The National Anthem: Part Three

00.42 And we’re back. The crowds are gathering in front of the TV sets. The PM is making the worst car journey of his life. Sam Cam would be wringing her hands if RADA still taught you to do that to signify ‘distress’.

00.44 Like the PM, I’ve remembered again what we’re dealing with here. The nasty details are clicking in. Lindsay has checked, the pig has been ‘sedated’, and she’s now opening the door for a horrified looking PM.

00.45 Cut to people in a pub watching TV, where an official announcement comments that ‘the PM will shortly be performing an indecent act on your screens’. A cheer goes up. And isn’t that exactly what would happen? By the time this information has filtered down through Youtube, through Twitter and Facebook, haven’t we become so utterly desensitized to it that we make no personal connection to it anymore?

Cripes. People are setting their recorders. ‘All viewers are advised to turn off their sets’, etc etc.

Jesus.

I feel…not too hot.

Do you know what, social media has got us in a horrible mess, hasn’t it?

I am honestly experiencing physical pain.

PM is slow mo-ing down a corridor. Lindsay runs through the rules, her voice unbearably slow. She’s a class act, that Lindsay. I’m glad I didn’t come up with a nickname for her. I sat next to her at the theatre once. She’s very pretty in real life.

Oh, ok. I’m just writing so I won’t have to focus on what she’s saying. It’s not pretty. You can have all the advisors under the sun, but when it comes  to having sex with a pig on live TV, you’re on your own. I think that’s the message we’re coming away with, anyway.

00.46 I can’t actually look at the PM’s face. It’s too horrible.

00.47 I wish I hadn’t watched that programme about teacup pigs. It was narrated by Jane Horrocks. Great show. I’M DOING IT AGAIN.

He’s faced with his destiny. A big pink pig. I have a feeling I’m not going to the South of England show next year.

He says he loves his wife, and may God forgive him.

This is it. We can see how rapidly all talk of porn stars, high tech trickery, opinion polls, and ‘just not doing it’ has been left behind. All the time spent considering other options, and he hasn’t thought until now about what ‘it’ will actually involve. He’s got to ‘see it through’, Lindsay informs him. This is the worst – in a situation where we’re grasping at very thin straws, just sort of mucking along with it would have been better than having to ‘complete the act’, which implies a certain degree of arousal and complicity in the act.

00.48 Just when it becomes too unbearable, he’s dropped his trousers, and we cut to the faces of the punters in the pub. They’re jeering. Then a few start looking troubled. Harrowed. Silence begins to fall. We’re staying on their faces. PLEASE LET US STAY ON THEIR FACES. People are crying, shaking heads. Sam Cam is…well, you know. No need for birth control in that household anymore, eh folks?

00.49 We’ve got a princess, falling over on a bridge.

00.50 And just as I’d got detached again, we’re back on the PM’s face, and noises, and it’s horrible. It’s pretty horrific. Really.

00.50 I’m not sure how much to give away here, in case you haven’t watched it. Something has happened, but I won’t say what.

00.51 PM’s throwing up over a toilet bowl. You and me both, sonny. You and me both.

Do you know, I really never thought we’d go there. I really didn’t think it’d happen.

So, after this, I’m now no longer ok to look at: pigs, Sam Cam, David Cameron, Lindsay Duncan, and Rory Kinnear. Most of all Rory Kinnear.

And do you know what? That’s the really clever part. The Camerons are implicit in this, and our brains have been constantly making associations over the course of the hour. We may not have actually seen Cameron having sex with a pig on live TV, but we’ve been there, because we’ve HAD to think about it. It would have been impossible not to.

I think there’s a big chance most of you will see the postscript coming. It’s all there when you watch it, even before you know what you’re looking for, but it’s ok. It’s not what’s important.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m about to lose the battle with supper.

