What I Lost In The Fire

There are two exhibitions coming up that I really want to see.  Both of them are in London museums, and are easily reachable by public transport.  The logistics of planning such an innocuous day out should be straightforward: it’s currently more akin to planning an overseas trip for ten people who barely know each other.  Going on the weekend will guarantee me a chaperone, but it will also increase, tenfold, the number of moving obstacles that my dystaxia will have to deal with.  Choosing a quiet midweek slot will reduce the physical exertion (movements won’t have to be so controlled: more places to sit and rest) but I’ll be less likely to secure the company of someone who can help me if, or when, my body starts to shut down.  I’ve finally realised that this is my new reality.  Denial has turned to grief. Continue reading “What I Lost In The Fire”