The World I Fell Out Of: The Inspiring Sunday Times Bestseller

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TV3 fired off a trenchant letter to ESR expressing surprise at such interference by a taxpayer-funded organisation, and pointing out that until the BSA ruled, any such breach was arguable at best. Naturally, the Qantas judges took no notice of the letter, and the only action Jennings took in response was to "applaud extra loudly" when the documentary was awarded "Investigation of the Year". From the award-winning writer of The Times Magazine‘s ‘Spinal Column’: a deeply moving and often darkly funny memoir about disaster and triumph. Foreword by Andrew Marr. A generous, life-changing book ... some of the most insightful writing on what it means to be human that I have ever read.' - Clover Stroud, author of The Wild Other The frustrating thing about this condition is that it’s a constant fight to keep your insides working properly,” she says. Until Melanie started writing, it seemed that colostomies and catheters were ‘c’ words, never to be mentioned in polite society. Now millions of us know about the suprapubic urinary catheter below her tummy button; the colostomy bag she had fitted last year when she further broke her leg. Unflinchingly honest and beautifully observed, this is a memoir about the joy – and the risks – of riding horses, the complicated nature of heroism, the bonds of family and the comfort of strangers. Above all, The World I Fell Out Of is a reminder that at any moment the life we know can be turned upside down – and a plea to start appreciating what we have while we have it.

Still, she insists, the move to a wheelchair, changed her relationship with her husband. “I couldn't get cross and have the last word and turn on my heel and walk out of the room. I think I have become, not plaintive – I try very hard not to be plaintive – but more submissive. I used to be a can-do person; like most working mothers, I had a superwoman complex. But now I have to accept I cannot organise everything. I have to let Dave get on with things even if he doesn't do them the way I would."

And even though she has to go to hospital shortly, she makes me feel so welcome. “Have a sandwich! You can come with us, if you haven’t got all you need!”

And so she watches the siskins, the goldfinches, the redpolls, the yellowhammers (“I’m boasting now”) – birds she would never have seen when her eyes were shut to them. There may be slight changes to the discussion points or the advertised start and end times of this webinar, subject to Melanie Reid 's work requirements. And then I carry the coffees out to the table (“Every hand’s a help”) drenched with yesterday’s rain, to sit and talk, with the sun-warmed world at our feet. AS THE squabble over the value of the ESR report drags on, it is worth noting the rather depressing fact that even if flawless, the report would be far from the final word on whether or not the people of Paritutu were poisoned by the IWD plant. She makes us coffee in the kitchen warmed by her blue Aga – occasional star of her columns - chatting about the wonderful horse country that lies around us.

The Boy From Nowhere

She is working on a follow-up to Let Us Spray. Journalism, though, may turn out to be not enough. Next stop: court. Q You are critical in your book of the amount of physiotherapy available to people like you when you leave hospital. What can be done to improve the situation? And what about David? How did he feel about her openness? "I didn't show it to him before I sent it away," she says. "But, you know, he's very forthright, very realistic. And it's fine. We still have sexy cuddles. There is still a spark. We laugh a lot. And we adore each other. That's more important." On the contrary. The Times has been amazing. It actually did a leader calling for improved catheter care, as a result of what I’ve written.” The BSA process is dragging on and on, largely because of TV3's refusal to hand over Reid's unedited tapes, a matter of principle with which many journalists would sympathise.

This webinar is available for on-demand viewing. The webinar recording will be available for registered event participants up to 60 days after the live webinar broadcast via Zoom. The link will be sent 24 hours after the webinar takes place. This lovely place” is, indeed, gorgeous: a 300-year-old smallholding that’s as impractical as they come. “We came here 22 years ago and it’s just impossible to leave. We should have moved to a little bungalow in suburbia with a tarmac drive that I could have rolled down to go to the local shop and get my own papers, instead of being up in the hills in my eyrie, looking at the view.” Despite her dislike of this morality, she felt there was something she could take from it. "It's a long game so I do have to be positive and I do have to be patient. There were qualities in those tales I was forced to accept through gritted teeth." To her right there is a poem, called My Mum Is Fun, written by her son Douglas when he was eight. It contains the line " And she is SUCH a fussy speller"; just to prove the point, she has corrected his single error in red pen.She is honest about this too. When it comes to learning about her injury, she says, she is just about approaching adolescence. "When something as profound and life-changing as this happens and you lose your mobility, it's like being reborn. You have to explore and learn about an entirely new world.” Reid reveals with insight, candour and courage what it’s like to find yourself suddenly inhabiting a world that was previously unknown to you … a powerful, life-affirming memoir.’ Observer She doesn't shy away from the toll it took. "There you have it – the core of loss. The stone heart of longing, envy and emotional shut-down which is a woman’s self-defence against disability," she writes.

I never plan anything,” she gaffaws. But she’s also amazed she’s managed to sneak so many unpalatable truths from darkness into the light. “It astonishes me. I used to be an editor and I know how editors have a built-in aversion to putting anything into the paper about poo and pee.” Reid started out in film in 1987, as a trainee on Sam Pillsbury movie Starlight Hotel. In the same period she was third assistant director on Geoff Murphy romp Never Say Die and a stunt horse rider on big-budget fantasy Willow. But, there again, there’s enough wisdom to be gained in simply listening to Melanie Reid talk about the changing shades of her copper beech, her pink and yellow roses, the beautiful hydrangea someone brought to her recent ‘no-presents’ party.I do understand this [attitude] – the fact that people say, 'my wheelchair is me, I want to stay here,' and that the world has to take cognisance of that. They are far bolder than I am, than I could ever be, and I really admire them for that. But I can't go there. Theirs is the new world, let them take it. I have seen what my naked body looks like with all the tubes coming out of it and I don't feel proud of it." This is an astonishing and riveting book … It is horrifying, certainly, frightening in as much as it shows how we are all skating, as it were, on the thinnest of ice which may break at any moment, plunging us into the darkest and coldest of deep waters; but also encouraging because it is a testimony to the resilience of the human spirit – as well as to the care and expertise of our health service.’ Alan Massie, Scotsman To properly understand the impact Reid's paralysis had on her sense of self you have to know that, before her accident, she was 6ft tall and very active. Working in a male-dominated environment, her height gave her authority and a presence she might not otherwise have had. Fascinating place, abrupt old age. There were new tribal routines. Topics of conversation, for a start. The inescapable one: ‘Did you sleep well?’ Couples don’t ask each other this! They already know! But when you’re no longer young hotties entwined all night, you don’t. Now it’s only polite to ask, to celebrate making it alive to morning. It’s an opportunity to discuss cold feet and sore hips.