88. I see me running through that open door…
I don’t remember anything about the film itself, though of course I have seen Dumbo again since then. The only memory of my first trip to the pictures is Pa trying to hurry me off the double-decker bus while I’m busy being travel sick over the conductor. So perhaps not the magical night he’d intended.
If only I’d had Dumbo’s feather, we could have flown home.
87. Always something there to remind me…
Thursday afternoon saw me tucked away in the non-contact room, ploughing through assessment results. Depressingly, half the children still remain below the class average, despite Mr Gove’s exhortations. I fear for my salary.
Entering results onto a spreadsheet is a mundane job, so I switched on the wireless; partly to drown out the sound of children in the playground – they do keep turning up at school – but also because I knew that Clare Balding was going to be talking to Tom Isaacs as part of her ‘Ramblings’ series on Radio 4.
77. Does my bum look big in this?
This week I received a photo of my brain. I’m thinking of sending it as a Christmas card. It’s the result of the six thousand quid scan I had a couple of weeks ago and so is the most expensive photo I’ll ever have taken.
As I understand it – which I don’t really – the yellowish bits are the proteins that have gone bonkers because of the Parkinson’s. Looks like we’ve got it cornered.
73. Tunnel vision
Yesterday was very interesting, in a boring kind of way.
You might remember that, in the early part of the year, I participated in a drugs trial. There’s more about it here and here, if you can be arsed to look.
In essence, the lovely Dr LaMancha and his team are trying to see if a particular drug, currently in use for another condition, has any effect on the progress of Parkinson’s. The trial is now over and the results are still being analysed: a painstaking task. I asked about it today, as Dr LM prepared to inject me with radioactivity.
72. The kindness of strangers…
Last weekend I was, in truth, feeling pretty low. I realise that this will come as a bit of a shock to anyone who knows me. You’ll have stopped reading my blog – as instructed – before the whole cat-food/porridge/iPod fiasco. You didn’t miss much – it got a bit wimpy from that point.
69. Off I went with a trumpety, trump…
July, last year.
“So are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” said Mrs Jolly-Colleague.
We were at Mrs Domestic-Colleague’s house for an end-of-term splurge of good food and gossip. Mrs D-C bakes-off against the best. Her head-to-head with Jill Archer is the stuff of legends and minstrels still sing ballads to her victorious Simnel cake.
65. And the world’s alright with me…
I have three memories of Spencer John; which is probably three more that he has of me.
The first is that he was caned by the headmaster. This was rare at my primary school and the shock which reverberated through the school community was rather thrilling. Someone was smacked most days in our class – but to be cane was a sign of true wickedness. His crime? I can hardly bear to write it; I’ll put in asterisks so as not to offend. He sp*t at someone. I understand if you need a break now.
64. Here comes a chopper to chop off your head…
As soon as I could face it, I trawled the Parkinson’s forums (fora? Like dominum? Where is that Latin of yesteryear?). Anyway, trawling. Looking for teachers who had been diagnosed with the Nonsense and were still working. Showing me that it would be possible: that my work – and the associated payslip – were not about to disappear like an unsaved worksheet on the buggered hard-drive of doom.
Indulge me. It’s been a long week; I’m all digressy this morning.
63. When I wake up in the morning, love…
Exeter, 1976. DearHeart and I, pens poised to record insights into the poetry of Yeats. Dr Henderson takes off his spectacles and gives us all a Paddington-Bear long-hard-stare.
“I’m going to read you one of Yeats’s greatest poems, Lapis Lazuli. Before I start, can I remind you that the word gay did not, in 1938, have the meaning that it has today. So when I tell you that ‘Hamlet and Lear are gay’, I expect you to react appropriately. Thank you.”
59. Present mirth hath present laughter…
“So, any interesting presents?” I pass on the Quality Street and add my sweet wrapper to the pile in the middle of the staffroom table. Destination – the sticking area for next year’s Reception Class, the last of this year’s children having finally, finally left the building for the summer.
Mrs Berry shakes her head as she sends the chocolates on their way. “Vouchers. And some really nice letters. Nothing useless at all. ”
“I once got last year’s diary, partially written in,” says Mrs Acorn. “And some used British Airways complimentary earplugs.”
“I was once given a packet of condoms,” muses Mrs Berry. “But at least they weren’t used.”
“I once got given a chocolate thong,” pipes up Mr Headteacher. A shiver of horror passes around the table.
“I really wish you hadn’t shared that,” I say. “Right, best tackle that classroom.” As I haul myself up, a text comes through on my phone. YoungLochinvar has thoughtfully sent me a photo he’s just taken in Smith’s. Back to School, it says. My soul shrinks a little.
The following day, I set off to buy some holiday odds and ends. I need some summer shoes for traipsing around Rome but Marks are putting out their winter boots already. Any minute now, I expect to hear carol singers.
It can’t be good for us, this rushing towards the future at the expense of the present. Not good for me, anyway. Nowadays, I work best on a very short focus.
There was a time last year when I was almost paralysed with worry about how my Parkinson’s might progress and how miserable life would become. It takes very little imagination to conjure up a pretty depressing future.
But I’ve had brilliant support from family and friends including my own ActorLaddie. And I’ve talked with people who are living positively with Parkinson’s and MS, amongst other conditions. And it’s helped me to realise that right now, right here, I am very lucky – my life is good and to be enjoyed. I am very content, despite the start of the football season.
DearHeart is currently learning about Mindfulness and has been sharing with me her discoveries. Her recommended book (here) arrived in today’s post so you can expect all future blogs to be vastly serene. And, as she reminds me, we do only have the present. I’m trying really hard to be grateful for that present. Even if it is a chocolate thong.
The Jelly Chronicles 