Bendiness and Books

I got my Joint Hypermobility Syndrome diagnosis. It was very anticlimatic: I spent all of last Sunday worrying, then walked in, explained why I was there, demonstrated one wrist's motion in one direction and he said "yep, that's joint hypermobility", then kept repeating it couldn't be cured or treated, merely managed, as I showed off some of my other party tricks for my own satisfaction. He wasn't interested in my other symptoms (so I'm a little worried he hasn't marked the 'syndrome' part on my records, and the extra reading I've done makes me think I might actually need a diagnosis of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome - Hypermobility Type), but did say whilst he's seen hypermobility before, never in so many joints and never to such a degree as my shoulders. I've got to book in with a physiotherapist and a sports masseuse, but both involve talking to a stranger on the phone, and I have enough trouble talking to my family so I've been putting it off. Also, if you have JHS/EDS, I have a friend with EDS who talks about it on her belly dance blog, Scarlet Lotus Dance, which you might like to check out.

The symptom I find most problematic is not actually the pain, but rather the fatigue. I need to learn to say when I can't do things because of the tired, because I suspect if I find a way to cut down I'll have more energy to commit to the things I keep. The problem is, I've already cut down as far as I'm prepared, and everything I have left I love, and Husbit already takes the greater share of housework and lets me sleep in at weekends when I need to, so it isn't going to be easy to do. I think the biggest thing is going to be insisting on earlier finishes for roleplay sessions, which sucks especially when we get really into it, but I know if we play much past 10:30 I'm starting to suffer, and if it gets beyond 11pm I'm barely there anyway.

Anyway, I'm tagging this and future posts about the condition with 'super bendy freak' so feel free to filter that out if you're not interested or find photos of hypermobility (aka double-jointedness) creepy, because I like showing off what I can do! (I don't know how to filter out, but I see people talking about it so I assume it's a thing you can do).

The main thing I actually wanted to talk about was the Rivers of London series by Ben Aaronovitch which was highly recommended by a friend with similar taste in reading material. I found the first in a charity shop a few weeks ago and loved it and talked my brother into buying me the second for my birthday (siblings are great!).

I loved the attention to detail - I was surprised when I looked the author up and discovered he wasn't a former cop, there are just so many little things dropped in that feel true. Husbit and I suspect he did a Castle to research sufficiently thoroughly, but there's nothing in the acknowledgements to prove that so maybe his imagination is just that strong.

 

The attention to detail extends beyond the police aspect of the novel: London is described with such depth and love. I don't know London well - I hate big cities! - but I had a moment in the second book when a park was described and I recognised it immediately as one I'd walked through every day when I was up in London for a training course last year.

 

The narrator has the clearest voice, of course, but all the characters come across as individuals in a very comfortable way. The narration is never patronising, managing to show you what's happening without feeling stilted. I'm reading for the sheer pleasure, but need to read again and dissect how this is done because it's not something I'm good at yet.

 

There were times when I was almost shouting at Peter Grant, the main character, for not making connection sooner, but actually it's in keeping with his character and something one of the other characters, Lesley May, pulls him up on it too so it's not frustrating the way I find it in other books - it's not because the author assumes the same sloppiness on the part of the reader, as often feels the case, but because this character really doesn't make the connections.

 

The river gods are wonderful.

 

I think my only criticism is the way women are described (gorgeous and fuckable, or in some way monstrous/unwomanly and unfuckable), the way 'people'='men' and a transphobic scene in the second book (a woman makes it clear she's only male by birth, but is still given male pronouns in an unnecessary scene) The thing is, these sorts of thing normally puts me off a story told in any medium, but I still loved these books and recommend them highly. It's especially frustrating, because in other ways, they are so inclusive.

Peter Grant is a cop. He wants to be in one of the exciting units, but suspects he's going to be shunted into paperwork-central. Until a ghost talks to him as witness to a murder and he's recruited into the Met's magical unit, where he gets to learn magic, liaise with gods and generally get into mystically trouble. Lesley May, his friend and fellow cop, is recruited by the department he originally hoped to join, and they work together on the big plot of the first book. The end of the second book gives me a lot of hope for how that will progress...

