When Life Gives You Lemons – Page 10 – Making my best life with MS

Ode to the Humble Earthworm

Random post? Well, maybe a little. But I have been thinking about worms a lot recently – especially since last week when I cleared part of the vegetable patch for planting. For the first time in seven years, the soil was full of worms (and other rather interesting beasties). We have been gardening organically since we moved in, yet it is only now that our soil has recovered its full health.

Whatever chemicals were used before we arrived, I hate to think, but they certainly destroyed almost every creature living in the soil. Most of you, I’m sure, garden as we do, but if you do not, or have friends/relations who do not, let this post be a plea on behalf of the earthworm, to whom we owe so much.

**Pretty? No! Vital? Yes!** Image: Sippakorn -Yamkasikorn on Unsplash

The earthworm’s champion

The greatest advocate of the earthworm was none other than Charles Darwin. He dedicated over forty years to researching their habits and effects on the soil. His book, The Formation of Vegetable Mould through the Action of Worms, with Observations on their Habits (1881) outsold The Origin of the Species.

It may be doubted if there are any other animals which have played such an important part in the history of the world as these lowly organised creatures.
Charles Darwin

Darwin promoted this humble creature because he realised that worms are essential to the health and fertility of soil and thus the health of everything that depends on it from grazing sheep to fields of cultivated wheat.

How do they do this?

These tiny invertebrates can almost move mountains. It is estimated that the worms found in an acre of cultivated land would be capable of shifting up to 8 tonnes of earth. (nypl.org.blog) The import of this? Well, all that moving of earth from under the ground and back up to the top ensures that the topsoil is rich with nutrients. Worms take plant matter into the soil and transform it via their intestines into ‘fertile pellets’. Their movements within the earth also aerate it and improve drainage. They are effectively mini composters who also ‘plough’.

And it is not just the gardener who benefits from this little pink fellow, but other wild life too. Worms are part of the food chain that feeds birds, badgers, hedgehogs, foxes and dozens of others. Take them away and these ‘higher’ animals will be forced to search for food in an ever depleting natural pantry.

**A tasty breakfast** Image: Istvan Hernek on Unsplash

Seagulls are the most ingenious at tempting out their next meal. Since worms cannot survive in water, they come to the surface when it rains. Though they cannot hear, they can feel vibrations, so the seagulls ‘paddle’ the ground in the imitation of rain and then gulp down their prey as it emerges. Evil but effective.

‘Truth is never afraid of mockery’

Poor Darwin was the constant butt of ridicule. His theories of evolution were met with derision and his book on worms also. Punch especially enjoyed mocking this great thinker, but of course, time has more than verified his truth.

Thank goodness that he held fast to his vision and was not cowed by popular opinion, or our understanding of natural history would be so much the poorer.

Sadly, despite the easy accessibility of his knowledge on the positive impact of worms on the soil, there are dozens of products on the market that are designed to extinguish them. Worms leave ‘casts’ or little piles of soil as their food goes through the digestive process. These casts are unsightly on a perfectly manicured lawn, so some folks flood their greens with insecticide. Please don’t. A few tiny earth towers hurts no-one, whereas wholesale destruction of the gardener’s friend hurts us all.

Evolution

My sentiments towards worms have improved greatly as I came to see their value in my garden. What once made me say, ‘Eeww!’ and shy away now makes me smile. However, I like to think that I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for these less than beautiful creatures. My favourite poem from childhood is by Spike Milligan and I shall use it to end this rather whimsical post.

Today I saw a little worm

Today I saw a little worm
Wriggling on his belly.
Perhaps he'd like to come inside
And see what's on the telly!

Spike Milligan

Illustration for ‘Today I saw a little worm’ *A Children’s Treasury of Milligan*

Happy gardening!

The Marvellous Month of May

I love the spring, but it takes till May to get into full swing. And then what a spectacle it provides: frothy blossoms in every shade of pink; the haze of bluebells in the woods, and at last skies unencumbered by charcoal clouds.

It is the month we put away our heavy sweaters and take out our summer clothes, so unfamiliar now, they feel like new.

The lawn experiences its first haircut (or not if you are observing no-mow May) and a sense of joyful anticipation is born. If ever there were a month made for celebrations, this is it.

The darling buds of May

As May begins, my garden becomes a Monet dream: filled with undefined masses of soft colour. Fruit trees erupt into every shade of pink from almost white to a deep magenta. This year, they are especially lush, since the continuous drizzly rain has nourished the trees.

These blossoms, so pretty to observe, also hold the promise of a good harvest – each bloom the base of a fruit. So far, we have been spared the ‘rough winds’ which often terminate these fruits before they form. My ancient cooking apple tree is the last to blossom. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the days will remain balmy or at least gale free.

Walking on sunshine

This year, in rather uncharacteristic fashion, our bank holiday was enjoyed with clear blues skies. Time, at last, to tackle the garden.

Blink and my garden fills with sticky willy (goose grass), bindweed and a tiny blue, forget-me-not type flower. The bind weed is the worst, slithering its way under the soil to pop up again metres away. It also has an unfortunate habit of strangling things.

I don’t have the energy to work in the garden for long (about 20 minutes is my limit), so I’m taking the little and often approach. It’s taken me three days, but I’ve cleared three rows in the vegetable patch and sown seeds in each.

When I’m tired, I work in the potting shed. Filling containers with compost and planting with seeds is workable even for me and some are already giving rewards for my efforts.

