My ode to peggy

I'm sitting at my dining room table with a pot of coffee and for the first time in my life I am compelled to write. On Saturday 8th August, my dear friend and long time client, Peggy Mellers, died. That morning Me and my partner Ollie were driving over to celebrate the birth of our friend's baby. Just as we arrived outside  I received the news of Peggy's passing. Ollie and I had a quick chat. I pulled myself together and we entered their house. Three week old Matteo was a joyous distraction from the sad news. On The journey home I was silent until my darling Ollie said "so tell me the story of Peggy and Barry". I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

In 2007, I was certified as a Pilates instructor. The Pilates community in York at that time was a nurturing comfort blanket of healing and I was introduced to a very talented teacher called Rachel Potter. Rachel was preparing to fly to the states for further training in the Pilates method. She generously asked me to cover her classes which she ran at the then named 'Park Inn' hotel. The gym at the Park Inn hotel was unfortunately called inn-action. Here I met the legendary Peggy Mellers; Tiny only in stature. A blue eyed disney fairy godmother type. I'd like to say a twinkle in her eye but this cliche won't do, it was more of a golden hour sunset; refracted through a diamond lens that could burn a hole through sheet metal. The outfit was all shades of purple and stylishly layered, shoes so small even barbie herself couldn't squeeze into them. The crowning glory was a brilliant white shampoo and set quaffed affair. A mr whippy ice cream extravaganza. Just as immaculate but definitely taller than the late queen Elizabeth the 2nd. Her politeness and manors screamed perfectionism. I introduced myself thinking, "Who is this diva?!' and delivered what I thought was a good Pilates class but quickly learned I was not the main character in this show. This icon was as sharp as a razor. I watched her move and it was obvious there had been dance training. I instructed breathing techniques that professional singer Peggy quickly corrected. I felt I had just said exactly the same thing until I realised it is in fact Peggy who is always right. 

Peggy had sought out Pilates classes after recovering from a pelvic fracture. Her Dr informed her she would be wheelchair bound. But of course Peggy had other ideas and emaraked on her Pilates journey.

Around the same time my business gained momentum, the wonderful Rachel informed me she was moving to Sweden to work with a professional football team and would like to take over some of her classes. One of which included the unstoppable Peggy. Of course I jumped at the chance. For Pilates teachers, older clients are great for business. Not only is it the ultimate flex to have a centennial client, they open doors for those who have limiting beliefs about their movement potential. They inspire people to join classes. They make new friends. They discover they are in fact strong, despite what the world may tell them. It's such a wonderful thing to witness older people starting out in Pilates.  How marvelous to discover a new passion in your golden years. 

I moved Peggy's class to a different studio called Millers Yard and then after to the Stables Yoga Centre. I had thick foam mats as well as thin yoga mats. I would use both together  for my older clients. Each week Peggy insisted on another mat as they were just 'too thin'. I think we got all the way up to six mats in the end. A number only out matched by our princess and the pea jokes. Week after week Peggy and her classmates would come along every Tuesday morning for Pilates with Barry. We would enjoy some classical Pilates exercises as well as my own original ideas, these involved lots of rolling around on the floor. Prior to our meeting; Peggy had survived breast cancer. On one of the 'rolling around' occasions  Peggy sat up from her roll and her breast prosthetic had ended up behind her. She decalired to the class she had a back boob and we all enjoyed a big laugh.

Now in her mid nineties Peggy was still living life in all its pain and glory. She suffered the tragic loss of her daughter Judy. It was of course extremely painful. I learned the real strength of living to such an old age is the sheer amount of grief you must have to grow around.  Peggy lived to be 104 years old. It's 104 years of life but also a 104 years of loss. But live on she did. During one of our classes, Peggy tells me she is to marry! She proposed to the lovey and non-stop joke machine, Peter, on a cruise ship. 

I was lucky enough to work with Peter in the studio for a time. It was obvious he was there under duress from Peggy. Sometime after on another cruise Peter unfortunately fell and suffered a painful bash to the head. It was Peggy who told me of this. As if poor Peter hadn't been through enough trauma, Peggy delivered another bang: as he lay on the floor waiting for the first aider she said' I told you you should have kept going to Pilates', ouch!

