I never thought….I would live in care. I arrived at Monkscroft in 2020. I had been looking after my husband with advancing dementia for five years and had finally admitted defeat and allowed him to come into care. I say ‘admitted defeat’ because that is what it felt like. However hard you’ve tried, you always wonder if you could have tried that little bit harder… In 2020, my own health issues had also been declining and I booked respite at Monkscroft Care Centre, to be with my husband. 

Shortly after, covid broke out. Peter died of covid. It’s a blur now - the uprooting coming here, the utter fear attached to covid, watching Peter’s funeral on a web cam… ‘Settling in’ was not in my vocabulary. I don’t know how long it was before I desperately needed to find myself again. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. I am a writer and a creative writing teacher and I hadn’t stopped writing; it seemed the direction to reach out. I asked if I could start a Poetry Club.

There was already a reading and listening to favourite poems group but I wanted to establish a writing group. The Activities Co-ordinator, Sarah, organised it and we ran our first session in 2021. I started with good intentions but no experience of ‘teaching’ people who have memory problems. The first session, I presented the group with a box of interesting shells – “What do they look like?” I asked, meaning ‘be creative’ - they look like … a small volcano, an abstract painting, a daisy…And…

I take my box of shells, select a few - the less fragile -
and present them on a tray: my pièce de resistance,
I think, like a magician producing doves and coloured flags from a top hat.
The little group touch them as a cat might bat a coil of sleeping snake.
My aim - how teacherly! - is to work through the five senses:
I ask them what they look like.
Shells, they tell me, holding one to either ear.

Lesson 1. They lead, I listen.

And we still meet each week, take a theme, reminisce, discuss and gather ideas, play with rhymes and lines and write poems. We have a Poetry Board that anyone can read. After a while, we had enough work for an Anthology.

In 2024, with the interest and great support from our Divisional Director for the region, the Poetry Club published their own book. We held a book launch (Prosecco-ed) at Monkscroft and we all had such a sense of achievement. I felt as if I was getting myself back - encouraging people to create with words and producing something they were proud of. Initially, most of the group’s reaction was to turn pale and cry, “No, I can’t write poetry!” Now they had their own book in their hands.

The icing on the cake came the same year when Cheltenham Festival of Literature was asking for ‘local voices’ to talk about their writing at one of the events. We were selected! It was an evening to remember - two of the group came to represent the poets and Sarah and talked about how we manage our writing sessions and I read a few of our poems. It was a double bonus for me, personally, as I was invited to read some of my own work as well, from the book I had published the same year. Throughout the years I had been caring for my husband I had been writing poems as a sort of therapy. When I came to Monkscroft I started to edit and collate and, again with the brilliant skills of Sarah to present them in a publishable format and the invaluable support again from our Divisional Director, ‘Slip’ was given wings.

Reading at the Literature Festival renewed my confidence in my work and to see and hear the audience reaction was validation. Of all the poems I’ve written in my lifetime, those mean the most to me. I have dedicated the collection to Peter. And I never thought I would get a degree. Last year, it was sheer coincidence that one of our volunteers told me that the University of Gloucestershire was awarding Honorary Degrees to alumni who had teacher trained there, in recognition of their service to education. We would now have honorary B.Eds. She and I were eligible.

I decided to do it all in style - I hired the cap and gown and it was the most perfect autumn day. I was even taken on a shopping trip by Helen, Regional Marketing Manager, and Rachel, Activities Co-ordinator, to buy a graduation outfit. On the day I was supported throughout by Rachel, who shared my emotions like a friend. We have lovely photos. I had never considered my contribution to education but listening to the Chancellor in the beautiful old chapel on the university campus, I was so proud to be part of the tradition.#

A few months later, probably on a creative high, I won the Gloucestershire Writers’ Network poetry prize. Another appearance at the Literature Festival. This time, an evening outing, and Nina, one of our carers came to support me and try to quell my nerves. I think the wheelchair ramp with a gradient approaching K2 that poor Nina had to push me up, shocked my stage fright into submission. As well as the prize money, I received a bronze hare that’s become a tradition to pass on to next year’s winner.

Are you bored yet? Just let me tell you about our film première…Our Deputy Manager Lynne had the idea that we could produce a film with residents in the leading roles … and would I like to have a go at writing the script …

One rainy couple of days with no chance of sitting outside, I started writing The Thursday Club and Agatha Crispie, Hercule Barrow, Harry Holmes, the tipsy Miss Marbles, Nancy Smythe-Drew and Burt, the cat, took shape. And we, The Afta Bafta Actas, had so much fun - Rachel was a hard taskmaster! We did take after take, incredibly all on a phone, until it was right, ad-libbing when we forgot our lines, in spite of Sarah’s endless patience as prompter.

It took about eight weeks to film, meeting once or twice a week. In May last year, we held our film première with Prosecco, red carpet and starry professional photographs. I never dreamt I’d write a film script and it was tremendously rewarding to see the result with residents, staff, friends and relations invited. It was only when I heard the applause that was for us, the cast, that I was sure we’d pulled it off.

Of course, like all good mysteries there’s a twist at the end, “What’s happened to Burt (the cat)?” It was a question everyone asked afterwards. So, in November, we started filming the Christmas sequel, a sort of pantomime that never gets past rehearsals! This one has more staff taking parts, including five men dancing the can-can wearing dresses, wigs, make-up and judiciously placed balloons. Yes, Burt’s in it too.

That’s the highlights; my daily pleasure is my windowsill garden. I have established my green space along four windowsills in the long corridor. I have flower pots, mini tools, a watering can and compost in my room, a notice on my door, The Potting Shed, and I’ve worked out how to repot and take cuttings without getting too much soil everywhere! I know every plant. I feel connected with my roots. And that’s important.