““The strips were sorted into colours. One end of the rag was pushed through the hessian with the aid of the clothes peg. The other end pushed in about two strands of hessian further along. Patterns were varied but because the mats could be a fair size and we didn’t know what and how much “rags” would be available, an assortment of different colours were missed together…The similarity between a clippy mat and our lives became evident. There are bright areas and dark areas and subtle shades in between”. “

 

– Rita Henderson

 

I think she’s right. I had a bit of a cry yesterday morning; I found a memory card which basically records the last year and a half. Copper beeches in autumnal colours outside of my best friend’s old flat.  Getting ready for a trade fair, Victorian dress and combat boots, with a full-sized railway trunk of clothes balanced on my shoulder. Photos of a walk through Leeds before dawn, with ice in the canal and snow on the groud. Myself in a wheelchair, in Weimar in the dog-days of summer. Leaning on a car, on crutches, at new year, the furthest I’d travelled in months.

 

Hard to look at. But I’m getting used to it. Swim three times a week. Exercises every day. Take my medication. Hope.

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