Iceland part 1

Oh, I've been a lax blogger! But Sheena and I have been busy, for sure. Our latest adventure was a trip to Iceland in February. 

Day one: we had stayed overnight near the airport as the flight was at silly o'clock. All went smoothly and we landed in Iceland at just after 9am local time (which was the same as UK time). It was cold, but not snowy as I had imagined. There was old snow on the ground, muddied and slushed, but the vista was of rocky, snow-highlighted terrain rather than the white-out I had anticipated. Warmer than usual for the time of year perhaps? But it was chilly, and the wind was biting!

Stripy Icelandic Mountains

We eventually found our hotel after asking directions (sent to the wrong place, with same road name), and using an insufficiently detailed map until at last our sat nav started to work. On the way up the main road from Keflavik to Reykjavik we passed the biggest fish processing plant I've ever seen - it must have been about a kilometre long! But then fishing is a mainstay of their economy, so not surprising.

As soon as I walked in I realised it was the same hotel that I had stayed in during my previous visit 8 or so years previously, even though I hadn't made the booking this time. Picture hunting lodge (entrance) crossed with motel style parking and rooms, and a sports bar with video screen (showing flickering firelight most of the time). The ground was icy - and there were dirty piles of snow in the corners of the parking area. Across the road we had a lovely view of the KFC (no, we didn't eat there once). Our room upstairs looked out across the town (Mosfellsbaer) to mountains that were striped with snow that snuggled away from the wind in the channels made from years of meltwater scoured paths. It was picturesque, but somewhat bleak without the mantle of complete snow cover. It was a nice room, a very comfy bed, and pleasant staff. The breakfast was a help-yourself buffet which enabled us to fill up heartily for the day ahead.

We spent our first day relaxing and went to the local supermarket to stock up on some sandwich

Our hats kept us warm and made others smile!

components. We visited the bar in the evening and chatted with some other residents in the lounge, plus an Icelandic storyteller. Now, he probably didn't picture himself as a storyteller, but we all recognised him as such. He started off as a fisherman, working out of Dubai. He had an apartment in Dubai. He was the son of the family who owned the massive fish processing factory. His father was dead, his mother was an alcoholic. He inherited the family business and was a fisherman. I have never seen a fisherman with such soft, small hands! But who knows, maybe he was the sonar operator or something. He had an apartment in Iceland, no, an apartment and a house, or was it now two houses? He was upset that girls he met wouldn't wait for him for three months every time he went to sea. He loved being at sea, even though as a millionaire he didn't need to work. He also loved to talk, but seemed to be following in his mother's footsteps. Our host came in and spoke something rapid and harsh in Icelandic. He sloped back to the main bar, like a contrite child.  

It was good to exchange pleasantries with the other guests, and share what we had done or what we were going to do. Our first day was relaxing and we slept well after our very early start. No Northern lights out the window, but rain! 

In part two - LAVA!

Useful links:

• Iceland entry in Britannica
• Iceland's Fishing Industry
• Mosfellsbaer
• Hotel Laxnes

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• The village of barking dogs
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All Photos (C) Carolyn Tyrrell-Sheppard

Reflections

I look at my blog sometimes because there's something there I'd like to refer to, such as a cancer story, or something to do with work, or just because I'm prompted by a memory. My blog is really my public online diary. But that's OK, I know very few people read it, but it will be here for my family in the future, and for anyone who is casually browsing and finds one of my stories or posts on one subject or another.

I was looking through my cancer posts as there was news in the Telegraph that smear tests may be less invasive in future. Oddly enough, I had my latest test recently, because I had some HPV cells in my last one so instead of falling off the test list, I'm staying on for a while. Thankfully, all clear this time.

I wanted to share with colleagues how important it is to attend these tests, as uncomfortable as they may be. They really could mean the difference between life and death, or life and a more invasive treatment regime that would make the smear test pale into insignificance. By invasive I mean things like surgery, chemotherapy, radiotherapy. Catch it early, and you are likely to have a better cancer journey than many.

