slightly weird

17th September 201927th September 2019

We go to Wales – arriving

Monday, 16, 17 September, 2019

Getting ready for a trip – well, one seems to blur into another – I get this strange pit of stomach feeling, like someone has died. And I wouldn’t say excitement – but certainly anticipation or hope. I love the destination part of travelling but am not so good at the actual journey.

I find my agoraphobia kicks in. Will I be OK? Will something awful happen? What if I never get there? That’s the worry gene. But then the expectation of something different, what I want to explore, what I want to taste, what will it all feel like? Inevitably, when planning a trip near the time to leave, other places creep into my brain. These are the places I’ve been before and would like to say hello to again, but also the places I’ve not made it to…and then the anticipatory anxiety of will I be OK and what if something awful happens… Gah.

Our journey was very smooth yesterday. We arrived at Swansea on time and quickly. Then it fell apart. The little two-carriage train we transferred to on the next platform couldn’t be used. Somewhere in the muffled Welsh accented announcement the word ‘broken down’ popped in. Instead we had to wait a half hour for another train that would take us to a bus, and then on to our destination. It would add about 90 minutes to our journey.

The replacement train had only one carriage but it smelled better than the first one. These little trains are like toys. They whirr, they are filled with cheery passengers, the guard walks through making small talk to pass along to the driver where people might want to stop. We pass through little villages, see cows in small intimate hollows of fields by the tracks, and then we’re alongside the sea. There’s sand, and inns, and water, and that muddy waste you see when the tide goes out. I can smell meadows, then the sea, and sometimes soil. We’re not in London any more.

When Emma reaches me by phone, I’m on my way to the bus. I’d asked the driver for the washroom. Go in that gate, see, right along to the end, don’t worry, we’ll wait for you. And so they did. Emma lets me know that ‘Colin the taxi’ (not her husband, who has MS and is in a rest home) will meet us when we get to the station.

Another almost 90 minutes on the road, in a school bus brought in for extra duty and driven by a rather elderly man, and headed straight into a large and relentless sun, causing the driver to constantly lower and raise a rickety sun blind as he went. After the first stop he announced that he didn’t know his way to Fishguard station. Not to worry, the lady next to me did so she’d be happy to direct him. We were entertained by the winding road and by two rather spectacular funnel clouds illuminated by the setting sun and looking ominously like twin tornadoes!

By time I could get a clear shot, the two cyclone shapes in the sky had dwindled and were golden in the setting sun

Finally we saw Fishguard Harbour at the end of our journey

Colin the taxi picked us up, along with two other weary travellers and finally we were here, at Emma’s in Goodwick! A delicious dinner, cooked by today’s carer Julie and eaten on trays on our laps in Emma’s bedroom, listening to her stories of battles with doctors, politicians, and lawyers. She doesn’t leave her room any more but there’s so much going on for her from her armchair that’s taken the place of her bed these days. I feel very lucky.

I’m sitting in Emma’s kitchen. I opened the top of the window, knowing that someone will come down eventually and ask why it’s open. The air is fresh. Outside the road is steep and birds are singing. If I lean out of the window, there’s the harbour – not the best view I’ll see today – but there it is. I havent been here for four or five years. And I made a makeshift breakfast – a cracker, cheese, and half a banana. Opposite is the cottage that Sam, Emma’s older son, lives in. I will see him today and I know what to expect. I’ve known Sam since he was a teenager.

Opposite is Bramble Cottage, where Sam lives with Charlie. We're staying in Emma's - Lavender Cottage — Opposite is Bramble Cottage, where Sam lives with Charlie. We’re staying in Emma’s – Lavender Cottage. This part of the hill is gentler than the next

Beyond Bramble Cottage, just before the road turns and the hill gets serious

Strangely, there is an oven in the middle of the floor. Hmm. Coming in or out, I’m not sure. Perhaps out since I notice the main oven has stickers on the doors. A new one?

There's an oven in the middle of the floor — There’s an oven in the middle of the floor

This place is very cottagey. I can’t help thinking what I would do with it were it mine, although it never will be. I find it interesting how differently we all like to arrange our spaces. I’m not a big fan of the kitchen table being the main socialising area but Emma’s amazing living room was flooded some years ago and it hasn’t recovered. In there, Colin had many years ago put some fantastic carpentry there. No couch sitting for me this week.