**Tiny beginnings** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

My mini sunflowers are looking happy and the cheap dried peas I sowed are now delightful pea sprouts ready for eating. My corn is progressing and so too my salad leaves. Today I need to plant my celeriac and beans to give them a chance to grow sufficiently hardy to put up some defences against the ubiquitous snails.

In the veg patch there is purple sprouting broccoli, some rainbow chard that self seeded, celery from old celery sticks and an abundance of herbs. It isn’t much and would hardly fill an empty stomach, but is it something.

For our ancestors, such bounty would have been a true blessing, for April is the starving month. Winter supplies are almost gone and the first greens only just appearing. Is it any wonder that the 1st of May has been celebrated since Roman times? For it gives the promise of life.

May Day traditions

As a little girl, in Junior school, I remember learning to dance around the Maypole. It was fairly hilarious and nothing as fine as the one below. We had no floral crowns nor white dresses – just the dull uniform of grey and green. Nor did we have a May king and queen. Yet, as below, I believe the boys were excluded from the dancing.

**Dancing around the Maypole with flowers in their hair**
Image: Social History Archive on Unsplash

The tangling of ribbons and the intricacies of steps to avoid such a fate were all we focused on. The unsubtly phallic symbolism of the pole passed us by, as did the ancient beliefs from which it sprang. For the dance, like most May celebrations, centred around love, fertility and ensuing new life.

To ‘Go a-Maying’ was to set off in the evening (preferably with a romantic partner) to gather flowers and the branches of the newly blossoming hawthorn, whose common name is May. One returned at sunrise to decorate the home – no doubt at little tousled.

The Puritans, despisers of all things fun, attempted to squash the pagan and overtly sexual May celebrations, but succeeded only for the time that they were in power. Such irrepressible joy could not be dampened for long.

All across the Northern hemisphere, May is celebrated as an end to the austerity imposed by a brief growing season. Activities range from dancing to jumping fires; rolling cheeses to eating special foods – but each acknowledges that winter is truly passed and abundance about to begin.

Interestingly, May 1 is also International Worker’s Day celebrating the reduction of the working day from sixteen to eight hours: offering a new life to those caught in the chilly clutches of an industrial age.

Party, party, party!

This month is an especially happy one for me. Not only is it my birthday month but also for many friends and relatives – even the dog’s! And, of course, birthdays require gatherings, Prosecco and cake – lots of cake.

**Birthday treats** Image: Robert Anderson on Unsplash

Our birthday commemorates our birth, yes, but it also looks forward. When we wish someone ‘Many happy returns’ we are saying that we hope their birthday celebrations will return next year and thereafter. Like May itself, the colourful birthday of the natural world, we look forward to it returning again next year.

And whatever you are doing this month, I hope you will find time to celebrate in your own way May’s promise of good times ahead.

**Blue and pink Spanish bluebells** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Dolphins, Waterfalls and Other Magical Things -Part 2

Leaving the mythical grandeur of Scotland for the traffic clogged roads of England was pretty demoralising. What kept me cheery was the prospect of meeting up with old university friends in East Anglia.

Gone were the days of tuna bake and cheap booze in our shared house. These were replaced with Liz’s ornate Swedish celebration cake and blood orange G&Ts in their gorgeous home. What had not changed was the pleasure we took in each other’s company.

**Perfect hosts: Liz and Peter Holland**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Though we had left Scotland, it is fair to say that it has not left me. My thoughts continually drift back to those magical days and this post is an opportunity to visit once again.

Last week, I focussed on the beauty of nature in the far north and this week I’d like to turn to more human concerns. For despite the small and often scattered populations of the Highlands, it is replete with cultural interest.

Walking with the ancients

No trip to the Highlands is complete for me without a little visit to the Clava Cairns. We were startled to find that a few other people had discovered them too, but while they disembarked their mini-buses and rushed around the site, we waited to hear the whispers of our ancestors.

**Clava Cairns in its Victorian ‘druidic’ grove.** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The mysterious Picts

The Pictish peoples are said to have disappeared from Scotland, though our DNA would probably tell us otherwise. Though their culture has been largely lost, it is believed that they merely assimilated with their Gaelic and Scots contemporaries. Since the Picts had no written language, it is hard to establish exactly what life was like, but we do have some wonderful archaeological evidence to go by.

They left magnificent carved standing stones and they left the outlines of their villages. In Burghead, we came across a Pictish settlement as shown below, left. The location was ideal for repelling Viking and other invaders and the proximity to the sea ensured a stable food supply. Though the Romans viewed the Picts as barbarians, it seems that, inter-tribe fighting aside, they were a very civilised people, growing crops and maintaining quite complex communities. It takes a little imagination to turn photo one to the imagined settlement below, but it is not impossible.

**The stunning location of the Pictish settlement with deep earthworks for protection.**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

**An imagined view of Burghead settlement in Pictish times.**

Kinloss Abbey

On our return from Burghead, we came across another beautiful, Romantic ruin. Following the signs, we set off to explore. It transpired that these now tumble-down walls were once part of one of the largest, and most prosperous abbeys in Scotland. The site is huge. Low walls indicate where buildings once stood and a whole section waits to be made safe for viewing.

Though the abbey is ancient (12th century), the place has not stood still in time. Over the centuries, it has continued to be a burial ground. Large, ornate mausoleums press close to the abbey walls, in the hope, perhaps, that their wealthy residents could jump the queue at the resurrection. More poignantly, it is a military graveyard containing a number of much plainer, humbler Commonwealth graves.