Tatty bye xx

p.s. Here’s a creepy fact: before this postscript, this blog post had 666 words. I was far too alarmed to leave it like that, so I’ve come back in to write this. Superstitious.

p.p.s There’s one more thing that’s bothering me. I just can’t help wondering if it was deliberate that SamCam was dressed in a particularly pale shade of pink dress at the very end of the show? You know, that soft, muted looking pink….why, it almost reminds me of the skin of……No. I’m being silly. Time for bed.

The National Anthem: Part Two

00.27 People are working out green screens, angles, and…erm…positions. A group of men in suits are ushering a wide boy into the studio, who is a porn star.

Again, it’s genius the way that people are just addressing this, problem-solving, working around it. At no point has anybody said ‘the PM can’t have sex with a pig on live TV!’

00.29 PM’s asking about how this is ranking in the polls. If this happened to David Cameron (which I’m guessing is what we’re supposed to be thinking), would anyone be able to look him in the face again? His advisor tells him there would be ‘no blood on his hands’ if the Princess was killed.

00.31 We’re allegedly seeing the Princess having her finger chopped off. In the little photo of her, she really bloody does look like Kate Middleton. Oh, hi, dinner. Just hang in there a bit longer, ok? Essentially, a warning has come that the kidnappers know foul play is going on.

00.32 The realisation that ‘the PM is going to have to do it!’ seems to be kicking in thick and fast. His advisor, Lindsay Duncan (sorry, I’ve run out of descriptions), informs him about the porn star.

00.34 Sam Cam clone is checking Twitter. And there’s the ugly timeline we’ve all come to know and love. You know, when you search something or click on a hashtag, and you see a collection of comments from utter lunatics? There’s a particularly delightful description of what SCC will be doing in the months after the…erm…’pig enjoyment episode’, and also the phrase ‘pig AIDS’. I do exactly what I’m supposed to: laugh guiltily at the Twitter messages, then feel utterly disgusting when I see SCC’s twisted up, mortified face.

Public opinion is shifting: the public now want to see ‘the demands met’. This is a beloved Princess we’re talking about, after all.

00.35 They’re surrounding the building where the suspected kidnappers are. News crew/rude piccies lady has inveigled herself right in on the action. Jesus. When I’m at work, people are lucky if I go out to Starbucks to get coffee for them, let alone to a deserted building with my iPhone to get a scoop.

00.37 Predictably, news crew/rude pics lady is now being chased by the armed crew who are chasing the kidnappers. That’s the only bit I saw coming, by the way. So far.

00.38 PM is hanging his head in his hands. Lindsay Duncan has cut the crap and is being blunt. She mentions his ‘questionable popularity’, and what the real consequences will be of him not going ahead with this. He’s staring into Lindsay’s heavily Elnetted hair do and suddenly he’s getting it. He’s held onto every last shred of hope, but now…how far will he go for his country…is the life of the Princess worth more than his disgrace? Will I ever come up with a better description for Lindsay Duncan than ‘Lindsay Duncan’? Find out after the break.

Read part three here: https://ameliaflorencesimmons.wordpress.com/2011/12/05/the-national-anthem-part-three/

Black Mirror: The National Anthem, Part One

Black Mirror: The National Anthem

Well. Who watched it? By the looks of my Twitter and Facebook pages, not that many of you, actually – at least not many people I know. My timelines have been clogged with X Factor and Strictly all evening, but I only spotted a handful of references to this. I set my recorder, and that’s what I’m doing now, sitting down at 11.30pm watching it. In a manner Mr Brooker would be proud to lampoon, I decided to do a kind of post action ‘live’ blog. A contradiction in terms and utterly pointless, but I’m just going to go through and list some of my reactions as I watch it. So here goes.

About half an hour prior to watching: I’d read the synopsis, which said about a ‘beloved Princess’ being kidnapped, and the PM having to make a ‘difficult decision’. Turns out that was an understatement. I find out before watching what the particular ‘difficult decision’ will involve: the PM having sex with a pig on national TV. Oh, good. Fantastic. The chance of my dinner making a surprise guest reappearance becomes a very real possibility. But…I’m committed now. Let’s do this.

