So it finally happened, and I found myself mildly affronted at the number of years that have elapsed while I've been on this earth. Not that I feel like I've wasted them, because I don't. However, it is likely that the years ahead of me are now fewer than those behind me. I say this with a level of confidence because in the last few years we lost my maternal grandfather (99 and a half) and, more recently, my maternal grandmother (99 and three-quarters). My nan was 50 years older than me, and once she reached her 90s and I reached my 40s, it occurred to me that I perhaps needed a 50-year plan - just in case longevity is on my side. We lost both my paternal grandparents in their 80s, so it isn't a given, and my own health isn't great, so it seems unlikely that I'll be the one to reach 100, but you never know.
One of the favours that MS has done me is to give me a perspective that I wouldn't otherwise have had. It is a degenerative disease that can throw you nasty surprises. So for 25 years, I have lived with the knowledge that tomorrow I could wake up with or without some essential function and suddenly (or slowly) find out that I can't do tomorrow something that I can do today. In fact, I don't know that anything has ever happened that dramatically, thanks in no small part to the Disease Modifying Treatments that slow that process down, but I have slowly lost the use of this and that. Many things I used to do easily are now difficult or impossible. That isn't the end of the story, though.
I have probably always lived with the perspective that if I have the opportunity to do something and I want to do it, then I should. When I was 17, I went on an expedition to Zimbabwe and lived right out in the bush surrounded by very wild animals for six weeks, went white-water rafting down the Zambezi and survived a few hairy experiences that I didn't tell my mother about until I was safely home. I turned 18 on a boat somewhere on Lake Kariba, drinking beer and diving off the top of the boat - although not in that order. The next day, like many others in the group, I picked up my mail containing my A-Level results, which I was more or less happy with, and which confirmed that I would be heading to Hull, my first-choice university, a few short weeks later. (Nottingham University was my second choice.) I had the opportunity and I went for it, and I am so glad that I did. Before that, at 16, I had the opportunity to spend three weeks in Austria, travelling with a group of girls my age, attending an international Scout jamboree and getting to know other young people from all over Europe. It was an unforgettable experience. In my early twenties, I lived in Spain, Germany, Italy, Portugal and Australia for months or years each. I'm so glad that I did. By the time I was 25 and ill, I had already had far more than my fair share of adventures and didn't intend to stop there. So I didn't. Now, though, I have a dual perspective that I should both 'seize the day' and not waste my remaining years either.
I didn't expect to be here on my 50th, living where I live or doing what I do. I currently live on the outskirts of Nottingham, in a fantastic, rented ground-floor flat, which is entirely step-free (unlike my bungalow in Hull) and is pretty much accessible. (Widened doors and walk-in shower but no wet room.) It is beautiful, and like living in the middle of the countryside, yet only 10 minutes from the city centre. I am about to start working part-time for Nottingham City Council, giving housing advice to people who find themselves homeless - something I've been doing for many years, in different contexts. I've joined a church called Trent Vineyard and I've started volunteering with Trent Compassion. Hopefully, through them, I will soon start volunteering with women in recovery from addiction. Six months ago, none of that was true and I had no idea that it would be. I don't actually have a fifty-year plan all written out (it's more of a concept right now), but maybe that was why I realised that I didn't want to spend the next fifty years in Hull, but I could choose the place that would work best for me. So here I am.
Roll back to February 2026, and I was living in Hull, where I have lived on and off since 1994, when I went to study Modern Languages (German, Spanish and Italian with French) at Hull University. I was part of Hull Vineyard Church, which I loved, and had also attended on and off since 1994. (On for 10 years, off for 17, then on again for three.) I was working remotely for a housing charity and began to think about moving to Nottingham, in no small part because I knew that it had everything I needed and it would place me within 2 hours' drive of almost everyone I know. My job was remote, so I thought I would keep the same job and the same colleagues once I moved. But back in April, 3 days before I moved, I lost my job after just over six months of probation. They told me it was nothing I did or didn't do, but I find that hard to believe. My face didn't fit, and so I found myself with a month of 'gardening leave', which conveniently allowed me to move house and settle in.
I am very grateful that, at that same time, I received an inheritance - certainly not enough to live on, but enough to give me a few months' breathing space. I realised that I had something very precious at that moment, which my normal life doesn't allow: time. So I took advantage and went travelling for 3 weeks. While I was away, I applied for a job. The interview was as soon as I got home and, although I didn't get the job I applied for, they offered me something else that I think will suit me better. A few more weeks/months while they did the pre-employment checks (DBS, references - usual sort of thing) and I finished unpacking, then snuck in a cheeky few days in Northumberland to escape the heatwaves that characterised the summer of '26 in the UK. Still waiting for the job to start, I've been down to the Cotswolds over the Bank Holiday weekend, and have pretty much recovered now. I've had five months off to settle in and have a few adventures. I'm sure it's done me good and I'm now ready to start my job in a couple of weeks - after I've been to Berlin and Leipzig for a week, that is. I haven't missed the job I lost.
What do you do when life throws you a curveball?
Losing a job is a real leveller because so many people experience it. I'm the fourth in my family of five. But there are so many things in life that come out of nowhere and signal the end of life as we know it. Maybe it's a job loss or a serious illness, to name but two of mine. Maybe a bereavement. Maybe your house burns down in a wildfire that left your neighbour's house unscathed. (Stourbridge, August 2026.) Maybe your house floods because you live in Hull and it's below sea level. A spouse leaves. A child dies. You are in a horrendous car accident, or witness one, and just can't forget it. You're at a festival and someone dies. Awful stuff happens all the time and life never looks the same again. You don't expect it and you can't reverse it.
There is a Psalm in the Bible which I love because, at times like this, when we feel so helpless, it reminds us that there is a God who is bigger than our circumstances:
Psalm 121 (New International Version)
1 I lift up my eyes to the mountains –
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot slip –
he who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The Lord watches over you –
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The Lord will keep you from all harm –
he will watch over your life;
8 the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and for evermore.
There's also a song made from these lyrics, like a modern hymn, by the late Brian Doerkson. It remains popular 30+ years later because, like me, millions of people find it comforting. Not just Jews and Christians, but many people who, like the writer, have found themselves in a terrible situation, wondering how they would ever get out of it and whether maybe, just maybe, there was someone bigger than them who might be able to help. It's perhaps comforting to know that for millennia, other people have found themselves in impossible situations - and survived. They felt like we feel now. Helpless. Out of control. Facing an uncertain future. But that wasn't the end of their story.
I make no apologies for 'religious content', but I'm letting you into a secret. How do you cope with the awful unexpected? This is what I do: I read it and reread it. I think about it. Chew on it. If you're saying, "Hmm, so much for 'keeping me from all harm'!" then maybe you need to ask God about it. Do you need some proof that He exists? Ask Him for some. You certainly wouldn't be the first. Need a sign? You're in good company. Are you shouting at the screen already? Well shout at God. See what happens. He can take it. But also think about the times that you thought that your life was over. That things couldn't get any worse. That you were finally broken. Then what happened? You discovered that you were stronger than you thought you were, more resilient than you imagined. That actually, good things did happen after that, hard as it had been to believe that they would.
If you're going to read this blog, then you need to know that I like to use three little words: But Then God. I'm not going to preach at you every week, but I have a 'philosophy of life' and this is it. You have one too, whether you realise it or not.
We can agree to disagree. I can cope with that. I'm that sure some of you, some very good friends included, will be totally opposed to this philosophy. You'll have your own secrets and strategies. But if you ever need a different one, I'll lend you mine.