**Kinloss Abbey** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Castle Rait and a ghost story

Castle lovers could hardly wish for more treasures to explore than in Scotland. Inverness Shire, where we were staying had 69. Venture into the neighbouring county and there are a further 260. Even my husband would not run out! Indeed, castles are so plentiful that even some of the best preserved haven’t warranted a brown sign. Rait Castle is one such. It is found at the end of a farmer’s track, but is truly a fascinating ruin.

This 13th century castle, like most castles, has a horrible history. According to legend, this ruin is haunted by the handless ghost of a young maiden. The story behind it is part Romeo and Juliet and part clannish betrayal.

Here is a very short account:

There was a young woman, daughter of Laird Cumming, who loved and was loved by the son of a rival clan – the Mackintoshes. Her father hated his enemies and planned to destroy them at a feast.

Learning of his devilish plan, the young woman set off to warn her beloved.

The night of the feast arrived and the Mackintoshes feigned good humour and ignorance of the plot. Yet, when the signal was given to the Cummings to attack, the Mackintoshes pulled their dirks (long bladed daggers) from the folds of their clothes and slaughtered the Cummings.

Realising that he had been betrayed by his daughter, Cummings followed her up to the first story tower room (see above centre) and as she attempted to jump from the window, chopped off her hands.

Whether this story is true of not, I would certainly not wish to linger in the environs after dark.

Bookish times

Despite the above, all was not murder and mayhem in Scotland. It is a country renowned for its excellent educational system and with providing the world with a disproportionate number of great thinkers.

That tradition still holds and I was delighted to find that both Grantown on Spey and Nairn had excellent independent book shops. Nairn even has a book and arts festival at the end of August each year. Not bad for a town with a population of 12,000!

On our visit to Grantown’s bookshop, we discovered that the owner had organised a book event at a local venue. The speakers, Merryn Glover and Linda Cracknell were speaking about their new books: one retracing the steps of Nan Shepherd and the other writing about nature. How could we resist?

**Perfect books for a Highland adventure** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

It was a wonderful evening, though Hermione could not quite contain herself sufficiently to last the whole talk!

At the same bookshop, we’d found a new favourite author, S J MacLean and now we had two more to add to our shelves. Indeed, we came home laden with books – some old and some new. The clement weather had left no time for reading!

Highland hospitality

And lastly, our stay would not have been nearly so good if we hadn’t been spoiled by the kindness of everyone who helped us. The lovely hotel below, could not have been more welcoming: including providing Hermione with her own bacon each breakfast.

**The Westerlea Hotel** Image: from hotel website

We enjoyed fabulous meals and chats everywhere we went. We may have been strangers, but we were treated like old friends.

From hardship to happiness

Times have more often than not been exceptionally hard in these remote regions. Fishing was the main source of income for those on the coast and it was both desperately exhausting for the women sorting, preparing and selling the catch and dangerous for the men in unpredictable waters.

But now, all that remains of these times is the beautiful statue of a fishwife overlooking a small marina – a symbol that could not be beaten to illustrate the new prosperity.

But the honesty and kindness of the region has not been lost over time. The wee cake shop provides delicious treats and drinks and works on the honesty system. The exquisite peacock that resides in Cawdor had been abandoned by its owners and adopted by the town. His magnificent feathers attest to his good care.

A final touch of magic

I promised you magic in my title and I have one last charm. Though Nessie did not reward us with a sighting at Loch Ness, we did have a little magical incident on our way home from the book talk. I was telling my husband a strange story that I had read in Country Living about MacFarlane’s The Lost Spells. in it, his illustrator had been repeating the owl ‘spell’ poem, in the hope of conjuring one to see. It didn’t work and she was a little disappointed. However, the next day her son phoned to say how, surreally, an owl had turned up on his doorstep. What a gorgeous tale, I told my husband. Five minutes later, his headlights swept the wooded landscape and what should I see sitting regally on a fence post but the ghostly white breast of a barn owl. Coincidence? Perhaps. But I prefer to think of it as Highland magic.

A Little Pause

I had hoped to write part two of our Scottish adventures before we left, but time got the better of me! We left a day earlier than planned due to excessive traffic and distance. So, rather than writing rather scrappily now, I shall write and post it next week.

Needless to say, the second week was as magical as the first. However, we are very happy to be home to Mariia and the garden bursting with spring flowers.

Hope your week is filled with sunshine.

Love Karen x

Dolphins, Waterfalls and Other Magical Things – Part One

We are back in the Highlands enjoying a Robert Macfarlane kind of holiday, for here, Nature is full of enchantment. This year, we have ventured even further north to the coast at Nairn (near Inverness). What we have discovered is that the Highlands are like a magician’s trick: every time you think that you have fully explored an area, a wand is waved and another wonder is revealed.

Though we have been here just a week, my journal and camera are bursting with observations. I’ve selected the highlights for you to enjoy here and next week, I shall share the rest.

**Near Loch Ness – A touch of the supernatural**
Image: Celine Geeurickx

I-Spy on the motorway

Our journey was nothing if not fraught. The car clogged motorway slowed our progress to a snail’s pace (sometimes literally). What should have taken eight hours for the first stretch took eleven and not until we were far into Scotland did the traffic improve. Thinking back to last week’s blog, I decided to do an I-Spy on the drive. It passed the time and cheered me, for even the bleak asphalt was fringed with beauty and glimpses of nature. I spotted a rabbit, a deer, baby lambs and red kites by the dozen. Trees were coming into leaf and tipped with palest green; the budding silver birches’ tops were haloed with deep pink. Inspiring architecture, both ancient and modern, could be seen from the road and when I saw a rainbow, I knew this boded well for us.

