People say ‘this type of love doesn’t exist anymore’ after a romantic man shared a sweet gesture he has done for his wife who he has been together with for 60 years

SHOPPING – Contains affiliated content. Products featured in this Metro article are selected by our shopping writers. If you make a purchase using links on this page, Metro.co.uk will earn an affiliate commission. Click here for more information.

Our Place first launched its iconic Always Pan back in 2019, before it made its way to the UK in 2021. Over the last six years the kitchenware brand has continued to expand across new kitchen gadgets. 

The brand tested the water last year when it launched its first ever Titanium Always Pan Pro, which sold out due to popular demand. So, it made sense for the label to expand the Titanium Pro Cookware collection even further.

Lo and behold, Our Place is launching a full five-piece Titanium Pro Cookware Collection in March, which will include the mini and large version of the Titanium Always Pan Pro, as well as a Mini Perfect Pot Pro, and Perfect Pot Pro. 

We predict the Titanium Pro Cookware collection will fly off the shelves, as it looks like the best creation from the label yet. 

The full set has been crafted from ultra durable, toxin-free titanium, which the brand has claimed is 300% harder than stainless steel and ultra durable. Our Place has even claimed the range guarantees lifetime durability, which we can believe. It is also free from any coating, is non-stick, and features 360-degree fully-sealed rims for extra durability.

Our Place’s designs have not only been innovatively created, but it has also been celebrity approved, as Gwyneth Paltrow is said to be a huge fan too. Now we may not be sold on her vaginal steaming, but clean and effective kitchenware we are on board with. 

The upcoming collection will include Titanium Always Pan Pro, Titanium Perfect Pot Pro, Titanium Mini Always Pan Pro, Titanium Mini Perfect Pot Pro and the Titanium Large Always Pan Pro, all of which are available in chrome, as well as chrome with contrast gold knobs and handles for an even more luxurious finish. 

The beauty of Our Place’s creations is how multifunctional they are. I have the original Always Pan, which I can fry, grill, saute, boil, steam and bake savoury and sweet treats in. So, if the new collection lives up to its predecessors, we expect sell out success.

Alongside the kitchenware, Our Place will also launch new utensils to help with rustling up your favourite feasts. The utensils will be made of metal and silicone, instead of wood like the other accompaniments, which are much more durable – and sleek. 

Speaking about the new drop, Our Place co-founder, Shiza Shahid, shared: “Our mission has always been to innovate with purpose, creating cookware that not only inspires confidence in the kitchen but also sets a new standard for health, performance, and durability.

‘This cookware is a celebration of progress: no toxins, no compromises, and no limits on what is possible in the kitchen. It also represents many years of hard work and development by our product and engineering teams. Home cooks deserve to have pro chef-quality cookware in their kitchens and that’s what we’re bringing.’

However, Our Place’s full Titanium range has limited availability, so you will want to shop quickly before the full set sells out.

Follow Metro across our social channels, on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram

Share your views in the comments below

MORE: Feeling the cold? Us too! Dunelm launches £14 rechargeable water bottle to keep the chill at bay

MORE: From Nike trainers to Molly-Mae approved products, chilli glasses and more – this is what a shopping expert is buying

MORE: LookFantastic is set to launch its 2025 Beauty Egg worth over £200 but yours from £51

I was lying on my side in a hospital bed when a consultant stood over me and asked: ‘Have you heard of MS?’  

I had indeed – my friend’s mum had it when we were in school.  Unfortunately, after her diagnosis, she’d become withdrawn and in a wheelchair within a year.

‘It’s not always fatal,’ the doctor added, ‘a nurse will come and explain more.’ With that, he turned and left. But the nurse didn’t actually come for three days. 

Fortunately, the girl lying in the bed next to me had overheard. She turned to me and smiled: ‘It’s not that bad, you’ll deal with it.’ 

This was May 2007 and I was still in my early 20s. I just kept thinking to myself that I couldn’t have a brain disease. I was a mum – I didn’t have time.  

The first few symptoms seemed to come out of the blue.  

Earlier that month, as part of our healthy mums’ fitness group, I signed up for an assault course. I was doing a 10 km run in July so I thought this would be good practice – and great fun, too. 

At one point, I crawled under a cargo net, then had to climb a wall. This is when things got weird. 

As I reached the top, I held on to the zip wire and I just froze. I couldn’t do it. 

I’d done this many times before so I didn’t know what the problem was. My best friend caught up and encouraged me, ‘go, go, what are you doing?’ Seeing that I had physically frozen to the spot, she added: ‘Hold on and I’ll push you down.’ 