00.03 The actor playing the PM has obviously been cast to remind us gently but hideously of David Cameron, but the actress playing his wife is unbearably similar to SamCam. I’m already dying a bit inside.

00.04 Ok, here we go, the money shot – so to speak. We’ve got a bleary eyed Princess (not the Kate Middleton-alike I was expecting) having a nervous breakdown and doing a third rate Keira Knightley impression, pleading with the PM to save her life…..by having sex with a pig. On national TV.

It’s insane, and grotesque. And…I’m definitely reaching for the remote to turn off.  I’m not even doing that ‘car crash TV’ thing I so often do with X Factor. I can actually barely hear what the actress is saying, so I’m quite glad I found out in advance what the demands were. Because I’d probably have spent the next half hour going ‘I must be really perverted, because I’m convinced they’re implying he’s got to have sex with a pig’. Anyway.

What stops me clicking off is a little touch of humour. The PM’s advisors are standing solemnly around him, drenched in blue light. The PM furrows his brow: ‘they want me to have sex with a pig?’ The reply comes: ‘Live, on television, this afternoon’. I can’t help it, I giggle. Ok. Come on stomach, you and me can do this thing.

00.09 Brilliant: ‘This video came from Youtube’. We all know how fast a video can travel in 9 minutes on Youtube. Obviously, the genius thing about this is the fact that Brooker’s setting this in the way it would happen. The abject horror of the PM followed by smacking into the practicalities of it.

00.13 We’re back after the ad break – a blonde girl is lying on a bed with her boyfriend, telling him that ‘Princess Suzanne has been kidnapped’. And this is it, this is where I’m now hooked, because obviously this would be most of us. Alarmed, convinced it’s a ‘piss take’, then bemused as to why it’s not on the news but has spread across all forms of social media. I actually remember this with the riots – sitting up late at night, checking Twitter as parts of London were burning to the ground, and yet the news was frozen, stuck in a place that the social networks had long since moved on from. I remember finding it curious that I stopped relying on the official news channels to tell me what was happening! That I was relying on my friends and acquaintances instead.

00.14 We’re in a newsroom, a team discussing whether they can run the story, and if so, how. The issue is raised as to why Facebook is providing solid coverage, but not the official news. They’re running it.

I like the fact that Brooker got the pig sex thing out of the way in first minute (I assume – still convinced I couldn’t hear a word that actress was saying). It means we’ve sort of put that to one side of our brains, it’s still there, but we’re able to focus on everything else: how the story’s being covered, what the advisors are doing etc…

I hate crude dialogue in most things. I think it shows a lack of imagination. But as an advisor tells someone over the phone to ‘shove it up your arse’, it actually has the effect of jarring me right back into the horror of the imagined act. Because what’s happening is, I’m trying not to think about it, but having to think about it at the same time.

00.16 We’ve got a special effects advisor – of course – I didn’t even think of this. I’ve been seeing this whole story as a pornographic extension of the Grimm’s Fairytales I read as a child – and there was some pretty bloody weird stuff in there, let me tell you.

00.17 Blondie and colleagues are watching the news as it breaks at work. There’s a brilliant little montage showing people absorbed but ultimately involved in their own lives. This is so perfect, and entirely what happens in extreme situations. The world is always watching, but never fully stops and stares.

00.18 The woman from the news crew is sending photos of parts of her body in exchange for insider info on the case. A nice touch again – a metaphor about how we have our own trades, our own demands, our own ransoms. Or maybe it isn’t that at all. I’m getting a bit tired and also dizzy from writing so fast.

00.18 Ace little dig at The Guardian and a) their love of live blogging, and b) the way they’d run this story: ‘the cultural significance of a pig’. Ha. God, I love The Guardian. Never change.