Fabulous flora

The joy of travelling during the spring is that one is rewarded with gorgeous floral displays. Nairn is in a very sheltered position and has a micro-climate that allows for a wider range of flowers than its colder neighbours. All through the town the grass borders are filled with various golden narcissi. Giant camellias spill their rose pink blooms over the stone garden walls. Under the trees bloom the woodland flowers of white and blue anemone and whenever one walks in the borders between beach and forest one is assailed by the delicious pina colada scent of broom.

Fascinating fauna

Our first full day in Nairn, we ventured across the Moray Firth to see the bottlenose dolphins. We were not disappointed. I would love to include here some stunning photos of dolphins leaping in the air and smiling impishly. Alas, we were far away on the shore and the dolphins were shy- only breaking through the water to reveal their dorsal fins. But that was enough for me.

**Dolphins** Image: Shelby Cohron on Unsplash

I had hoped to see seals too – only to discover that it was an either or proposition. The two are seldom seen together. Perhaps we shall have to make another trip.

A trip here would not be complete without seeing some Highland cows. There are three in a field nearby and I have seen countless others in the farms surrounding the town. My husband noticed that the ones he passes on his daily walk with Hermione have companion birds who presumably feast on the ticks and grubs buried in their shaggy, voluptuous coats.

Pheasants are in abundance as well as an endless array of field and sea birds. The salt water mashes on the edges of the forest at Nairn are home to many species that are endangered. I’m going to bring binoculars and a bird guide next time.

Once more unto the beach

Water is everywhere here. Rivers tumble into the sea from all directions and no matter where you are, the sea is there on the horizon. Nairn beach is sand and extends for miles; Findhorn, like the Black Isle, is surrounded on three sides. Land projects into sea and sea links to land through the river arteries.

**The beach at Nairn**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Nairn beach is rather typical of a seaside town. Findhorn beach, in contrast, seems to have been hewn from another planet. To reach the East Beach at Findhorn, one must first negotiate the giant, marram tufted sand dunes and then scramble down onto the pebbly beach. The pebbles here are so rounded and so colourful that they seem to have been worked with a rock tumbler. They reminded me of sugared almonds in their pale nursery hues. Then this beach too drifts into sand.

What my less than perfect camera does not show is that almost all views of the sea have the mountains in the background. Some are snow capped and others rugged granite, but all an imposing backdrop.

Land of the fairy folk

When I suggested that Scotland was magical, well, I was not being entirely metaphorical. In these vast and often hostile landscapes, belief in the fairy folk who stole milk, made horses lame and stole children only to replace them with changelings was common. How else to account for the trials with which life assaulted you? And fairy folk (fair folk or good people as they prefer to be called) in Scotland are not especially nice. In fact, cross them and they are often downright wicked. Do not, under any circumstances, succumb to the offer of hospitality in a fairy hill unless you plan to stay there a hundred years.

Though few would now admit to believing in this mythical race, the Highland retains a sense of the possibility of the supernatural. We went for a walk in the Fairy Wood near Rosemarkie on the Black Isle and if I were to choose a setting for my tiny, underground neighbours, this would certainly be it: towering ancient trees, pristine burns tumbling along and the path ending at a perfect waterfall. The walk that was easy for others, was brutal for me, but as a childhood fairy lover, I was certainly not going to miss this treat. I would crawl home if I had to. Fortunately, that was not required. And my pains were rewarded with a dreamscape of nature.

**In the realm of Titania**
Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

Next week, I shall embark on the cultural pleasures of Scotland. Till then – mar sin leat! (Goodbye) x

I-Spy

And now for something completely different…

I was giving the dog a short walk the other day and thinking what to do for my next post. As I walked, I started to take note of everything around me: the grassy bank replete with violets, the trees just coming into blossom and even the cars roaring past. What a fascinating world we live in and how often we barely acknowledge it.

This thought led to the next one. Walking and observing our surroundings is an easy to adopt and reliable form of meditation. But what if we took our observations a little further and challenged ourselves to really focus and perhaps learn?

The old fashioned I-Spy books above ask you to identify specified items. My version is going to be rather looser. All that is required of you is to take a twenty minute walk in your neighbourhood and see what you find. You may want to bring a phone to take pictures, or you may want to take a notebook to identify things later, or you many just want to mosey along keeping the general idea in mind.

Here are a few things to consider that can make your daily stroll more interesting. I’m sure that you can think of many more.

Which wild flowers do you see? My walk today didn’t include violets, but is did have some very cheerful daisies.

Animal magic Even the most suburban neighbourhoods have a fascinating array of wildlife from foxes to domestic cats. Which did you encounter?

On the buses Buses form the most invisible traffic. Note if you see a bus, and if so, what number? Those car buffs can find the most appealing car.

Weather maps Describe as accurately as you can the weather conditions as you are walking and for extra points, identify the clouds in the sky.

Historic post boxes There is something about post boxes that I find endlessly appealing. I love the big red iconic ones, but I love the tiny ones set into walls even more. Whenever I see one, I register the reign of the monarch emblazoned on the front and think of all the people who have posted missives there. If post boxes could talk, what stories they would tell! When was you local box put in?

This one dates from the reign of King George the VI or possible George V.

Tree time I am ashamed to say that despite being a lover of trees, I am absolutely hopeless at identifying any more than the most obvious. (Perhaps I need an I-Spy book on that one.) Trees are also rather easy to see as just – well – trees rather than the infinitely varied species they are. Here are two from today’s walk.

