When I started I was excited to do my bit but also wary and a bit scared.

Walking into that place is incredible. Seeing the patients that are in all sorts of various
conditions. It's shocking to see [but] it's been really nice to help out in the small ways I can.
I've been combing one of the lady's hair and just chatting to some of the patients and doing
their observations.
It's nice seeing at the end of every bed there's a description of what their interests are, facts
about them and pictures of the patients out in the normal world.
My mum actually passed away a few years ago. She had MS and had carers 24/7.
Experiencing the care that she was provided by the NHS has been useful for my volunteering
here.
This process has taught me that when you're literally lying there on a bed fighting for your life,
care and compassion are what's important.
It doesn't matter what things you've done or what kind of job you've got and all that stuff. It's
your family and the people around you that matter.

'The demand for scrubs was huge'

Charlotte, from Wigan, is a textiles teacher but during the lockdown has been making PPE
scrubs for front-line workers in hospitals, GP surgeries and care homes. Her friend Hannah,
who works in travel but has been furloughed, is also helping.
Charlotte:
When my design and technology department was asked to gather all our PPE glasses to give
to the local GP surgery, I started to wonder how I could help. And I realised I could make
scrubs. That's how I could be useful.
I set up a GoFundMe page to raise money to buy a roll of fabric to make 30 sets of scrubs.
When it hit £500 in the first 12 hours I rang my best friend Hannah and said: 'I'm going to need
a little bit of help with this. I can't be the only seamstress.'
It takes quite a while to withdraw the funds from GoFundMe so in the beginning me and
Hannah were running up our credit cards to cover the costs so we didn't have to wait around.
We've had donations from all over the place and we're at about £10,000 worth of donations
now. A local business which usually makes prom dresses is helping out and so is my old
college, where I studied fashion and textiles.
We're both working around 60 hours per week and we've made thousands of scrubs and hats.
Hannah:
We just wanted to help.
Nothing like this has ever happened, but it does make you feel a bit helpless, so we decided
this is how we could do our bit.
We never imagined it would get to this point. The demand for scrubs was just huge as soon as
we set up the Facebook page.
So we set up a spreadsheet, took orders and made a plan of how we could fulfil everything that
was needed in the local area.
My house is now a warehouse, pretty much. We have about 120 seamstresses based across
the whole of Wigan. Some of them are working in their businesses but some are literally
working in spare rooms.
Today a care worker came to pick up some pieces and she was so, so thankful. The response
has been amazing.
I knew my legs and feet intimately because of my years of dancing
- every callus, every sinew, every bruised toenail. I spent so much
time with them, taping them up to go into pointe shoes, taping
them up again after they’d been cut from pointe shoes, massaging
my arches, pointing, flexing.

They were part of my body, but also tools, crucial for doing what I
loved most, which was dancing.

Even as I write this I can feel the nerves in the ends of my stumps
firing. The memory of my feet is a physical sensation, a pain,
sometimes similar to pins and needles, but on other days the
ghosts of my feet can explode like a flash, sharp and horribly
painful. 

I will never forget the thrill of dance performances when I was

growing up.

Rushing through the wings, tingling with anticipation, nervously

touching the velour curtains with the tips of my fingers as I waited
side-stage. When my turn came, I would take a deep breath, crack
my toes one by one, and step out into view. 

When I performed, I felt in control. Time stood still as I leapt and

pirouetted. I held the audience’s emotions in my grasp. Dance was
like a language that my body had learned over a lifetime.