00.19 Vox pops of people in the street on the news ‘it’s disgusting’, ‘revolting’. I like the way that Brooker is building up this idea of people themselves being utterly revolting,  and we as the viewers are too. Because deep down, do we want this to happen? Why are we still watching? Why am I still sitting here, watching a TV programme where there’s a chance an actor might be pretending to have sex with a pig within the hour.

00.21 Sam Cam clone is talking to her husband. I tuned out a bit.

‘Would they use a female pig?’ Blondie asks, and then there’s a discussion about Lars Von Trier. I like this, again – it’s showing how the initial disgust has been filtered down: how, no matter how ‘connected’ we all are, all the time, we are ultimately disconnected, emotionally. What a load of wank. It made sense when I wrote it. Maybe The Guardian will give me a job?

00.23 Techie girl has managed to trace a possible lead, using a lot of technological speak that I miraculously followed. The aerial shot of the campus looks a lot like my uni.

Break time! Finger stretch time….

Read part two here: https://ameliaflorencesimmons.wordpress.com/2011/12/05/the-national-anthem-part-two/

Healthy Living: End of week 2

It’s been a long week. Not in any way related to my new lifestyle, just a typically long, slightly chilly, end of November/start of December week. So, how are things in healthy land?

Exercise

Going well so far. Like I said last week, the early stages of starting any new regime are always easy, because you see results very quickly. The Pilates videos I’ve been doing (from Blogilates.com) are becoming a bit easier – I can push through for more reps, and I can just go for longer in general, so both my strength and stamina are improving. I’m working out for 6 days a week – fairly demanding, but while I’m doing a kick start, I want to really push myself. I’m doing a kind of ’90 day challenge’, and after that’s over I’ll settle into a more socially acceptable regime.

I also decided to buy a set of 3 Tracy Anderson DVDs from Ebay. I’ve followed a few of her webisodes and I like her teaching style. People seem to absolutely love her or hate her, and I’ve read a lot of angry comment-leavers denouncing her as a ‘fraud’….slightly alarming. I’ll be writing a more in depth review once I’ve got my DVDs and sampled them properly.

Eating

Slightly more tricky has been the diet quandary. I’ve never had issues with being careful with my eating, but the problem has been knowing when to stop. I make tiny alterations and keep doing so until I’m segueing from a normal healthy diet into just eating some rocket leaves with nothing on them and calling it ‘lunch’. This week has been interesting, but red flags have gone up. I started with cutting out caffeine and most sugar two weeks ago, then this week I’ve cut out wheat, and more or less cut out dairy. The temptation is always for me to stop replacing things with healthier options and just keep restricting myself.

I’m trying not to do that, as I want this to be something sustainable. So I’ve created rules. I’ve told myself that if I really want to have something, I’m allowed it. I have to eat 5-6 small meals a day, and I’m not allowed to go under 1200 calories a day. And so far, it’s actually been working. I’m not skipping meals and my blood sugar level is remaining stable because I eat every couple of hours. Skipping meals is another danger zone for me – I went for over 3 months in late 2009 when I didn’t eat lunch, ever. Just a small breakfast and dinner. It’s bad habits like this that I’m trying to unlearn. It sounds naff and totally hippie-ish, but I’m trying to learn to respect my body.

I went to a detox cookery course in Kensington on Thursday, and I learnt a lot about nutrition and how best to get it from the food you eat. For example, we learnt that pouring coconut milk over a fruit salad helps to prevent the sugariness of very sweet fruit hitting your bloodstream. And we also learnt that Coconut oil (or butter) is a fantastic ingredient that the body uses as energy instead of fat. Everything we ate had tonnes of garlic and herbs in, and most things we ate were either raw or cooked at very low temperatures. I learnt that kale, broccoli and herbs like coriander actually give your body calcium! If you’re interested, the company were called Nosh Detox and you can visit their site at http://www.noshdetox.com.

