#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 31st December

Hello my lovely readers

Here is the last entry in this series for this year. However, rather than this being about the significance of the final day of December, my focus is on how it feels more like a mid-point than either an ending or a beginning.

And that message is most properly conveyed through the theme of music.

Tonight we're going to the Botanical Gardens at Kirstenbosch for their New Year's Eve concert. One of the bands featured is Freshlyground, who I've loved since I was a young teen, but have never seen live because I haven't made it home to SA for ages (as if I needed to say that one more time, hehe). I'm so thrilled - not least because this is their last gig as a group. The thought of getting to be even a small part of that bittersweet event fills me with joy. Their music has got me through some of the trickiest times in my life, and also provided the soundtrack for some of the most special, from the earlier sounds of Jika Jika and Nomvula right up to the most recent vibe of Can't Stop. It feels so apt that, at the end of a decade which has been characterised by difficult but determined physical and emotional recovery, I finally get to listen live, at home, and say, 'I did it!'. I got here, both literally and metaphorically - and I'm ready to move forward further.

I'm more grateful to this group of wonderful musicians than these waffly words can convey.

It's also been an honour to be here to witness the start of the lovely lead vocalist, Zolani Mahola's, solo career as a singer and storyteller. So this sonnet is a shout out to her too, as thanks for her cross-continental creative solidarity, our impromptu dance party a couple of weeks ago, and the reminder to be brave and bold in the tales we tell to the world.

31st December 2019

This poem celebrates the strength of song;

how music offers meaning to our life.

Both joy when things are right and help when wrong -

a soundtrack for our glee as much as strife.

Sometimes it is the wisdom in the words,

which touch a special chord within our souls,

and others, still, a beat or tune we've heard

prompts movement in our way (for me, a roll!).

And often, it's a blend of both of these,

where melody's a perfect match with lyrics,

that offers us such profound poetries

and lets the song find fusion in our spirits.

The latter kind's the work of Freshlyground

and I'll always be glad they've been around.

(My blog is refusing to embed a video from their official YouTube channel, so here's a link to my favourite of their newest songs, 'Makes Me Happy'.)

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 30th December

Hello my lovely readers

Here we are at the penultimate entry of this series, and also my penultimate poem of 2019. So I thought, as a lot of them have been about achievements - and particularly 'bigger' ones like flying and surfing - I'd use today's to write about a 'smaller' one that is in some ways the most significant.

I've had a fear of falling out of bed since I was about ten. It got worse in my mid-teens. It means that my beds at home, and at the universities I've been to, have sides to help me feel safe. It also means that, a little ironically, I feel most secure in sleep when I'm camping, because I'm on the floor. (You might ask, at this point, why I don't just always sleep on the floor - and the answer is that it's a lot of effort for other people to get me there.)

You can imagine that this fear could cause complications on holiday - especially on one where we've been staying in several different places. In fact, I worked out this morning that I've slept in eight beds so far. They haven't had sides, so we've constructed barricades of various kinds from a combination of pillows, chairs and my wheelchair. I haven't always slept through, but that's been more because of discomfort than fear. I haven't always felt completely safe, either - our constructions inevitably aren't as solid as my side at home - but I've coped. And that feels great.

(Featured picture from a while back is me in bed at Hannah and Lynne's, with my snuggle buddy, their rescue cat)

30th December 2019

Today I'm thankful I've had restful sleep,

all whilst I've been in eight (eight!) different beds

and that we have discovered ways to keep

me feeling safe when often I'd be scared.

I'm not entirely sure what sparked this fear

and many people tell me it's irrational;

I know it feels real when it's here

and panic sends me off into a spiral.

There have been times like that during this trip

when my brain was convinced that I might fall

but somehow I've managed to cope with it

and not just sleep, but rest, and dream, and all.

To others it might seem like a 'small' thing -

to me it's the best gift this year could bring.

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 29th December

Hello my lovely readers

To anyone in the UK, or anywhere else in the Northern Hemisphere, tonight's entry will read as very much unseasonal. However, as I'm in the Southern, it'll hopefully make sense. We spent the day out with yet more childhood friends, it was very hot, and my body loved it.