I ended up finishing the race and didn’t think much of it. But over the next few days, I started getting blurred vision. 

At the time, I was studying a holistic therapies course at my local college and it was a lot of coursework so everyone agreed that, as a mum, I was probably just tired. At the same time, I was tripping over absolutely nothing and getting cuts and bruises from falling all through the house. 

Within a fortnight, I decided to make an appointment to see the doctor. After explaining that I kept losing my balance, he checked my ears and decided to prescribe ear drops because he thought it could be an ear infection that was causing balance issues. 

As days passed, the falls became more frequent so I went back to the GP, but was told to give it time. I lay in bed, head pounding, and the room was spinning. 

On top of that, I couldn’t think about food and I struggled staying upright. It felt like a hangover from hell. Even water made me throw up. 

The spinning continued and got so bad that it made me nauseous. I ended up calling an emergency doctor, who prescribed anti-sickness tablets.  

On one particularly bad day, I put my toddler son, Theo in his pushchair and wobbled down the street clinging on tightly, heading towards the doctor’s office. I staggered in.  

‘I’m really not good,’ I told the GP, ‘I’m going to A&E.’ Once admitted, I slumped in the wheelchair, holding tightly onto the arms as if it would somehow stop the spinning.  

I had an MRI that took about 15 minutes but felt like hours. Immediately afterwards, I spotted a toilet, flung the cubicle door open, and was sick. 

Not long after this, the consultant suggested I might have multiple sclerosis (MS). I was shocked. I was a healthy person – how could this happen?  

Eventually, the MS nurse arrived with leaflets about medication. I just remember being told that the condition gets worse, there’s no cure, and they don’t know why it happens.  

In the meantime, I was put on a steroid drip, which started to work. The spinning stopped and everything felt like it was going to be fine; I could handle this. 

Thankfully, things settled down for a few years once I started medication. I had been plodding along doing weekly injections, but overall leading a happy life. It felt like I had MS under control. 

This continued – even when I had my daughter, Layla, in March 2012. After chatting with my neurologist, I came off my medications. 

But after childbirth, I had a relapse with my MS symptoms – as can often be the case. 

Once home from the hospital, my mum and stepdad came over to see the new baby. At the time, we were having work done on our house, so I tried to keep Theo entertained while making teas for the workmen, feeding guests and breastfeeding Layla. 

I was exhausted. As a result, my eyesight started blurring and I kept dropping things. 

I rang my neurology consultant and was told to stop breastfeeding. I was then initially put on oral steroids and began bottle feeding, but the medication didn’t seem to actually be doing anything. So after a few weeks, I underwent an infusion every 28 days. 

This worked beautifully, so I stayed on this treatment plan for over five years. Unfortunately, then it started wearing off. 

So I made YouTube videos of my daily struggles. I filmed myself in the aftermath of having a fall. I described how much of a struggle cooking and cleaning was and even did some on the way to physio and neurology appointments. 

Essentially, I came out to the world as having MS. 

In December 2018, my annual neurology check-up came around. I was tired, so I slumped into the chair in the specialist’s office as he told me the medication wasn’t working anymore. ’Sadly, there’s nothing else the NHS can do for you.’ 

I was devastated and angry. Then a lifeline came along. 

Haematopoietic Stem Cell Transplantation (HSCT) was something I’d heard of to treat MS, but I found out that AIMS – the Autoimmune and Multiple Sclerosis charity – was giving a presentation just down the road so I decided to go along. 

Essentially – according to the MS Society – it ‘aims to ‘reset’ the immune system to stop it attacking the central nervous system’. I immediately knew I wanted to try it, but the cost was 45,000 Euros (around £38,000 at the time). 

So I started a JustGiving page and began fundraising. Complete strangers saw my social media videos and donated – it was incredible. I managed to raise over £28,000 so I was able to book the treatment in Moscow for July 2019.  

At the clinic, I went through several days of testing to make sure my body was strong enough to cope with chemotherapy. For the procedure, I had various tubes and lines inserted to harvest my stem cells and replaced with healthy ones. 

I was petrified and excited all at the same time.   

In the aftermath, my body felt so weak so I used a walker to move. As my immune system developed, I got stronger.   

After four weeks in Moscow, I headed home to the UK. Throughout it all, people were more supportive than I imagined. 

I’m now living my best life – with no injections or infusions. I sometimes get tired, but doesn’t everyone? I still work as a holistic therapist in my garden and love every minute. I have oxygen and physio every week and I try to eat good food. 

But most importantly, I’m staying positive, being my own advocate, and laughing often. 

