Verity Red's Diary

Saturday 1st January

9.51 a.m. It’s still raining cats and dogs.

9.54 a.m. Huge, long yawn... like extremely tired person. Lay awake half the night listening to the cats and dogs.

9.56 a.m. Ben turns over again, taking his enormous wobbly belly with him. He’s happily snoring away last night’s Christmas port and dreaming away the blue cheese; curled up in an untidy pile of limbs, duvet and pillows, like his discarded papers and clothes.

9.57 a.m. Wonder if I sleep in a tidy way, neatly folded up, making gentle feminine breathing noises.

9.58 a.m. Grab some bed covers for myself and try to go back to sleep.

9.59 a.m. Eyes tight shut; brain wide awake.

10.00 a.m. Don’t want to get up till springtime.

10.02 a.m. Want to hibernate in a box in the wardrobe like next door’s tortoise. He’s a very old, thirty something tortoise, hasn’t moved around much for the last few years and likes a little nibble on something tasty when he’s in the mood; we have a lot in common.

10.04 a.m. Want to be a hedgehog but I’m too spineless.

10.05 a.m. Need bathroom.

10.06 a.m. Tempted to lie still and wet self.

Saturday 8th January

There’s one doctor in particular who makes me so mad I’d like to tell him M.E. stands for Magic Encyclopaedia (a rare form of brain strain brought on by reading too many spell books). He already looks at me as if I’m a barmy old witch. Or I could give him a long list to annoy him.

Wednesday 2nd March

Rain. Wind. Rain. Wind. Rain. Rain. Rain. A little girl and her mum had difficulty holding onto their umbrellas.

Couldn’t be bothered to comb the tangles out of my mad March hair this morning; I’m wearing a style to match the season – the windswept overgrown hedge look. I am so in tune with nature these days.

I remember the women I once saw at the Glastonbury pop festival behind the food tent. They were close to nature, and to the vegeburger mix. As they bent over plastic washing-up bowls, mulching the burger mix with their hands, their long hair dangled and sweat dripped from their hairy armpits into the ingredients.

Couldn’t face vegeburgers tonight.

Friday 4th March

There was a strange smell in the house this morning like something had died and was rotting quietly in a corner somewhere; thought maybe I’d died and when I looked in the mirror there would be no reflection, like the couple in the ghostly film Beetlejuice.

Sometimes I wake up amazed that I’m still alive. Sometimes I think the sheer effort of trying to keep my sanity will kill me. Sometimes I’m too exhausted to be amazed or think about anything... sometimes. Anyway, I’m not worried about the smell. I expect the rubbish needs putting out.

10.05 a.m. Brewed peppermint tea in a Kit-Kat mug.

Friday 1st April

9.00 a.m. Another morning. Another month. Same me. Same M.E. Same room. Same clock, second hand ticking tirelessly... tick... tick... tick... like a long, thin, white, pointy-nailed finger... tap... tap... tap... on a cauldron... one frog, one snail, one puppy dog’s tail; that’s what little boyfriends are made of. Two birds peck at the overgrown herb garden... peck... peck... peck... water drips from cottage eaves after April rain... drip... drip... drip... the witch’s garden has survived another storm... I’ve survived three months of the year... I’ve survived three minutes of wakefulness today... tick... tick... tick... a big warty toad jumps into the pond – plop!

Wednesday 27th April

... she watched thousands of tiny specks of dust frantically doing what specks of dust do in afternoon sunlight...

I was a busy speck of dust once, milling about with other specks in the great living room of life. Now the great yellow duster of chronic illness has flattened and trapped me and, like a duster that’s all used up, I’ve been thrown in the washing machine to go round and round in circles. At the end of my cycle, I’m all limp and screwed up.

... she felt slightly crazy as she sat in the stripy deck chair on Folkestone’s stony beach, staring out to sea. It started to sprinkle with rain and a chilly wind blew her hair across her mouth. Her eyes watered. She was not crying; it was the wind. She was not going to cry; someone might notice and try to comfort her and she didn’t want to speak to anyone. They might also notice her thin clothing and the soggy uneaten sandwich on her lap, and think her very silly. They might say something kind or tell her off and if she started to cry she knew she wouldn’t stop. Everyone had gone home now anyway...