29th December 2019

This sonnet is in homage to the heat

and how it makes my muscles all relax

because I've been reminded nothing beats

the warmth to lessen spasms and their tax.

It helps me move about in ways which, frankly,

are nigh upon impossible in cold.

I easily find daily things for thanks here 

because my body feels much less old.

I know in terms of age I'm in my twenties

and therefore have the joy of being young

but, whilst I'm always grateful for that plenty,

in winter all the days seem very long.

When I am chilled I wish to hibernate

but, when I'm warm, I want to celebrate.

 

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 28th December

Hello my lovely readers

Today's sonnet is also inspired by our time with Mel and Desi, but this time the accessibility of the property. It was renovated fourteen years ago, and despite knowing I likely wouldn't visit very often, Mel designed things with me in mind. From the level access shower and lowered light switches inside (!!!) to the entrance with wooden sleepers over the gravel (in the featured photo). Much like Jenny's efforts with building the ramp at hers, this thoughtfulness made me feel so held and welcomed. That's what this poem is about, so it's also for everyone I know who has been similiarly accommodating over the years, with everything from portable metal ramps and planks of wood outside to internal modifications.

28th December 2019

Through living life alongside an impairment,

especially trundling in a wheelchair,

my access needs can feel an embarrassment

if it's an issue when I go somewhere.

Sometimes I think I should just stay inside

(or outside, as the situation calls)

and that it would be better if I hide

and not try to go visiting at all.

Imagine, if you will, the joy of knowing

that friends and family consider me

when planning how their houses should be flowing

or finding things to add externally.

I'm grateful that, for them, being accessible

is something they all try to make successful.

 

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 27th December

Hello my lovely readers

Today's sonnet is about the sea, inspired by the lovely views from Mel and Desi's place. I haven't got a photo, alas, as that involves support from other people and sometimes I like my sonnets to be an entirely independent activity. But hopefully the words will evoke at least some of the scenery.

27th December 2019

This poem is a paean to the sea

in honour of the solace that it offers

and all the healing vibes its waves bring me

since somehow its strong forces make me softer.

By that I mean it restores equilibrium,

reminding me that life, like tides, will ebb

and flow, and what might seem like a delirium

is just the chitter-chatter of my head.

We all have such a varied inner dialogue

(acknowledgement will help us all makes sense

for, though it often feels like a monologue,

frank conversations stop things being tense.)

Just like the rolling waves of gorgeous oceans

we're surrounded by tumultuous emotions  

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 26th December

Hello my lovely readers

So far on this trip I've loved catching up with friends I haven't seen for years - literally - but we've usually forgotten to take photos. That has changed today, on our visit to Mel and Desi's place in Pringle Bay. Desi and I have been friends since we were teenagers (when he would hitch rides on the back of my chair!), and he, Mel and her lovely (late) partner Nancy have always been significant members of our found family. It's such a joy to reconnect, and feels as though we've slipped right back into old habits. Nancy is of course dearly missed, yet extremely present too, and I hope she would approve of our antics.

The featured picture has me and Desi in the foreground and Jojo and Mel in the background.

26th December 2019

This poem is a homage to dear friends

with whom I still maintain a strong connection

and holds the hope that our link will extend

for many further years of fond reflection.

There's such a special place within my soul

for those who've always striven to include

me in our plans; it makes me feel whole

and grateful for their willing attitude.

When Desi knew I'd like to have a dance

or race as he ran right beside my chair

he'd jump up, keen to let me have a chance.

'Tho' time has passed, it seems that nothing's changed

except, perhaps, with longer legs, his range!

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 25th December

Hello my lovely readers

Today being Christmas Day and (almost) the middle of Chanukah, I thought I'd write about light, especially as our multifaith celebrations are in the sun this year. Or I should say in summer, because it's been a bit showery so far. But I guess that's possibly a more poignant point - both light and shade can coexist, and that's what these sorts of festivals are trying to remind us. If you've read this series, or indeed this blog, so far, you'll know this is a bittersweet day/time for me - as it is for many people. And, as much as I may not feel it on a personal level, that's a valid response. Aside from particular circumstances, the basic expectation to feel joyful for a day's duration can be hard to match with actual feelings.

