Crossing borders

Turtle Dove (C)  

Up until recently, my wife and I lived in Suffolk down a forest track. Our garden was host to deer, rabbit, toads, butterflies, frogs, voles, mice, the odd hedgehog, and snakes. Last year I saw a beautiful three-foot-long grass snake in our pond; the biggest snake I’ve ever seen that wasn’t in captivity.  We had lots of birds in our garden including siskin and, occasionally, Turtle Doves. Whilst doing the ‘Big Garden Birdwatch’ one year I was disappointed that I couldn’t record ‘peacock’. But he was a bit of a nuisance and loved to tease the dogs, standing on the shed roof ‘barking’ at them – seeming to enjoy their inability to reach him. 

When the UK economy decided that extremely high interest rates and impossible mortgages and rents were the way to go, we had no option but to move.  

We had to leave our beloved garden behind and moved ‘over the border’ into Norfolk. We’re still fairly rural, but we can now hear traffic, and neighbours, which we rarely heard before. I’m not saying it was quiet in the forest – the muntjacs barking, the foxes grumbling, the owls and randy hedgehogs created a cacophony some evenings. But then the harsh night sounds would be sprinkled with the song of the nightingale – as sparkling as the stars of the milky way that would lie like a cloud above us.

Long Tailed Tit (C)

So here we are in Norfolk, and we have a new environment to explore. There’s a field next to us and I am sure it will have some stories to share over the coming months. We are building a pond and filling the bird feeder which has already been visited by goldfinch and greenfinch (and a family of mice). Our garden is small in comparison to what we had, but we can make it our own and transform it from a mostly green and brown blank canvas – a new challenge. We also have ducks who visit and have taken on the peacock’s mantle of dog teasing.

As well as new wildlife, we have a new Landlord. He and his father still require access via our house to the field next door and one afternoon I came out to find my landlord’s father (who is nearly 90) in his daughter’s car – stuck. He couldn’t get the automatic out of Park to go through the gates and up to the field. We both tried, and failed, so he decided to go and ask a neighbour for help. In the meantime, I figured out how to get it going, and moved it in from the automatic gates that we had to keep pressing the button for to stop them closing mercilessly on the car. Everyone then arrived at once, my wife, the neighbour and the driver, so we all had tea and a good chat in the kitchen. The East Anglians (I was born in London, it’s not my fault!) discussed local landed gentry and ‘country pursuits’.

My wife drives to Beccles for her work, so it’s not too bad. I have to drive further to see my mother in Southwold (92 and still going strong), but my London commute is definitely a little more challenging. But we are looking forward to our future here, and we need to do more exploring!

Useful links:

• Operation Turtle Dove
• Belton With Browston
• Dunwich  

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• From May to June
• Pond Life

Long-lived memories

I've posted before about my mum being a costumier - and the odd things she's made over the years. For a while she worked for a publisher producing costumes to go with book tours; these included Raymond Briggs' Snowman, Fungus the Bogeyman, Peter Rabbit and Dilly the Dinosaur to name but a few. She also made a costume for Postman Pat and a buffalo (took two people for that costume) for a carpet company. She made ballet costumes, hats for Paul Revere bar (well, the girls didn't wear much else), and of course multiple theatrical millinery for ballet, opera, muscials (the crown of thorns for Jesus Christ Super Star), a crocodile for Peter Pan (there where wheels underneath so the costume wearer could scuttle about on stage) and something for Mickey Dolenz (who I met), but I can't remember what.

Thanks to the BBC

 She is now 92 and trying to record her days at Stratford with Gielgud and Leigh, and the many other individuals who became famous, is a challenge. Her memory is is - of course - not as good as it was, but certain things will trigger memories. And sometimes those memories will live on and pop up where you least expect. For example, I remembered Dilly the Dinosaur as soon as I saw him - on BBC's QI programme last week. I will admit to watching on playback, not live, because my mother let me know excitedly that she'd seen herself on TV. There was Gyles Brandreth and Sally, with Dilly the Dinosaur (head model).

 

Sally enjoying the company of
Freda the Royal Python

Sally used to sculpt the model for the heads of her creations in clay, then make papier mache casts. Sometimes they'd be reinforced or made of a stuff called samco (which needed setting with acetone). She would work with pearl glue, this weird red moulding material for plaster casting, foam rubber, calico,  buckram... all those materials whose names are familiar to me still. She would also make face masks in latex - for example in the 'Many Faces of Steed' she made a plaster cast of Patrick McNee's face and then created a number of replicas for use in the show (one of whom was my dad). She also made some hats for Madame Tussaud's, including Raquel Welch's white leather stetson and King Henry VIII's jewelled hat. The more I write, the more I remember. 