At the end of the day, I want to tell people with MS that you should never be ashamed of disability.  

I don’t suffer from MS. I just happen to have it. There’s no guarantee that things won’t change, but I’m going to keep on smiling.  

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

Share your views in the comments below.

‘I’m not quite ready.’ 

‘Maybe I’ll come to the next game.’ 

Just two of the excuses I made to avoid going to football matches with friends. 

I’ve been a Man Utd fan since I was a boy and always loved going down the road to watch my local team. 

But a few years ago, I couldn’t even think of going to a game – because, due to prostate cancer treatment, I was incontinent. 

I was constantly considering how much queuing there would be on the transport, outside the ground, at the toilet. 

Then, there was the lack of sanitary bins for male incontinence products, which meant I was terrified to go anywhere for months.

I found out I had prostate cancer after breaking my shoulder in 2021. I was 54 at the time. 

My doctor mentioned it would be a good time to do a protein-specific antigen (PSA) blood test because of my age. I know now that I should have had it checked when I was younger as my dad had prostate cancer, but the doctors didn’t know this. A raised PSA level could indicate an issue with the prostate, including prostate cancer. 

The prostate is a small gland located below the bladder and in front of the rectum in men. Its main function is producing seminal fluid, but it also helps regulate urination.

When the results came back with a high PSA level, I underwent further tests and it was a constant battle in my head between remaining positive and thinking I was going to die.  

And it was a massive shock to hear the words ‘I’m sorry, the results are positive; you have prostate cancer’. 

Luckily, the cancer had been caught early and I had treatment options: Radiotherapy or surgery to remove the prostate. I opted for surgery, because my cancer was contained in the prostate.

Having the prostate removed meant the chance of it spreading was really reduced, and it was a quicker process – in and out in a day. I had to recuperate at home, but it was less lengthy than 6-8 months of radiotherapy, which can make you feel very unwell.  

The surgery was successful, but the aftermath was the most difficult part. 

I became incontinent due to the surgery causing unavoidable damage to nerves and muscles that control urination. I had a catheter for a week, and when that was out, I was in unknown territory. 

I got incontinence pads, which need changing at least once or twice a day, and this became a big stress.  

Imagine an open tap. Honestly, nothing can prepare you for the lack of control. I worried constantly: Will I leak? Will I be able to find anywhere to change my pad? 

For the first few months, I didn’t want to go out too far because the incontinence was so bad.  

I got used to the safety of home and, even when I felt like I could go out, I was very reluctant to do so in case of leaks. 

Luckily my wife owns a café about half a mile from our home, so when I did venture out after a month or so, it was only a short walk and I knew I would have somewhere to change.  

I slowly started to gain more confidence, going out for longer walks or even starting to go to a local bar for a drink. But even then it was like a military exercise. I had to estimate how long I was going to be out, how many pads I’d need, and whether there would be somewhere to change them. 

I would never go anywhere that I might have to wait in line or where I knew there wouldn’t be bins for my pads, which meant going to football was definitely out of the question.  

I had phone calls and messages from friends, with invites to games – but I couldn’t accept. Instead, I made excuses. 

I didn’t like lying, but when your head is down, it is hard to pull yourself up. Looking back you realise how easy it is to retreat into yourself. I wanted to stay in the safe place that was home. 

I was terrified of being stuck somewhere without being able to change my pad when I needed to. 

Imagine an open tap. Honestly, nothing can prepare you for the lack of control.

The overriding feeling was one of embarrassment for having to wear a pad and for having to carry my used pads around with me, due to a lack of bins.

When I eventually started being honest with them, my friends, rightfully, would say: ‘You have had major surgery to get rid of cancer, the incontinence is a byproduct of that and it won’t last forever’.   

Of course, they were right – and I knew that. But it remained difficult to get past the embarrassment of walking through a packed room with a used pad in my pocket, looking for somewhere to dispose of it. 

I used to have to take out doggy bags, fill them with my used pads, and pack them in my bag. It’s almost impossible not to feel self-conscious about that. 

And I was just one of the nearly 80% of people who feel anxious about leaving their homes because they don’t know if there will be somewhere to dispose of their incontinence pads.   

Having something as simple as purpose-built bins would have made such a difference for me and, I’m sure, many other men. I would have 100% gone to matches or watched games with my friends at the pub if I’d known there would be a bin.   

That’s why I wanted to share my story as part of the Prostate Cancer UK and phs Group’s Back in the Game campaign, which asks clubs to implement the BOG STANDARD and install male incontinence bins and pads in its toilets, as well as raise awareness of prostate cancer and incontinence, which I wholeheartedly support.  