Look up! When walking in very urban areas, I especially like to look above my sightline. I am invariably rewarded with the most gorgeous architectural embellishments that are lost on pavement watching pedestrians. Clock towers, weather vanes, unusual chimneys and roofs all provide interest and joy to the upward looking observer. Below is the clock tower of my old school.

Nature notes This category is almost endless. Which birds do you see and can you distinguish or even identify their call? Which insects are about? I saw a beautiful cabbage white butterfly this morning and a large bumble bee has just flown past my window! How many shades of green are there? Can you create names for them? Snooker table baize, boy scout green, tennis ball … etc.

Man made joys For those more interested in human creations, there is much enjoyment to be had from spotting unusual signs, graffiti and road names. Often street names are signals of the past and may guide you to more research about your neighbourhood. Saxon Place, near where I live, was the site of an extensive archaeological dig which uncovered substantial Saxon artefacts. Windmill Close no doubt marks the spot of one of Eastbourne’s eighteen windmills. (Though none stand in the town today.)

Before bedtime One of the pleasures of having a dog is that you need to let them out at night. Sometimes they dawdle or run about to scare off the fox and so you stand outside with nothing to look at but the night sky. And it is magnificent and addictive. Once you start watching the phases of the moon and begin to see some pattern to the constellations, it is a hard habit to break. If you have not experienced this joy recently, go outside this evening. See if you can name the phase of the moon and even a constellation. If you can’t, make up your own names or invest in an astronomy I-Spy.

The Night Sky by Lucasvphotos on Unsplash

This rather fanciful blog has a more serious aim. The world about us is truly magnificent and I would love everyone to enjoy it as much as I do. With so much distressing news and life’s inevitable worries, we need an antidote to soothe and reassure us. And it is there and free to all.

I hope that you will enjoy your peregrinations this Easter and come home refreshed and marvelling at all this amazing world has to offer.

Happy Easter everyone!

A Time For Every Purpose

All my life, I have been a teacher, from my late teens giving conversational English lessons to European students in the summer holidays to the present. I have taught every aspect of my subject: basic literacy, university literature surveys, creative writing and all the British English exam courses. And it has been a privilege.

Teaching is more a vocation than a profession, since to do your job well, you must invest much more than your time. Each student is precious and you want them to do their best. You worry about their progress; you worry about their sometimes chaotic personal lives; you worry that you are doing a good enough job. Like the old fashioned report card, teachers often feel that they ‘could do better’.

The upside is that all that preparation, grading and teaching helps young (and sometimes older students) flourish, pass exams and gain confidence.

‘**Time’s winged chariot’** Image: Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Teaching is intense. It requires passion and love. It is also exhausting. So now that I am nearing sixty and my health not so great, I think it is time to bring things to a close. My last remaining student finishes in June and then I shall retire.

Time may change me, but I can’t change time

It has been a hard decision. I have always loved teaching and disposing of literally decades of work is emotionally fraught. I have endless files stuffed with notes and handouts. They all need to be emptied: the paper to recycling; the files to the charity shop.

**On file** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Every so often I come across a handout that I had taken particular care over and am hurtled back to teaching that very lesson. One could easily become maudlin in this enterprise. So much of my life is held in these folders. Should I dispose of them? Yes. Time moves forward, not back. Tempting though it is to keep my files, I realise that their physical presence is a sort of anchor weighing me down and holding me in the past.

Taking the band-aid approach, I ruthlessly rip papers from their sleeves and read as little as possible. As the files empty and the recycling bin fills, a wonderful feeling of lightness suffuses me.

**Teaching materials** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Late middle age is a period fraught with change. Children leave home, niggling health issues appear, and we become acutely aware of our mortality. Yet, in so many ways, these are the golden years when we can finally indulge ourselves a little.

My husband has been doing mountains of research on retirement lately and one of the hardest issues to address is what to do with all that time. Some simply can’t contemplate it and work till they drop. Others relish their freedom only to find that it soon seems empty and slump on the sofa watching daytime TV. Ideally, you want this stage to encompass all the interests that were deferred while working. But it does take some planning.

The Marie Kondo method

When contemplating any change, I find the Marie Kondo method works for me. Does my job, dress, social activity spark joy? If the answer is yes, cherish it. If the answer is no, let it go.

What we do habitually is not always what is best for us and using this simple method can help us sift through what we really value. As we empty our lives of emotional or physical clutter, we give room to new options.

And yes, change is scary. So I am trying to make my changes one at a time.

In fact, they are not so much changes as redirections. One of the things I loved most about teaching was reading – but dissecting books is no longer appealing. Now, I want to enjoy them as the entertainment they were meant to be.

Teachers also have to be permanent students. We research our topics, try to keep up to date and learn alongside our pupils. Here again, I can continue my studies but with a much greater range. I am studying art history, languages and would like to return to my music.

I want to write for pleasure and not for handouts. Teaching has certainly helped hone these skills, but now I want to dedicate them to a different purpose.

Interestingly, my life is coming full circle. Everything I loved as a child: art, stories, music and nature are exactly what I wish to fill my time now. My second childhood begins!

The two-pronged approach

These last weeks, I have discovered that all change requires a two-pronged approach. First, we must assimilate the change mentally. This takes time and shouldn’t be rushed. (Again, asking if it sparks joy will give you an answer if you feel conflicted.)

