Laughter for Levi

You will notice this post isn't about this year's camp yet (that is still coming!) though it's related. In 2014 Pathfinders fell in this week, so it is in remembrance of the night we spent at Woodlarks, waiting for updates on our dear friend Levi and then holding each other through the tears that came with the news of her passing. Whilst I am overwhelmed with disbelief that it was a year ago today already, as we were at her absence last week, however, I have attempted to make this day as full of laughter as I possibly could - because that's what she would want. She'd probably just laugh watching me crying, actually, and then shout and tell me off until I stopped. 

Laughter was definitely much more her style, so we tried that at camp, too. Laughter in the loos, in the pool, in the tent, in the woods. Laughter when mattresses squeaked and it sounded like something else, laughter when it was something else. Laughter at the dinner table, around the campfire, and at the sinks when we were supposedly washing up but in reality were having a water fight. Laughter as we did circus skills and the spinning plate landed on my head - multiple times. Even laughter as we went to find a suitable spot for the gorgeous memorial bear our friend Emma had organised (I'll try and find a photo somewhere soon) because Nori very appropriately blasted out some JLS on her phone. Then we laughed because we'd started crying, and we knew what she'd think of that - as I am doing now, writing this.

So, lovely Levi:

I hope you don't mind those mingled tears, gorgeous girl, since they were the same as those we both cried as I walked to you for a hug -  overwhelming joy tinged with the subtlest of sadnesses. I hope you felt you were with us, and I hope you know that you always will be, in the stone teddy that now bears your name (forgive me the pun, dear, but I thought you might like it) and in our hearts. I hope you know we miss you, a year on, and I hope we did you proud.

I'll light a candle tonight. Love you always - thank you for the laughter and memories xxxx

Friends are nothing 'til they've grinned together...

Doggy mummy worries

A proper post is coming soon, I promise, and hopefully the one about camp. Today, though, I have a brief one about hospital visits and anaesthetic...not for me, but for my (littlest) dog. Georgi hurt her paw whilst we were away, so we took her into the vet this afternoon, and it turned out to be an abscess. In order for them to drain it they had to put her under general anaesthetic. She's fine now, if feeling a tad sorry for herself, as you'll see from the photo below. I, however, have gained an understanding of my Mama's feelings every time she's had to watch me go under and then wait for me to come around. So thanks, Mama, for looking after me (and my dogs) when I need you most - I appreciate it, and you, so much.

Returning home

A short (and sleepy) post to mark my return from camp. Sleepy because it's only ten to seven as I start to write this and I could quite happily go to bed right now! Short because I probably will do just that very soon and I want to save the majority of my thoughts until I can do them justice. However, I also want briefly to acknowledge what is, for me, one of the most striking aspects of camp.

The significance of the title I've chosen is twofold - for, whilst it fits with the fact that I'm now back home in London, it would be equally apposite as a description for the beginning of my holiday. Going  to camp each year is synonymous with going home - going home to my favourite place in the UK, and perhaps even in the world. Returning to the fold of my Woodlarks (and, more specifically now, Pathfinders) family - a constant yet ever-changing and -growing circle of people and love. So, although I'll be extremely happy to snuggle up in my nice, warm (indoor!) bed tonight at a reasonable hour, I'll also be missing the late night (early morning!?) chats with fabulous friends - some of whom I've known for over a decade and others I only met this week but will hang on to for life.

More detailed and less philosophical words soon but I'm already counting the months, weeks and days until we can be there again!

For Eva (and eva and eva and eva)

Dearest Eva Weva Diva

(I hope you enjoy my attempt at a 'street talk/text talk' pun on your name in the title of this post - you always teased me about my refusal to shorten words when sending you messages. I've still got your number in my phone and it will never leave.)

As I typed that bracketed bit, what struck me is it being in past tense. Obviously it would be - two years ago today you closed your eyes - but I guess I still think of you as very firmly in the present and it's so odd to be reminded that you're not. Except, as I wrote last year, of course you are - in all the leopard print I noticed when I went to Camden the other day, in every Rhianna song I catch on the radio, and in every time I laugh at something only you would find funny too.

I'll be at camp when this goes up, as I was when you passed away, and though I won't have anyone with whom to share my thoughts of you I can assure you that they will be there. Just like our secret, signed, conversations I'll stare up to the starry sky and smile - a moment of silent thanks for having known and loved you, and for having been known and loved by you in return. We have a song we sing around the campfire called 'Friends are Nothing', the final verse of which is as follows,

Friends are nothing

'til they've parted together

with a tear in their eye,

as they wave their friends goodbye,

and they swear to meet again someday...

Now, I'm not sure that we'll meet again in the literal sense, as that isn't really what I believe. The almost oxymoron of 'parted together' is something I can hang on to, though, because I do feel as though we are apart and yet always together. So thanks. I feel you here even as I miss you. I hope you feel me somehow - perhaps our atoms are mingling.

Love you foreva and eva, darling Eva,

Jessi xxx

#Wheelchairperks no. 2

(A less sarcastic one, this time, I promise - and it's on a Monday to balance out the rest of the week as there'll be a post on Wednesday.)

When you realise that, in three (or four) years, you'll have the same title as the majority of the medical professionals involved in your life - and that thought fills you with glee and confidence. Bring on the doctorate!

(Due to this post falling on this Monday, I must add a very happy birthday to my aunt Lucy! Much love to you in SA)

Form an orderly queue

Just a quick note today to say that, as I'm off to camp, this will be the last post that I'll put up on social media for a week (until Saturday 22nd). I'm not one overly to push people to read these ramblings of mine (except for a status or a tweet) because that isn't the point of writing them, necessarily. 

That said, if you would like to read the duo of posts I've scheduled for this week, then you are very welcome to subscribe using the little box to the left of this post - simply enter your email address and you'll get them delivered straight to your inbox! Otherwise you can just keep tabs on www.wordyandwheely.blogspot.co.uk.

Either way, thanks for reading, I hope they will interest you whilst I'm under canvas!

Much love!

Briefly back to the 'Bubble'

Yesterday was bizarre. I made a very fleeting trip up to Warwick to be shown around several (I thought) possible campus rooms for me to live in from October - hence my not mentioning that I'd be there on any form of social media, because I wasn't sure how much time I'd have free. (Thanks to Roxanne for the impromptu hugs in the foyer of University House, and apologies for not letting people know.) There ended up being only one potential room, which I unfortunately won't be taking, because I could barely fit down the corridor, let alone into the room itself. So I'm going to be looking in Leamington and hoping that it, as a Spa town, has something to offer this eighteenth century geek - preferably sans stairs! (Thanks to Lauren for the short visit, puppy cuddles and bus route tips.)

But the room isn't the point of this post. I didn't think at all about what it would be like to be back - especially in the middle of the summer break - and it was really weird! Buildings and pavements were at once well-known and completely alien, and it felt both like coming home and going as far away from it as I'd ever been. Almost like being a fresher again, which I guess is what I will be as I start my PhD, but that sense of anticipation was oddly mingled with nostalgia. 

The place is filled with memories, and it took me from my teens into my twenties, but I'm not that naive little girl now - in part because of how it (and the friends I made there) helped me grow. It was as though I'd stepped ('wheeled'? Nah, 'stepped', because I always walk in my dreams and I was in a dreamlike state) into a sliver of my past but also been granted a fraction of my future. I'm excited to find out what these old haunts have in store for this new me!