Prologue
‘Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.’ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Time and tide wait for no man [or woman] are the words that rang out loud and clear, as I sat down and typed the first few words of my serial memoir.
My story begins in St Mary’s Maternity hospital in Leeds in 1963. It begins in the back-to-back houses of Beeston and transforms as I share the stories of family gatherings; lives loved and lost; careers nurtured, and lives turned upside down.
As I write, a flickering memory reminds me of the day I received my driving licence. It had a date – 26th October 2023. I assumed this was the date it would need to be renewed, but thought nothing of it. I would be 60 by then. It was a time too far away for me to even contemplate. But now, not only am I 60, but I am also well…retired; not something I envisaged when the retirement age for women went up.
A smile emerges as I remember the phone call that told me I had passed my nursing exams. I rang my dad, sobbing tears of joy. It had been a challenging three years. I was almost a registered nurse. I would no longer be the student in her white uniform, blue belt and three banded paper hat, I was about to receive the coveted nursing certificate and step onto the nursing register. A scary thought, but one I had longed for. A few months into my career in the NHS I realised it wasn’t a life I wanted and I left, leaving behind the aspirations I had to climb the proverbial NHS career ladder. Sister Marshall was no longer an option, at least not on the wards. I did reach the dizzy height of Sister, and deputy matron, but by then I was becoming disillusioned with nursing. I had to dig deep. I couldn’t leave, when I’d only just started. What would I do? Well, with a lot of commitment I found my niche and with that niche, my career took an amazing turn. And what an amazing career it’s been.
Sadly, unlike the phone call that told me I had passed my exams, not all phone calls inform of happy events. Receiving the phone call that was to tell me my dad was in hospital didn’t spark too much concern at first, he had after all been a regular patient, but when I arrived things were different. This time he was dying. We just didn’t know it. Or maybe we did, we just refused to believe it.
As I wrote my book with each memory that emerged, it jumped through hoops, did cartwheels and backflips as I allowed each one to take root and firmly embed themselves into my heart and mind. Compelling me to hold space as I reflected on memories long buried; some still too painful to hold.
Writing my memoir was like stepping onto an emotional roller-coaster ride; a journey of ups and downs, peaks and troughs; painful memories clashed with joyous occasions, creating moments of reflection and solitude and of course; tears.
Weddings, births, deaths and everything in between, my family have witnessed it all. And I know there is still so much yet to come.
Meeting up with old friends. Finding new ones. Turning the pages over, one by one, staying a while on some, quickly moving on from others, some memories just too painful; family life has it all.
At least for the moment, my life is content. Exciting and adventurous. At the beginning of the year I decided not to celebrate my 60th birthday in any special way. But in the end, 2023 has been such an amazing year, I simply couldn’t let it wave goodbye without celebrating my life and the lives I hold dear. Writing my memoir was one such remarkable experience.
I have danced in a burlesque workshop; taken up private dance lessons; danced solo; attended photography classes, although I suspect I’m no David Bailey, and played in a Walking Netball World Cup. A play on words, this tournament held in Hull, was reflective of the Netball World Cup, which was going on at the same time. There were 5 teams, all given Country names, I was in the ‘England’ team. We came third. Australia won. No change there then!
I revalidated as a nurse for another three years in March. Revalidation required by the Nursing and Midwifery Council, nursing’s governing body requires this of every nurse, every three years, so they can remain on the nursing register and practice as a nurse. No retired nurse register for us. Not much, for a career that for many, has spanned over 40 years. As I have retired, I doubt very much I will be able to revalidate in 2026, but as I frequently say, I never quite know which path I may take, so, never say never!
I also graduated from my Master’s in Education in March, with a distinction no less. The graduation day in May was amazing. I also passed my England Netball Level 1 coaching course on 29th July and passed the Rosalind Franklin NHS Leadership, Senior Leadership Programme in August.
Oh… and I had that big birthday party. With lots still to share.
Where to now I ask myself?
Well, I’m about to commence the England Netball ‘Into Officiating’ course so I can umpire netball matches, the first of many courses to come, I hope, and I completed a Walking Netball Host Workshop in September. Who knows what I might get ‘roped into’ in due course? With funding I plan to do the Level 2 coaching course and if I’m any good, continue with the umpire courses.
What other amazing opportunities will take me into my sixth decade and beyond? What joy and what sadness will I embrace, hold space for and ultimately move on from?
Well, I’ll just have to wait and see won’t I? And so, will you!
Bye for now