Sunday 18th September

I'M

I’m a pen

With no ink

I’m a kitchen

Without a sink

I’m a kite

Without a breeze

I’m a runner

With no knees

I’m a pond

No water in it

A top with

Noone to spin it

A puppet

With no strings

I’m a bird

That never sings

I’m a drummer

With no sticks

I’m a die

Without a six

I’m a cake

Without a mix

A Magician

Without his tricks

I’m a dog

Without a bone

I’m a house

That’s not a home

I’m a door

That never closes

Something’s eaten

All my roses

Wednesday 21st September

Dreamt of silhouettes of birds circling outside the windows all night and awoke feeling as if I’d been watching an Alfred Hitchcock film. Consulted my dream book: birds in flight signify a desire to escape some present situation and also an intense idealism. An eagle often reflects a concern with matters spiritual and the ancient Greeks believed that different kinds of birds symbolised kinds of people: eagles were rulers; wild pigeons were immoral women. The Hebrews believed birds were good omens. Good.

Wednesday 9th November

Cleaned the kitchen floor. Well, not exactly the whole floor, half of it; about a quarter, really. And it wasn’t a proper clean with a mop and Flash and me standing smiling proudly at a job well done, the tiles sparkling, the enamel on the cooker twinkling, the sun shining through the window on to clear, polished work surfaces and saucepans you could use as a mirror to do your make-up. The only flashing being done was my knickers showing through a big hole in the bum of my leggings, as I crawled on my hands and knees, using damp kitchen roll (lovely autumn leaf pattern) to wipe muddy paw prints near the cat flap and crumbs near the cooker and bread bin area. I now have the energy to keep the filth at bay; I’m so fortunate. Must remember to lay fresh sheets of Adscene by the cat flap every time I pick up the dirty soggy pages, which isn’t very often.

Late this afternoon, Murphy crept into the kitchen with wet black spiky fur; he’s going through a punk phase. He’ll be wanting his ears, nose and belly button pierced next, and spend all day hanging around in bin bags. Paddy told me he’s going on a demonstration against testing on animals: he’s joining the Feral Demo-cats; I’m very proud of my ginger son. Mary is so beautiful, she’s attracting all the boy cats in the neighbourhood, but she ignores them and teeters along the fence, head held high, like Marilyn Monroe in stilettos. The boys howl outside her window at night.

Rain tapped the window pane and reminded me to lay newspaper down by the cat flap. When I left the kitchen, a gust of wind blew the paper across the floor. My teenagers padded round it, jumped onto the fridge and work tops and made pretty paw-shaped tracks for mummy to admire.

Verity Writes Again

Friday 3rd September

Oh God. I’ve actually written a book. One hundred and fifty three whole pages. Will anyone buy it? I need to promote it. I’m not well enough to travel about doing book signings, but many people who have M.E. are housebound anyway. Those well enough to attend a book signing would find standing in a queue exhausting. Well, I’d like to imagine there would be a queue. More than three people would be quite nice.

Must promote my book. It would be much less effort, so much easier, if I could just dream about book signings. Must get a grip on reality. I would love a review in the winter edition of InterAction. Will ask Ben to email the Action for M.E. charity. It would be so fantastic to get a review in time for Christmas, but I think it may be too late for that. I will try. Nothing ventured, nothing strained.

It’s too late to ask the M.E. Association for a review, their autumn edition of M.E. Essential is out next month. I’ll ask Ben to email the man in charge of editing and advertising, Tony Britton, next year. A review or advertisement, mid October, would be perfect timing for a witchy book, just before Halloween.

Oh God. I may get awful reviews, it is a rather eccentric book. Will anyone want to read a book about a witch who has M.E.? Fans of J. K. Rowling’s wonderful Harry Potter books, possibly. I will have to keep my fingers crossed. My broomsticks crossed too. Must remember to ask Ben to email Action for M.E. soon, I have a memory like a leaky cauldron.

Monday 27th September

More catalogue browsing. I like the vintage-style wallmounted wirework mannequin. Sometimes you feel like a wall-mounted mannequin when you have M.E. Stiff. Lifeless. All you do is hang around the house all day.