Anyway, I was pretty inspired by it, and cooked the whole three course meal at home on Friday night. So to sum up, I’ve learnt a lot this week, but I’ve also spotted problematic areas. I just want to prove to myself that I can eat a healthy diet without a) becoming obsessive or b) cutting out meals. I’ve also learnt that I respond well to solid rules, as long as they’re healthy. So here are my rules:

  1. Drink at least 8 glasses of water a day
  2. Eat at least 5 portions of fruit/veg
  3. Eat 5-6 small meals a day
  4. Don’t skip any meals
  5. Never go below 1200 calories
  6. No caffeine, sugar or white bread/pasta
  7. Limit dairy
  8. Be good 80% of the time but if I really want it, have it
  9. 30 minutes muscular structure and 30 minutes cardio every day
  10. Only weigh myself once a week, if that – weight is not the important thing

And there we have it folks, the end of my week two of healthy living. Why don’t you check this to see how I got in such a horrible state in the first place: https://ameliaflorencesimmons.wordpress.com/2011/12/01/how-advertising-destroyed-my-health/

Also, happy December everyone! I’m already feeling festive!

How advertising destroyed my health

Or, why I needed a detox. Or, how healthier living is changing my life.

Now, before you read on thinking this is going to be some screaming polemic on the advertising industry, and the combination of junk food advertising and skinny models being shoved down our bloated throats, it isn’t. This is about how working in an ad agency turned me from a relatively healthy girl to something of a wreck in just six months. I’ve talked about advertising, because that’s what I worked in, but this could apply to any desk-based, stress-heavy office job.

The office environment attacked me in a fair few ways, pretty comprehensively, despite the fact that I was only there for a mere 6 months. I’m not one to talk about my health, because up until this year, I’d never had any problems. Maybe I’m allergic to work? Or just offices? Anyway. Here’s how and what got ruined, and the pitfalls of office life. Read on, Macduff:

My immune system – always pretty healthy and quick to fend off a cold, I found myself in an office full of people, with either heating or air conditioning depositing our germs all over the place. Ironically enough, I didn’t take one sick day while I was there, but the minute I stopped, I had a three month cold. Lovely. It was like my body had stored up every single bug that every single person had carried, and kindly gifted me with them in succession. Like an advent calendar with flu behind the doors instead of chocolate.

My tastebuds – I’ve always been someone who could take or leave chocolate. By that I mean that I don’t really like the stuff that much, but I end up eating it because…well, isn’t that what women do? Social conditioning at its best, folks. For a couple of months I was fine. I avoided sugar. Then one day, a charity tuck box appeared. It took me a few weeks to cave. One morning, I was faced with a long, heavy day. I needed something to get me through, so I bought a chocolate bar for a boost (not an actual Boost, they’re yucky.) The day after next, I did it again. Soon, I was eating 2-3 chocolate bars a day, because I now felt deprived if I didn’t have one. My blood sugar level became a rollercoaster.

My energy levels – If you’ve worked in an office, you’ll know that it’s nearly impossible to resist the lure of the tea or coffee run. Because we had a moderately sized team all sitting together, someone would ALWAYS be getting a caffeine based drink. I always felt too embarrassed to ask someone to pop a herbal tea bag in some hot water for me, and also, I just wanted the kick. Because I’d drink a cup, perk up, flag, and need another. On and on. Cup after cup, all day long. Not good if you want Zadies, either. (That’s my name for white teeth.)

My back – it’s a common problem. Dodgy chairs + hunched over a computer all day = back pain. For the first time in my life, my beautifully straight dancer’s posture deserted me, and I started to hunch.

My willpower – I like baking. I like the look of cakes, I like the act of making cakes. But I don’t actually really care too much about eating them. Weird, huh? Before the office job, I’d bake every couple of weekends or on special occasions, and eat a bit, but not a lot. Suddenly, in the office, it was somebody’s birthday EVERY SINGLE DAY. Or their leaving do. Or it was a charity baking sale. Or it was just Friday afternoon. And you know what? The cakes were delicious, and I really didn’t want to be the kind of dick who went ‘no, I think I’ll leave your beautifully crafted cake, baked with loving care, and I’ll just stick with my low-glycaemic seeds and agave nectar’. No one wants to be that person.