As a Manchester United fan, it was a big deal for me to see the club becoming the first in the Premier League to do exactly this in November 2024.

I’ve been back to Old Trafford since the bins have been installed, and it just made me think of how many men who can get back in the game now. They can sit in the stands and concentrate on the game, because they know they’re covered. It would have made such a massive difference to me when I was struggling most.  

I really hope other clubs follow suit so that fans dealing with incontinence don’t miss out on match days – but we shouldn’t stop there. We need more incontinence bins in male toilets across the country. Restaurants, pubs, stadiums – everywhere.  

My incontinence is much better these days – I have control over my life again – and the Back in the Game campaign has given me more confidence to talk about the impact of prostate cancer.  

I may never be 100% dry again and I’ve accepted that. But it’s great to know that I can get back in the stands confident my club is looking after me – so I can, finally, get back to the game I love.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing izzie.price@metro.co.uk.

Share your views in the comments below.

Emma Evens was just a child when she had her first seizure, but the 32-year-old admits it took her decades to come to terms with having a condition that few people truly understood.

Not only did she have to get used to never knowing when and if it might strike, but Emma says that dealing with other people’s fear, discrimination and ignorancealso had a huge impact on her.

‘It took me a long time to be comfortable with, even though epilepsy is something I’ve had since I was born,’ Emma tells Metro. ‘I used to have chronic episodes at school, where I would fall unconscious, before my body began to stiffen and then jerk, which can be scary for anyone watching.

‘The seizures got worse as a teenager and happened pretty frequently. I remember when I started secondary school that I was excited to make new friends, but people around me were scared.

‘I felt like I had to behave a certain way because I was seen as the girl that was always on the floor. I desperately wanted to be normal, but I felt so alone.’

For Sarah

Last year, on March 10, we lost our beloved colleague Sarah Whiteley. Sarah was a fantastic journalist; she was Metro’s parenting columnist and a valued member of our first-person and opinion desk.

Sarah died aged 39 from SUDEP – sudden unexpected death in epilepsy. It is thought that every year around 1,000 people die from causes related to epilepsy.

With support from Sarah’s family, Metro is fundraising for two very important charities: SUDEP Action and Epilepsy Action.

From March 10 to March 26, which marks Purple Day (epilepsy awareness day), we will be running a series of features and first-person pieces, raising awareness of epilepsy and SUDEP.

Sarah was so incredible at helping other people share their experiences; she was a born storyteller and we hope to do her proud with this series, while raising money in her memory.

When Emma left school and entered the workplace after college, she recalls that her struggles were far from over. Just months after training as a nursery assistant, she felt forced to resign. 

‘My colleagues and manager took me on thinking they were being inclusive, but then didn’t put enough measures in place to support me,’ she explains.

‘I’d often be left with young children on my own, which was dangerous for the kids because I could’ve had a seizure at any moment.’

Emma, who experiences ‘tonic clonic’ seizures – characterised by the stiffening and jerking of muscles followed by loss of consciousness – believes she has experienced discrimination by three different employers to date. 

She’s been disciplined multiple times over ‘excessive’ sick leave, and says colleagues have avoided her out of fears she would have a seizure in front of them.  

‘When I was an apprentice, I was told by HR that I could only have three seizures a month – as if I was somehow in control,’ Emma recalls. ‘I tried to explain that I cannot control when I’m going to have a seizure, so I was put on a second disciplinary.

‘Eventually, my apprenticeship came to an end and I was let go. It was as if they weren’t listening to me as a person or willing to understand the way my epilepsy impacts me. Looking at me I’m a young, fit and healthy person, but there’s this hidden condition I live with.’

Emma is just one of a number of people to report cases of disability discrimination in the workplace and the wider challenges that epilepsy can pose to employment prospects. Now an experienced executive assistant and champion of accessibility within the workplace, she urges companies to update their disability and inclusion policies.

With 42% of employers admitting in a survey by Epilepsy Action, that they would not hire someone with the condition, there’s a real ‘lack of knowledge of what actually needs to happen if someone has a seizure and the side-effects that often accompany the condition,’ according to Kasam Parker, CEO of the charity Voice for Epilepsy.

‘Employees should be able to explain to employers what impact it has on them and what adjustments they require,’ he adds.

According to Professor Ley Sander, head of the Department of Clinical and Experimental Epilepsy at UCL Queen Square Institute of Neurology, one of the biggest challenges facing people with epilepsy is uncertainty.

