Diary: On the ski slopes

That's not me in the picture

My instinct was to say no when invited to go on a skiing trip to Hemel Hempstead. It is now five years since my stroke and I have long since accepted that activities that depend on good balance are out of my league.

The trip was with Headway East London, where I've been a member for around four years. Yes, I declined, but then had second thoughts. First, I didn't like the idea of ruling out any activity that I might still be able to enjoy. Second, I had never been skiing and this was probably the best opportunity to break my duck safely, since I would be surrounded by experts who could save me if I got into trouble.

So it was off to Hemel Hempstead Snow Centre, to be kitted out in all the gear and released on to, in my case, a slope so slight that hardly warranted the name. It might have been but a marginal incline of around 0.05° but it did it's best to keep me at the bottom. Eventually, by adopting a gentle swaying motion to transfer my weight, I was able slowly to step sideways with my stronger right leg the haul my weak left leg after it. It didn't look pretty, but it got me about 3m upslope, from where I could then begin my elegant descent.

This is when the déjà vu descended. As I slid gently down that meagre slope, crouched forward as instructed, the overwhelming, uncontrollable urge to stand erect got the better of me. In doing this the skis do what they are supposed to do and pull the rug from under your feet. You tipple backwards, saved only by a last-ditch, desperate forward-wheeling of your arms to propel yourself back to a balanced position.

The experience took me back to the early stages of stroke recovery when I was learning the classic 'sit-to-stand'. In this case, the irresistible motion is forward rather than backward. As you attempt to stand from a sitting position, you feel yourself pitching dangerously forward, straight into a nosedive to the floor. Only a slow, purposeful rebuilding of your body confidence over time allows you to throw your weight forward and flex your legs to a standing position. At that moment on the ski slope in Hemel Hempstead, I could not imagine any time in the future when I had would have the confidence to hold my position without fear.

But because I know what I know from past experience, skiing IS something I might one day be capable of. The real question is whether I want to.

Diary: Skiing

Slippery slope

My instinct was to say no when invited to go on a skiing trip to Hemel Hempstead. It is now five years since my stroke and I have long since accepted that activities that depend on good balance are out of my league.

The trip was with Headway East London, where I've been a member for around four years. Yes, I declined, but then had second thoughts. First, I didn't like the idea of ruling out any activity that I might still be able to enjoy. Second, I had never been skiing and this was probably the best opportunity to break my duck safely, since I would be surrounded by experts who could save me if I got into trouble.

So it was off to Hemel Hempstead Snow Centre, to be kitted out in all the gear and released on to, in my case, a slope so slight that hardly warranted the name. It might have been but a marginal incline of around 0.05° but it did it's best to keep me at the bottom. Eventually, by adopting a gentle swaying motion to transfer my weight, I was able slowly to step sideways with my stronger right leg the haul my weak left leg after it. It didn't look pretty, but it got me about 3m upslope, from where I could then begin my elegant descent.

This is when the déjà vu descended. As I slid gently down that meagre slope, crouched forward as instructed, the overwhelming, uncontrollable urge to stand erect got the better of me. In doing this the skis do what they are supposed to do and pull the rug from under your feet. You tipple backwards, saved only by a last-ditch, desperate forward-wheeling of your arms to propel yourself back to a balanced position.

The experience took me back to the early stages of stroke recovery when I was learning the classic 'sit-to-stand'. In this case, the irresistible motion is forward rather than backward. As you attempt to stand from a sitting position, you feel yourself pitching dangerously forward, straight into a nosedive to the floor. Only a slow, purposeful rebuilding of your body confidence over time allows you to throw your weight forward and flex your legs to a standing position. At that moment on the ski slope in Hemel Hempstead, I could not imagine any time in the future when I had would have the confidence to hold my position without fear.

But because I know what I know from past experience, skiing IS something I might one day be capable of. The real question is whether I want to.

Column: September 2017

Things that go bump...

