How nice to ‘meet’ another Miranda (or are you Ruth?!). It sounds a wise decision but must have been so hard. We like to believe we’re invincible. Take care.
Someday I will do a post on my Miranda/Ruth dichotomy. Both are my names. My father, who died before I was born, loved the name Miranda. However, my very down-to-earth Lancashire family weren’t so sure. Now I answer to both, but people who know me very well generally call me ruth. Interestingly, Miranda became my cancer name. It was on the file at my first appointment, and I thought about correcting it, but felt it marked a very specific period in my life.
Oh Miranda. Such a powerfully articulated piece of writing - thank you for it. It spoke to me loud and clear here to me where I’m likewise accepting the need to be town and home based. I’m physically more well than I’ve ever been - but this is partly because I’m no longer pushing myself relentlessly to perform as a writer and do the travel that requires which was my identity of these last seven years. Today five years ago I was in Virginia Woolf’s garden and that heatwave weekend I was in residence in baking sun at Wealden Lit Fest - insect-bitten, sleepless in my tent while a rave went on til 4. A panic attack which had me ready to abandon the second day of the festival and my small and late-won reputation with it. How I drove home with my massively swollen leg or did the on stage events on day two I don’t know - well actually I do, all these years later. I did it at a huge cost to my health in the following three years. And then last year was all about my mother’s dying - more impossible-feeling effort on my part, sleeping on a hard floor in her tiny flat at age 50 every week in four. So this year I’m not earning any money, and I’ve stopped my Substack as an active growing endeavour… ‘an era has ended’: I felt the weight, the sadness of your husband’s statement, and yours in telling it… but also the safety and acceptance that this ushers in. My life isn’t anymore the kind that goes into essays or books or performances, but I walk my small town daily and say hello in passing to many people I hadn’t met before. I read on park benches. We spend less but sleep better… privilege to have these choices, as you say, but it’s also true that our culture doesn’t make it easy for people to cut their cloth into a shape of their own making. It wants us to push and push and spend and spend. I will be looking out for your next pieces as I will be so interested to see how your year takes new form… xx
Lovely to hear from you again. Success is lovely but the pressure to follow up an achievement and stay in the game is huge, especially with the all-on visibility of social media. Although your posts about your mother’s last days were brief, I found them very moving. I’ve just signed up for Beth Kimpton’s new Substack writing and sharing group and feel it’s time to get back in the saddle. Fortunately, my big C seems to be in remission for now, though the after-effects can be tiring at times.
To know your cancer is in remission is best possible news - and while your long hiking days are not possible this season, it’s wonderful to think of you being part of Beth’s brilliant programme as your writing is so strong (I feel so glad you wrote for my project).
Thank you! Also, another Miranda with a cancer history? I wish you health and confidence going forward.
How nice to ‘meet’ another Miranda (or are you Ruth?!). It sounds a wise decision but must have been so hard. We like to believe we’re invincible. Take care.
Someday I will do a post on my Miranda/Ruth dichotomy. Both are my names. My father, who died before I was born, loved the name Miranda. However, my very down-to-earth Lancashire family weren’t so sure. Now I answer to both, but people who know me very well generally call me ruth. Interestingly, Miranda became my cancer name. It was on the file at my first appointment, and I thought about correcting it, but felt it marked a very specific period in my life.
How interesting to have a cancer name! I do hope you continue to do well.
Oh Miranda. Such a powerfully articulated piece of writing - thank you for it. It spoke to me loud and clear here to me where I’m likewise accepting the need to be town and home based. I’m physically more well than I’ve ever been - but this is partly because I’m no longer pushing myself relentlessly to perform as a writer and do the travel that requires which was my identity of these last seven years. Today five years ago I was in Virginia Woolf’s garden and that heatwave weekend I was in residence in baking sun at Wealden Lit Fest - insect-bitten, sleepless in my tent while a rave went on til 4. A panic attack which had me ready to abandon the second day of the festival and my small and late-won reputation with it. How I drove home with my massively swollen leg or did the on stage events on day two I don’t know - well actually I do, all these years later. I did it at a huge cost to my health in the following three years. And then last year was all about my mother’s dying - more impossible-feeling effort on my part, sleeping on a hard floor in her tiny flat at age 50 every week in four. So this year I’m not earning any money, and I’ve stopped my Substack as an active growing endeavour… ‘an era has ended’: I felt the weight, the sadness of your husband’s statement, and yours in telling it… but also the safety and acceptance that this ushers in. My life isn’t anymore the kind that goes into essays or books or performances, but I walk my small town daily and say hello in passing to many people I hadn’t met before. I read on park benches. We spend less but sleep better… privilege to have these choices, as you say, but it’s also true that our culture doesn’t make it easy for people to cut their cloth into a shape of their own making. It wants us to push and push and spend and spend. I will be looking out for your next pieces as I will be so interested to see how your year takes new form… xx
Lovely to hear from you again. Success is lovely but the pressure to follow up an achievement and stay in the game is huge, especially with the all-on visibility of social media. Although your posts about your mother’s last days were brief, I found them very moving. I’ve just signed up for Beth Kimpton’s new Substack writing and sharing group and feel it’s time to get back in the saddle. Fortunately, my big C seems to be in remission for now, though the after-effects can be tiring at times.
To know your cancer is in remission is best possible news - and while your long hiking days are not possible this season, it’s wonderful to think of you being part of Beth’s brilliant programme as your writing is so strong (I feel so glad you wrote for my project).