 Along came March 2020 and its life changing lockdown. I of course had to 'pivot' and transfer the pilates class to zoom. This was one technological advancement too far for my golden oldies classes which included Peggy. I kept in touch via text message and the occasional phone call. But what a terrible blow for Peggy as she lost her darling husband Peter during the covid pandemic. She had cared for him at home until the end with a buzz of help from a dedicated team of carers that became her friends. After he died the buzz disappeared and her life went quiet. Due to the laws at that time she became like many of us a victim of loneliness. My lockdown also started in solitude.  After week number three of solitary confinement I weaselled my way into a shared house in Chapeltown Leeds. A shared house full of dancers, artists, musicians and bohemian types. It was cool, grubby and hedonistic. But after the dance, the lights come back on. My mental health deteriorated. My lottery dreams of wealth and a work free life were crushed. With no purpose, I felt I had no identity. I was losing myself. With as much furlough as I could spend and living in Leeds at party boy HQ, I became depressed. What crushed me were the phone calls with all of my older clients. Some I never saw again.

I had a phone call with Peggy and she explained her situation. She was alone with her grief and wracked with anxiety. We hatched a plan. I offered to come to the studio and if she wanted we would 'illegally Pilates'. I explained the risk we were both taking regarding infection and that these actions may involve intervention by the Police. She decided it was worth the risk. We met at the studio wearing masks and gloves. I don't think she ever really understood how much she saved me with the gift of purpose. All my talent for making people feel good could be poured into her. Pilates equipment sessions often start on the reformer machine with an exercise called 'footwork' where you lie supine on a moving bed and push back and forth using your feet. The feet press into a bar where the foot of the bed would be. Underneath you have a resistance that's less than gravity. It's a wonderful exercise, akin to being rocked as an infant. Although not commonly used as such; I've found 'footwork' a supremely wonderful environment for talking therapy. In these gentle moments Peggy talked through her grief for Peter, her fears about climate change, growing up during a world war, and the first husband that did her wrong. With each repetition she was able to relax her breathing, decompress her spine and find an hour of calm, a short break from the mental state she endured the rest of the week. During these sessions our relationship evolved into friendship. I learned I would never be right: “Can you feel your Hamstrings working peggy?”, “No, I feel the muscles at the back of my thighs”. She had been a professional singer. I learned that she never let her first husband drive. She blamed Thatcher for everything and she believed in the power of crystals. At the end of these sessions as a further covid infection prevention  I would don a fleece blanket so  we could share a goodbye hug.

Peggy now had to then make a choice. Stay in her own home alone or move to assisted living for company. Loneliness won this battle. Off she went to Connaught Court retirement home. With only art, some crystals and a winter pallet wardrobe.

We continued our sessions together every Thursday afternoon. As seasons changed so did the restrictions around covid. Things were starting to open up.  We started to gear up for her 100th birthday. We reviewed her Pilates programme and decided to go for a challenge: Peggy was to perform the 'parakeet' exercise on the trapeze table. So we set to work perfecting the parakeet. A lot of the conversation now moved from grief to the terrible food at the care home. This was a travesty to her educated palate. In mine and Peggy's opinion the food they serve in the care home is a disgrace. She had moved to a Barchester Group care home called Ouse view. A brand new purpose built care home with in Peggys words "too many ceramic lemons" and no view of the actual river Ouse.

She told me when the Barchester executives arrived they were served different looking food than the residents who pay thousands of pounds a month to be there. Peggy still had more wits than most. I asked her why she didn't kick up a fuss about the food and would she like me to escalate her problem? Peggy told me she was scared they would kick her out if she made trouble. One day on the menu she saw 'chicken goujons' but despaired when the other residents refused them as 'they did not like foreign food'.