‘Not knowing if there will be another seizure is always a big worry,’ he tells Metro. ‘Often, not knowing when the next seizure will be or not knowing what the future will bring can have a bigger impact than the seizure themselves.’ 

When Murray Goulder was diagnosed after having a seizure during a driving lesson, the relief was overwhelming.

Having spent weeks trying to find an explanation for the seizure, the then 17-year-old was reassured by his neurologist that with the correct anti-epileptic medication he could maintain a normal life. 

‘Until then, I was worried I might have a brain tumour,’ he remembers. ‘But when I discovered it was epilepsy, I was happy because it’s something I can live with. There’s still lots of things I can do.’

Murray, 44, currently works as a manager in Parcelforce Worldwide’s HR department and has been instrumental in establishing an equality and inclusion support group for staff to discuss their health conditions and disabilities. 

‘It’s about learning about your condition and if you’re not embarrassed to, providing that safety net so that people are able to talk to their colleagues and friends about their condition. It’s about demonstrating what good looks like.’

However, he says there’s still a huge lack of understanding surrounding the condition, which became evident when he needed to claim financial aid.

After an assessment that he describes as ‘discriminatory’, the 44-year-old was refused Personal Independence Payment (PIP) in 2017 and embarked on a relentless battle to get his financial aid reinstated. 

‘The assessor claimed I was safe to use kitchen knives and cook on my own, even though medically I’m not able to,’ Murray explains. ‘I’ve already proven that I’ve got the condition and I had it proven by my neurologist and caregivers, but it was as if I was being told I had epilepsy one moment and then I didn’t the next.’

It took two years for Murray’s claim to be eventually upheld at an appeal tribunal in 2019. Then, the Department for Work and Pensions took away his payments again in March 2023, despite providing evidence of his seizures.

Fitted with a Subcutaneous EEG implant (SubQ) in December 2021, Murray discovered that the frequency of his seizures were far greater than he thought and used the findings in his claim. 

‘The device has proven that I have more seizures than I notice,’ he explains. ‘But I’m still judged on a system that measures us against people with physical disabilities. We need a category that puts us in a neurological bracket.’

In response to Murray’s claims, a spokesperson for the Department of Work and Pensions (DWP) told Metro: ‘We support millions of people with health conditions and disabilities every year and our priority is that they receive a supportive, compassionate service.

‘All our disability assessors are qualified health professionals and PIP entitlement is assessed on the needs arising from a health condition or disability, rather than the condition itself. Anyone who disagrees with a decision has the right to a review.’

For Rebekah Smith, deputy CEO of Epilepsy Action, it is vital that people feel comfortable when speaking about epilepsy.

‘We should be passing on the message that for the majority of people, epilepsy is not a problem,’ she tells Metro.

‘The problem is the way that people perceive it, and it is crucial we continue to raise awareness around how we deal with and support those with the condition.’

The Epilepsy Society is calling for the NHS to provide free dental repairs to teeth damaged by seizures. Find out more about their Fix It 4 Free campaign here.

This article was originally published August 17, 2024

A woman has found herself torn as her younger partner has informed her he now wants to date someone his own age, leaving her heartbroken and in a difficult position

A woman was left speechless after discovering her husband’s infidelity, but his reaction to her finding out only made things worse

I was watching TV to relax, having cleaned the entire house from top to bottom, when my phone rang. 

It had just passed midnight on the first day of February half term in 2024. Hours earlier, I had come home from our local hospital in Poole with our middle son, Charlie, leaving my husband Gary with our youngest, eight-year-old Thomas, while he had some tests.  

It was Gary on the other end of the phone, panicked: ‘Louise, you’ve got to come back. They’ve found something on the scan.’ 

My stomach lurched.  

My eldest, Josh, 23, looked after Charlie while I drove the half hour journey to the hospital, from our home in Bournemouth.  

I was terrified.  

It was January 2024 when I first took Thomas to the doctors – I noticed he had started speaking more slowly than usual. Everything he said was perfectly clear, it just took ages for him to get a sentence out.  

Our GP, however, wasn’t concerned. Thomas also had some trouble with his hearing so the doctor said it must be because his ears were blocked and affecting his speech. We put olive oil in them and took him to have the wax suctioned but there was no change.  

Thomas was getting increasingly frustrated. It didn’t make sense that our cheeky, bright, mini-Ed Sheeran, who could identify any country’s flag and loved being with his brothers or school friends, now couldn’t speak well. 

Three weeks after seeing the doctor I saw he was having trouble playing with his LEGO because his right hand was shaking.  

This, paired with his slow speech, worried me, so I rang 111. After answering their questions, we ended up being referred for an MRI scan. 