The living room window and the view beyond

There’s talk of the battles, the family, politics – Brexit of course, and even time for some frivolity – clothes and hair talk. Always welcome. And so to bed. I’ve been awake for a couple of hours now and will spend some time organising my clothing and electronics. Krish packs so I don’t know where most things are. I hope they both sleep for a bit longer. My alone time is more precious than anyone knows.

12th September 201918th September 2019

Volunteering and babies – Haggerston

Thursday, 12 September, 2019

A few years ago…OK, almost four decades ago, I had a baby. Nobody could have been more surprised than I was that this ever happened. It was way too grown up and weird but there I was, having a baby. More about that another time.

However, after I had a baby I reinvented myself. (Not for the first time either!) I learned and experienced so much that i decided I’d like to pass that knowledge along. Yet another story for another time but I trained to teach prenatal classes. I absolutely loved it. I met the most amazing women, some of whom are still my closest friends, I learned so much about so many things, and it opened my life up in many, many ways.

For one thing, I became a published writer. I’d always loved writing, of course, but to be paid to do it was a dream come true. And there is yet another story to be told another time…but it involves strong and interesting women, coming to terms with the work of giving birth, and becoming a different sort of groupie in the birthing world.

Fast forward many years, here I am in London and long past my teaching and even writing days. When I heard about a volunteering opportunity where I could mentor a pregnant woman, I jumped at it. Back to the classroom I went to learn how to mentor and navigate the waters of birth and new parenting in the UK. I am now a Bump Buddy.

I actually waited more than a year to be matched up but I do have a mentee. I’ll keep her anonymous but she’s an older mum with a young baby and we meet once a week to talk about babies and so much more.

Luckily, I don’t get broody. I made a good friend through Bump Buddies too, Shahanaz. That makes it worth it.

Although babies don’t make me broody, I miss my time with pregnant women, teaching them, helping them understand things, helping them pull out the strengths they already have inside them. So satisfying!

On Thursday, Bump Buddies had a coffee and cake meeting – yes, please! They held it at Waterhouse restaurant by their office. Waterhouse is a social enterprise delivering chef training and support for young people who have faced challenging life circumstances; including homelessness, mental health problems, knife crime and gang violence. They do a fantastic job in there. The food is great and the prices are so reasonable. They catered all our Bump Buddy lunches. I recommend them!

Bump Buddies is part of Shoreditch Trust in Haggerston, the next neighbourhood over from Dalston in the borough of Hackney. Haggerston has a lot of old rundown buildings and factories but it also has some really cottagey areas too, a lovely park, a lot of new buildings, and it has the canal – Regents Canal.

New buildings springing up in Haggerston

Industrial courtyards along Kingsland Road

Looking from Kingsland Road over Regents Canal

The Glory, a gay pub on Kingsland Road at Orsman Road

We had a great meeting with Jane, the coordinator, making us aware of lots of changes and new opportunities. And I had a warm brownie and an apricot, both delicious. Well done, Waterhouse!

Continue reading “Volunteering and babies – Haggerston”

8th September 201911th September 2019

Hackney has a carnival

Sunday, 8 September, 2019

I haven’t been able to find out how many years it’s been going but there has been some sort of small local carnival in the area since the early 70s. The larger Hackney One Carnival wasn’t much when I first arrived in Hackney. I remember a small parade that would travel along from the town hall to Amhurst Road, move down Pembury Road and land at Hackney Downs, where there would be several stalls set up. Up in Ridley Road market there was more to see – more music, more food.

But it’s grown. Now the route is longer and there are many performers. Now there are satellite areas all over, with several sound stages, impromptu and planned.

When I woke up and began preparing for the day, things seemed to kick into gear early. I could hear a persistent voice saying something like ‘Get off the bike or we will call the police.’ At first puzzled, I then realised that someone must have been on a public-use bike that shouldn’t be riding it. I had no idea these bikes could talk.

My Hackney morning had begun.