The flipside of that, though, is that there can be joy in moments where it's perhaps least expected. As there was, for instance, this morning. We visited my godmother for brief hugs, and to test out the permanent ramp she's had built for me following Mama's earlier temporary experiments. There was a swift but intense downpour just as we left, so we thought it might be slippery going back outside, and that I might even get stuck in the sand in the garden - especially because my shoulder has decided that today is the perfect day to seize up with continuous spasms.

But I didn't slip, or get stuck! And I felt so free chugging like a train down the sturdy slats which have made it possible for me not only to get into her main house but to do so independently.

Thank you, Jen, you're a legend.

So this sonnet is to wish you all as merry festivities (of all kinds) as possible, whatever that means for you. And for anyone struggling, have a check of the hashtag #JoinIn on Twitter - lots of folx there if you need a chat/community.

25th December 2019

This time of year is when we celebrate

the planet's gift of light and what it means,

and sometimes that is hard t'appreciate

if we're not feeling great as it might seem.

But that's when I seek solace in 'small' things

to try to ground myself and keep on track;

and knowing we don't know what next days bring

I'm helped to focus forward and not back.

That's not to negate my more tricky emotions

because what coexists with light is dark

but rather to remember I have options

when life is sitting heavy on my heart.

For, whilst this Christmukah has brought me cramps,

Not shoulders nor showers troubled the ramp!

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 24th December

Hello my lovely readers

So today's Christmas Eve, and it's kinda sneaked up on me, because (aside from the occasional blast of anachronistically wintry lyrics in the supermarkets) I've managed to miss much of the preparation. We will be having a meal with family tomorrow but, beyond that, we aren't really marking it. And that is such a relief. Because it gives me time to meditate and be centred. That might sound pretentious but really it's just self-preservation.

On which note, here's a sonnet for my sanity, a poetic balm for my mental health, in line with the original reason I started this series in 2016. It's about the importance of balance and expectation around festivities and other significant dates.

24th December 2019

This verse is penned upon a Christmas Eve

for which I find myself in SA's summer -

where I've returned to regroup and to grieve,

to calm my mental tumult to a murmur.

I knew there would be times when I was sad

(and must admit today is such a day)

but there're many more when I've been glad

because I've learnt and grown in lots of ways.

And so I'm trying to focus on these,

such as the carefree joy felt on the surf;

reminding myself I've not lost the ease

of finding a connection with the earth.

So yes, there might still be some tears and pain*

but I know I can laugh through them again.

*of both the physical and emotional varieties

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 23rd December

Hello my lovely readers

Another post about memory today, though of a rather different sort. We took a trip to the area where I grew up, and found the house I lived in with my parents. We then went to the local supermarket to stock up, so I got myself a spinach and feta pie from Spar, followed by some chips from the Steers my dad used to take me to for treats. Both the pie and chips are significant foods for me in this context, and I got to thinking about how much memory is often linked to taste.

No picture because they were gone quickly, haha.

Content Note for vague reference to issues with food/disordered eating

23rd December 2019

It's funny how our minds connect with food -

I guess it's 'cause it acts upon our senses -

but it's the strongest link to childhood

for me; it melds the past and present tenses.

And that is such relief, as someone who

has much less love for eating as an adult.

It was a task I once looked forward to

and did not always put me in a tumult.

Whether enjoying chips, avo or pie

(since actually my preference's fruit and veg)

their smell and taste makes me recall that I

can have food and feel good within my head.

And, whilst recovery might be life long,

reclaiming memories will keep me strong.

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 22nd December

Hello my lovely readers

So, I realised, due to an additional quirk of time, today is actually the solstice this year. Whoops. But I wouldn't have wanted to write about it anyway, as tonight's subject is much more personally significant. It's what would have been my dear friend Eva's thirtieth birthday, and I wanted to honour her.