My cousin's cancer is back, but he is very stoic and - whilst having treatment - is fundraising for CRUK. He is confident that it will be kept under control - and he kept up his tests, so it was spotted early. I have had another colonoscopy because I had some abdominal pains, but they were clear. Yes, the colonoscopy was definitely 'not fun', and the results were negative, but I'm glad I went through it instead of leaving it to chance, and also letting the thought - and that can be almost as destructive as disease - continue to nag at me.

 The old mine, Adelong (C) 

Are you worried? Do you have something that doesn't feel right? Get it checked! Don't worry about your GP's time, that's what they are there for (and they'd rather treat you sooner too if there is any need). Are you worried it might be something, or nothing? Well something is a hell of a lot more worrying than nothing, so go get that check, and eliminate the uncertainty. You and your family will benefit from positive action, I promise.

But back to reflections, as well as looking back on my cancer journey (and Sheena's), I also read one of my posts about my visit to Malaysia and Borneo - and that's a memory I treasure. I wish I could go back and visit Baku forest again and see the proboscis monkeys, or cross the river in Kuching to taste one of those impossibly bright cakes they sell, or see a langur in the wild again. But, I did those things - how lucky am I? 

Look after you, as well as those around you. Follow up on those tests, anything that doesn't feel right. Check it out. 

Useful links:

• Invasive smear tests may become a thing of the past
• CoppaFeel! | Check Your Chest | Breast Cancer Awareness Charity
• CHAPS - Home  - prostate cancer support
• Prostate Cancer UK | Prostate Cancer UK

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• Being in Malaysia
• The City of Cats
• Adelong morning

An unusual childhood

I've written a bit before about the different childhood I had, but not in much detail (see Liked this? below). I could probably write a book, but instead here's a short poem. One thing my mother talks a lot about (she's 92 now) is regret. She can't undo the past, and there were so many good things, different things, that I learned that I would never have done without that childhood. I know how fabric should hang, and whether it is right for the period, for example.  The world of CGI has changed costumery for the cinema, certainly, but theatre still relies on a lot of craft. My mother was certainly a very talented craftsperson.

Growing up

Samco, acetone, buckram, calico

Pearl glue, foam rubber, plaster, fur fabric

Mother much too busy, for the small child

 

Giant moth, Sontaran, Mutant, Cyberman*

Pepper pot, Cuckoo, giant flies, tutus

Comedians and actors, smile at the small child.

 

Plum pudding, ballet masks, feather boas, jock straps

David Wood, Gyles of course, Raymond Briggs, dinosaurs

Directors and dancers, not noticing the small child

 

Peter Rabbit, Whatamess, Gladiator, Fungus

Marty Feldman, Mickey Dolenz, Morecambe and Wise

Placido bumped into, by the small child

 

Coliseum, D’Oyly Carte, Drury Lane and Shaftesbury

Rooms of feathers, rooms of foam, rooms of fabric off the loom

A curious playground, for the small child

 

Hats, masks, monsters, jewellery, designs

Costumes, sequins, Jesus Christ’s crown

All distractions for the young child

 

Working on Christmas day, working on holidays

Pins and needles in the chair arm; pricked fingers

A normal day for the wheezing child

 

Clay, there was a lot of clay! The picture above shows Gyles and my mother - he is posing for the Dilly the Dinosaur costume she made him for a book publisher's promotional tour.

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• Danny La Rue
• Muppets
• Dr Who

References:

• Dr Who monsters *Sally made the Minoptera, the Solonians, and parts of the Sontarans, the Gell Guards, and bits of Cybermen and other costumes/props.
• Placido Domingo I bumped into him at the Royal Opera House, when he was in Girl of the Golden West

Photo credit: BBC TV. 