Fast forward two weeks, and more tests, when Gary called me from the hospital rushing me to get back for the results.  

It was the worst news.  

Thomas had a cruel disease that would gradually rob him of his speech, his ability to walk, eat and, ultimately, his life – he had malignant brain tumours in his basal ganglia, both thalami, the left temporal lobe, frontal lobe and upper brain stem.  

The doctor explained: ‘I won’t beat around the bush. It’s high grade, it’s aggressive. We’ll send the sample off to Great Ormond Street Hospital for further tests.’ 

We were completely shocked, in disbelief, numb even. I just wanted to get my little boy, who was waiting outside the room, and take him home. 

We told Thomas he had a lump in his head and that’s why his hand and speech had been affected. He didn’t really say much, he just accepted what we told him.  

But we had hope.  

There was no swelling around the mass, so it wasn’t urgent, we were told.  

We thought surgery might be possible, like with other cancers, and that a biopsy to identify genetic mutations might mean Thomas was eligible for a clinical trial. But unfortunately it was a ‘no’ on both counts.  

Two weeks after finding the brain tumour, when we received the initial biopsy results, the consultant said: ‘I’m only telling you this because I know you’ll Google it.

‘Thomas has a year at most. We can give him some radiotherapy, which may buy you a bit more time, but our advice is to do nice things while you can.’ 

The news was delivered so bluntly, that it stayed with me. 

I understand that medical teams do this every day, but they’ve got to remember this is someone’s child and telling his family he’s going to die is really tough. We just wanted to do whatever we could to keep our little boy alive for an extra day or an extra hour. 

I sobbed silently in the passenger seat as Gary drove us home, while I tried to process it all. After that it was a whirlwind.

We wanted to understand what was happening and find out more, so we went on The Brain Tumour Charity website – it told us that about 40 children a year in the UK are diagnosed with diffuse midline glioma.

Only 10% survive for two years or more. Brain tumours are the biggest cancer killer of children and the under 40s.   

After the diagnosis, I took leave from my role as a mortgage advisor to be with Thomas while he had 30 rounds of radiotherapy at University College London every weekday for six weeks. We were able to come home at weekends, or have the family come to meet us.  

Over the next five months, whenever we could, we decided to take the advice we’d been given and ‘do nice things’.   

Thomas loved animals so we visited a different place each weekend: London Zoo, Sea Life, the Oceanarium in Bournemouth, Marwell Zoo, Paulton’s Park and, in June, we went to Paignton Zoo in Devon for a Family Day organised by The Brain Tumour Charity.  

From April onwards Thomas used a wheelchair as he got really tired but we were still able to go to Madame Tussauds, Tower Bridge, The London Eye, Center Parcs, Alton Towers, Butlins and Hamleys – which has a whole floor of LEGO.  

He loved Alton Towers. Since he was in a wheelchair, he was given a special pass to access each ride. He even got to hold a starfish at the aquarium there. 

Thomas did the best he could under the circumstances, but it did upset him that he couldn’t eat and had to have a feeding tube. He couldn’t go to school much and really missed it, as well as his friends.  

But he never asked any questions about his tumour; we told him it was still there and he simply accepted that.  

He lost his hair and had to have a platelet transfusion in every chemo cycle. The first one caused anaphylactic shock, so he was terrified of it happening again. 

There were also positive memories. Thomas decided to set up a lemonade stand outside our house. He’d been inspired by something he’d seen on YouTube, so I put a notice out on our local community Facebook group asking passers-by to come and buy some lemonade.  

We were overwhelmed by the support – hundreds of people came by as customers. Thomas raised £1,000 to help the homeless and even help pay for one of our trips.  

He got featured in the local paper too, so people started recognising him, which made him feel famous – he loved that.  

In September 2024, Thomas fed the giraffes at Port Lympne Safari Park thanks to the charity Make-A-Wish UK. But he was complaining of back pain and looking back at the photos it was clear he wasn’t feeling well that day. 

His next MRI scan on 12 September showed the tumour had spread down his spine and brain stem. The hospital said there was nothing else they could do and stopped all treatment. During this time, Thomas was unable to do much.   

He lived for another nine weeks and then, with his pain under control, Thomas died peacefully on November 16, 2024. That’s all you can hope for.   

After all he’d been through Thomas didn’t want to be in hospital and, although it’s lovely, I wouldn’t have been happy in the local children’s hospice either. He wanted to be at home and that meant we could set him up in the lounge and his brothers could see him whenever they wanted to – with a care team from the hospital and Julia’s House hospice.  