I was really surprised when Krish said he’d come with me to the parade. He’s not good with such events. However, we set off together past the barriers that closed off traffic and towards the town hall. I didn’t have a lot of time but I wanted to see something of the parade – being short, and with more than 60,000 people expected, I wasn’t anticipating much joy with that – then check out Bohemia Place market, travel along the Narrow Way, behind St Augustine’s Tower to the churchyards, the bicycle path, and on to St John’s of Hackney – two hours, I thought.

The crowd gathering — The crowd was gathering. I wasn’t sure I would be able to see a thing

Although there was a lot of police presence, they seemed relaxed and in the moment

Not surprisingly, Krish lasted less than ten minutes. That’s OK. My camera and I had plans.

And also not surprisingly, although the parade made lots of noise, I couldn’t see a thing. And I was short on time so I set off towards Bohemia Place. It wasn’t very busy. There were some stalls, a bunch selling food – mostly vegan as always – and a DJ on a sound stage.

Amidst all the fun, a reminder that Hackney needs to be knife-free

Having fun in Bohemia Park — Having fun in Bohemia Place

The Narrow Way was pretty busy. I had a rare jaunt into the McDonalds, which was less not more busy than usual. A mini chicken wrap and mini ice cream and I was good for another hour or two.

The pedestrianised Narrow Way was busier than usual

There were two bands on the street with a good crowd for each.

I walked over to the churchyard past the tower. I found a children’s area inside what I call the Hackney Secret Garden and, to the side, a large sound stage was set up. I’d managed to catch the band between set and listened to the singer try to liven up the audience. This was strangely hard to do, considering the occasion, but I always have fun listening to the local hip hop accent.

It's all about the food — It’s all about the food

Continue reading “Hackney has a carnival”

1st September 20191st September 2019

Superclubbing! The Nyonya Supper Club

9 August, 2019

I haven’t been to a supper club for years!

I’ve been reading a blog called The Boy Who Ate the World for about ten years. I can’t even remember how I came across it. The blogger is Guan Chua. He was born in Kuala Lumpur and lives in London, in the Whitechapel area. Guan used to be a financial analyst but then trained as a Cordon Bleu chef. He loves to travel and write about his foodie treks but best of all he loves to cook the Malaysian-Nyonya cuisine of his childhood.

Guan was a contestant on Nigella Lawson’s ‘The Taste,’ where he fulfilled his dream of being mentored by Anthony Bourdain. He didn’t win but I enjoyed his time on the show a lot. I knew he ran a supper club – better still, it was in the Whitechapel area! – but Krish isn’t keen on Malaysian food and I wasn’t keen to go alone, and spend the money! Instead I would just read Guan’s Instagram and think about the food. Emails would come in announcing a new supper club but typically I’d be too late to get a place, they’re snapped up so quickly.

One day a couple of months ago an email came in as I was sitting doing something else so I emailed back immediately – any date in August, please! This time I made it. I was going!

The night of the supper club, just as I was about to leave, a ridiculously unexpected and fierce rain and wind storm sprung up. I had to wait for it to pass, then saw that the next bus would be quite a while. I jumped on the next bus that took me anywhere close and we trundled along oh so slowly in the rainy, slow moving traffic. I found a bus stop for another bus to complete my journey and had quite a long wait again. By the time I reached Aldgate East station, I had only a few seconds to get there.

But I got lost! Dinner was feeling far far away. A few calls to Guan and I finally made it to his apartment block and into his small flat in the new complex I’d walked by so many times. I was at least 20 mins late but Guan greeted me with a lovely gin and tonic. I felt quite ready for it. I’d not had time to buy any drink for the table, as planned.

There were ten of us sitting down in the dining space in the open plan living room/kitchen. I was probably 30 years older than the oldest of them. These twenty and thirty somethings were chatting back and forth about their travels around Asia, and the food they’d found there. I felt quite overwhelmed with it. How had they travelled so much? What was going on? Somehow the world was leaving me behind, so I listened politely and waited for food. Definitely worth the wait!

Sambal Crab Bites - but I'm allergic to crab so didn't get the taste them — Sambal Crab Bites – but I’m allergic to crab so didn’t get to taste them

Guan had kindly made me my own crabless Sambal bites - Yum! — Guan had kindly made me my own crabless Sambal bites – Yum! (Although I lost my two temporary fillings crunching them up!)