We went down to the beach, like we did for Gemma, but wrote 'Happy Birthday Eva' instead of her dates. I think she'd have found it funny, because she loved the wintry aspects of this time of year at home, and here we in the heat. But I was glad to do something in her memory, because I think of her whatever the weather.

22nd December 2019

This poem's for my pal, the lovely Eva

who ought, today, to have been turning thirty

and I've been giggling, recalling the diva

she was, tryna teach me to be flirty.

I wish I could have sent her off a text

or helped her plan a truly perfect party.

Hopefully what I did is the best next

and she'd appreciate the little heart(y)

drawn in sand, since it's like our older forms

of message, which were often sent as signs

or songs, in hearing aid headphones.

I'm so glad I could call her my close friend

and, in my mind, her dancing never ends.

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 21st December

Hello my lovely readers

Another long, busy, but lovely day today, and I realised it's actually the longest day over here - the summer solstice. Which means I get two of them this year, and skip the winter one entirely. So this sonnet is about the strangeness of time, the importance of nature in grounding, and what we owe to a planet with such diversity.

21st December 2019

Most years I write about the winter solstice

because its weather gives my bones a murmur

and makes me think of how time and light hold us

in thrall; but this year, today, I'm in summer.

So, then, perhaps what holds us is not time

(since that is just a structure we've imposed)

but instead Nature's reasons (and her rhyme) -

some things to which we seem, now, rather closed.

As we all bustle through our busy lives

it's easy to get lost in the mundanity

and forget that which helps us to survive;

the forces which support all our humanity.

If such concurrent, yet contrasting, seasons

exist on her, our planet deserves pleasing.

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 20th December

Hello my lovely readers

A relatively short preamble today, as I had hydro again this morning, so I'm tired - but in a lovely way. And that sensation has made me realise that, now we've been here quite a while, I'm at last starting to feel rejuvenated. And also that I hadn't properly 'let' myself, or been able to, relax in ages. I know the term 'burn out' is bandied about quite a bit, but I can accept that that was how I felt without shame, now. Some internalised ableism on my part. But the poem below acknowledges that - and that I'm not so exhausted any more. Both of which are progress.

20th December 2019

Today I'm writing of the joy of rest;

but, more than that, of feeling truly rested

because, often, my body's rather stressed

which leaves me mentally and physic'lly tested.

This means, for some time now, I've lived in hazes

whenever things have left me overstretched

and I might look at you with glassy gazes

when mind and muscles claim my limit's reached.

But, now I've had the chance to holiday

and learnt again to let myself relax,

those fogs are (slowly) easing far away

and so my brain and body are less taxed.

This might be just the start of my restoring

and yet I'm more myself with every morning.

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 19th December

Hello my lovely readers

As a sort of follow on/extension to yesterday's post, today's is in homage to our dear friends Hannah and Lynne (her mum), who have let us have their house whilst they're away. Hannah and I have known each other since we were very young, and she also uses a wheelchair, so their house is fully ramped. They also have a dog and a cat, the latter of whom has taken up residence on the bed I'm sleeping in, and seems to be my snuggle buddy for this week. She is in the featured photo. Thanks so much Hannah and Lynne!

19th December 2019

 

This poem is in thanks for lovely friends

who've offered up their homes for us to stay in

since they, too, are aware how much depends,

for me, on having easy ways in.

I guess it's their community as well

and knowing there's the deepest understanding

of struggles and a solidarity

which makes us all of us keen to put a hand in.

It also fosters, hugely, a relief

when barriers of every kind are gone;

it bolsters up one's sense of self-belief

and makes another's house feel like a home.

Especially when there are cuddly pets

'cause that's about as homely as it gets.

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 18th December

Hello my lovely readers

After yesterday's post about the changes in my body allowing me to access different spaces on land, this one is about being able to fly again, because you can't stay in a wheelchair on board. The poem also addresses the ethical complications of my delight. I was going to include a relevant photo but can't find it, alas.