Second, change comes in its physical form – the throwing away of old files or the rethinking of a room’s layout. While doing the ironing, my husband realised that our lounge could be better arranged. We moved the desk to the window and the chairs to either side of the hearth. The centre of the room’s attention is now the fireplace rather than the TV; my writing area is exclusive to me with the most appealing outlook. Such small changes can yield significant results.

**A room with a view** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Making the most of my time

Living with a progressive, degenerative condition, I am acutely aware of the limited time available to me to do the things I would like. There are periods, I admit, that I rail against the injustice of it, but mostly this compression acts as a spur. I do not have ‘all the time in the world’. I need to get on. The only time I can rely on is now. And now, after all, is all anyone has.

Not All Disabilities Are Visible

**A symbol of joy; a reminder to care** Image: Aaron Burden on Unsplash

A confession: Before I was diagnosed with MS, I would often see people exiting their cars in a disabled bay and tut disapprovingly. There was obviously nothing wrong with them and I supposed they were abusing the blue badge they had somehow acquired. In one or two cases, I may have been right. However, rather more likely is the fact that their disability wasn’t visible to me.

As someone who’s disabilities are almost all invisible, I feel rather mortified that I simply assumed the worst in the past. Now I am the one who gets the suspicious looks when I place my blue badge on the dashboard. After all, I look fine, even very healthy.

MS is only one of many chronic conditions which conceal their symptoms. It does not mean that those symptoms are less painful, distressing or disabling. And these concealed symptoms are invariably the most difficult to explain to others. Very often they are misread or dismissed, because they are not manifest in an obvious way. This blog is an attempt to remedy this so that when we meet people with other chronic illnesses, we will perhaps be a little better equipped to understand them.

The twelve hour day

When I say I have a twelve hour day, I do not mean that I work for twelve hours, rather that I am awake and functioning for twelve hours. This can be hugely frustrating, as I’d love to have the same number of waking hours to enjoy as everyone else.

The reason for this, as for most people with MS, is fatigue. This is not tiredness and does not correlate to a period of busyness. (Though if you are busy, expect the fatigue to be ten times worse later). MS fatigue can strike at any time without any obvious reason. It’s worst for me when I get up in the morning after ten hours’ or more sleep. Sometimes I am happily doing a task when all my energy drains away leaving me dizzy, exhausted and sometimes even nauseous.

**Any horizontal surface will do** Image: Abbie Bernet on Unsplash

The best way I can describe this condition is to say that for a well person it is like going on a long-haul flight, getting drunk and then suffering from jet-lag and hang-over simultaneously. Tiredness is unpleasant; fatigue is revolting!

At its worst, I am left effectively paralysed, unable to even lift my eyelids because the effort is too much. Most of the time, fortunately, I feel its encroachment and go and lie down. That said, for someone who likes to be fully engaged in the world, endless hours on the coach unable to read or do anything but stare at the sky is rather frustrating.

There is a lovely young woman who comes to the puppy park who suffers from ME (chronic fatigue). Her visit to the park (she drives) is her main activity of the day and a chance to speak to others. The rest of her day is mainly spent in bed. Her friends think she is lazy.

And sometimes, this is the worst part. When we are made to feel lazy, we feel guilt at not working or doing enough. Though we know such options are not available to us, this simply adds to the sting.

Counting spoons

One young woman has written an essay, much repeated and referenced, in which she compares having Lupus to having a certain number of energy units in a day – spoons. Her number of spoons is much more limited than a healthy person’s and she must decide every hour of every day how to spend them. This practical way of showing how quickly the spoons can be used up (having a shower and washing your hair or making a meal for example) helps illustrate an intangible. I’m giving a link to the whole essay here, as I think it is excellent. https://butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

**Seven spoons – seven activities** Image: Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

Miserandino’s article is neither whiney nor self-pitying. She realises that when one’s time and energies are that precious that you do not squander them. I too am desperately aware of how I need to make each hour count and this can be a blessing. Most folks wander about in a kind of somnambulistic stupor imagining that they have all the time in the world to do what they want and wasting great swathes of it. Fatigue focuses the mind on the essentials and I have found that I experience life more deeply and gratefully as a result.

Physical limitations

One of the most confusing aspects of MS is that there is variation in our physical abilities. So if you were to ask me, ‘Can I walk?’ I would have to say yes and no. Yes, I can walk for a certain distance before everything starts to stop working. (This it the point where I walk like a drunken sailor and crash into people). I may begin with a normal gait and good pace, but I’ll invariably end on a bench.

How can I explain this? My best approach has been to suggest that one views my lesions as roadblocks, because that, crudely, is exactly what a lesion is. It is scarring on the myelin sheath that disrupts the nerve signal. (The greater the number of lesions, the greater the number of road blocks – hence the wide range of abilities amongst MS sufferers.)

**This is going to take some time** Image: Erik Mclean on Unsplash

For me to walk from A-B, my brain has to take all sorts of circuitous routes to keep my legs doing what others do naturally. If I were a car going from Eastbourne to London, I would detour to any number of little villages and towns in between rather that taking the direct route. So my little walk feels much more like a twenty mile ramble, with the subsequent exhaustion and leg pain. The same applies to mental activity. Even a lunch out with friends can prove debilitating.

That said, I am a firm believer in neuroplasticity. If I can keep channelling my nerve signals through the healthy pathways, I can, in time, recover something of what I’ve lost. This is how I can walk a little further and function a little longer than I have in previous years, despite the natural effects of ageing. It does require a great deal of effort on my part, but the outcomes more than compensate.

Can you see my pain?

