This is what happens when you let diabetics out together

We’ve done it. We’ve broken the curse of the ShootUp meet up.

Tim and I live several hundred miles apart, so we only get to see each other a couple of times a year at most. Whenever Geoff and I meet Tim and the lovely Katie we have a great time. But we have to limit these occasions because they are dangerous to our health. History has proven that if you stick two co-writers in the same city for a while, one of them will always go hypo while the other will end up outrageously high.

Until now. Tim and Katie came down to sunny Liverpool for the latest ShootUp meet up, and even with some dreaded pasta and liberal quantities of beer, wine, and port – the now traditional drink of ShootUp – all was fine. No emergency fruit pastilles were consumed, and never once did either of us hit kidney fryingly high territory. The curse is broken, it appears we can meet without diabetes Armageddon occurring.

Aside from that revelation, it was marvellous to spend some time chatting about diabetes stuff over a drink or three. With people round the table who’d been diagnosed anywhere between 8 months and several decades it was a great mix of experiences. Inbetween the chat, we proved to be very skilled at fruit pastille construction as demonstrated above. And we were even nice to the pancreatically privileged types and let them sit with us, rather than making them stand in a corner as penance for having a working pancreas.

No one suddenly remembered that they’d locked their terrapin in the washing machine, so I’m thinking that people enjoyed it. I just hope there wasn’t a terrible spate of terrapin drownings in Liverpool on Saturday night.

If only I could spend a pleasant evening chatting with some other pancreatically challenged types… well now you can. If this is your dream (and why wouldn’t it be) come along to the latest ShootUp meet up in sunny Liverpool.

We’ll be in the hugely glamourous (well, it does reasonable beer and is near Queens Square bus station and Lime Street train station, what more do you want?) Doctor Duncan’s pub, St John’s Lane, Liverpool on Saturday 14 April from 7.30pm. Tim and his better half Katie have agreed to leave the confines of Scotland and travel down to sunny Liverpool for the weekend, so they’ll be there along with me and my long suffering husband Geoff.

If you’re dubious about meeting some weird folks off the interweb all alone (which is perfectly understandable), fear not, all are welcome – the pancreatically challenged, long/short suffering partners, friends, family, random people you meet on your way.

You’ll be able to spot us by the fruit pastilles on the table, the slight smell of insulin and the loud sobbing as we collectively bemoan our broken pancreases. Or we might just do what we’ve done on previous nights out and have a jolly chat, in which case we’ll be the happy ones talking over a beer, but the fruit pastilles will be there in any case.

It’s nice to have a rough idea of numbers, so do leave us a comment here if you’re thinking of coming, or you can email alison@shootuporputup.