Billy no mates


Foggy is snuggling up with Patch and is oblivious to the fact that I am writing another blog!

It’s 18.20 on Friday night and I am in my thermal pj’s (sorry…M&S lounge suit) covered by a double layer of snuggly duvet while I type this blog. I am feeling a little bit sorry for myself, I’ll admit it. I dislike this time of the week immensely, it reminds me of what my life used to be like and how different it is now.

Friday nights seven years ago involved clubbing every Friday and Saturday night. Dancing and singing until 3am and then walking home with friends. Spending all day Sunday recovering from a hangover and then back to work on Monday, refreshed and ready to go. I was known as a bit of a party girl and liked a drink. Oh, how things have changed. Let me stress…I don’t miss the hangovers! But, I love socialising and I really really love dancing and mucking about on the dancefloor. The last time I went clubbing, or just out dancing, was at New Year. I was home by 11pm and in bed by 11.15pm. The following day I uploaded photos on Facebook of my friends and I having a whale of a time dressed as superheroes…it was fun but wore me out completely; I couldn’t even enjoy the climax at midnight. Yet again, I had, guiltily, said to my friends that I needed to get horizontal and was desperate to go home. I hate having to say that. I hate admitting weakness.

So now I avoid going out. Purely because I know by the time I have made the effort in making myself look half decent, got to the venue and chatted for half an hour, I will be wiped. So then I have to disappoint friends AGAIN. They say they completely understand and I love them to bits for being so lovely when I repeatedly let them down, but it doesn’t stop me from beating myself up inside. I am, in one sense, lucky that most of my friends don’t live here. I don’t feel the pressure to go out every weekend. My social life would be non-existent even if I was healthy. So, at least I am not missing out TOO much.

Last weekend was a disappointment. My fabulous friend Yvonne came down to the South Coast specifically to meet up to watch the England v Wales match. I see Yvonne 5-6 times a year and so we like to ‘do stuff’ when we meet up. Southsea Castle is screening the whole of the World Cup so we headed down there to stand with hundreds of other supporters. The key word in that sentence is STAND. After 30 minutes of play, my core muscles felt non-existent and I started to feel a bit lightheaded. there was limited seating and my own embarrassment/pride/awareness of disbelief stopped me from asking if I could sit due to my disability. I wasn’t in the mood for disbelieving glances. So I stood until half time and then went and perched on a cannon. By this point I had reached a point where I couldn’t deny that I felt numb inside and needed to go home. Yvonne is an absolute star and said that she had come to see me, and if that meant sitting in my living room watching the rugby instead, then so be it. As usual, I wouldn’t stop apologising for ruining our evening; as usual she told me to be quiet. I was wiped out for two days after that evening. I can’t even say it was worth it. Even if I was surrounded by lovely rugby people, some of whom were absolutely stunning! 😉  (rugby men watching is one of my favourite pastimes!).

I think the biggest problem with me is that I don’t like letting people down. In my mind, having to end social evenings prematurely is being a let down. This view doesn’t come from my friends it comes from me. Maybe I should just stop putting so much pressure on myself to be ‘Social Sal’ from 2007. She is long gone.


Sally xxx