Author Archives: sarasiobhan

The Leamington ladies

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This is a warm tale of some kind women I met in Leamington Spa.  First day as a postgraduate student. I had two full days of meetings so I booked into a hotel in Leamington for a treat. Got to the station first thing, to find trains all cancelled. Typical crap rail travel. Luckily ‘Richy to the rescue’ was working at home. He picked me up, drove me to Leamington, dropped my bag at the hotel, then dropped me at the university just in time.  Several hours later, I was back in Leamington Spa, looking for the hotel.

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LB and Steve Wright

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“Where was Steve Wright born, Mum?”
“Southend.”
“Why, Mum?”
“I don’t know. It’s just where he was born.”
“Where was Steve Wright born, Mum?”
“Southend.”
“Where does Steve Wright live now, Mum?”
“Central London I think.”
“Central London, Mum?”
“Yep.”
“Does Steve Wright wear glasses, Mum?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Has Steve Wright got a moustache, Mum?”
“Yep, I think so.”
“How long has Steve Wright been a DJ, Mum?”
“Wow. About 30 years now. He used to be on Radio One.”
“What’s Steve Wright got, Mum?”
“What?”
“What’s Steve Wright got, Mum?”
“Erm… DJitis?”
“Yes Mum.”

 

LB, Bollo and the voices

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Had a bit of a scare a couple of years ago.  LB’s teacher wrote home in the diary that LB was hearing voices in his head. We just dismissed this as ‘that’s just the kinda guy he is’, but the teacher and school nurse were worried it could be evidence of underlying psychotic tendencies. They organised an urgent referral to the local psychiatric hospital. Oh yeah, it ain’t a dull ride having a dude like LB.

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Silliness, crime and the clothes swap

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Back to the overland trip and a tale of (more) silliness, crime and a clothes swap. So, the truck is in West Africa, parked up in Lome where, for the first time since leaving Chalfont St Peter, a couple of months before, we were going to camp for seven nights on the coast while some truck repairs were done.

Whooo hooo!!!! It was great. Beautiful sea, lovely people (especially the kids), a chance to wash off some dust and enjoy not driving for 10 hours a day, every day. Because we didn’t pack up after a night, as usual, the bizarre landscape of our malaria nets, rigged up from makeshift lines, became visible.

Brad was happy, as he was reunited with his beloved ocean, and there was (rare) harmony in the group. Mid week, Geeky Chris and Lucy returned from town excited. They’d met a lovely brother and sister in the supermarket, gone to their house and swapped clothes.  Lucy had a beautiful West African pagne she’d swapped for a Top Shop t-shirt.

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History of a diagnosis (es)

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LB and ‘diagnosis’. Well that was a winding old road, with a few false starts (and ultimately a dead end). I knew there was something up from the first couple of months. He was way, way too good. So good (undemanding, placid, cheerful, smiley and happy to just watch everyone) but every so often, he would have random outbursts in which he was inconsolable. I used to ask friends if they thought there was anything different about him but it was always a giant ‘NOOOOOOO.  Don’t be daft’… But I knew. Continue reading →

Stan and the Peepy Thing

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Since Stan was a pup, a peepy thing in our garden has driven him crazy at different times of the year.  He scrabbles to get out of the back door, charges the few metres to the end of the garden and barks furiously, looking up at the overhanging bushes and trees.

“Peep peep. Peep peep.”

“RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF [I’ll get ya Peepy Thing!] RUFF RUFF RUFF!!!!”

“Peep peep. Peep peep. [You’ll never get me, short arse] Peep peep. Peep peep.”

“RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF [I’ll get ya and I’ll eat you for my dinner!] RUFF RUFF!!!.”

“Peep peep. Peep peep. [Go away corgi features] Peep peep.”

It drives us mad too. The combination of peeping and barking is relentless.

“PEEPY THING!” someone shouts, “Get Stan back in!”  And whoever is nearest (or doesn’t manage to successfully feign ‘ensconsed in very important task’), has to go and persuade Stan to forget about his vendetta and come back in doors.

I’ve noticed, recently, that the dynamics are changing between Stan and Peepy Thing.  He still scrabbles to get out the back door and charges to the end of the garden. But there is a note of pathos in his bark.

“Ruff ruff ruff ruff.”

“Peep peep. Peep peep. [Get lost loser dog!] Peep peep.”

“Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. [Do I really look like a corgi?] Ruff.”

“Peep peep. Peep peep. [Stop interrupting my peeping with your pathetic needy barking] Peep peep.”

It’s easier to persuade Stan back in now. And he usually goes and hides somewhere for a bit.

LB and the failed kebab

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“Hey LB! How did meal prep go today?”
“Not good Mum.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“I failed Mum.”
“Whaddayamean, you failed?”
“I failed Mum.”
“Why? What did you cook?”
“Kebabs Mum.”
“Oh, I don’t get it. What went wrong?”
“I didn’t have a skewer Mum.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“Dunno Mum.”
“So what did you eat for lunch?”
“Bits Mum.”

Laughing boy; agency, space and presents

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I got to thinking tonight about LB’s agency.  I suppose this is because the work I’m doing at the moment is looking at the inclusion of people with learning difficulties in research. As usual, the research doesn’t bear an awful lot of resemblance to the experiences of people I know (including LB).

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