Tuesday 5th October

Received a lovely reply from Colin Barton of the Sussex and Kent M.E./CFS Society today, saying he would happily include the advert for my witchy book in the winter edition of his newsletter. Wonderful!

I parcelled up a copy of Love & Best Witches with a letter of thanks, a cheque for thirty five pounds, and a donation to Colin’s charity. I’m looking forward to seeing the advert for my book. Finally done. Completely completed.

Saturday 9th October

Bloom catalogue arrived today, full of beautifully colourful silk flower arrangements and small silk trees in pots. I’ve never liked plastic or silk flowers, but since I’ve had M.E., the thought of plants that don’t need tending have a certain appeal. A certainly huge appeal. A blooming good idea!

Saturday 16th October

Thursday 21st October

Today I received a letter from the Chairman of the Kent and Sussex M.E./CFS society, Colin Barton. He thanked me for my donation to their appeal; saying it would improve the lives of people affected by M.E./CFS across Kent and Sussex, which I thought was really nice.

Ben received an equally lovely email from the press and publications officer at Action for M.E., Clare Ogden. She said they were planning pages of their next issue of Inter Action, and thought it would be grand to use an extract from my book, about eight hundred words, and some blurb about me. She also asked for five copies of Love & Best Witches, for their readers give-away. I will send seven copies. For luck.

6.30 p.m. Some blurb about me! Little me, who has M.E. In a MAGAZINE! Oh God. This is wonderful, but I can’t think of a single thing I want to say about me. All I can think is; cranky old witch, who wants to live on the Cornish coast, next door to Dawn French. My mind has gone completely blank.

6.35 p.m. I still don’t know what to write.

Friday 22nd October

6.10 p.m. Ben arrived home from work. Took off shoes. Checked emails.

6.11 p.m. WOW! Witchily wonderful! A.F.M.E. Have decided to do a double-page spread, and would like a photo of me to go with the short biography and extracts. I will have to see if I can find one, I’ve rarely had my photo taken since I got ill. But there will be a few, taken at home with my cats. I’m not going to do one of those author at desk poses, looking intelligent and writerly, with pen poised or book in hand. I never sit at a desk anyway. Or look intelligent. Or writerly. But pale and witchy, yes.

The last book I read was by the fabulous American writer, Rita Mae Brown. I love the titles of her books: Murder – She Meowed, Claws and Effect, Puss ‘n Cahoots, Santa Clawed, The Purrfect Murder; to name, only a few. There is a photo of Rita at the back of her book. She is not posing at a desk, but sitting in a comfy chair looking tranquil with her tabby cat. I will find a photo of me looking tranquil. In a comfy chair. With a cat. Purrfect.

Tuesday 26th October

On the way to the checkout, we passed aisles of Christmas goodies: bags of chocolate money, cuddly toys, stocking fillers, festive decorations and festive confectionery. I chose a wind-up penguin and chocolate snowmen, for Louise’s Christmas stocking. Then, suddenly, I wanted to lie down on the carpet, curled up with the huge white cuddly toy polar bear, and sleep till Christmas. I’ve no idea how I got to the checkout counter, and then to our car in the car park. The world went misty, and I felt like I was crawling in a snowstorm, exhausted with hypothermia.

My snowstorm gradually became soft flakes, as we drove through country lanes, past sleepy country cottages and sleepy horses of every horsey-shade, in the fading light. Ben suggested we have a relaxing drink in The Horseshoes pub, where he sometimes does an Avocado Pair gig. He said there’s always huge log fires there in the winter, and comfortable chairs. I found the energy to smile and nod in agreement, as I thought about buying a wheelchair. It was about time I treated myself to one. I had recently seen a reasonably priced chrome steel chair, advertised in Healthy Living Direct; it folds up so you can put it in the boot of a car, very convenient. I could float around Notcutts in my heavenly carriage, with a basket on my lap, so Ben wouldn’t have to carry our purchases, just push my chair.

ME: I think it’s about time I had a wheelchair. I’ve seen one in Healthy Living Direct, it folds up so you can put it in your car boot.

BEN: Sounds like a good idea.

ME: I’ve never liked being pushed around by a man, but in this case I’m all for it.

BEN: Ha ha ha!

