Since my health has thrown me the latest curveball, I'm finding that I'm managing to do lots of research and planning but writing  my actual novel is proving a little trickier. My usual routine has been scuppered by a change in meds, energy levels and function although sheer bloody-mindedness is keeping me going. The summer holidays are also upon us so my boys are here full time - they are loving these lazy days! Luckily this year my boys seem more interested in hanging out with friends so I'm not having to run a summer camp! Back in the day, summer was a mass of painting, baking, gardening, day trips, picnics etc but I'm feeling a little redundant at the moment while they do their own thing. No complaints yet though - I've insisted that I'm dragging them out somewhere every few days so I will hopefully get to see them!
This summer, my biggest challenge is to develop confidence in my powerchair and lessen my complete paranoia about having to use one along with my ridiculous fixation on the response I may get from others. I bought the thing weeks ago and apart from my big adventure to London and back, it has been out of use ever since. I'm nervous of travelling to and from places and access while I'm visiting new places - I can give myself twenty barriers to progress if I really think about it. I'm being very obstructive to my journey to freedom. But each couple of days I'm determined to go out in it with someone with me so I get over this sticky patch.
It's going quite well so far. Yesterday, I managed to tootle in my power chair up to a local deli for afternoon tea with my dear friend (who stopped me from bailing at the last minute). While a nervous wreck and powered purely by caffeine and adrenalin throughout the whole experience, I feel so much lighter today; in fact quite optimistic now I know I'm becoming independent once more. It's a huge thing adapting to using a chair - I've done it once with a manual chair and a scooter at one time, yet here I am again! But this time, using the power chair means I'm in charge a little more and less reliant on the kindness of my crew to push me about!
So yes - big day yesterday!
I'm getting up each morning to this amazing sunshine we're having at the moment and having to adapt my day a little to work round the heat so that I don't melt or crash!
I get up early and have a cuppa in the garden to connect with nature and my kitty cats, do any jobs I need to do then get on with my research and writing.
I'm currently researching from two books:

The History of Magic by Kurt Seligmann (1948) for a little background in to witchcraft and sea magic generally:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/History-Magic-Kurt-Seligmann/dp/0965084639/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532606290&sr=1-1&keywords=history+of+magic+kurt+seligmann

and then just this week I'm reading Mermaid Magic by Lucy Cavendish and Serene Conneeley (2011) which is giving me some real insight in to sea magic and all things mermaid.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mermaid-Magic-Connecting-Energy-Healing/dp/0987050532

I'd recommend both books for anyone interested in these areas.

My process at the moment is very much note-taking and planning as my original ideas for certain characters are changing. One character's motives are slightly woolly and through research I'm starting to wonder if the dark elements of sea magic may be best developed by her. I'm really exciting by this latest idea - drawn from my studying around medieval witchcraft. This character could be the pinnacle that a lot will depend on so I'm playing around with that at the moment. Writing is a little like steering a runaway train as it goes where it wants to go but you just have to try and keep it on track!

My house is steadily being filled with prompts for writing - shells, pebbles and a few sea magic instruments to help me on my way. I find that I'm quite a kinaesthetic learner at the moment and need to work with physical prompts when writing. Whether that's just meds, the heat or me I have no idea. Sea music helps too - I'm listening to a lot to oceanic Romantic music by Brahms. A  trip to the seaside is also on the cards so I can get my toes in the sand and surf. 

Right, I'd best get on - it would seem the blood moon and eclipse are making me very impatient for change! I needed a good shove and it's the eve of the eclipse which apparently means that powers for change are bubbling all around me!

Trains and Tribulations: Travelling Out of Your Comfort Zone

Last weekend, I was invited down to celebrate a significant birthday with one of my dearest friends who lives in London. I have done this journey from South Yorkshire many times but on this occasion, something was different. I was taking myself down there in my new power chair, a recent addition to my tools that keep me moving. I was petrified. As I don't travel alone these days, my children were travelling with me and we started the booking process while every inch of my body quivered..
After booking a ticket using my disabled railcard (a third off your journey!) I was directed to another department to ensure my access arrangements were in place. I was travelling with East Midland Trains. It felt like a military operation but I was kept calm by the incredible woman at the other end of the phone in Assistance and Accessibility who repeatedly put me at my ease every time I told her it might be easier to stay at home.
'When you've done it once, it'll be easy. Put your trust in us,' she promised.
I was talked through each stop and transfer with the placement of staff and ramps on and off every  train we travelled on. I was incredibly grateful for the service in place and actually just the time that was spent ensuring I was ready to travel.
Their support offered is outlined below.

