EEEK!
For some reason, I hadn’t put a reminder about renewing my railcard into my calendar, and there was no reminder email. A news story this morning about changes to the 16/17 railcard prompted me to check … it expired a week ago. New one ordered, and I’ve put a reminder in the calendar for 2029 … Fortunately, I don’t anticipate travelling by train until early September.
Twenty years ago this week, I attended a “Gay man’s self-defence course”. It was some 18 months after I’d become disabled and had to give up work. I felt it was needed – being visibly disabled living in Tottenham was moderately high risk. The guy from GMFA who did the booking was Barrie, and the course leader was Simon.
My blog for the time says “I asked Barrie to pass on to Simon my appreciation of the trouble he had taken, and the way he ran the self-defence course. Barrie said that he’d be happy to do so, and that he’d chatted to Simon earlier in the week as a debrief: my name had cropped up and apparently Simon had said that I was very brave and determined but that there were some things that I just hadn’t been able to do. In many ways that was good to hear, but I do have some reservations about people seeming to often see me as ‘brave’ … actually, I’d rather the effort didn’t show as much as it does sometimes seem to! It isn’t really bravery … more about accepting that if I want to do things there will be associated costs in terms of pain and mobility as well as money, but that just means budgeting these items effectively. I think I see it more as determination (or even bloodymindedness, a quality I am not short of), in that if there’s something that I want to do, I will try quite hard to do it.”
My feelings about disabled people being labelled “brave” haven’t really changed, though since my diagnosis of Aperger’s syndrome / ASD I do perhaps realise that there are a few situations where bravery is needed to face the socialising associated with some of the things I want to do.
As it turns out, I could have had an extra three hours in bed this morning! I had a GP appointment due at 0905, which meant getting up shortly before 0600 so I could shower, shave, get a couple of mugs of coffee inside me, review the test results and emails, and so on. I’d planned to leave at 0830 – it’s only a 20-minute walk normally, but it’s uphill all the way, and my walking is not brilliant at the moment. At about 0810, I had a phone call from the surgery to say that the doctor had rung in sick, so they’d have to re-schedule, and would ring me later to do so.
Like many autistic people, I’m really not good with short-notice changes to plans, though if it’s a change that is clearly necessary (as this was) I can cope with just having a vauely unsettled feeling, rather than the major problems that avoidable or unnecessary changes cause me. But the unsettlement is enough to glitch my executive function – having reckoned on stopping off at the post office on the way back from the surgery, I now need to find a mental slot for that, given that supermarket delivery is booked for the second half of the morning, and I’ll defintely need a longer post-lunch nap due to the short night. But it’s a “tracked 24” postal item to the solicitor as part of the final phase of dealing with my late mother’s estate, so can’t just be stuck in the nearest postbox … Aaargh!
Overnight temperature down to -2.9C, and there had been the merest suggestion of a sprinkling of snow when I woke up this morning.
In my teens and early 20s, it seemed highly improbable that I’d survive to the age of 40 … indeed, at one point there was a rumour going round former schoolmates that I’d died in my 30s. I’m now 70 …
Really vile weather here today with rain beating down and very dark clouds. I’ve spent most of it almost unable to stand or walk. I woke from a long (painkiller-induced) nap this afternoon to an angry sunset, which was a bit of an improvement.
I decided that it was time I wrote to Councillor Ed Kimberly, who has done an outstanding job in speaking out against the self-styled “Worcester Patriots”, Reform, and the increase in overt racism seen locally. But this is the kind of communication that I find excessively difficult – my Asperger’s/autism kicks in full-time, and I second-guess, third-guess, and agonise over exactly how I will come across, and if there’s anything that the recipient might take the wrong way. After stewing over this for a while, I decided to try the ChatGPT AI to sort out my rough draft. It wasn’t perfect, and I had to make several minor revisions, but it was certainly helpful. I don’t think I’m a convert, though!
So:
Dear Councillor Kimberley
I am writing as a resident of Worcester and an activist in a different political party, but one who believes that on matters of principle we must stand together. I want to express my sincere appreciation for your clear and courageous stand against racism and the dangerous rhetoric promoted by the Reform Party and the self-styled “Worcester Patriots”.
At a time when public discourse is becoming increasingly hostile, your willingness to speak out despite facing threats of physical violence and even legal intimidation is admirable. It is heartening to see an elected representative put integrity and community values ahead of personal comfort or political advantage.
Although we may differ on many policy matters, on this issue your voice has been essential, and I want you to know that people across party lines recognise and value what you are doing. Your actions remind us what public service should be about.
Thank you for your courage and your commitment to protecting the dignity and safety of all residents.
Another very difficult night for me. Stressful wakefulness interrupted by short periods of stressful dreaming about Green Mount – the sale of which is due to complete today. I suppose that for me the house has always represented “continuity” and “rootedness”, so it’s understandably traumatic. The first arial photo I have (March 1963) and the most recent (May 2025): it’s not unchanging, but I’ve been part of its evolution for the last six+ decades …
Yesterday, I went over to supervise the final clearance of what has been the family home for over 63 years. We went there in 1962, when I was a nervous 7-year-old, and there’s something obscurely satisfying in being 70 when we finally say goodbye to it. Much stuff had gone to family members, or to charity shops, but there was two very full van loads of stuff from house, garage, and garden.
The day itself went OK: I was up at 0415 to get there for about 8am, having had a very bad night hovering on the edge of panic attacks and periods of really struggling for breath. However, once we got stuck in to the “doing things” I was fine. My dear friend Clare nobly volunteered to drive over to collect me, and I am extremely grateful for her support! Getting home around 6pm, almost straight to sleep, though I did get up briefly around 8 to have supper and a hot bath (muscles for the unknotting of). Even once I’d knocked off the times I was on trains and in cars, the pedometer showed well over 15 thousand steps – way above my usual “aim for 5 thousand, limit is 10 thousand” steps. So today I am recovering from physical and emotional stresses: the most strenuous thing planned is filling in the Waitrose order.
I very nearly overlooked this picture when packing the last load of stuff to be taken from my late mother’s house over to Worcester! Thanks to my sister for pointing it out. Long hair is not a recent fad for me – this dates to the 1970s, drawn by my friend, the excellent Millary Hilne.