18th December 2019

Tonight I'm pondering the real luck

I know that I possess in terms of travel

since many of my wheely friends are stuck

and cannot fly to any place at all.

For I, myself, was recently among

the people for whom planes are inaccessible

and held my patience almost ten years long

until my quest for comfort was successful.

I realise none of us should really fly

because of how such journeys harm our planet

Yet sometimes there's no route beyond sky

and families now spread out in quite a wide stretch.

Is it then right that we're so separated

and that commercial flight's so segregated?

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 17th December

Hello my lovely readers

Today's sonnet is about how I felt last night, when I was carried up two flights of stairs to visit my aunt's family at their beach house, and got to see the view from the deck (pictured below the poem) for the first time since 2010.

17th December 2019

Tonight I write of how a lovely view

seems to inspire manifold emotions

and of how joy can meld with sadness too,

when gazing on, for instance, a clear ocean.

As I regarded what is in the picture

which forms the featured photo of this post,

I found my heart was filled with such a mixture:

gladness to see it, woe at the years lost.

For it has taken me nigh on a decade

to get to look once more at the Cape's mountains;

at times I thought, howe'er much I prayed,

that chance was one I'd never find again.

And so, last night, this meant my attitude

was one which mingled grief with gratitude.

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 16th December

Hello my lovely readers

After the excitement of yesterday's post, today's might read as a little contrasting. But that's okay, because such is the nature of disability life. One of my favourite Youtubers, Jessica Kellgren-Fozard, made a video on exactly this subject a few days ago:

 

Whilst I would never presume to compare the scale of my blog project to that of her videos, I did find this one helpful as a reminder that up-and-down days are normal. Especially after exertion like I had yesterday during surfing. And really I'm doing quite well in my individual grand scheme of things not to be more achy than I am. Based on my parameters in recent years I'm positively comfortable today, haha. But the point is however I feel is okay. It doesn't take away from the achievements of yesterday; and it's part of my commitment to self-care to acknowledge and remember that.

 16th December 2019

Today I almost didn't write a verse,

because my mind and body are both achy,

but then I realised when I'm feeling worse's

just as valid as when things go great(ly).

Each forms part of my daily experience

makes up the whole of my reality

so, then, each must deserve equal significance

in sharing what this life is like for me.

Although this concept often feels shameful

and makes me much more keen to post the good,

it's true that there are days aplenty painful,

and if I can share those, too, then I should.

If nothing else, it's helpful to reflect

on where I've been and where I'd like to get.

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 15th December

Hello my lovely readers

In yesterday's post I wrote about remembering the importance of  my own self-care, and the huge part nature plays in that. Today's entry is about perhaps the epitome of natural forces - the sea.

Thanks to the suggestion of my brilliant godmother, Jenny, I participated in one of the free adaptive surfing clinics provided by The Roxy Davis Foundation every month on Muizenberg Beach for people with a wide range of physical, sensory and cognitive impairments. I haven't been in the sea for many years due to chronic pain, but oh, how I've missed it - and one of the items on my Thirty Things Before Thirty list was to get back out there.

Now I can say I've not only returned to the sea but surfed; and it was, without even the slightest hyperbole, the best experience of my life so far. Even more significantly, whilst in the water I had zero pain. Zilch. That was despite sitting in a very new position.

My sense of safety was likely due to the wonderful group of people I had around me. My ever stalwart Mama, of course, and our dear Jo, and Jenny - but also coaches Adam and Camilla (who was my human chair on the board) and the terrific team of volunteers. Thanks to them I got down to the beach on an adapted chair:

Then Camilla and I got carried out into the water to catch some waves. I wanted to attach two videos of that bit to the end of this post, but the wifi isn't playing ball tonight, so hopefully they'll be up tomorrow on here, or I'll put them on social media. For now, because I'm still so stoked, here's a sonnet instead of more rambly prose:

15th December 2019

Tonight I sing the joys of yet more water

and how I've got addicted to the surf -

for I think now that there's nowhere I'd rather

be, nor nothing doing, on this earth.

