This diorama is in a green casing with contrasting blue details. The scene inside is a rich dark blue, filled with glowing pink, purple and green jellyfish, wavy green grasses, and jagged blue stars. In the centre is a mermaid. There’s a large fish next to her on the left, floating upright.
As a child who grew up on a council estate, in a Northern, industrial, working-class city, I dreamed and yearned for the times when we went away for a week’s holiday. Because money was very tight, we would all go to a small seaside town on the east coast of Yorkshire called Withernsea. Withernsea was on the North Sea, so was usually cold, wet, with little to do other than play on the beach and visit the arcades. We stayed in a tiny chalet which had three rooms. This slept at least six of us and wasn’t much bigger than a large garden shed.
To me it was the most magical place. This was somewhat emphasised by our nocturnal visits to the beach. Mum was a shy lady who loved to swim but didn’t like anybody watching her. So we would all go down to the beach when it was dark. We had to go down a steep, rickety set of metal stairs which had been built on the cliff face. Once on the beach, we would be greeted by hundreds of jellyfish which were glowing in the dark. Their luminosity was like magic, and Mum became a mermaid in this scene, as she swam amongst the jellyfish and they lit up the night just for her. The sand glistened by the moonlight and the whole scene was alive and vivid.
My Mum the mermaid has short brown hair, a swimsuit in a cheerful blue pattern, and from the waist down she’s got a shimmering green-and-red fish’s tail. She’s got one arm lifted, the other arm swinging across her body, her forefingers pointed like a disco-dancing queen. In my vivid imagination I like to think of the whole sea coming to life and the North Sea cod wanting to dance in the water with Mum – the mermaid – so for that one moment we were part of the greatest celebration of this extraordinary working-class woman, who just happened to be my mum. On those nights Mum was truly beautiful, and the jellyfish were like angels, welcoming her to the sea.
Of course, as the years went by, I’ve enhanced my memories, so the North Sea cod became a magical creature, much like Mum and the jellyfish. The fish’s body is covered in multicoloured patterns in purples, blues and turquoise. He’s got bright red lips, neat white teeth, and as he’s on his side; only one heavily lidded eye is shown. But because he came out of my imagination, he’s disabled, because in a way he’s foreshadowing what was to come. A crutch is wedged under his fin, and a tracheotomy tube sticks out from the front of his chest, with “tracky” written on it. He has a scar near his tail, sewn up with bright red stitches. Even the magical, psychedelic jellyfish have come to represent the virus which would ultimately lead to my disability.