Magic is not easy to learn. I really like that. Spells are made by combining smaller spells (makes me think of Lords of Gossamer and Shadow); to learn a small spell, you need to be taught the forma by another practitioner (the second book touches on how the founder of the tradition, Sir Isaac Newton, originally identified the forma) and then spend months practicing it. Magic fries processors in technology, like mobile phones. This is fun and interesting: Grant's study of magic and investigations with it are very scientific and I enjoy his curiousity.

Now, to get my hands on the next one...

 

Downtime

Sorry to have been so quiet recently - I've been busy! Not with anything exciting, just busy at work so tired at home, and busy with friends visiting, and it was my birthday recently so I've been busy with books, and I got caught up by a tv show called Trapped whose story telling was so strong I couldn't stop watching! I'm not someone who can just watch tv, though - I'm too much of a fidgit - so I dug out my needles and some yarn homespun by a friend and started knitting... and haven't stopped. The needles are my new bamboo needles and are lovely to work with, whilst the yarns are a mix of fibres, but mostly soft wools like merino or blue faced leicester, but also alpaca and sometimes with things like silk or bamboo mixed in: they're an absolute pleasure to knit with.

My current abilities start and stop at scarves, headbands, and other small items that don't require much shape. My favourite stitch is the moss stitch: it's simple enough that it doesn't require my full attention; the rhythm is hypnotic; and it looks really pretty at the end. YouTube is my friend every time it comes to trying something new - the internet is a wonderful resource and I'm grateful to live in this age. I'm developing a bit of a glut of scarves, though a couple of projects I unpicked rather than binding off because I wanted to reuse the yarn for something more exciting in the future and was just knitting for the pleasure of it. I've got some circular needles I want to try out, and I really want to knit a simple shawl, so knitting's on the cards for at least a little while longer.

I've been suffering a great deal of pain recently. A work health assessment made me realise it's not normal to be in constant pain, but the pain I've been in has been worse than the low level I'm used to. A friend with Ehler Danlos Syndrome has been trying for some time to get me to get a diagnosis of the same, but from what I've read I think I actually have generic Joint Hypermobility Syndrome, which is sometimes conflated with EDS and it's not clear if they're the same or not, but if they are then it's the one with the fewest really horrible symptoms. However, I do have nearly all the symptoms of JHS (never suffered a dislocation), and it explains nearly all my health problems (not asthma or depression, but basically everything else) and a few of the nicer things too, like how people never believe I'm as old as I am - and I love being hypermobile. So I have a GP's appointment week after next and I'm hoping they'll diagnose me there and then, but they might need to refer me onwards. Not that a diagnosis will mean much, but I'm one of those people who feels better with a name for things. 

One of the best things is that exercises like yoga, pilates, dance and aerial circus are recommended for JHS as they build core strength (particularly around the joints) and keep you moving and stretching, which is best (and against the intuitive idea that you should keep the joints still: I know from experience that causes me a lot more pain. This is why physiotherapy is often recommended, but you are advised to seek a specialist who understands your body's requirements).

My favourite birthday message came from my friend Troll Chris (of I Love the Corps): "A new level is acquired. Due to all the acrobatics, I suggest another level in Rogue. (Also, Happy Fern-Day.)". I think I'll take his advice, even if my skill points are going into knitting and computer programming.

Aberrant - It All Comes Crashing Down

Adam arrived at the St John mansion to find the gates torn down and tyre tracks everywhere. Chunks of the building were strewn around the grounds. Adam started forward through the mud, blood and bodies, through the shattered rooms, to find Alastair on his knees in front of a fireplace, head bowed, arms limp at his sides, covered in wounds and no pulse. Behind him was Jen, curled on her side and also apparently dead. No sign of his wife or daughter or Holly or the rest of our team in the soot that covered the room; scorchmarks originating from Alastair. He shouted for Remi in the hopes the Cajun's powerful telepath would be listening, and Remi appeared seconds later. He could feel the traces of Mark's warp, with seven travellers not going far, maybe the Hub. Adam told me to meet him there as Remi, swearing vengeance, carried Alastair and Jen's bodies through a warp of his own before returning to take Adam to the Hub. Smoke-filled and alarms blaring.