The help we can give

To make your journey trouble-free, we can provide:

• help to plan your journey, including information about all train services on all train services around the UK
• information about onward modes of transport
• the most appropriate tickets for your journey, including any relevant discounts
• help to book the most appropriate seats on the trains
• bookings for help to get on and off trains (including the use of station wheelchairs)
• assistance with your luggage
• arrangements to help transfer between different train services

I was then emailed an itinerary of every step of the journey there and back. I knew I was in safe hands but I felt terrified.

Booking an accessible cab in Rotherham was a bit of a drama. I found my local EuroCabs office, who promise:

We have a fleet of 5, 6 and 7 seater vehicles which are all wheelchair accessible and adapted to comply with local authority guidelines and safety regulations. 

Again, I was put at my ease and was able to book my journeys to and from the station - for future reference I was recommended to book in advance as they have limited availability at peak times.
The minibus arrived and my chair was secured in place while there was seating for my children.
On arrival at the station, we were escorted to the platform and when our train arrived, ramps were placed for me to drive on to the train. I'd never done this before, but to the encouragement of the train staff I had a go, did a wheelie and nearly tipped back in to the arms of the poor attendant!
'Mum, I'll take care of the chair next time,' my mortified fourteen year old whispered.
So that was the plan. My eldest son would disengage the motor of my powerchair to wheel it on and off the train while I walked down the ramp on my sticks each time. Every day's a school day! Thankfully, the rest of my ramp encounters went without a hitch!
We had three changes in all which were handled by East Midland staff brilliantly. They made us feel at ease each step of the way.

I even managed to write some notes and decide on a new plot point for my latest novel - a huge fishing net tangle of characters and timelines would best describe the state of my newest writing at the moment, but I spent time on that train clearing my head and clarifying a key issue for my story. Just sitting at a train window watching the world go by was incredibly cleansing. I was able to think about my characters and be open to new ideas popping in to my head as I let myself people watch and scribble notes about the goings on around me. Readers of my next novel can expect a train journey and some interesting interactions between Marianne and the travellers she meets along the way. Writing on a train is one of my favourite things to do and I'd really missed it. It was good to be back.

If I'm honest, it was all I could do, on occasion, to stop myself screaming and getting a cab home but I was so proud of myself and my eldest son for getting there and back in one piece.
Stepping outside of one's comfort zone, particularly when you have a chronic illness feels nigh on impossible, but with the correct amount of support and kindness, travel is possible after all.

With firm nudges from loved ones and the accessibility arrangements put in place to improve our day to day living, I was able to visit my lovely friend and be a part of her incredible birthday celebrations.

I'm now planning my next trip. In the words of Arthur Daley of Minder fame:
'The world's my lobster!'

Rollercoasters and Rainbows: A Writer in Recovery

It has been twelve months since my last creative writing session. In fact, over the last two years, promotion of my first two novels and development of my third novel have been sadly neglected.

After leaving my much loved teaching profession two years ago and taking early retirement due to my creaky back giving up the ghost, I had found it difficult to write very much at all. My creative muscle had turned off and the mere opening of the latest draft of my new novel would leave me staring at the screen, writing a few sentences before deleting them again over the space of a day. This was interspersed by trips to the kettle and feeding children or cats and lying down on the sofa with a book and invariably falling asleep thanks to a heady cocktail of prescription painkillers.

I soon started climbing the walls. There are only so many trips out for soya lattes anyone can manage before going slightly bonkers and after a year I knew I had to do something else.

In timely fashion, I did indeed find another outlet for my writing which resulted in my working for Northern Exposure for the best part of a year. This was spent in the company of Rachel Brown, an unstoppable force in indie music promotion right now, and before I knew it I was writing reviews, interviewing bands and attending gigs when I was able to for the best part of a year. We had a fabulous time - I absolutely loved it. An incredible time I will always treasure.

What I kept forgetting about though was pacing myself. I am my own worst enemy when it comes to reading the signs that I'm about to crash and so over the year I did crash rather regularly and rather spectacularly until I realised my health was again taking a bit of a nose dive.

Living with chronic pain and chronic fatigue is a bit like that. People often find they can manage a certain level of activity for so long and then will try to push a little harder, attempting to claw back a little of the life they had before they became ill. I hear this all the time and yet was surprised when it happened to me. I thought I'd got this pacing lark sussed. 

