Reading @MichaelRosenYes‘s poem about his tracheostomy reminded me of my stay in hospital (non-covid-related). All my nurses were ‘foreign’ & all were lovely, calming, supportive. Still hear ignorance about them ‘taking jobs’ or not belonging. I wrote this poem about them.
244 people have already signed up to watch, which is amazing.
I personally hadn’t planned to be involved in the live reading, but I did participate in the recorded reading. The recordings of these fantastic poems will be used to further promote the anthology (raising funds for NHS Charities Together and the battle against Covid19) and also serve as a keepsake for those of us involved.
Last Thursday (21 May 2020) I read my poem, ‘Only the Cleaner’, in the recorded session. I had the privilege to listen to all the other poems too, and I can tell you now that hearing them live from the poets themselves adds a wealth of meaning to the poetry that cannot be felt in print. Some of the poems I recalled from the anthology but struggled to remember are now imprinted in my mind in the beautiful voices of the writers. One that springs to mind is ‘The Gondoliers’, a poem in dedication to the hospital porters who move the beds between wards. That was an amazing image and the passion in Anna Bosanquet made it an unforgettable experience.
Hearing the poems from NHS workers themselves brought tears to my eyes on many an occasion throughout the recording. If you want to be involved, you should absolutely attend the live reading this Thursday.
I, of course, do not work for the NHS any longer and haven’t for years. In fact in one of my poems I’ve implied I worked there in 2010, but in fact it must have been more like 2011 or 2012 (or spread across both). Maths was never my strong point! I was working as bank staff at Southend University Hospital during my final year of university and it is to this day the most rewarding role I ever had. I have so many memories of my experiences while working there, like the sun rising over the houses and the lights just blinking on. It coloured my career path, leading me to explore work in social care, and eventually my work in charities and nonprofits. My work with IA sees me often communicating with doctors, surgeons, and stoma care nurses from all across the NHS – so I didn’t leave completely.
One thing I’ve learned is that I can absolutely read poetry under scary circumstances! When all this began, I was so nervous that I had even planned to skip the book launch – absolutely unthinkable now! I was asked to speak on the radio (which got cancelled because of covid-19 incidentally, as did the book launch) and I remember fretting over that. Now-days, while I’d be nervous, I think I’d value the opportunity so much more. Connecting the voices of the artists with the work is so very important, as I discovered when I listened to all these beautiful contributions. You can buy your copy of These Are the Hands here.
Well, we never saw this coming for 2020, did we? A global pandemic that put our most vulnerable people in critical danger and left us all in turmoil.
You may or may not know that I work in comms for a wonderful national charity to do with gastrointestinal health.
Just today I was in a conference call, excitedly discussing hashtag campaigns and possibilities with our PR manager and our social media managers, when it hit me that we were dancing merrily around some pretty serious stuff here. How could we start a #justoneholidaytip when travel has been halted? How could we start a #travelingwithmystoma campaign if people weren’t boarding planes to sunny locations?
Our discussions pretty quickly changed to buddying schemes, encouraging our members to look after their old and more vulnerable friends in their local groups. We came up with campaigns about staying indoors, getting exercise at home, or how patients can make the most of their garden or window-box. Conversations soon meandered once more to mental health campaigns and how to deal with anxiety in such uncertain times.
Just today, only 3 of us were working in the office. By 10.00am we were down to just 2, when one of our staff decided it was too risky to come in to work. I’ve been feeling unwell myself for a few days, though I don’t believe I’m symptomatic of coronavirus. Still, I did attempt to buy a thermometer and found that the pharmacies in my area had all run out.
I have a surgery booked at St Bart’s Hospital, London, for April 1 – this will no doubt be cancelled. I have tickets booked for Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds at the O2, and Shortparis at The Lanes in Bristol. My parents are supposed to be going to Amsterdam next month. All will probably be cancelled or delayed.
My boyfriend and I are in the midst of selling his house and buying a new one together. We may end up having to cancel the open-house viewings and put all this on hold, depending on whether we have to go into proper lockdown. Living hundreds of miles apart, it’s already tough to get to each other.
These measures are necessary but it really, really sucks.
My thoughts are with the sick, vulnerable, and older people who are most at risk during this terrible outbreak. A flu virus that spreads on this scale and is said to be twice as deadly as ordinary flu can be fatal to people with compromised health, and I can only imagine their families are terrified. My dad has asthma and that’s enough to put a knot in my belly.
I wish everybody the best of health and I hope and pray that this terrible virus disappears soon.
So how has this affected me and the arts? Well, the exciting book launch for the phenomenal NHS anthology These Are the Hands had to be cancelled or postponed until further notice. I was nervous about attending this, but now that it’s been cancelled, I realise how much I was looking forward to being part of such an enormous achievement and the celebration of the work we’d done together.
The book is still being released and can be purchased on 21 March and can be pre-ordered now online. The anthology will be available on Amazon, and in all book stores including Waterstones and even your local indie bookshop. The poems inside are absolutely beautiful and include contributions from some famous poets, including Michael Rosen, of course, who provided the foreword and was to be attending the event.
Lemn Sissay MBE is also a contributing poet, and he was also filmed reading some key poems from the anthology, which will be released after the launch. (A little birdy told me that he read one of my poems, but I will wait and see! The thought of that is far too exciting).
Here he is reading his own poem, titled ‘Making a Difference’.
Knowing that I played a part in this inspiring anthology makes me proud beyond belief. Please do buy a copy – all proceeds go towards NHS Charities Together. With the strain on NHS services and the extra burden of the coronavirus outbreak, they could use every penny they get. Your purchase would be contributing towards the most important cause in the UK right now: our NHS.
In other poetry and writing-related news, I will once again be appearing at the amazing feminism-centric online magazine, Mookychick! Recently their non-fiction editor accepted my submission of an article about one of my favourite thriller novels/movies: Jaws by Peter Benchley/Steven Spielberg.
It’s a rambling piece about differences between the film and the novel, because I just had to tell the world how much I loved Jaws. Amity, as you know, means friendship.
When I know more about when that will be released, you’ll be the first to know, for I shall share it all here.
I also submitted my poem, entitled The Wild Women, for their amazing upcoming multi-arts anthology called The Medusa Project. Fingers crossed! This anthology will be released online as an ebook, free of charge, to share all the amazing work they’ve collected about, and by, women. Submissions are still open until early-mid April I believe, so please go ahead and send in your contributions!
Until next time, stay safe, well, and creative. Best wishes, Ashleigh