My sleep patterns – Gosh, who would have guessed that bucketloads of sugar and caffeine combined with a stressful job would make me restless at night?! But it was worse, and weirder, than just having to count an awful lot of sheep. For the first time ever, I became anxious when I went to bed. Racing thoughts, heat beating fast, all the rest of it. I would wake up in the night and be instantly wide awake, but groggy in the mornings. I was thinking the strangest, worst kind of thoughts, and worried about everything. Embarrassingly and bizarrely, I became unable to sleep with the light off, for the first time since I was a child. Almost every night felt like I was having a mini panic attack. Hmm, healthy.

The way I viewed food – I’ve never been a conventional ‘dieter’. I can’t stand the concept of ‘good food’ and ‘bad food’, as this just makes your life difficult and stressful, and you are reduced to near tears on being faced with dessert. Suddenly, I was surrounded by people always on a diet, always convinced that carbs were bad, and telling me so. It was alarming. I felt hyper aware of what I was eating everyday, and the attitude rubbed off on me. Periods of eating barely anything were followed by binges on all the ‘bad food’, because the people who were on diets always knew they were doomed to fail, that was just how it worked.

My liver – Even in this time of austerity, the image of the boozy ad agency still remained true. Post-uni, I’d virtually stopped drinking, and my body was resetting itself from all of that indulgence. Suddenly, we were drinking with alarming frequency, and I still had the attitude of the recent student: if it’s free, eat it/drink it/take it, because you don’t know when you’ll get the chance again. We even had a drinking game that revolved around hiding a fish (look, we worked long old hours, no wonder we went a bit silly.) Essentially, if you didn’t find the fish, you did a shot. No matter what time of day. I loved that game. And I was bloody terrible at it. Many mornings I’d be having a shot of some foul foreign paint stripper, or just a spot of Jagermeister. Boozed up lunches, parties and after work drinks ensued, even G&T’s in the boardroom on one particularly marvellous Wednesday. I loved it, but my body didn’t. I’m sorry, liver.

My stress levels – It was a stressful job anyway, and one that I wasn’t actually very well suited to. Cue insane amounts of worry, fear, and anxiety over my performance. To that cocktail, please also add the sugar, crisps, caffeine, and….well, actual cocktails. I often felt on the verge of tears, I never stopped feeling exhausted, and my brain wouldn’t ever turn off. I wasn’t taking any care of myself.

My fitness levels – And lastly, sheer laziness. Of course I could have gone for a run on my lunchbreak, or the gym before/after work. But I hate getting sweaty during a working day, and by the time I got home I was still too hyped up from the day to feel like doing anything other than watching TV. So that’s exactly what I did. I made excuses, and did bugger all. That was probably one of the worst decisions I made of the lot.

The worst thing is reading this back and knowing I could have prevented most of this, and you can prevent it too if you find yourself in this position. I should have been stronger, resisted the chocolate bars, and eaten seeds and dried fruit, or dark chocolate. I shouldn’t have listened to the eternal chorus of the dieters, and just brought in what I wanted to eat, and not been sucked into complaining about my thighs as a bonding method.

The cake thing is pretty difficult to navigate, but I’d say the rule is: if somebody’s made it, have some. Just take a small bit, and deal with it. If someone has just purchased something from a supermarket, forget it. Tesco won’t be offended by your eschewing of their brownies. I promise. For the caffeine issue, just either say ‘no, thanks’, or get up and make it yourself. Your colleagues will love you, you’ll get a tiny bit of leg exercise, and you can just make yourself a herbal tea. Done.

Pack your own lunchbox every day, full of exciting salads and grains, and change it up so you don’t get bored having the same thing constantly. Forewarned is forearmed – bringing in your own food and planning for your meals in advance means less likelihood of you ending up in Marks, crushed between a pensioner and a mother with a ginormous pushchair, forced to grab a 600 calorie sandwich.