Well, no. Pain is, by definition, invisible and it comes as a surprise to many that it is a very real element of MS. My legs give me most bother and I have finally found some medication to help with that, though the pain never really goes away and is exacerbated by activity. For others, their pain may manifest in crushing headaches, neuralgia or back ache. On its own, pain is unpleasant, but when it is chronic – and at times acute – it can be terribly wearing. Keeping a cheerful disposition and not succumbing to self-pity and depression is a constant battle.

MS has many other invisible symptoms that I do not have time to mention here. Everyone’s MS is unique to them and no two are likely to have the same experience. So if you know someone with a chronic condition, it is best to ask how it affects them rather than basing it on others you might know. One might be running marathons, the other bedbound.

Invisible disabilities are hard to grasp – even for those experiencing them – but if we take the time to listen and learn from others, I hope that we shall be more understanding when we see that fit looking person exiting a disabled bay. And if you see someone wearing a lanyard with sunflowers, you’ll know that they are dealing with much more than meets the eye.

The Empirical Method

About two months ago, a rather inattentive postal worker drove into my car and damaged it so badly that it had to be written off. After ten years of incredibly reliable service, my beloved convertible was headed to the wreckers. Worse, not only would I have to find a new one, but the cost of second-hand cars had risen exponentially. This relatively small accident had left me without transport and potentially thousands of pounds worse off.

**Good-bye faithful friend** Image: Penny Smith

On the upside, the driver accepted full responsibility and my dealings with the insurers were relatively short and productive. Payment was made within a fortnight and the hunt for a new vehicle began.

**Decisions, decisions** Image: Samuel Regan Asante on Unsplash

Finding transport

My husband is expert in all things mechanical, so I let him look for something suitable. He found some lovely vehicles, but they were diesel and less than ideal for town driving. He found others, the price of which were more than double my settlement sum. We considered car loans, using savings and tried to estimate the potential maintenance costs involved. We did maths until my head hurt. Because surely, as someone with limited mobility, I could not possible manage without a car? Or could I?

And so began my car experiment (I am a great fan of the empirical method). I would run it for a month or two and then make a decision. If it didn’t work, then there was no loss except in time. If it did work, I would be saved a lot of bother and expense.

Buses are rather beyond me, since the stops are all some way from my home and sadly, I couldn’t stand for long if they didn’t turn up. So my only real option was taxis and trying to increase the distance I could walk.

**A convenient solution** Image: Daniel Monteiro on Unsplash

Taxi!

Most of us think of taxis as a luxury, because they are expensive. My weekly trip to the Towner costs about £14 return. My friend’s single ticket to Heathrow cost £19. Yet, even at such a price, they come out considerably cheaper than running a car. According to The Car Expert, the average UK driver spends approximately £2,600 a year in running costs (and that excludes the purchase/lease price). For someone like me, who does much less driving and over short distances, it comes out to about £1,700 (£33 per week). So my question was: Would I, over the course of a month, spend more than £33 a week?

The answer was a resounding no. Once or twice I got close but much more often spent £15 or less. The reason for this, in part, is that my husband has a car, so weekends and evenings I have access to another vehicle. It would be rather more difficult without a second car, but not impossible. And yes, I do go out! If it’s not too far, I can walk one way and take a taxi the other and get in my daily exercise.

The price of convenience

I would be lying if I didn’t say that using taxis requires a little more forethought than simply jumping into the car. The service I use is exceptionally reliable and with their app I can book my journey in both directions, but I do have to book. It is also advisable not to use them at rush hour or during the school run – but then, even when I had a car, I avoided those times.

For those more able-bodied than me, walking and cycling are forms of transport that reduce the need for expensive gym membership, as well as giving the environment a much needed break. Ironically, they can also be quicker and more convenient than cars, since there are no headaches with parking or getting to precisely your destination.

**Cars everywhere** Image: Viet Hammer on Unsplash

Most folks would consider losing their car as a great tragedy, but the last few months have taught me that the opposite is true. A polite driver picks me up and drops me off at the door. In my experience, they are always punctual and it is rather lovely being chauffeured around the town rather than being stressed by traffic jams, parked cars and pedestrians.

Taxis must be the most efficient use of vehicles too, since they are used all day by any number of people instead of taking up road space on the curb-side. Further, they use return journeys to collect others thus reducing the carbon emissions for each ride.

Finding alternatives

We are so much a car culture that it is often difficult to see that other alternatives exist. For those living in rural areas, I appreciate that a car may well be a life-line, but even here we can think a little imaginatively.

In Aberlour, in the Highlands, we discovered that there was an electric car and bike share. You join the scheme, pay a nominal subscription of £18 a month and pick up and drop off your vehicle at the Tourist Information office in the centre of the village. Mileage is charged at about 20p per mile and by the time required. In addition, Speyside has a voluntary car share for those less able to get about. Even in such a remote place, they have found a solution to fit everyone.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could do something like this ourselves? So many of our streets are literally lined with vehicles (some on the pavements where prams and wheelchairs cannot pass).

It is seldom that I see a car with more than one occupant heading in the same direction. My friends are all great at filling the car for outings, but perhaps we should encourage more to do the same. It may not be quite so easy, but personal convenience comes at a cost to everyone.

Do try this at home

My little car experiment has, so far, turned out very well and I’m very glad to have embarked on it. But my situation is not your situation. All I can do is encourage you to create a little experiment of your own. Who knows, it may transform your life.

Addendum – Today my taxi let me down and left me stuck at the Towner. Despite booking, it never arrived. It was during a busy period. Fortunately, the bus stop was not too far away in the town centre and I got home safely and easily. Perhaps I shall be trying a hybrid approach from now on!