My physio could see right through my act and was quick to explain I was just riding a rollercoaster which involved pushing myself, crashing, then pacing, pushing myself, crashing then pacing. We discussed my non-negotiables (family, friends, my cats, writing and music) and built those around me as my safety net. It may sound a little out there, but I imagined them as the colours of a rainbow around me which I knew I could turn to in differing degrees for different reasons, hour by hour. Chronic pain and chronic fatigue sometimes reduces you to a minute by minute stretch of 'This too will pass' and anyone who's experienced it will know, that phrase can be a life saver. After our final session six months ago, as I promised I'd learned my lesson, I went home determined to relax more, draw on the resources available to me and accept what my life now was.

Yeah, right. I was quite well behaved for the first few weeks but the cycle started again. It was never going to end well. I ended up in A&E with a suspected heart attack and the monster crash which inevitably followed. After a stern dressing down from my long-suffering doctor, I was sent home with a recipe for recovery.

And so, I am determined to focus down once more. Write when I can, rest when I can, sell and promote my books and accept where I am in each moment. All the motivational quotes such as: 'It is what it is' and ''Don't look backwards, you're not going that way' are carved on the inside of my skull for reference purposes.

So here is my new regime. Of sorts. When I can't write, when my imagination presses pause as often happens with the meds I'm on right now, I read. And when I can't read, I sleep. In between times I have the best friends in the world who pop by for coffee and cake (or a cheeky glass of fizzy) or take me out for that soya latte or lunch (or a cheeky glass of fizzy!)

But all is well - I may just be reading through the draft of my third novel so far but I'm on the right track I hope.

I don't think I'll ever really learn how to pace myself. But by focusing on writing from home once more I hope novel three will be well on the way again soon! 24,000 words down and counting!

Back to Business...

Such a lot has been happening recently, I don't know where to start.

My last post shared the writing of a new novel which has taken me two years to write. I finally got through it two weeks ago and feel it is finally where I need it to be.

In that time I have also managed to claw my way back to teaching full time after recovering from a rather major operation. The last four years in fact have seen me move from walking with sticks and being medicated up to my ears to walking and weening myself off a veritable cocktail of icky medicines. Yay for me.

Anyway, back to business. I now work in a fab school as a SENDCo and Music Co. I get to spend my days with little people creating stories, music, art and building bright little buttons. Each bright in their own uniqueness.  In my spare time, I still write everyday and my second novel is currently being reviewed by a teeny team of smalls who are going to help me polish it before it's sent off for publication.

The Pixie Plot (working title but I think it's sticking) is a lot darker than Driftwood but despite my belief that it would target an older audience, I have a nine year old reading it who isn't too terrified ... although she does happen to love all things dark and magical (my dream audience really).

I vow to write on here regularly now I've managed to unlock my blog (long story) and keep everyone posted about a few exciting projects I'm involved in at the moment - a selection of workshopping, dancing, performance and a foray in to bookselling (if I'm brave enough).
And it's almost Summer. It's all good :)

NaNoWriMo 2014 begins!

Mood - positive :)
Word Count: 1650

Well, I have signed up to NaNoWriMo once more and as it served me well in 2011 with a first draft of Driftwood & Amethyst, my first children's novel, I have taken the plunge again. I try to write most days to be fair, yet this last two months have been decidedly sketchy in the writing department and I knew something had to give. New work commitments, a school change or two (while on the supply wagon) and the adoption of two rather giddy puppies have done nothing to help my already full and happy existence - no complaints though! I have been slowly developing my second children's novel since 2012 - two years and I'm still only half way through a rather woolly first draft - and need a kick up the proverbial.

I've never involved myself in writing groups but have heard this can be beneficial - not knowing many writers myself, I rely on friends' children to read my material then offer feedback which is always brutally honest (!) but I'm now starting to yearn for adult feedback and also just be able to kick back with a few writers who can appreciate the need to stay in and happily write late in to the night. Not quite a hermit yet, but not far off!

Sheffield Uni are hosting the NaNoWriMo meets this month and so I'll be popping off there shortly to see what's going on there.

Wish me luck - any fellow South Yorkshire NaNoWriMo participants going? I may see you there :)

We're Growing a Zoo!

After six months of my two boys researching dog breeds, pestering for a dog, researching dog behaviours, pleading for a dog, researching dog tricks, pestering and pleading for a dog, I finally took them to Rotherham Rescue Centre to look at a few. My intention was purely to show them how big the labradors/irish wolfhounds/alsations were and to demonstrate how hard they would be to walk and look after. I had every intention of getting a dog of some description over the next few weeks, but something a little more manageable than the ones they'd seen bounding along the beaches during our recent holiday in Wales.
That was Monday.

