#WordyandWheelyWednesdays: Fabulous Friends

Hello my lovely readers

Although my (slightly more distant and less personal) academic writing is now more or less on track again, my words have yet to arrive back in a manner where I feel able to write coherent full-length blog posts, so this entry is in the form of yet another picture. In fact it marks a return to the 'light drawings' I used to accompany my #SeasonalSonnets series, and is an offering to all of my friends for whom this week has held academic significance - whether that be through finishing A Level exams or getting degree results.

You are all wonderful, I'm so very proud of you, and feel incredibly lucky to call you my friends and to have celebrated this stage of your journeys with you.

Since you are stars, you can have a star =P!

   Jx

#WordyandWheelyWednesdays: Just keep swimming part 2

Hello my lovely readers

I still haven't quite got my words back, so this week's post is comprised of a video instead. (If anyone has trouble watching it, let me know, because sometimes they don't seem to show up properly.)

Although I've been very emotionally all over the place, physically things are going quite well (which is super good news for my Parallel London mission). So the video is the second in what is a apparently becoming my swimming series - and shows my regained ability to dive. I haven't done that in roughly ten years!

Without further ado, here is my goggle-eyed dive, posted with love and gratitude for the amazing support and generosity so far. It really does mean more than I can articulate.

Jx

#WordyandWheelyWednesdays: Resilience

Hello my lovely readers

This will be another relatively short post, as I still don't quite have my words back - but I suppose that makes sense. 

How does one linguistically encapsulate a pretty small period of time in which there was a conference, a funeral, a charity haircut and a snap general election, as well as dates of both personal and political significance (from the first anniversary of the Orlando tragedy to the birthdays and anniversaries of several of my dear departed friends)?

In the lengthy ramble of a (probably grammatically incorrect) sentence, it turns out - i.e. not very well. So, instead of boring you with either my emotional rollercoaster or the strategies I've used to power through, I'm offering you a photo as evidence that I've managed to do so. Somehow I've found a semblance of resilience, hence the title of this post. I'll leave it to you to work out what is different about me (not my new hair!) though I will say it has to do with physical support structures, and straps...!

And I'll end with a sincere thank you for my emotional support structures, too, of which you readers make up a significant part. I'm so very grateful to have you along with me, both on this specific 'marathon' mission and in my life more generally. You are just wonderful and so generous in every way. I'm overwhelmed with the support for my Parallel London walk thus far - if you'd like to read my fundraising story for Starlight, you can click here.

Love and gratitude until next week

Jx

#WordyandWheelyWednesdays: For Martop

Hello my lovely readers!

Today's #WordyandWheelyWednesdays entry is comprised (mostly) of a creative piece I wrote in the immediate aftermath of the news about Shane, before the enormity had quite hit me and I lost my words. It wasn't originally intended for this blog but, as I'm still struggling to form sentences, I thought I would add to it a little and post it - not least because we are all coming together today to celebrate his life. I hope it suffices, mate, and I love you:

When you’re little and people start to talk to you about being disabled, they mention things like physiotherapy and other physical interventions, as well as the fact that you’ll have to get used to people staring at you and asking questions they wouldn’t dream of putting to anyone without at disability. Questions like “Do you sleep in your wheelchair?”, “Could you go to university?” and, later, “Can you have sex?” What they don’t tell you about is the grief: about the day you’ll come to understand that eventually you’ll be one of only a handful of students from your special school still alive. Or about the fact that the kid you’re wheelchair-racing down the corridors with one week might go into hospital the next – and not come out. Or about how, due to the difficulty of navigating great distance with disabilities, most of your class reunions will coincide (of necessity) with yet another funeral. And they definitely don’t warn you that the rest of the world has absolutely no formula for dealing with such situations, because people can barely bear to broach the idea of one death, never mind many.

However, they also don’t tell you about the joy – the intense, incandescent joy of forming fast and firm friendships because you know that you have to make the most of every moment. That's what our class bond was like, tenacious teenagers throwing everything we had at the world, whether in the humour of pretending we were Andy from Little Britain or in the relief at finding characters living lives like us in Inside I'm Dancing; even if the actors weren't wheelchair users. 

So thanks, Martop, for being one of those fast and firm friends. Thanks for the hockey games, the slalom scorekeeping (even though we nearly always tied because our chairs went at the same speed). Thanks for being there for chats and early Youtube binges. Thanks for all the times you (rightly) called me a muppet and for knowing when you were being one yourself.

I'm wearing my footy shirt today - I hope you'll see us in our sports gear and be proud. I'm certainly proud to have known you. Still can't quite believe you're gone but I'm so very glad you were here.

I'll stop being soppy now because I know you'd find it hilarious.

Love you always

Marrott xxx