In 1995 I was an active little whipper-snapper at uni in Brisbane, Australia, on the precipice of that cliché about the world being one's oyster.
Then I got sick.
Time passed.
I tried everything.
To my sincere surprise, I stayed sick. And the oyster, such as I'd known it, eased shut.
So we come to today. I'm in my late 20s (add a few years if you're reading this after the blog started), and live happily with my sweet love. I like lots of things. Tea, books, design, corrugated iron, trampolines, gardening, politics, people, green things, creative endeavours big and small. Food, music, chatting, poetry. Flora and fauna. My trusty laptop. I'm not keen on having my photo taken, boats, snakes, or variegated foliage.
I have severe M.E. with the commonly associated orthostatic intolerance, which makes for a horizontal existence and limited functional time. I can't emphasise enough that illness doesn't define my identity or my life, but it does have a peculiarly drastic impact, in that I have to titrate my every activity according to its whims.
I'm not sweet and tragic like Beth from 'Little Women', I'm into living exuberantly. Elderly people often proclaim that they still feel 21, and it's exactly like that, I am my strong vigorous self on the inside.
This blog is little tendrils of a life unfurling in an unexpected way. It's my first ever, I hope you'll read it gently.
Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.
-Lewis Carroll