Sunday 5th December

As I coughed my way to the bird table this morning, I noticed the rain had melted away some of the snow. My seven dwarves were peering out of their fluffy white blankets, and their little faces made me smile. For a moment I felt inspired to complete more of my Disney jigsaw puzzle, but I knew I had to save energy for writing Christmas cards and letters.

Two jolly snowmen greeted me when I opened the window marked with a number five, on Santa’s sleigh. The chocolate robin melted on my tongue, like a Cadbury’s Flake on a hot summer day. Summer seemed a very long time ago.

Gazing out of the bedroom window mid-afternoon, I saw another snowman in the car park. He was melting and his head had fallen off. I couldn’t help thinking that M.E. is like being a snowman after a rainfall. Your energy dissolves away, you feel like you’ve lost your head; and you end up feeling like a puddle of slush, unable to do anything but gaze up at passing clouds.

Love & Best Witches

We decided to make a fairy ring to dance in, with lots of Tesco fresh button mushrooms. We put the mushrooms in a big circle on the living room carpet, then we danced and made up songs. Auntie was too tired to dance for long so she did a witchy wiggle.

We fell on the floor cackling. That was auntie’s exercise for the month. She said spelling wasn’t too tiring as long as there wasn’t too much chanting involved; pagan aerobics, collecting of herbs in the rain, pouring from heavy jugs, picking up of heavy goblets, picking up of heavy goblins, waving of wands, ringing of bells, anointing this and anointing that, staring at the moon on a frosty night or having to mote this and mote that.

* * * * * * * * *

It’s best to use cotton for the dream pillows because it’s a natural plant fibre. We are going to use different coloured cotton too, like pink for love and white for meditation. Auntie said meditation is a good thing to learn if you have M.E., if you have the energy to learn anything. She said just sitting in her herb garden, rubbing a rosemary leaf between her fingers and smelling the herby scent helps her to relax.

We are going to make an amber coloured pillow for me because amber will help develop my witchy skills. Then we’ll make a blue and purple one for auntie because these colours are for health and healing. I read in auntie’s Book of Shadows about making little bags to fill with herbs that you can put in your bath.

* * * * * * * * *

Before tea auntie told me about making a witch’s wand. I wrote some things down in my Book of Mirrors. Wands are made from lots of different trees. Apple is for love and spirit food, vine for happiness and alder for water magic and strength. Auntie is going to make me a wand out of poplar to help me pass my exams when I’m older. She has a wand made out of willow.

Willow is also known as the witches’ tree, a moon tree. It is used for protection, moon magic, healing, love, divination and friendship. Auntie would like to wave her wand over everyone in the world who has M.E. to make them feel better. Also she would like to take cauldrons of potato and onion soup to people all over the world who are bed-ridden with M.E. because it is good for making the immune system strong. She would give them all a big healing witchy hug too.

* * * * * * * * *

Auntie told me about candle magic in her last letter. Candles may be used for offerings, meditations, spells and divinations, and something about pausing to remember the Divine within us, which I don’t understand. Auntie will explain everything to me when I next see her. Witches don’t do magic against other witches, this is something to do with Karmic retribution. I will ask her to explain that too.

I can’t see auntie this weekend because she has been overdoing it again. She went to Tesco on her broomstick to buy button mushrooms. It was cold and windy and she wasn’t wearing her thermals. Instead of resting when she got home, auntie made winter witch soup with the mushrooms, then did a spell to make the mushroom fairies fly out of the bubbles. She said they did the washing-up for her anyway! Mum said she would like some washing-up fairies. I said, ‘We’ve got Fairy Liquid!’

* * * * * * * * *

We cackled a lot, then I read a bit about Christopher Robin in The House at Pooh Corner.

‘Pooh!’

‘Yes’ said Pooh

‘When I’m – when – Pooh!’

‘Yes, Christopher Robin?’

‘I’m not going to do Nothing any more.’

Auntie says you have to learn to be good at doing Nothing when you have M.E. She is much better than she used to be, so she is not doing Nothing any more.

* * * * * * * * *

Auntie likes to water her herbs when she has the energy, but she never has the energy to mow her lawn. The grass is often so long that you can hardly see her cats. They look like tigers, black panthers and leopards in the jungle.