But back to plaster casting faces - I distinctly remember a camp bed in the kitchen with some chap lying on it, with straws up his nose and a face covered in plaster. Of course I have no idea who it was under there. For many years we also had a plaster cast of Marty Feldman's nose - I can't remember why, but I do remember going to Queens Park Rangers' stadium and meeting him when I was very small - and being just a little bit scared!

At 92 my mum is still going to art classes and life drawing even though she has macular degeneration and her sight is failing. She has multiple health issues of course, but she goes shopping in her motorised buggy, lives independently and if very often out when I call because she is so busy. 

Think of how much is online these days - those photos on social media, pictures and documents scanned and shared. The mountain of information on geneaology sites, and of course the fantastic archives of libraries and press media (a search of the Barnet Press will reveal more for Sally I'm sure). You never know what will pop up where, and whether it will be something to smile about (as with Sally, Gyles and Dilly), or something to make you cringe. 

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***Update! I emailed Gyles via his website saying how happy Sally was at seeing that photo, and the gentleman replied wishing her happy birthday and saying 'she's the best'. That's one long-lasting impression you made, Sally!***

Tell me your stories

At work we've been talking about making memories special at this time of year. Though not everyone celebrates Christmas, it certainly is a focus on the calendar - even if it's just for increased sales of chocolate and sherry.

My colleague suggested ways of making memories that will last a lifetime, especially given that we work with families where a parent has a terminal cancer. But even when I worked at a dementia charity, making memories - even those that could not be retained due to dementia - was always important.

We had a piano like this in our dining room

The other day someone said 'I don't remember what present I got when I was five, but I do remember ...' and then recounted family experiences. It's true, the 'things' we get at Christmas or birthday or any other celebration are transient, but memories, experiences, they can make lasting impressions even if you don't remember the detail.

I'll share one from my childhood: We had an upright piano in our home and my grandmother played the piano at Christmas. I remember us around the piano and Granny (who died when I was about 10) playing the piano with gusto, dad on his trumpet (I still have it), Charles (granny's partner) on wooden spoon and cardboard box, and mum, my brother and I singing. I have no idea what we sang - whether it was Christmas songs or jazz, but that memory which is more than 50 years old, remains. 

My father died in January 1974 when I was 13. My grandmother and grandfather both passed around Christmas time too, so for many years I associated Christmas time with grief. It took having children of my own to change that. But it took time.

What does Christmas mean to you? What does this time of year, whether it is a religious celebration or simply extra time off work, bring to you and your family? I would love to hear your stories. Please add i comments below.

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Resources:

• Coping with grief at Christmas (Cruse)
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• Alzheimer's Society

Credits:

Piano photo courtesy of: https://antiquepianoshop.com/ 

A sense of justice

If you know me personally, you will probably be aware that I have a strong sense of justice, I am trusting and I believe in the better nature of people. I know I am often disappointed, but I'd rather trust and be let down than spend my life distrusting and being suspicious of everyone. I think it's mentally healthier, even though it means some challenging outcomes at times.

It is good though when, for once, your sense of justice is reinforced by the justice system itself. For a little context, in 2021 I was waiting for the car in front of me to turn right when the road was clear. I had my brakes on, it was a long, clear road. Bam! Boy racer rear-end shunts my car at speed. He's apologetic and actually quite concerned as I was very shocked by the experience at the time.

Picture from the talented Andrew Garrison

Clearly he had been on his phone or just daydreaming (the former most likely). Insurance details swapped, Sheena turns up to support me, his dad appears to get very cross with him. After all he's 18 and just totalled a very nice Corsa. And sent our beloved Beamer to the scrap yard too. Obviously his fault. We took photos of the cars. But... I didn't take pictures of the road, the exact location of the collision and didn't get any witnesses (though some kind folks did stop to enquire how I was). 

The insurance took ages - but we got a decent enough reimbursement on the Beamer - not enough to replace like for like, but we got an old Merc instead. Insurance spent ages settling. And then... we are told it's going to court! 

Boy racer's story is that I pulled out of the junction and stalled in front of him. What?!!! The boy had concocted a lie to reduce blame. And I'm pretty sure it was his dad pushing him, because his dad was very fixated on what impact it would have on the lad's insurance. And I must admit, at 18, it would no doubt be very expensive for him to be insured after an accident like that.

However, his story was a blatant lie. And his insurance company decided to challenge it in court (having listened to and no doubt believed his version of events).  Cut to June 2023 - court case planned. He says he can't attend. Court date coincidentally cancelled. Jump to October 2023, and the case is eventually heard.

