“If you don't use it, you lose it!” I hate that that's true for so many things! Can we not just have a week off (or maybe two) without completely losing the ability to do the things we're normally quite competent at? Apparently not. Because it turns out, if you don't keep up your exercises, your healthy eating, your guitar practise, your reading, your “practising of self-control” (however that may look for you!) your meditation, your driving, your dribbling with a football or balancing on one leg for God’s sake.. WHATEVER it may be for you, you're completely back to square one. Like a bad game of snakes and ladders. That's like me with my writing right now. I daren’t tell you how long I've spent clutching my glittery pen, staring at this blank A4 lined notepad. Or how many distraction snacks I've had in the process, but here I am. Surrounded by empty yoghurt pots, dark chocolate foil and tangerine peel.
Since we last spoke, me and femur have been off the ground and up in the clouds not once, but three times! I've cried enough tears that United Utilities should give me a month off paying my water bill, and my knee has been hurting and clicking so much at times I'm considering buying shares in Panadol. (If I actually gave in and took painkillers).
Let's start with the good bits: being airborne! And my God it's a feeling I love so much! I ended up getting an impromptu helicopter ride over Oulton Park with Heli-med pilot Ryan from the Toca safety team. It was the next BTCC round and on the Saturday I was there flexing my presenting muscle once again, interviewing the marvellous medics for their training videos. I knew first hand these guys were real life angels, but I didn't quite realise how they’re also the absolute Top Dogs in their field! They’re Doctors, Professors, BRAIN SURGEONS, Plastic surgeons, “Head of trauma research in the UK” for example. You literally can't get any higher in some cases. Not even in a helicopter! They spend all week saving lives, putting people back together, only to carry that on at the race track on race weekends. They’re always there, always ready and always know exactly what to do. We literally couldn't go racing without them. Let's face it, things could have gone VERY badly wrong for me had they not been there and acted so quickly... leg amputation or death from internal bleeding would have been frighteningly real possibilities. Instead, I was on gas and air, onto a stretcher, into an ambulance, straight to PRU Hospital and operated on within 48 hours.
Then, a mere week later, the Toca safety team were collectively musing over my impressive X-ray while enjoying a Chinese. But it's not just the racing drivers or grid girls jumping off pit walls they have to deal with... It's also the spectators. The general public who get too drunk, too sunburnt, and go knocking on the medical centre door because they have a blister. Or couldn't get an appointment with their GP, so "thought they'd try here.” Seriously! So please guys- don't take the piss.
When the air ambulance needed to be moved immediately because it was in a certain someone's parking spot, I did think they were taking the piss when they went to ask permission if I could go up for the ride. But no, they were more serious than Taylor Swift dropping an album out of nowhere and the powers that be granted me one hell of a bucket list wish! My first helicopter ride. Over my home circuit! Initially, we thought I may have to go in the back, as my leg might not bend enough to get it over that weird gearstick/ centre console thing that'd be between my legs, but there's no way I was taking a back seat on this! I wanted to ride shotgun and I'd contort myself into the most inelegant position necessary if it meant getting in the co-pilot seat.
Success! I managed it and within minutes the blades were spinning, blowing any spectators hats off and not a single joke was made about me “getting my leg over.”
I bloody love heights and that feeling of being up in the clouds, seeing as far as the eye can see and all the neatly lined up race trucks below, resembling tiny blocks of Lego, was a feeling like no other. I returned to the track the following day for my grid girl duties and to do a few more interviews with the rescue team, as they practised and simulated a very real crash scenario. I stood back, watching in awe as everyone had their exact place to stand, poised and ready to assist, in a fast and calm manner. Although it wasn't real, my heart was still pounding. It reminded me how life can change in a second. With my mum's first anniversary coming up, I was also being reminded how short life is.
What do you even begin to do on the anniversary of the first parent you've lost??!! There's no training exercise for this!! I knew it was going to be a difficult day wherever I was and whatever I was doing. I knew I wanted to be busy but not ignore the day. I wanted to honour my mum by doing something cool that I knew she would love, whilst doing everything possible to avoid dealing with other people's emotions and just try to manage my own.
So, I flew to Paris for the day. There and back, with simply a handbag and a sun hat. My plan was to go to the church where mum and dad got married and light a candle for them. It was the oldest church in Paris and right opposite to the iconic Les Deux Magots. I would then take myself for lunch and toast mum, followed by a trip to Laduree for macaroons, a stroll over the bridge, then fly home.
That's exactly what I did. It was the most beautiful, poignant, emotional, exciting and soulful day. I felt mum so close, like she was loving every minute. Especially as I sat outside Les Deux Magots eating Escargot, feeling so Parisian I could burst!
(For all those asking why my parents got married in France and am I French, the answer is no. I’m very Manchester, but Mum and Dad eloped to Paris for the weekend to tie the knot. Taking just her parents and a priest, they made it up as they went along which resulted in the most beautiful and coolest love story ever, spanning 40 years and continues now in spirit.)
Mum took care of how my whole Paris day played out, like when I missed my train back to the airport and thought I’d miss my flight home as a result. (Note to self: don't EVER fly in or out of Beauvais again, it's flippin hours away!!) But thanks to the ‘Mum Magic’, my flight was angelically delayed! I made it in plenty of time and was home, in bed by 10:00pm. After being greeted by an incredible double rainbow over Manchester Airport at 9:10pm at night. How is that even possible?!
I'm not sure which is worse at this stage: the pain in my heart or the pain in my knee. I'd say the heart always takes over, which is why I put up with my leg feeling the way it does. This coming week I had a lot to conquer: a funeral of a close family friend, an x-ray and follow up with the orthopaedic surgeon, plus more investigations as to why my knee still won't fully bend, an effing dental appointment and traveling down to Chichester (AKA the longest drive of my year) to hopefully smash DJing at Goodwood Festival of Speed for BMW. It feels like a lot on my plate, but hopefully I'll deal with it as well as I did those delicious snails in Paris.
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