‘Bumping’ sounds like a nightclub dance craze from the 1970s. In fact, it is a theory of social cohesion. The citizens of small, tightly-packed communities get on far better if they bump into one another regularly. And the places they do this are held by social scientists and community-engagement experts to be sacred, fertile grounds for a better society.

Golden Laners have their chosen spots. Fusion gym, Waitrose and Fortune Street Park are all well established 'bumping’ places. Lesser known ones are the undercover pavement on Golden Lane alongside Stanley Cohen House and, my favourite, the short tunnel of trees behind the Cripplegate Council noticeboard at the back of the Shakespeare pub.

But bumping also happens outside the confines of our bright and colourful concrete paradise. Often I will see neighbours at the open meetings organised by Healthwatch City of London. These are round-table talking shops at which City residents, workers and service users chew the fat with healthcare professionals in an effort to shape future policy. Issues such as medication passports, community pharmacy, dementia and social care come under intense scrutiny. These talks are important because the City of London shares some health and social services provision with neighbouring boroughs, notably Hackney, so policy needs to embrace a wide range of needs.

The Healthwatch gatherings take place in various locations, but often at the Dutch Centre in Austin Friars, EC2. They are always a great success, and I think I know why: the free buffet lunches they serve to fuel the conversation are mouthwateringly good, so good that I have even spotted some of my Golden Lane neighbours stuffing their faces with free food at lunchtime then disappearing quietly before the serious topical talking starts. This is obviously unethical and I never hesitate to remind them of their poor conduct. And in my experience, all the best ideas come with a full stomach, so ‘Let’s do lunch with Healthwatch’ could be the start of a new trend. It’s good to talk...and eat.

‘Recovery After Heart Surgery’, an examination of patient experiences and priorities, is at St Bartholomew’s Hospital on 5 October.

Healthwatch City of London’s fourth Annual Conference is at the Dutch Centre, 7 Austin Friars on 20 October.

A crystal-ball moment

I predicted in last month’s Golden Lane Gazette that objections to the development proposed for the former Richard Cloudesley site would start rolling in. I wasn’t wrong, and even more piled in on deadline day last week. I also mentioned that a “clever resident from Bayer House” had circulated his own alternative to the existing Hawkins\Brown blueprint. This is the ‘Fred Plan’, a scheme more compatible with the estate’s existing architecture, and its author, Fred Scott, is so clever that to advance his rival idea he has created an artistic photo-composition of what looks like an awayday of 1950s British intellectuals loitering ghostlike over a model of Fred’s insurgent 21st-century Golden Lane redesign. They look to be contemplating, with deadly seriousness, a time in the future when our prize-winning estate will be enlarged in a way sympathetic to the original post-war vision of its architects, Chamberlin, Powell & Bon. In the light of how the Richard Cloudesley project has been managed so far, in which residents’ views have been barely registered, let alone considered, it is tempting to remark “pigs might fly”, but stranger things have happened.

Culture vultures

The reinvention of the City as a cauldron of creativity under the title Culture Mile might not be as far-fetched as it sounds. Getting the heritage architecture of Golden Lane and the Barbican to be included in this hot new idea might be a fantasy too far, but at a recent party to mark the closure of our community centre for refurbishment, I learned about Joe Mitchell. Back in the 1960s, Joe was the “Cameron Mackintosh of Cripplegate”, rallying residents of all ages to perform on the Golden Lane Community Centre stage in his famous 'Follies’. Some of Joe's protégés even went on to attend the Italia Conti Academy of Theatrical Arts. Italia Conti has been an incubator of top talent for many years, so don’t be surprised if the next Doctor Who hailed first from the Golden Lane Estate.

Behind the scenes

And if your life is not already dramatic enough, take time to check out the absorbing ‘Life on the London Stage’ exhibition at the London Metropolitan Archives (LMA) around the corner in Clerkenwell.

An edited version of this column appeared in the City Matters newspaper, edition number 048 in September 2017

Column: August 2017