We had a lovely chap for our barrister - can't have been far off retirement, very laid back. Their barrister was younger, and meaner! When I was on the witness stand he repeatedly said 'I suggest that you ...' and then recited guff about where my car was and what I was doing. He tried very hard to undermine me and I repeated my position and rebuffed his 'suggestions' (for 'suggestions', read lies) very firmly. He did annoy me - I'm sorry but my sense of justice (or injustice) was surely riled. 

I was travelling from Beccles to home, and it's a straight road. There was no reason for me to be coming out of the side turn. And, thankfully, I had a petrol receipt showing that I had been in Beccles just 20 minutes before the accident.

The judge listened carefully, and when boy racer got on the stand, he turned out to be a pretty good liar. But his story had a few holes in it (like, if he was going 40 mph on a clear road and I came out and stalled in front of him, why did he not take any evasive action?). There was detailed evidence from me, and not so detailed from him - the key difference being mine was true, his was a fabrication. 

In the opposition's summing up, tough barrister said I was 'combative' and that my memory wasn't good (one detail is all I could not recall exactly, whether I was in netural or in gear). Our barrister did a summing up that challenged some of the other side's assertations, but was done in a gentle, rather ineffective way.

Thank goodness for evidence!

The judge summed up the whole proceedings (after a 20 minute recess) and I was hugely impressed! Her summary of the evidence, her referral to my being combative as being emphatic, and examining all the evidence deciding that my story was the more likely, meant that we won the case.

Hurrah! Truth won, justice was done. She didn't refer to the other side as 'liars', merely as remembering the incident differently. I guess that saved her having to start a contempt of court case as well. 

It was not easy, it was not nice. But we bloody won!

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When I woke up

We identify as Happy

I’ve written a lot in my blog about different things like cancer, work, travel and music. For a change I am going to talk about who I am, not just what I’ve done. I am in my sixties, and I have two children, two grandchildren and two years ago I married my wife. How I got here is a long story, but in summary, as a child I played with Action Man (not Barbie), I loved to dress up as a pirate (not a princess), and I did meet and marry a man, but he hated my love of hats (not pretty girly ones) – amongst other things. When I had a strange urge to buy a female friend flowers, or had an erotic dream that included women, and then had a crush on another female friend, none of these things indicated to me I might be bisexual. Yeah – slow on the uptake! 

 So now I identify as lesbian. Because all options are open, of course, but I am not intending to veer from this course now I have found it. I was very loath to talk about being gay when I first realised it in my early fifties, but I embrace it now and openly refer to my wife rather than partner in conversation. Let others’ conscious or unconscious bias do as it will, I am happy and confident with who I am – more so now than I have ever been. 

 When I say I ‘identify’ – that may set some hackles rising. Why do we need to ‘identify’? Very simple answer - because society wants to put a label on it. We can’t just ‘be’ – we must fit into a slot or a place in others’ perceptions of spectrum, so we label everything from sexuality to neurological ability. I have a stoma, but I don’t want to identify as an ‘ostomate’. I have had cancer, but I don’t want to identify as ‘survivor’. I have friends with life limiting conditions, but they don’t want to identify as ‘disabled’ – that’s not who we are, it’s just part of our lives. But there are some places you do need to identify, even if it’s just so you can use the right toilet (and yes, I do get looks sometimes when I used the one with the picture of a wheelchair on the door). 

 You may consider me ‘woke’ because I am a gay woman, a charity worker, because I support refugees and challenge behaviours like racism and sexism, and that’s fine with me. If you call me ‘woke’, I will take it as a compliment.

We didn't catch covid

Holiday blog post time! But not all the pictures of scenery and lovely meals (though Corfu has in abundance), but more a reflection on the visit to this amazing island, which is part of Greece, and has just had a change in government.

We arrived (late due to a problem with 'airspace over Slovakia') and the promised rain was nowhere to be seen. The airport was busy and travellers were hot and impatient. Driving to our hotel complex, I was minded that Lord's - where we were staying - was quite different to the Lord's - where I sometimes work.

The first thing I noticed on the drive is that everything was lush and green. The bottlebrush trees were in full colour, the angel's trumpets were huge, and the bouganvilla was in abundance. There were morning glory growing like weeds and the large totem pole cypruss broke up the mountainside horizons like exclamation marks.

We arrived on the Monday, the day after the weekend election on Greece. Having had a left wing government for some time, and the economy becoming more stable (I read), there was a lack of 'trickle down to the people. The electrion result was a Centre Right party, I think, but they have to have another election in June. I have no idea if that's good for Greece,  I'm not goiing to comment on politics where I know so little. But I made observations.

