2025 in review – the finale – Awful Rigours and Wretched Pay

By Christine Swan

I had booked a theatre weekend not realising that I was due to be teaching all day. This necessitated a rush to Birmingham New Street station to hot foot it down to London Euston in time for curtain up. Me, being me, had booked a hotel about as far away from Euston as I could have chosen, in Hammersmith. Of course, I am exaggerating, but it did mean that I needed to lug my bag to the tiny King’s Head theatre in Islington. I boarded the train anticipating a relaxing journey and maybe an opportunity for a nap. “There’s hardly any food due to a mess up” the train catering manager glumly announced. Another passenger caught my eyes rolling heavenwards and smiled. I asked if there was a menu, which was rather like asking for solid gold cutlery. The choices were rattled off unenthusiastically. I asked which were vegetarian and was told what I believed was a “Coronation chicken sandwich”. I had misheard: “I said CHICKPEA!” insisted the catering manager. I was beginning to feel like an inconvenience at best, or a silly old fool at worst. My fellow passenger chimed in “I’d like one of those too please.” “There’s only the one”, replied the cheerful chappy. Fortunately, the gentleman wasn’t vegetarian so took whatever was available. Food dramas over, I had a small nap, and soon arrived at Euston. I will recount my theatrical musings in another post but, when eventually I arrived in Hammersmith, I was asleep as soon as my head hit my hotel pillow.

Friday night dinner

The following day, I spent a very pleasant time wandering around the river frontage of Hammersmith and Chiswick. I had no idea of how lovely an area this is. On this particular weekend in early October, the weather was absolutely glorious. It could easily have been a spring day – it was delightful. I walked past a group of young goths, baking in the warm autumn sunshine. I enjoyed having a chat with the friendly staff in the William Morris Museum, and dreaming of my home being perfectly “Morrisified”. The wander back to my hotel was equally joyful and I was left wondering why I hadn’t explored the area beyond the old Hammersmith Odeon and Rik Mayall’s bench before. The goths were still waiting patiently. I was pleased that the weather had been kind to them, and remembered a much younger me, waiting outside the same building, excitedly, to see one of my favourite bands.

Old Hammersmith and Chiswick was a revelation for me

William Morris’ Kelmscott printing press

William Hogarth’s House museum in Chiswick – entry is free

I attended the Worcester Cathedral Environment and Green Fair in the stunning cloisters, and endured the noise and stress of having a fireplace knocked out and enlarged. Neither of these two facts are even remotely linked, except that they both took place in October.

At Worcester Cathedral

Worcester Cathedral’s Norman Chapter House

Returning our fireplace to the original footprint – larger than I had ever imagined!

At the end of the month, I returned to the Netherlands to visit Rotterdam, Delft and Gouda. The weather was a contrast to the start of the month. Every day was wet and blustery but, I still managed to take in the sights and have a relaxing break.

Delfshaven, Rotterdam – managing to dodge the showers

An exceedingly impressive tulipiere in Delft porcelain museum

In Gouda main square, with the cheese weighing house and Sint-Janskerk church in the background, the Netherlands longest church

The end of November brought another trip to London and another visit to the Victoria and Albert Museum and before I knew it, December, and therefore Christmas, had arrived. I enjoyed one last trip to London To watch Ballet Shoes at the National Theatre and A Christmas Carol at the Old Vic with my family. I returned home ready for a relaxing festive break.

A photograph of Westminster Tube Station, because it appeals to my love of Brutalism

An impressive Delft tulipiere in the Victoria and Albert Museum

Spitting Image’s Mrs Thatch at the V&A

Incredible detail in a carved shell, exposing the Mother of Pearl layer, at the V & A

The City of London dressed for Christmas

Work had been a relentless round of early starts and late finishes, but something wasn’t right. Simba, our black, polydactylous, kitten-cat, was unwell. One trip to the vet brought a multitude of possible causes, but no reassurance. Simba declined further and on my birthday we returned to hear her blood test results. It was not the news that we had hoped. Simba had Chronic Kidney Disease. We opted for fluid therapy but the outlook was grim. “She was my late daughter’s cat”, I blurted through tears. I wished on everything that might bring good fortune. By the following morning, her bloods were improved – maybe we were coming out of the woods. We booked another fluid therapy session for Christmas Eve but this time, her bloods remained stubbornly bad. If the outlook had been grim, it was now almost hopeless. We decided to bring her home with some anti-sickness medication and all the care we could give.

Worcester Guildhall dressed for Christmas

Christmas happened. It wasn’t Christmas and Boxing Day, it was just two more days. I slept downstairs with Simba. I made sure that the room was warm, that she had food, water, and stayed awake watching her breathing.

Poorly Simba caused so much worry over Christmas

Simba did survive Christmas, and Boxing Day. Little by little, she returned to doing things that we would label as normal. Jumping up on the sink drainer to drink water from a tap, sitting on the windowsill in the sunshine, walking upstairs, washing herself – every step was a triumph. Our tears dried and we began, against the odds, to feel hope. To misquote my favourite film Bladerunner, I don’t know how long we have together, who does?