This noodle dish was my favourite! — This cold noodle dish was my favourite! Kerabu Glass Noodles with crayfish and Nyonya Herbs. So fresh and mouthwatering. I want this recipe!

Drunken prawns. I wimped out and didn’t eat the heads

29th August 2019

A routine hospital visit- The Royal London and Whitechapel

Wednesday, 28 August, 2019

I use a CPAP machine – I should talk about that some time – and, while it helps with some pretty severe symptoms such as night terrors and sleep paralysis as well as having a desirable effect of no snoring, it does mean that I’m never truly comfortable while sleeping. I’ve chosen the most minimal mask to wear but I just feel trapped behind it and I’m confined to certain sleeping positions. So when my sleep doctor asked me if I’d like to try a dental device instead, I thought it was worth my while to at least check into it. Reports from the CPAP users that I asked weren’t very favourable but I’d go see for myself.

I got a letter asking me to come to the Dental building at the Royal London Hospital and that’s not so far away. Today was the day. Except I woke up feeling groggy and shaky, and obviously not that thrilled with the thought of rousing myself and getting down there.

I had my tonsils out at the London Hospital (at Whitechapel). I was six years old and while my memories are interesting, they aren’t good ones. I was in a huge ward for about a week, walked down in a group of other lucky surgical victims, tricked into inhaling ether, or whatever they used to put me to sleep, dreamed a long dream of a bright star spinning in inky black space, and woke up to pure torture. If you’ve ever had your tonsils out, you know exactly what I mean.

Archival image of a ward at the London Hospital

Before the surgery, they’d teased me with descriptions of all the lovely ice cream I’d be eating while my throat was ‘sore.’ It sounded all right! Now I knew the truth. Swallowing even my own saliva was more than I could tolerate. Ice cream? No way! I can even sort of remember the terrible, raw, soreness of my throat or can I?

Then a nurse kept coming by as I pulled out of my groggy just-anaethetised state, ‘Are you feeling sick?’ ‘Do you want to be sick?’ At the tender age of six, I found myself thinking ‘Hm, I think they’re telling me I’m going to be sick.’ And soon enough, I threw up a bunch of burning bloody stuff that made my throat feel even worse, if that was possible.

I think I must have struggled with a few sips of water at first. And then some time later, maybe a day, who knows, they came around with the food trolley. I was handed a plate, on which was some buttered bread fingers and many slices of orange. Orange! I knew instinctively that I could not eat those. I protested and was told to be quiet. I looked under the plate where they’d always put a label with the patient’s name, and read ‘Janice Solomon.’ She was the little girl in the opposite bed in for a broken arm. ‘This isn’t mine,’ I said, ‘It’s for Janice Solomon. I can’t eat oranges.’ I was shushed and told ‘Eat it!’ I’ve fortunately forgotten what happened after that but I’m sure it wasn’t pretty.

For a week I could have no visitors. I’ve always had separation anxiety and imagined my family had abandoned me. One sadistic nurse even hinted at it. Then finally I got to go home and put the whole horrible thing behind me. As you can tell, I haven’t ever forgotten it.

Some years ago they closed the hospital and built a brand new hospital complex. Instead of the old brown brick ones, up went some blue glass towers. a few of the old brick ones remain here and there and still serving people. It’s strange that they’re still needed but it’s sort of comforting to see them there. They say that the Tower Hamlets council has bought the old main hospital building on Whitechapel Road and will be using it for a civic centre. It looks like they are keeping the old building and adding to it. I’m glad it won’t look so different from the road.

For some reason, I forgot to photograph the old hospital behind the hoardings but I did wander along the market, which we called Whitechapel Waste in my childhood days. It was a large Jewish market and now is completely Muslim

The new dental clinic at The Royal London – inside it was modern and bright

The old emergency dental clinic at the Royal London – I went once and it was archaic and dark

Looking past the corner of the old dental clinic, you can see the many blue towers of the new Royal London

One of the remaining old buildings of the RLH – still in use

From the orthodontics clinic window – a long queue for one of the old buildings

I’m going back to the clinic later in the year for more investigations – I’m not ready yet for the device they want me to try – but I’ll be back in Whitechapel again many many times before that.
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