Having the choice is so important. We were able to choose what we wanted and what was best for us. It comforts me that he was happy throughout it all. 

I think we were very lucky because not everyone receives this care. We can’t fault the NHS – the palliative care we had was excellent.  

It’s important to us to raise awareness of brain tumours in children, hoping that one day a cure is found and no other family has the heartbreak of losing a child. 

Thomas was so brave and we want people to remember him like that. 

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

Share your views in the comments below.

When I discovered that Ollie* from work was interested in me, I couldn’t believe my luck. 

I had always thought he was out of my league – he was privately educated, athletic with a talent for ‘posh boy’ sports, and had a reassuring air of self-confidence about him that, at the time, I was severely lacking myself.

We chatted and flirted in the office, and he was always generous with his compliments. When he asked me out on a date, I said yes immediately.

It was late August and we arranged to go to an open-air proms event. Armed with an M&S picnic and some fruit cider, we rolled out the picnic rug to enjoy the last of the warm summer evenings. Conversation flowed and I felt chilled and content.

When the show was over, I had two choices: the first was an hour’s train journey home. At the time, I was being investigated for suspected epilepsy after having a couple of seizures in my sleep, meaning I’d had to give up my driving licence for a while. 

The second option was 20 minutes in the other direction to Ollie’s. 

As I had spent the last couple of hours mentally undressing him, as far as I was concerned, we couldn’t get back to his fast enough.

We kissed on the train and within the hour, we were in his bed.

The sex was… functional, at best. Looking back, I think it was probably the first time it crossed my mind that Ollie’s overwhelming self-confidence may have been somewhat misplaced.

I think I hid my disappointment well, as Ollie just rolled over and went to sleep.

I decided not to let mediocre sex ruin things, though. Despite this hiccup, we’d still had a pleasant evening, so I chalked it up to the drink, even though we really hadn’t had that much between us.

I woke up at around 1am feeling exceptionally groggy. It took a few minutes to piece together where I was, as if my brain was slowly rebooting.

I felt some strange aches in my stomach muscles and other parts of my body that I couldn’t account for (it certainly wasn’t from any sexual gymnastics).

The bedside light was on, but Ollie was nowhere to be seen. I assumed he was in the en suite bathroom and decided to wait for him to come back.

For Sarah

Last year, on March 10, we lost our beloved colleague Sarah Whiteley. Sarah was a fantastic journalist; she was Metro’s parenting columnist and a valued member of our first-person and opinion desk.

Sarah died aged 39 from SUDEP – sudden unexpected death in epilepsy. It is thought that every year around 1,000 people die from causes related to epilepsy.

With support from Sarah’s family, Metro is fundraising for two very important charities: SUDEP Action and Epilepsy Action.

From March 10 to March 26, which marks Purple Day (epilepsy awareness day), we will be running a series of features and first-person pieces, raising awareness of epilepsy and SUDEP.

Sarah was so incredible at helping other people share their experiences; she was a born storyteller and we hope to do her proud with this series, while raising money in her memory.

The minutes ticked by and the confusion gave way to worry that Ollie wasn’t feeling well, and I was just about to knock on the door when he came out, pale and shaken.

I asked if he was OK, only to be told off for scaring him. At first, I couldn’t understand what he was saying – then it hit me.

I had suffered a seizure in my sleep.

And, rather than call an ambulance, get help from one of his housemates or even bother to check if I was still breathing once it was over, Ollie had locked himself in the bathroom. 

I get that a seizure can look scary if you haven’t witnessed one before, and that it can be a rude awakening in the middle of the night. But a cursory check that your date is OK isn’t too much to ask, is it? Ollie obviously thought so. 

We hadn’t discussed my seizures at length before our date but he did know about them before he asked me out. 

Now, he proceeded to gaslight me, berating me for convulsing, for vocalising and calling out (pretty common in tonic-clonic seizures) and for scaring him so much that he felt he had no other option than to hide in the bathroom until it was all over.

I felt so mortified at the time that it didn’t occur to me that I should be angry about what had just happened. In fact, like a fool, I apologised to him for scaring him. 

We went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t leave either – I had no car, no money for a taxi and the last train had already gone.

The next morning, Ollie acted as if nothing had happened, and I continued to blame myself. 

Unsurprisingly, things fizzled out shortly after two more unremarkable dates, although we remained civil at work.

I didn’t realise at the time, but the episode with Ollie really impacted the relationships that I would have over the following months and years.

When men asked me out, I would self-sabotage so the dates wouldn’t progress any further. I didn’t feel comfortable sharing a bed with anyone while my epilepsy was uncontrolled.

