This week I went to Copenhagen for a day to pitch to a prospective client.
As often happens when I am nervous, my right hand began shaking uncontrollably when I started speaking across the table in the grand wood-panelled meeting room. I have a simple solution in these situations: I sit on my right hand and let my left hand do the gesticulating. Once the nerves settle and I get into my rhythm, the right hand then gradually reappears. Hopefully my audience remembers the smooth ending rather than the shaky start. Though unfortunately this trick doesn’t work so well in stand-up presentations.
Overall, the meeting went reasonably well and afterwards I had a late lunch with a Danish colleague at a small cafĂ© in a side street near the Royal Danish Theatre. We sat outside in brilliant early summer sunshine watching the world go by while I enjoyed a traditional Scandinavian open sandwich – a delicious salmon and avocado creation on rye bread.
The pace of life is slower in most European cities outside London. In particular I noticed how calm and relaxed the Danish cyclists were. In comparison, cycling in central London is an aggressive, and somewhat dangerous, pursuit: everyone is in a hurry, and many people seem full of testosterone fuelled anger. Even the dedicated cycle lanes are not a place for the faint-hearted rider. I never cycle in London, mainly because I don’t have a bike and I’m rubbish at cycling, but also because the death and serious injury toll amongst London cyclists is so shocking.
As I sat watching the Danes calmly going about their business, I reflected a little on my own life in London now that I have Parkinson’s. Much as I like my house and job, the burdens of the daily commute and the struggle to get through each work week, coupled with the noose round my neck of several more years of mortgage payments, are inevitably taking their toll. I must admit that I envy many of my Parkinson’s friends who, with mortgages paid off and kids grown up, have the luxury of being retired. I long for an easier life and a more relaxing place to live.
Of course, it’s not all about me. Clara also works full time in central London and enjoys much of what the metropolis has to offer. So we discuss ideas and options. Given that her Dad still lives across the road, and that Rosa will still be at school for four more years, we are most likely set to stay where we are for a while.
But, it seems increasingly likely that, rather than slog away until I am 55 or 60, at some point in my early fifties we will sell the house and downsize, thereby discharging the mortgage and allowing me to switch to a less demanding occupation or maybe even to retire early. By moving further out, though still within easy access of the capital, I should be able to have a much better quality of life, whilst Clara continues to work. A compromise, but hopefully one that works for both of us.
Regular exercise is important for people with Parkinson’s, so who knows, I might even be able to take up cycling. Though this would not be London-style cycling; it would be cycling of the leisurely kind – like they do in wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen.
