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1966… yeah, apparently I was there. I can just about remember World Cup Willy – England’s football mascot when they actually won something back then. Distant memories flicker… it’s amazing how smells can trigger memories. I remember walking with my auntie in Isleworth, London. Those big shops – well, big to me, coming from a small town. Key Markets, the library, swimming baths… rows of local shops buzzing with life. The smell of London buses and car fumes, the clang of the Routemaster bus bell, those iconic patterns on the seats. All those sounds and smells etched themselves somewhere deep in my foggy goblin brain.
Now? My sense of smell is pretty much shot, along with taste. Thanks, MS. My throat is a daily battle. It’s like my brain just forgets how to swallow properly. One day the herbal tea goes down fine, the next it feels like I’m choking on air or my own spit. Sometimes it’s weakness in the muscles, other times it’s just the brain signals messing up the timing. Talking gets tiring too – voice goes weak, slurred, raspy as the day drags on. Another delightful surprise from MS… making even breathing and swallowing feel like hard work.
That’s why my trusty thermos cup with a flip lid or a straw is the business for me. Knock it over? No problem. It’s like spill-proof dignity in a cup.
I remember the tube too… the smells, the sounds. London was rocking (or swinging) in the 60s. All those sights, the fashions, the swirling psychedelic colours. Mesmerising for this poor goblin. Innocence wasn’t lost back then, but it came close – reality eventually hit like a sledgehammer.
Looking back, it felt happy. But now… I wonder why it makes me feel so sad. Memory is rubbish these days. Brain fog wipes out birthdays and important dates. Honestly… it sucks. But that’s life in the MS lane, isn’t it?
“ The views in this post are based on my personal
experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”
“By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
By storm and silence, I survive.”
🧌✨ @goblinbloggeruk ✨🧌