As I so loved the ocean as a kid

(and when my now taut muscles were more malleable)

I so missed all the things that I once did

but came to think I'd no longer be capable.

Imagine then, today, my pure delight

discovering I'd not just swim again

but do something I never dreamed I might -

more than recouping, now I've extra gains.

If there's a thing your heart just longs to do

find other people who will help you to.

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 14th December

Hello my lovely readers

Continuing the theme of shifting perspectives proposed in yesterday's post, today I'm writing again about some of the access arrangements I've been navigating whilst here (pictured in the featured photo). Because, sure, it's frustrating - and both my heart and body ache each time I hit a bump slightly skew - but there's a satisfaction in successfully being able to get somewhere and engage with society. And sometimes, functional necessity can even be made fun. Humour, after all, is the constant companion of disabled people.

Before you read this poem, please know I'm not being flippant - I'm still devastated about the situation back 'home' in the UK (the quotation marks signify the steadily-eroding sense of connection I have to the country in its current state). And it's had a real impact on my mental health.

I'm heartsore for me and my friends, and all other people who will be struggling (and have already, over the last nine years of austerity).

Thanks in large part to a Skype chat with a very dear person last night, followed by drinks with my lovely cousin James, I woke up this morning with a realisation that extends yesterday's thoughts. If I'm living in a place where the government seems to prefer that people like me don't exist, then just the very fact of existing is rebellious. So, whilst I'm still trying to recoup enough energy to feel that I can be properly imaginative and hopeful and creative about the future, it's helpful to remember that taking time to ensure my basic needs are met is a radical act on its own. That self-care includes finding ways (however alternative, and possibly slightly awkward) to be in environments which aren't the most conducive to bodies like mine, having fun and making my presence felt. Because I deserve to be out in nature, or to go to a bar. I deserve to do whatever existence means for me at any particular point, and feel good and welcome.

And so do we all.

14th December 2019

This morning I was struck by an epiphany

(admittedly I've had such thoughts before -

self-loathing, though, is tricky in its tendency

to hold on; love takes effort to restore).

And yet I woke today with a reminder

that I must also strive to fit myself

in any resolution to be kinder

'cause I, as much as others, deserve health.

That kindness can include time out in nature

or places that weren't 'made' for those like me,

since I am just as worthy to be nurtured,

to be included and to feel free.

It might involve some wheelchair parkour;

that's worth it if my sense of self's secure.

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 13th December

Hello my lovely readers

I've been feeling rather despondent today, after the UK election result, and part of me wondered whether I'd manage to write or post a poem. But then my godmother sent me a photo. It's of me crammed into the back of our hired wheelchair accessible vehicle, surrounded by all the things which have made, and are making, our trip out to SA possible. From ramps to manual wheelchairs to adapted pillows...but also more mundane luggage that everyone needs. It's a tight squeeze, and has required some creative thinking (just like the access situations it's all helping us navigate) but that gave me an idea for my rhyming response to the multitude of emotions I've been wading through.

By just existing, and being kind and creative in our thinking and engagement with the world, we can counter the sometimes overwhelming sense of hate with real and radical love.

It's not taken my sorrow away, but it has helped me process a bit, and hopefully it'll help anyone else who's struggling, especially my fellow disabled and LGBTQUIA+ siblings, and other marginalised groups. 

And for the first time in a long while, I'll sign off with this:

Love and spoons (because I think we need them).

13th December 2019

As I've absorbed the shock of this result

and pondered what it might mean for the future,

my feelings have all been in a tumult;

anxious and scared about our wider culture.

Yet, though I know that such tough situations

like where we are right now are damn exhausting,

they also fire up imagination

and that's what we all use just in existing.

So, then, if we are forced here by the circumstance

and rhetoric which harms our sense of self

if we can reassert our own significance

it might be the best way to give them hell.

Perhaps, since their oppression's become tactical,

T'resist with joyful anger's really radical.