Force yourself to exercise. As Nike say, just do it. It’s taken me 5 months to put myself back together because of the toll unhealthy living during this job took on me. I just drifted for a while, my eating habits broken, my fitness level at rock bottom. In the last month, I’ve made better food choices, given up caffeine, more or less completely given up sugar, and started exercising. I’m working twice the hours I worked at that office on many more projects, so my workload has become infinitely more stressful, and yet I feel incredible. The changes in my eating and exercising have made me able to cope with anything. I’m more focussed and driven, and I’ve got boundless energy without having any caffeine.

I was totally wrecked, exhausted, unhappy, unfit, and unmotivated not too long ago. Had I visited any GP, they’d have wanted to plonk me straight away on anti-depressants, and I probably would have been tempted to take them. Thanks to cleaner living, I sleep well, I wake up early with no alarm, I work my ass off and have the energy to plough through 16 hour working days with no problems. I am calmer, happier, more confident, and free of the panicky spells and long dark nights of worry that characterised six months of my life. If I can inspire just one person to make a few easy choices that will make them feel better, I’ll be happy. I’m going to be writing a series of blogs on eating well, and working out, so keep reading if you want to, and feel free to ask me any questions.

It’s another very long blog from me, but I wanted to give people a context for why I’m making changes in my lifestyle.

Snogs (frozen yogurts that is),

Amelia xx

If you read one thing on my blog, read this

As you sit down and read this post, I want you to pretend to be Doctor Who and transport yourself back to your own teenage years. Strip away any thought of children, marriage, university, your first job, everything you know now…feel those years falling away. Can you remember how it felt to be 16? To be 15, 14? How did it feel? Those awkward, self-conscious, hilarious, embarrassing, exhilarating years. Remember how you felt in your own skin. Did you go through an ‘ugly duckling’ stage? Did you wear braces, glasses, carry a bit of extra weight? Did you stay up all night talking to your friends? Did you discover eveything new? Drinking, smoking, having sex, relationships, a social life…

Even if you look back and still want to dig yourself a hole for those moments when you felt unbelievably uncomfortable, you probably still think it was an amazing time. Even if you scraped through your GCSEs, experienced your first painful breakup and your first breakouts, you might still look back and smile. For me, my teenage years were entirely self-absorbed. My worries seemed huge. WHY had I left my homework until the last minute, again? Would I be carded if we went to a proper club? Why couldn’t I afford the shoes I wanted? Oh, the delicious vacuity. I look back now and think about how I felt. I thought I knew everything. Some days, I thought I could take on the world. Others, I didn’t think I could get out of bed. I was a raging mess of hormones, laughter and precociousness. Perhaps you were similar.

Are you there? Are you back there, wandering school corridors, frequenting coffee shops, huddling in the only bar known to serve the underage? Ok, good. Now I’d like you to imagine that, in the midst of all of that wonderful turmoil, the most unthinkable thing happens. Perhaps you just have flu that you can’t seem to shake off. Maybe you find something a bit lumpy – but that’s nothing new, because your body seems to change everyday. Possibly that little mark near your elbow seems to have changed a bit. You worry, because you’re a teenager and everything seems like the end of the world. Maybe you tell a parent. They might seem concerned, or maybe they just tell you it’s probably perfectly normal, and not to worry about it. You might go and see your GP. They too might tell you not to worry – after all, they probably have hundreds of teenagers in every week, worrying themselves stupid.

Maybe you lose or gain weight. You just don’t feel quite right. You go back to your GP. They might take a look and refer you onwards. You’re more than worried by now. You get your referral, and you’re thoroughly checked out. And some time on, you get a phone call that you never, ever thought you’d get. You’ve just been diagnosed with cancer. Cancer, that huge, ugly word that automatically inspires fear in all of us. It’s a word that shouldn’t really penetrate the world of a teenager, and yet it is, for six young people every day in the UK.  Your world feels like it’s closing in, and your identity is thrown into question – the identity you’ve been striving to understand anyway. And bit by bit, the things that make up who you are slowly get taken away. The more it progresses, the less control you have over your own life. Everything, from the time you get up to the time you go to bed begins to be taken away from you. What you eat, what you drink….maybe even your hair. At a time when a spot on your nose can seem utterly catastrophic, imagine how it would feel to lose your hair. You can imagine the rest.