We entered a Bedlam for dogs. Dogs of every size and shape barked and snarled, whimpered and whined as we were shown around the kennels. I can't imagine how the volunteers can bear the sadness in those animals' eyes. They are amazing people who tirelessly show up to feed them, walk them, play with them and retrain some of the most traumatised week after week.
Some were so frightened of humans after their early experiences, we couldn't go near them as they expected us to hurt them and snarled, their bodies rigid. But some just jumped up to lick the bars and have their tummies tickled by the volunteers they knew and trusted.
There were three old dogs, mongrels I think they were, who I could have taken home then and there. Poor things. But many of them are so used to the routine of regular walks and meal times that they are settled there. It seems strange, but a few would find it difficult to leave the kindness of their carers now.

 The boys were undeterred by the noise and the stories .They just couldn't choose between them.

"The dog will choose us, Mum," Max reminded me as we walked round again.

A little further on,  two little scruffy white mongrels cowered in the corner of a huge cage. They were struggling with this environment after being separated from their owner only a few days before. After a little chat through the bars, my boys asked to go in to the cage to give them a cuddle.
"Okay," I said, "but just for a minute."
As they sat down to stroke them, one jumped on Max's knee and sat down, while the other curled up on Harry's knee and lay her head on his arm.
"Which one would you want?" the volunteer asked.
The million dollar question. Before I could answer, Harry was on to it.
"They're only little, Mum," Harry whispered. "They'd be just like having one dog."
With dog eyes and boy eyes pleading upwards, I was powerless.
A few hours later, that same day, Bella and Jasper were ours. They came with quite the collection of dog beds, blankets, toys and bowls - all from a doting owner who just couldn't take care of them any more.

While our two cats are taking a little adjustment, our rabbit seems unphased by her new friends. These two little pooches are quickly becoming a part of the family.
That first night, they cried a little but at 2.30am they settled. I left them alone after checking twice and that seemed to do the trick.
The second night they slept through and, fingers crossed, they seem to be used to us now.
We have negotiated a corner of the settee where they curl up together on a white wool blanket and would quite happily sit there in betweeen games with the boys and their friends.

We are smitten. There are many aspects to owning dogs that I'm still adjusting to myself - I've set up a lunchtime dog walker for the days I'm working and I'm having to rethink a few days out we had planned to now accommodate them - but I do know we are very lucky that these two little pups chose us.

Musical Stories ...

The Family Festival workshops as part of Grimm and Co's Summer programme went really well - many children enjoyed a variety of activities designed to inspire storymaking and storytelling. We had great fun during my sessions, creating stories which evoked a walk through an enchanted forest and creatures they met along the way - some imaginative and truly inspiring young people took part in and then performed their musical stories to each other during these informal, fun sessions.

 

We started by looking through a selection of images all of forests, hidden buildings in woodland settings  and creatures - woodland and fantastical. Using a selection of instruments, the storymakers created sounds to evoke elements of their stories, using percussion, guitar and vocal percussion in some instances too. 

 

It is so refreshing to allow students to follow their own train of thought, to allow them to work in their own way without the constraints of a particular learning intention or success criteria and the fear of whether or not they are moving forward quickly enough .
Often, it is equally important to allow students the space to be inspired, to nurture their creativity and celebrate their successes regardless of whether or not a list can be ticked or a target can be highlighted on a given spreadsheet which promises the perfect 'level 4'or 'level 5' when complete.

That is why places like Grimm and Co, Inspire Rotherham et al are so important. Teachers' workloads are such that many opportunities for this kind of learning are currently being squeezed. I don't for one minute believe that the current education system's incarnation can or will continue, but until children are once more afforded a more holistic, creative curriculum, the opportunities offered to our young people by charities and community groups such as Grimm and Co are invaluable.

Story Making Workshops at Rotherham Family Festival 2014

I am sometimes asked to run children's writing and story making workshops which is something I relish and would like to do more and more of.  I  will run  three sessions during Rotherham's Family Festival taking children through a story-making process where we use the spoken word and musical instruments to develop magical stories through music. I can't wait to see what our creative young story makers come up with!

As a teacher, my two favourite subjects are Literacy and Music so you can imagine my excitement when asked to become involved in this project. Preparations are underway for this exciting venture and the Writers' Attic is being prepared as I write.

Rotherham's Family Festival is being run by Grimm and Co, part of Inspire Rotherham and Ministry of Stories to offer our local children free access to a range of story making workshops over the week beginning 4th August 2014.  The program is as follows:

I'll be waiting in the Writer's Attic in Rotherham during the afternoon of Wednesday 6th August for any young story makers wishing to take part. We will create a number of stories together and will endeavour to share them  after the event :)