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 12th December

Hello my lovely readers

A brief return to politics today, albeit obliquely, because it's struck me how much it's helping being away during the UK election. I'm still anxious about the future, and definitely not complacent (please, please go and vote if you haven't already!), but I think this distance is as helpful as the distance from the more general seasonal vibe.

12th December 2019

This sonnet, once again, concerns relief -

this time, from my emotional distress -

around th'ever present election news briefs

and waiting for results to go to press.

Yes there's a part of me which is still worried

but (because we are two whole hours ahead)

a while before reporting gets too torrid

we'll all be blissfully tucked up in bed.

That's not to say I've not thought constantly

about what we'll wake up to on the morrow,

but distance helps me think more hopefully

and muse on optimism and not sorrow.

For now, the fact the country might turn Labour's

a possibility I mean to savour.

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 11th December

Hello my lovely readers

Tonight's post returns from the political to the personal (although, to me, the personal is always political - and I certainly used my own experiences to make broader points yesterday).

It's about the joy of hydrotherapy. One of my concerns regarding our trip out to SA, aside from access, was a significant amount of time without physiotherapy. But then we met up with my childhood friend Hannah and her mum, and they told us about a local pool they use. So I had a session today, with a wonderful physio, and it was great.

That is the featured photo - I'd never worn a headfloat before, so that felt a bit odd to start with, but the session went well, and I'll be going again whilst we're still here. I'm so grateful to have been able to go.

11th December 2019

Tonight I sing the joys of hydrotherapy

and relaxation offered by warm water -

relief we thought, out here, we might not get for me

yet today found just what we had been after.

It was such bliss to be submerged and stretching,

to give my muscles a much-needed break,

because, 'tho proud of what they have been reaching,

I know parts of this trip have made them ache.

That said, today there was a real diff'rence,

within my range of movement in the pool.

I was reminded of this trip's signif'cance

and all I've done to get here, which is cool.

I often tell myself to 'just keep swimming';

perhaps that line of thinking has me winning.

 

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 10th December

Hello my lovely readers

Today's post is a plea to people in the UK who are eligible to vote in the General Election this Thursday, 12th December. I've already voted, because we were going to be away, but I want to ask everyone else to vote carefully. Particularly for the sake of the NHS, and the crucial support it provides. As a wheelchair user, I'm acutely aware of its importance, and my experiences in that regard are the inspiration for tonight's sonnet. The featured photo is me, having been raised off the ground at a recent emergency trip to the wheelchair service. But I was also a premature baby, and life with Cerebral Palsy since then has required a lot of engagement with many different teams. My friends in other countries (SA included) aren't granted that resource, and the difference in provision is stark. So please, for the sake of the NHS, choose your vote wisely, and if you want to protect it - vote Labour.

With love and thanks from your friendly neighbourhood political Parrott.

10th December 2019

This poem celebrates the NHS

in hopes that the UK will vote on Thursday

to ensure that we save it from duress

and stop before we give it any worse days.

For me, my friends, and all the other people

who live our lives with need of its assistance,

I ask as we approach th'election's steep hill

to use your vote to signal your resistance.

My pals in SA get little support

with managing their chronic health conditions.

One British thing I am proud to report:

t'National Health Service's essential mission.

It's held on now since 1948 -

please help secure it before it's too late.  

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 9th December

Hello my lovely readers

Today's sonnet topic has always been clear - it's in honour of Gemma's eighteenth anniversary - but, thanks to loadshedding, I was unsure if I'd manage to post it. Lack of electricity inspired us to find other things to do, however, so we went to the beach and drew a heart at the water's edge to hold Gemma's name and dates. That is the featured photo for this post.

It also struck me how apt the environment was for the significance of the day. As I wrote two years ago, Gemma had a fondness for the idea of Christmas in summer, and painted a tree scene on our local bridge during a holiday scheme. That's exactly what we'll have here. So, although I'm sad, hurting, and still struggling with the concept of festivity, I'm going to try and reclaim it, even a tiny bit, for her. There will be tears along the way (there have been even as I'm typing this) but hopefully healing too.