To work around this we started to visit a cafe close to the studio; the famous Pig and Pastry. Every week, they served me a huge plate of delicious food and Peggy always had a cake with a lemon ginger infusion. The city of York has a taxi problem. It was very difficult for us to get a taxi at our desired time. But the legendary Pig and Pastry stayed open after hours  EVERY WEEK to accommodate us. The entire cafe would be cleaned and set fair; the floor mopped except for a  dry path for Peggy and her walking frame. I will be forever moved and grateful to Julia, Annie and Steve at the Pig and Pastry for their generosity, this is just one of many examples of how they have served their community. I loved every second. We had celebrity status in this place. I am already loud but would have to raise my voice farther for her to hear me. The conversations were fascinating. We talked about art, atheism and travel. I would receive weekly updates of the writing of her autobiography which she called her memories. The cafe would often go quiet listening to us or maybe not being able to hear anything else. People would interject and be quickly dismissed. Sometimes if Peggy didn't like the person she would pretend to be deaf which always made me howl with laughter. Even though the chocolate cake sometimes was "too chocolatey" it was well deserved as our Pilates sessions were gathering momentum. Peggy of course rose to the challenge and we knocked the 'parakeet' out of the park before she reached 100 years old. I asked if I could video it. Peggy was reluctant but agreed as it "may help my business'. I'm so glad we did. Years later she would watch the video and admire her achievement. When I'm teaching the classes I often see beauty. My clients leave their responsibilities outside the door, mount their reformer machines and for an hour become daring dancers; creating stunning lines and elegant shapes. When someone takes my breath away (which is most days) I'll ask if they would like the moment immortalised digitally. Despite modern Pilates social media trends, people often refuse their moment to shine. The greatest lesson Peggy ever taught: which is the reason I've written this whole piece is…'You should never miss an opportunity to move with grace, because one day you won't have that option'.

And move with grace she did often adding a little flourish of the hand or the point of her tiny little foot. If ever you asked Peggy her advice on how to live to such a great age she would say "keep moving".

Sometime after this Peggy fell and sustained a nasty break to her hip. In an interview she recalled a conversation with herself. Peggy knew that even though she was over 100 years old she could recover and find her strength again with Pilates exercises. The surgeon put a plate in her hip. Peggy defied statistics and again found her feet. To my amazement she decided to come back into the studio. We were able to do more excellent work together despite the new limitations. It became more nurturing now, I had to help her with her shoes and put on her gripper pilates socks. 

She was much slower than before, the walk to the Pig and Pastry became a mathaon for her. Every small lump and bump in the pavement was a battle. We would wait for the green man to beep and then cross the road. We wouldn't even be half way across before the all too hasty red man appeared. The patient people of York let this goddess on zimmer wheels roll by. I'd lean in and say "look at you..still stopping traffic' she would laugh and keep on rolling.

Then one day Peggy came into the studio. I had helped her up the step. We sat down on the trapeze table, Peggy looked at me and said 'I don't think I can do this any more'. We decided to continue our Pilates journey at the care home. Now I would travel to her and we devised a routine she could do to 'keep moving'. The Pilates now only took 10 minutes so we would chat and play scrabble. I decided that after over twenty years of paying for Pilates classes that if she hadn't learned to do it on her own by now it had been a waste of time and money. Peggy laughed and agreed. Our professional relationship ended but the friendship happily continued. We talked about death and its nothingness or its infinite possibilities. Peggy informed me it was looming and I asked her if there was anything she would like to do. 

"I'd like to see some green". 

 So one week I bundled her up with a wheelchair and fabulous picnic. We drove to St. Aidans nature reserve. It’s a fantastic place, arguably the best view in west Yorkshire. A former opencast mine now a pristine wetland with glossy ibis. It's busting with wildlife and birders. There were iridescent damselflies and swooping terns. You can also see lots of women wild swimming in the cold lake. Peggy cheered them on. She loved it and it was one of the best day of my life. 

As I read this back I fear I feel I'm painting her as cold. But it's not the case, she had impeccable taste and set the bar high for all of us. Her standards were aspirational. I think for her it had to be this way less we all ended up in another world war. Which of course had happened in her formative years. She was formidable, resilient, strong, and her powerful light would not be dimmed. If that wasn't enough she did it adorned with healing gemstones and a quaffed barnet. 

The scrabble games were excellent, Peggy would complain her brain wasn't working well because of her 104 years. But when a triple word score square became accessible she moved like lightning. In our years together Peggy only swore twice: once to quote Philip Larkin 'This be the verse' and the second in our last scrabble game when her first word on the board was 'fuck' I knew it was her time.

In her last days I was honoured to visit Peggy in Hospital. I've lost people before but it was my first 'goodbye'. She joked about christianity and asked me 'what if it's all true?' I laughed and said 'well you may have some apologising to do but im sure they will let you in'. I held her hand and we exchanged compliments, and of course, we said goodbye.