The dustbins - large dumpsters - are placed along roads all over the countryside. Without exception they were overflowing and rubbish was blowing around into the local area - rural and town. Being a hot country there was, of course, a smell, but maybe they did emtpy them often, they just filled up quick. In

two weeks we saw one dust truck going into a private holiday complex (ignoring the huge pile of garbage outside the nearby monastery). In Corfu they have very small sewage pipes, so all paper used in toilets is binned, not flushed. In our accommodation they emptied the bins almost daily, so odour was never an issue.

I had only ever been to Greece twice before (Rhodes and Athens) and both times for work, so my tourist experience of the country and its islands was non-existent. The people of Corfu were very friendly and accommodating, many (everyone we spoke to) could speak English and probably German too. Prices were reasonable (we could eat out well for £10 a head easily), and the rental of our bike and quad was very affordable. Petrol, too, was cheaper at first, though when we got back to GB, it looked like prices had fallen.

When we drove up into the mountains and through the smaller villages, there were still women all wearing black, and there were still cars that looked like they should be scrapped driving around with bits hanging off them. There were tourists on quad bikes and 'twist and go' (like the bike above), and the smartest cars (even the one we saw upside down with an ambulance next to it) were usually hire cars.

The main roads were good (very wiggly due to the landscape), but the side roads were full of potholes. The mountain roads varied - from smooth tarmac to concrete corners and then potholed single track - and all on the same route.

The views from the mountains were amazing. We stopped at one taverna and chatted with the owner whose family had lived in the area for generations.  He told us how the Kaiser built on the next peak, but they all laughed as the water was on his peak. And he told how his grandfather taught him how to find water, so that's why he built his taverna where it was. He had olive groves and served us his own oil, he had vinyards and served us his own wine. He was old, gnarly, and friendly. He didn't like the government (which I wasn't sure) and we had similar opinions of the lack of politicans' understanding of the everyday life of people.

The beaches were clean, and even when the one night of storms brought in all the seaweed, it didn't impede our delight in laying on the hot sand and swimming in the shallow, clear sea. The jellyfish arrived in the second week, but we managed to avoid them.

I had no problems travelling or swimming with my stoma, which for other ostomates may be reassuring. I didn't even get heat rash around the seal, thankfully.  We flew there and back on an Irish airline and I really don't like them. The staff are fine, but you have to pay even to fart, it seems. Thank goodness they didn't charge me extra for having a stoma!

Two weeks is a long holiday for me. The only other time I've been away than long was to Australia in 2018. It was a lovely two weeks. We both relaxed, enjoyed the island and enjoyed eachother's company and reading (audio) some great books.

And, we didn't catch covid.

Useful links:

• Discover Greece - Corfu
• Greece - caretaker leader
• Lord's Complex, Agios Giorgios

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From May to June

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May is nearly over, and I haven't blogged in a while. It doesn't mean nothing is happening, it means I've been busy. Busy playing with Hannah and Sheena at the local beer festival (at the Rumburgh Buck), busy working and preparing for our biggest event of the year (#RedforRuth), and busy gardening!

Of all the busy things I do, gardening is the most calming. I have a lovely  polytunnel set up in my little veg area, and my greenhouse is full of young plants. I've claimed another bit of garden for another veg bed, and have had to put bamboo canes up to deter the plant nibbling peacock who visits regularly.

Percy peacock

Sheena loves cabbages so I am growing them in the polytunnel and in the veg bed under netting. We have so many beautiful butterflies (including white admiral whose caterpillars feed on the wild honeysuckle) and many of them rather fancy my brassicas! (And the older geration might just be saying 'Ooooh matron!' to themselves).

Watering is a very relaxing activity, as is deadheading. Weeding, not so much, but still necessary. We have one weed in our garden that just appeared this year in the lawn. The good folk of the Gardeners Question Time Facebook page assure me it is 'miner's lettuce' - an edible plant. But I won't be putting it on my salad - not with three dogs in the garden. I may try growing some elsewhere just for tasting purposes though.

My next big gardening project is reclaiming the borders at the dog training centre and putting in some plants that will thrive (given that dogs are everywhere, the border is in heavy shade, and it's not regularly watered). 

Meanwhile, I will continue gardening and feeding the birds. We have a cuckoo nearby, regularly hear the nightingale, and have blackcap, wrens and robins. The feeder is visited by greater spotted woodpecker, marsh, great, long and blue tits, goldfinch and chaffinch. And under the feeder - a couple of stock doves, wood pigeons, dunnock and Percy. 

I'm hoping we have lots of fresh produce from my efforts this, year. I will no doubt post pictures of cabbages and tomatoes in due course.

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