I didn’t sleep with anyone for 18 months following the incident with Ollie. It took a long time for me to learn to trust a man again.

Fast forward a few years, and I am happily married to only the second man in my life who has seen me have a seizure. On the rare occasions I have them, my husband always makes sure I am safe and stays with me until I regain consciousness.

He has never once guilt-tripped me or made me feel like I was the problem.

I never got an apology from Ollie – but then there isn’t really an acceptable apology for abandoning someone at their most vulnerable moment. And I never gave him the bollocking he deserved for leaving me unconscious in his bed.

It’s probably one of my biggest regrets that I allowed someone to use my disability against me in that way and never called him out on it.

But then I remember: I was not, and never have been, the problem. That’s all on him. 

If your date ever has a seizure in your bed, stay calm, cushion their head and once it’s over, gently roll them onto their side into the recovery position. Stay with them until they recover.

And for the avoidance of doubt, on no account lock yourself in the nearest bathroom, hallway or cupboard. 

*Name has been changed

This article was originally published December 14, 2024

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

Share your views in the comments below.

The cult following of Aldi’s middle aisle is unparalleled. From candles to kids bikes and cute cookware to skincare – it’s the gift that keeps on giving.

So, it came as a big shock when the bargain retailer announced the death of the middle aisle to its nearly 500,000 followers on Instagram yesterday.

Mass panic ensued, but the announcement isn’t all it seems. In fact, Aldi’s post is an early April fools stunt and the beloved special buys range isn’t going anywhere. *Breathes a sigh of relief*.

Shared less than 24 hours ago, the post shows an image headed: ‘RIP MIDDLE AISLE.’ This is accompanied by a picture of the iconic middle aisle in one of its stores, with a white angel wing either side.

Below was a concerning caption: ‘An important message from Aldi admin.’

Many quickly assumed that the middle aisle had been axed and were distraught, claiming they ‘live’ for the special buys and felt ‘sick’ at the thought of losing them.

But, if you read the full post, all becomes clear. It says: ‘RIP MIDDLE AISLE. And by that, we meant Really Impressive Prices. You might have heart that our iconic middle aisle is heading to the shop in the sky.

‘Actually, you probably haven’t. Because it isn’t. We’ve made something up for attention again (come on, at least look a little bit surprised). We’d never do you guys like that.

‘After all, what’s life without being able to grab an inflatable kayak when you’ve only popped in for milk? Rubbish, that’s what. Long live the middle aisle and all her beautiful treaty bits.

‘Had you in the first half though didn’t we? Yours (in)sincerely, Aldi admin.’

The post has had more than 20,000 likes in less than 24 hours, with traumatised but relieved shoppers rushing to the comments.

‘My heart skipped a beat then! Where else would i get a facial steamer and a bag of prawns from?’ wrote @sophie_gluten_free.

@sazbegley added: ‘Don’t do that again (unless you are planning to put heart monitoring machines in the middle aisle).’

Another said: ‘I just nearly s**t myself.’

The post was also described as an ’emotional roller coaster’, and it was intended to be.

In fact, Aldi’s post is the most recent in the latest trend where big companies are pretending to axe beloved fan favourites.

Lipton Ice Tea left Brits in tears and demanding compensation after it took to socials earlier this week to announce it had discontinued its beloved Peach Lipton Ice Tea flavour.

It used the angel wings either side of the adored beverage, and wrote: You may have heard that our iconic Peach Lipton Ice Tea flavour is getting discontinued. We know – it hurts (sorry if we’ve ruined your go-to afternoon chill bev). 

‘But don’t worry, the rest of your faves are still here to keep you refreshed. And who knows? Maybe one day, Peach will make a legendary comeback. 

‘We appreciate your understanding during this period of adjustment and apologise for any inconvenience caused. #RIPeach.’

The announcement went viral but ‘distraught’ fans were relieved to find out it was an early April Fools stunt, and that the drink isn’t going anywhere.

It’s not just Aldi that has emulated the stunt either. Lynx recreated it almost word-for-word, claiming that Lynx Africa had been axed.

Shoppers claimed their Christmas presents had been ‘ruined’ but others caught on pretty quickly writing: ‘Liptons already made this prank.’

Anyway, you can rest easy that you can still peruse Aldi’s middle aisle as you please, leaving with a fire extinguisher and the ingredients for that family favourite shepherds pie.

Special buys aren’t going anywhere.

Do you have a story to share?

Get in touch by emailing MetroLifestyleTeam@Metro.co.uk.