You might be wondering where I’m going with this. You might well have stopped reading, because it’s just a bit too uncomfortable to read, and you want to look away and not think about it. Well, I just wanted you to think about some of the issues a teenage cancer patient has to go through. Why? Because I want to talk to you about a charity that I am currently working as an ambassador for: the Teenage Cancer Trust. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. I want to explain a little bit about what they do, and why they’re very worthy of your support.

The Teenage Cancer Trust was founded just over 20 years ago by a group of people who found out what a hard battle teenagers with cancer faced. Teenagers used to be either treated with young children or old people, so were effectively alienated from the people on their ward. Anyone who has been in a hospital knows that for the most part, it’s not a good place for a young person to be. When you’re young, your bedroom is your sanctuary. To be taken away from that and plonked on a ward with people more than four times your age is not conducive to recovery. Teenagers tend to need to visit hospital a lot as they can get some of the rarest and most aggressive forms of cancer, due to their developing bodies. The original group raised the money to build the first Teenage Cancer Trust unit at Middlesex Hospital in 1990.

So you see, TCT need to raise funds not just for supporting teenagers and their families, and educating young people on recognising cancer (all things that they do exceptionally well), but they need money to build units for young people. They’re currently finishing work on a ward at the Royal Marsden in Surrey, which has cost £3 million. TCT wards are beautiful and unique, and designed to create a comfortable and enjoyable environment for the young people, which in turn leads to them having more strength to fight back. TCT aim to give teenagers back some of the control they lose in their lives, by making them completely in control of their surroundings. They can control lighting and sounds, have individual computers with constant internet access, TV screens, and ‘common rooms’ that look more like university halls than a hospital.

Everything is designed to make a teenager still feel like they are first and foremost a teenager, and that the cancer is secondary. Games tournaments are held on the Wiis or Playstations fitted on the ward. A special sound proof room is provided, where the young people can plug their iPods in on the outside, and listen to music at top volume without disturbing anyone. This can be cathartic if someone has received some bad news, or just needs some alone time – they can even go there at 3am in the morning if they need to. All staff are specially trained to deal with teenagers, and it shows in the way they interact with the young people. TCT are providing an unbelievable service that is so, so essential to these young people, and can help give them back their quality of life.

TCT units provide a positive and stable environment for teenagers to go to. Units feature ‘schoolrooms’ where teenagers can study, read, and even take their exams if they want. Many former TCT unit patients go on to good jobs, to sixth form college, or to university, and this is in no small part due to the encouragement and positivity that TCT provides. It’s so important for a teenager to feel like a teenager, and this is exactly what the Teenage Cancer Trust give them. In fact, I’m going to stop talking and let the teenagers tell you exactly what they think themselves:

I hope you’ve felt inspired by this blog. There’s so much more I could tell you about this amazing charity, and all the services they provide, but I’ll wait, because I’m already at well over 1200 words.

We’re currently setting up a fundraising outpost in Tunbridge Wells. Although the Royal Marsden is in Surrey, it’s our closest unit. We need people with ideas, with passion, with empathy…and you can give as little or as much time as you’d like. I’ll keep posting about TCT, but please comment on here or find me on twitter @ameliafsimmons for more details. We want to raise as much as we can. TCT is a very small charity who receive no government funding, so fundraising is incredibly important. I’ll keep you posted on upcoming events and ways you can get involved with this truly inspirational charity. Meanwhile, check out http://www.teenagecancertrust.org and ‘Like’ their Facebook page.

Thank you so much for reading.

Amelia x