The Canny Gardener – Growing Food

**Harvest** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Perhaps I watched too many apocalyptic disaster movies in the 7os, but I have always had a little part of my brain telling me that I should be prepared for anything. That means, above all, being able to feed myself should civilisation, as we know it, fall into chaos.

Don’t worry, I am not a bonkers survivalist, but I do think that we owe it to ourselves to learn a little resilience and self-reliance. Rising food prices and shortages, climate change and global instability means that if we can contribute even a little to our own food stocks, we should. If nothing else, growing our own food makes us appreciate it (and therefore not waste it) and value those that labour every day to provide for us.

As anyone who has attempted growing their own food will tell you, it is hard and fraught with difficulties: garden pests, frosts, storms, heat and drought all work against us. It is always rather miraculous to me that we can produce anything at all. But we do and the challenge makes the reward so much sweeter.

**An urban vegetable garden (Sadly, mine looks nothing like this.**)
Image: Markus Spiske on Unsplash

The joy of playing in the dirt

Unfortunately, my MS means that I cannot garden nearly as vigorously or effectively as I should like. However, it doesn’t stop me from gardening at all. In fact, the time I spend outside makes me feel immensely better – even if it takes a toll on my energy levels. As a child, I loved playing in the dirt; as an adult, I’m no different. And no doubt this is why:

There’s a reason that the rose or veggie garden is often a person’s “happy place.” There is a natural antidepressant called Mycobacterium vaccae found in soil. The bacterium stimulates serotonin production, the stuff that makes you feel happy.
https://www.promixgardening.com/en/tips/gardening-health-benefits

Not only does the soil stimulate our happy hormones, but it can give us a Vitamin B hit (if we don’t clean our hands too perfectly.) Its other health benefits include physical well being through exercise and mental well being from immersion in nature.

And if you are growing fruit and vegetables, you get to enjoy organic, zero miles food for very little cost.

Since I can’t ‘dig for victory’, I have become rather focused on getting the most from my garden with the least physical effort. One way that we manage that is by planting lots of fruit trees and fruit canes.

The lazy gardener

My wonderful and very old apple tree gives us enough cooking apples for about a year. I’ve frozen pounds of them and stored the rest in the cool. No, they don’t have the bright waxy sheen of the supermarket ones, but they are super tasty.

In the last few years, we have planted a sort of orchard in the garden with mulberries, apples, pears, plums, quince and cherries in side beds and the vegetable patch. They require little more than watering when it is very hot and the occasional prune. If you want to be a lazy gardener like me – plant a tree!

The next easiest thing to do is soft fruits. We have numerous raspberry canes, which I have divided to make more. Our currants and gooseberries are sometimes raided by the birds. But that’s okay. They need feeding too.

**A gardener’s reward** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Herbs are perhaps the easiest of all and take up little room. A salad supplemented with various herbs becomes a thing of beauty. You can always grow some inside with sprouts to give you a macro salad for a micro price.

My favourite tip was given by a friend who discovered that Bigga Dried Peas (which cost 90p at Sainsbury’s) are ideal for pea shoots. I simply pop then in the soil, water and enjoy when they are about three inches high.

Seeds

By far the most economical way to garden is to buy seeds and perhaps bring them on a little in a greenhouse or window sill. Some plants, like rocket, don’t even need that, they will merrily self-seed all round your garden (mine even made it to the front garden) and feed you with no effort in perpetuity. Mint too is a terror for invading garden space, but I love mint and am happy for it to grow anywhere.

When you grow your own, there are invariably little surprises the following spring. This year, I’ve found some spring onions, chard and parsley that I can make no claims on nurturing.

Once you have planted your seeds and brought them to maturity, you can collect those seeds and use them again. Dry them carefully and keep in a dark, cool place. Last year, it was so hot that my Indian corn simply wilted. It did manage a few cobs though and I rescued those in hopes of better results this year.

**A little small to eat, but good to plant** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Free food

I have my seeds from last year and my wish list for this, and I have a couple of experiments I’d like to conduct. One is to practise companion planting using the three sisters of Native American agriculture: corn, beans and squash and the other is gardening with kitchen scraps and more unusual crops.

You can regrow almost anything and the link here gives you instructions on how: https://www.ruralsprout.com/regrow-vegetables/ This year, I’ve also tried to grow some more exotic seeds: chickpeas, lemons, olives and dates. It might be a complete failure, of course, but it has cost me only a few minutes’ effort. Even if they simply turn into pretty plants, I shall be very happy with that.

**Fingers crossed** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The key component to any gardening is patience and growing from seed requires a great deal of it, even from the most accommodating of plants. But watching a beautiful plant emerge from something as tiny as a seed awakens in us proper awe for the mysteries of nature.

Gardening for all

Few things give me as much pleasure as my garden and the produce it yields. And although we are not all able to do the heavy work of gardening, we still can enjoy doing what we can. My sessions actually digging/planting/weeding are very short but give me a great deal of satisfaction and necessary exercise. Planning and preparing the garden are equally enjoyable and growing little things inside, likewise.

Though I doubt we will need to be self-sufficient any time in the near future, we can always venture towards self-sufficiency to improve our health; make a positive impact on the environment and provide ourselves with delicious, fresh food.

And if we’re canny, we can do it for almost no cost at all.

NB

My lovely friend Elizabeth is coming to visit from America on Friday, so I shan’t be writing a post next week. We shall be too busy chatting and drinking tea. But I shall be back after that. I hope you’ll join me then.