Binary bigotry

Binary bigotry is a term I have coined because of the ‘unthinking’ likes and shares in social media of hateful memes. I have seen several social media posts (shared by people I know) that use direct comparisons to create an emotive response to promote racism and bigotry.

I’ll give you an example; a picture of a homeless white man, and a picture of a crowded boat full of migrants, with a caption on the lines of ‘Put our veterans before illegal immigrants’. Or similarly, a comparison with our elderly community and the loss of heating benefit and immigrants claiming UK benefits[1].

Not everything is black and white

These are not realistic comparisons; these memes are created purely to promote a racist point of view and, by using simple binary comparisons, they get shared because the ‘choice’ is put clearly. But that’s not the real choice. I’ll use my own example:

Would you rather pay a £300 winter heating allowance to a millionaire pensioner[2] than provide basic food and housing to someone who was beaten and tortured in their home country and risked their life to reach the UK to escape certain death? Or even, do you think we should be paying £16,000 a week to look after an excluded child ‘criminal’[3], or pay for more teachers in our primary schools?

It’s all about perspective. I would no more use the above comparisons – the ‘binary’ choices – than I would the former. Binary bigotry is clever, it uses emotive subjects to create a sense of injustice and promote a strong, often racist, response.

Binary bigotry lumps huge groups of individuals into one 'identifiable' category. Those seeking asylum legally, homeless, veteran, elderly, it doesn't matter - they are collected into a single meme and there is no room for nuance.

I would love social media to show more balanced, informed content, but – probably like this article – it doesn’t have the impact that such binary bigotry can engender. Any kind of binary thinking can be limiting[4], and that - in my opinion – is very sad. But saddest of all is the willingness of people to share unthinking hate. 

I have put several references in this article – please read them, I am no psychology or political expert, I do not have the answers, I just want to highlight the danger of this simplistic form of hate promotion.

Please note: This article represents my personal experiences and opinion and does not relate to my professional life, the position of my employer or any of my connections.

Picture credit: me

#notabystander

References:

[1] How much do asylum seekers living in hotels get to live on per week? – Full Fact

[2] Golden oldies: Are one in five pensioners millionaires? – Full Fact

[3] Unlawful care homes ‘profiteering’ from at-risk children - BBC News

[4] Binary Thinking and the Limiting of Human Potential: Public Integrity: Vol 23 , No 6 - Get Access (tandfonline.com)

Where there’s a Will…

Pushing up the daisies

Writing a Will isn’t a one-time event—it's something you'll likely do multiple times throughout your life, for different reasons. The first time I wrote a Will was when my husband and I bought our first home. Although I’m no longer a property owner, I still have possessions and, more importantly, specific wishes about what happens when I die.

Major life events like buying a house or starting a family are natural times to write or update a Will. I did just that when I had children. Later, when I left my home and began a new chapter on my own, I updated my Will again. Then, life took another turn—happily, I remarried. But did you know that getting married can automatically invalidate a previous Will? I didn’t, so yes, I had to draft yet another one.

The truth is, you don’t need to be old or unwell to make a Will. You just need to be an adult with a clear idea of how you want your affairs handled after you're gone.

Bought the farm

I used to assume that when I died, everything would automatically go to my spouse. [But for those who aren’t married or in a civil partnership, that’s not the case for your partner.] And if you’re separated but not yet divorced, you might still need to update your Will if you don’t want your ex to inherit everything. Financial separation is another thing to consider—I discovered I was still listed on my ex-husband's bank account eight years after our divorce! This meant I could have been liable if he had any
debts, which was quite a shock.

Thankfully, creating a new Will was straightforward. I used the Free Will service from Mental Health UK (MHUK). The process was simple: I filled out a form, detailed my wishes for my estate, and ensured that even my modest assets, like savings, pensions, and life insurance, would be distributed according to my desires. Just to check everything over I then had a call from their solicitor – I didn’t need to go into their office, but you can do it all in person if you prefer.