Meanwhile, as Pax and I raced toward London, I phoned Rachel, the only member of our team currently unaccounted for. She must have known something was up because she actually answered and I spoke to her for the first time in years; since before Nicky was born... since not long after Adam and Sam had been married, now I think of it. It was wonderful to hear her, even under these circumstances, and I was disappointed when she said she could not come herself but would send some friends.

By the time we got there, Remi and Adam had tracked down our group, hiding deep in the Hub. We could feel the nodes of 5 other novas prowling the halls, no one we recognised. Remi took Sam, Holly, Nicky and other survivors to his boat, but exhausted as they were Jean, Mark, Stef and Robert wanted to stay - we couldn't stop them, but begged them to stay safe and out of sight. This was our turf and we weren't about to back off. We needed a plan, dammit. And of course, this was our turf: we knew it like no one else. 

Adam, Pax, Remi and I made our way to the room Adam and I knew best: the training room. Once safely there, Stef used her connection to the CCTV to track the invaders down, then controlled the lighting to lead them to us. 

They entered. All taller than me - most novas are - but the woman who went from stationary to a blur of speed beside the tallest, broadest of the men was as skinny as I am. Adam, the only of us who could match her speed, raced to intercept her as the huge, bulky guy lumbered at me: speed vs speed; brawn vs brawn. I flew up and chucked fire at him, but he shrugged it off, so I dove and used the momentum of my flight to slam him into the depths of the swimming pool. Lightning crackled above the water and I could see the damage Adam was doing as he pulled the metal tracks around to try to pin down the speeding woman. Bursts of energy from Pax lit the room, penetrating the water as the tall guy and I punched each other until eventually we emerged, rolled back onto the floor.

It was an exhausting fight. Adam, Pax, Remi and I are strong, but found ourselves evenly matched, and they had a fifth. We were starting to tire.

A crack started at one edge of the ceiling, quickly zig-zagging to the other edge. I braced myself - against another blow from my opponent, against whatever new threat was arriving. The ceiling peeled back and Divis Mal levitated slowly to the ground. For the briefest firing of synapses, I thought he was leading the attack against us, but then he laid into those attacking us and I realised with a different dread that this was the backup Rachel had sent. A fifth person on our side, however, swung things in our favour, and things became more chaotic. Ice erupted through an aggressor as he aimed a blow at me that I hadn't noticed, and I saw the ice-figure hovering above the newly opened hole.

A shuddering in reality, and Alastair appeared before us, dead-eyed, emotionless, and devastating. He evapourated our opponents. 

The ice person left the scene too fast for me to follow, but once I was sure everyone was safe I flew to the airport in Ireland, just in time to see a dozen bodyguards disembark the aeroplane, ahead of a woman the spitting image of Holly. I went to follow her, when the ice figure spoke. "Let her go. She's got the message." The voice was not Steve's as I was used to hearing it, but I was sure now. He left again, and I returned to the remnants of the Hub.

Divis Mal had left by the time I returned. Remi had retrieved Sam, Nicky and Holly from his ship, and organised the survivors to tidy the least damaged rec room and search out other survivors. On my return, Pax left to moderate Project Utopia and Team Tomorrow's response.

The devastation was shocking, but Alastair's decision to drop to a skeleton staff when he heard the rumours meant there were fewer colleagues to mourn. Peter had been on duty and we found him hiding in a locker he'd previously equipped as a bolthole. He was there in the office block the day Adam and I erupted. I should have realised he might develop PTSD... But his many boltholes around the venue saved lives. 

We settled back in the rec room and Remi made coffee. The television, by some miracle, still worked so we turned it on to see what the news was reporting. Mostly, of course, the massive destruction of London. Then it moved on to report on a series of murders and the destruction of a church in America - the Church of the Archangel Michael, the group who attacked Adam's premiere just a few days ago. Phillip 'Hyperdrive' Dean was indeed announced as a suspect: they had footage: either an incredible forgery, or Adam must have been controlled because I couldn't imagine my friend, my wonder-twin, carrying out attacks so brutal. The murders had taken place in that gap earlier when I couldn't get hold of him when Steve ran off. I looked around, and noticed he, Sam and Nicky were gone. He wouldn't answer my desperate shouts. None of his or Sam's phones were on.