9th December 2019

Tonight I'm writing for my dearest Gem,

whose laughter left us eighteen years ago,

when she was just eleven, and I ten;

girls having fun in sunshine and in snow.

Since then I've found it hard when it is Christmas

because the season makes me feel sad.

I've always thought it might best be called 'Miss-mass' -

but Gem herself did not think it was bad.

In fact, of festivals, it was her favourite

(she even drew a tree upon a bridge).

Perhaps, then, it's my duty now to savour it

and so to honour her, though I'm a grinch.

I think I'll try and start again this summer

so Christmas gradually becomes less glum(mer).

Gemma, 26/09/1990 - 09/12/2001

 

 

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 8th December

Hello my lovely readers

Another short post tonight, due to a combination of loadshedding and family visits. This one is about a different kind of power - wind.

8th December 2019

I write, tonight, a brief homage to wind

(penned quickly before I am blown away)

for whilst, in England, it is not my friend,

it feels much nicer in the Cape Town bays.

I grant sometimes it's still a nasty shock

and makes my muscles become rather tense;

but, when the sunshine streaming down is hot,

I have a more secure line of defence.

The Cape Doctor's what I'd call 'affirming'

(and not because we now have the same title).

It fills me with a hope instead of yearning.

Its warm companion weather makes it subtle.

I might not hold this sentiment in winter

but right now I refuse to let it splinter.

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 7th December

Hello my lovely readers

A shorter post tonight - and not the one I thought. We're having loadshedding here (scheduled powercuts due to shortage of supply) so it's got me thinking about how much I rely on electricity on a personal level. Essentially, I've realised, if I lived here we'd need a generator to be sure I could charge my chair. Which is quite something, really, and sits me in solidarity with others who need similar medical support. Without further ado, here's the resulting poem.

7th December 2019

Tonight I muse on electricity,

now I've spent blocks of time with it turned off,

because I've learnt it's my security,

and how, without a source, I would be lost.

Whilst I can cope not using my computer,

or some related things like internet,

my wheelchair is not a wifi router

and without it, I feel trapped, upset.

I write this and am conscious of my priv'lege:

I'm grateful that I have one which is powered.

Yet I still think it's valid to acknowledge

the fear I feel when that freedom is lowered.

I'm sure, too, I'm just one of many others

for whom equipment gets into a bother.

 

#SeasonalSonnets 2019: 6th December

Hello my lovely readers

Where the majority of posts so far have referenced the fact that I'm in the sunshine, today's is about the opposite kind of weather - mostly snow. It's for my wonderful friend Kate, who not only puts up with but encourages my desire to do accessible adventurous things. I know I've joked for years about how I do wheelchair parkour (because seriously, life as a wheelchair user in society requires a lot of thinking about, and using, alternative routes to navigate our surroundings). But Kate does actual parkour - and has taught me I can do it too, as is shown in the picture below the poem of us doing our own version of wheelbarrows as a warm up.

Having cycled home to the UK from Bulgaria (with her then newly-adopted street dog Scout) in a heatwave two years ago, Kate is now hoping to trek across the Arctic by dogsled as part of Fjällräven Polar 2020. She needs votes to get there, and there are six days left, so this is my contribution to her campaign as thanks for all the confidence she's given me. Not least because I know how simultaneously thrilling and terrifying the snow can be, and have often used (admittedly hand-pulled) sleds/toboggans as a mode of transport in Canada with cousins when we wanted to have fun but knew my chair wouldn't cope with the conditions. Have a read and then watch her application video and vote for her on her page here.

6th December 2019

This poem is a plea for lovely Kate,

who's desperate to adventure to the Arctic.

Please help her get there before it's too late;

there's time for lots of votes if you are quick.

So much of her life revolves around dogs

(especially the adorable Scout,

who's thrived since their pan-European slog,

'tho this new trip of Kate's may make her pout.)

She's always ready with stalwart support

whatever obstacles there might be looming

and has a real kindness and rapport

whether with animals or fellow humans.

As she has helped along the dreams of others

it's time she got to live out one of hers.