You don’t need to own a house or have millions in the bank to make a Will—everyone should have one, if only to make sure that your prized possessions, like my bass guitar, end up in the right hands.

Speaking of debts, I’m fortunate not to have any, not even a mortgage. But it's important to note that your debts don’t disappear when you die. A Will can help protect some of your assets from being sold off to pay debts and, more importantly, ease the burden on those left behind.

Whether or not I have a funeral is up to me, but I plan to consult my family about it. My Will includes my wishes: I’d like to be cremated, and I want my friends and family to throw a party—a celebration rather than a time of mourning.

I know many people find it difficult to talk about death, but like taxes and change, it’s inevitable. I’d rather discuss my options now and make my wishes clear in my Will. It’s practical planning, and it can even be tax efficient. Let’s face it, I won’t care once I’m dead, so being thoughtful now is the best I can do.

Kick the bucket

Writing a Will is easy and straightforward. I’ve used MHUK’s Free Will service, and I’ve left a gift to them in my Will. In my case, it’s a pecuniary gift, meaning a specific sum of money. But you can also leave items, like cars, books or, or a percentage of your estate, known as a residuary gift (a percentage of what’s left over after costs, like funerals and debts etc). You can have more than one charity in your Will if you want, but I chose MHUK because it’s a charity I care about. Most charities offer a Free Will writing service - so select the cause you care about and contact them. After family and friends are considered, leaving a gift that will help others is important to me. I encourage you to do the same.

If you haven’t made your Will yet, I strongly suggest you do. The peace of mind it brings to you and your loved ones is invaluable.

Photo copyrights:

• Daisies: FreeImages.com
• Farm: sunderlands.co.uk
• Bucket: Dailystar.co.uk

Useful links:

• Mental Health UK - gifts in Wills
• Rethink Mental Illness - gifts in Wills
• The Law Society - making a Will

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Mental health

Quite a few of my posts cover health, and a few have covered mental health, but I've certainly not talked about depression, for example, as much as I have talked about cancer (links to my mental health related posts below).

Why? Because of stigma, because it is an admission of weakness, because I want to present my 'perfect self' online? Well you know the latter isn't true if you have read my blog in the past.

From about 1998 to 2001 I had clinical depression. It was an awful time, I had two small children and a demanding job and inside I felt completely useless, worthless and kept being told by my other half at the time that 'the problem is there is no problem'. Wow, that was helpful.

I sought help, I got anti depressants. I distinctly remember on day 16 of taking the pills, whilst riding my bike in Cambridge, I suddenly felt like a weight had been lifted from me. The tablets worked! I treated the symptoms, but not the cause. I managed fine - still felt low now and then, but I had two amazing kids and a great job, I kept up with karate, and things were on an even keel.

Around 2007 my marriage started to deteriorate, but by 2012 I was in a very dark place once again, and no drugs, or talking therapy would help. My husband would come home and tell me he was disappointed that his new partner (that's a whole other story) was not being faithful. There's a bit of irony there, no? We were still living together, but I had moved into the tiny spare room onto a put up bed. I contemplated the unbearability of the pain (which I remember as physical, not just mental). But I had two children, who were the one clear perspective in my life at the time. 

To help manage my stress I would go swimming. Just up and down, no thoughts, just moving in the water. It was about the only therapy that helped. I'd been to see Relate on my own early on, and being told that what was being said to me, how my husband treated me was 'mental abuse' was a shock. I didn't realise, didn't recognise, that the person I then loved (unloving takes time) was actually causing me such physical and emotional pain. They put a label on it (abuse). I hadn't wanted to. 

One day when at swimming, I texted my husband that I'd had enough, we had to split - move apart. I couldn't take it any more. When I got home, he said 'I got your message. I thought you'd gone to kill yourself'. That was another mighty shock. Because if that's what he'd thought, why didn't he stop me? That remains a resentment I find hard to forget, though the many other things that were said and done have been comfortably forgotten. Holding on to pain or anger only hurts me, so I don't do it. 

