Invisible

Monthly meeting at Neurosupport today; meeting others with invisible but quite devastating conditions always makes me feel fortunate with my lot. Everyone is positive and upbeat, and being in a room with non-judgemental people who do not regard you as stupid (because you make mistakes) or lazy (because you forget to do things) is a real treat.

This image is part of a set of 6 black and white prints by the photographer whose self-portrait it is; the other 5 are striking images of people with neurological conditions and are entitled: Powerless, Sexless, Brainless, Excluded and Voiceless. They are on display in one of the meeting rooms, but no-one there could give me details of the lady or her story, except that she is deceased and may have had Parkinson's. I find this picture of her quite haunting.

A hobble across town followed, for a coffee and cake at the branch of Caffe Nero managed by #1 daughter, and then headed to the station for the train home. The next train had been cancelled, so when the following one arrived it was already completely full of two lots of passengers. The additional two lots of passengers at Central attempted to board the rush-hour 3-carriage train (Merseyrail having decided not to bother with the 6 carriages needed), and I got elbowed aside from two sets of doors. I was about to attempt to get through the next one, when a rail employee/jobsworth said he couldn't let me on for health and safety reasons. As he was saying that, another two people pushed past and squeezed into the space inside the door! I was totally p**sed off by then, being tired and with an intensely throbbing left leg, so when he was temporarily distracted by a skirmish further along the platform, I launched myself into the 3" of space at the edge of the cattle throng in the carriage. There was a bit of a Dunkirk spirit on board, and everyone breathed in just so the doors could close, which they did with me squashed against them, bodies on the other three sides. The heat was intense, but there was no danger of falling down in a faint. Thank goodness it was only a 10-minute journey home.