But this story does have a happy ending. No need for detail for the years in between, but I did attend a course by Richard Wilkins called 'Broadband Consciousness'. And that really helped me change my attitude to myself. Richard describes happiness as being like a tide - sometimes it's in, sometimes it's out, it's not a static state of being. For me mental health is like physical health - sometimes it's good, sometimes I get ill, and do what I can to get better, or manage symptoms, so I can lead a fulfilled life and be there for those I love.

But here's the happy ending - because the critical change was that I managed to alter my self-perception. The five days with Richard, Liz and the others gave me the knowledge to understand and challenge that inner voice (which was echo chambering years of undermining). I started to like who I am. 

In 2018 I met my amazing wife and in 2021 we got married. The tide is in.

Liked this? try...

• Resilience
• Kindness is a strength
• Get well soon - this blog from 2017 includes a link to the charity I now work for. 

Resources:

• Mental Health UK
• Rethink Mental Illness  
• Samaritans
• Mind
• The Ministry of Inspiration - Richard Wilkins and Liz Ivory
• I have a black dog (video on depression)

What a year that was

When I was 13 years old, my father died of a heart attack. Widowed at 44 with two children, my mother found it very difficult to cope and had regular melt downs. I didn’t really know what to do to help her. My 17-year-old brother left home within the year, and I had to become an adult rapidly. I became more introvert at school and depressed for several years. I still miss him today, but I learned to cope and to grieve, over time.

I am writing about this now because trauma, such as the loss of a parent, has a huge mental health impact on children and young adults. In my family we had no warning that my father was going to die so suddenly (if it had happened today, he would have had a much greater chance of survival). But for many families there is notice of bereavement; a terminal diagnosis is not going to truly prepare you, but you are forewarned.

I have spent the last year working with a charity whose services focus on pre-bereavement – that vital support you need to prepare for the death of a parent. Anecdotally and from published research, the impact of a parent’s death on children is life-long. So the better this can be handled, the more open and honest you are, and the more you can help prepare the children for the inevitable, then you can reduce emotional lifetime impact. There is nothing you can do to change the fact that the children will grow up without that parent, but open discussions can be a way to connect and navigate those tough emotions together, and find comfort in planning for the future. 

The charity I worked for was established by Sir Andrew Strauss, a cricketer who lost his wife to a non-smoking lung cancer. If you present at your GP with chest or shoulder pain, or some symptoms that can’t be explained and you say you don’t smoke, lung cancer isn’t often looked for. So, when it is finally diagnosed, it’s often too late as in Andrew’s wife, Ruth’s case. This is the second focus for the charity, to raise awareness and improve early diagnosis which will, quite simply, save more lives.

As ever it’s the people that will leave a lasting impression. The fantastic team I’ve worked with, the dedicated donors, fundraisers and supporters - lending their commercial advice, volunteering or donating, or giving of their personal time outside a celebrity or sports career.

I’ve enjoyed working with the cricket world and the dedicated team at Ruth Strauss Foundation (including the Board and Advisors) and learned about non-smoking lung cancer and pre-bereavement. I’ve expanded my experience in more fundraising areas, and discovered I know a lot more about governance than I realised.

I usually like to add a witty anecdote, but this is a serious subject. Yes, there have been some moments (and I’ve collected a few selfies as well), but mostly it’s been immensely rewarding work.

I do love working in this sector.  I look forward to seeing the charity develop and expand – helping more families, supporting more children who are facing the unthinkable, and saving more lives as diagnosis and care is improved for a cancer whose incidence is increasing rapidly.

So long, and thanks for all the … cricket.  

Useful links

• Ruth Strauss Foundation - pre-bereavement support
• Ruth Strauss Foundation - non-smoking lung cancer information

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• 62 not out
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