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)
• How to make happy memories
• 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 three step grand-children) 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. I guess I was always a lesbian!

 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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Growing around grief

Working in the charity sector over the years I have met so many amazing people, from the relatives of loved ones with Alzheimer’s, to survivors of serious accidents - and the families of those who did not survive.  

Dealing with grief at work is very different to dealing with it in your personal life – and I mean both for the bereaved, and for the professional.  In the charity sector, gifts ‘in memory’ of a loved one are hugely important; they allow the bereaved to celebrate a life passed, and also to support a cause close to their heart in that process. It could be anything from Air ambulances to Zoos – there’s usually a relevance to the deceased.

Supporting a charity gives the family the opportunity to share their memories, thoughts and wishes, often through dedicated ‘in memory’ pages on a website. This little bit of immortality can mean a lot to a family and help them process their grief.

Many years ago I learned about Elizabeth Kubler Ross’s Stages of Grief, and later on researched more about her and her extraordinary perspective on life after death.  Her ‘model’ of grief is well known and very logical, but there are other models, such as Tonkin’s ‘growing around’ grief – grief does not really diminish over time, we just grow around it.  There are other models, and Freud had plenty to say on grief too, but models aside, grief is hugely personal.

I lost my father when I was 13 years old. I was very young; I think you could probably equate it to 10 or 11, given the maturity of young people today. My brother’s reaction was to protect me, initially, and then – as my mother disappeared into her grief – to leave home. My reaction? I can’t accurately recall, but I think depression was certainly a big part of it.

Although my father died more than 50 years ago, I still grieve. On the train home from London the other day, I talked to him – told him all about my day (silently, I didn’t need extra space on the train). I clearly saw him in my mind’s eye, sitting in the empty seat opposite me, and he reacted (in my imagination) how I remembered he would have done. 

I didn’t go to my father’s funeral – to the church or the burial. Maybe it would have helped me to have gone, I don’t know, but now at any funeral (even someone I don't really know) I am a useless emotional heap. That may be a legacy of unresolved grief, but it’s often embarrassing. Yes, I have grown around my grief – I don’t wear it daily, but it is easy for me to slip into sadness when I think of all the years I never had with my father, how he never knew me as an adult, or heard me sing (though he may well have hated my music choices), or met his grandchildren. But then again, I never saw him grow old, either.

Today someone said to me that grief is ‘love with nowhere to go’. I found that very moving, but also hope that as we grow around grief, our love is not lost, but finds new avenues, and stays true for those we have loved and lost.

Useful links:

• Cruse Bereavement Support
• Ruth Strauss Foundation - pre-bereavement support for when a family member has a terminal illness
• Winston's Wish - post-bereavement support for children
• MuchLoved - an online in memory site 

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62 - not out

My father loved cricket, he played for Sudbury (who knows why as we lived in Barnet) and listened to matches avidly (and probably watched them when we did get a television). I remember names like Fred Trueman and Basil D'oliviera and seeing my father in his whites. I also enjoyed the 'Botham years'. Now this was a long time ago, and though I've only been to one cricket match since my father played, it's a game that sits comfortably in my memories. 

So this January, having finished my role at MDUK in December, I had time to 'rest'. But, in fact, ended up doing plenty including having my kidney stone blasted and the evil stent finally removed. A good time to have my surgery and take a bit of a rest as my new job started on 1st February. 

 New job - new things to learn. I have joined a charity in another area that is new to me - and once again I am moved and inspired by the work they do. It's another maternity cover role which I hugely enjoy, I can lend my experience and knowledge and support the charity whilst their Head of Fundraising is on leave. I'm also really glad that we will work together for a couple of months before she goes on leave so that we can develop the plans for the year ahead together.

But here's why I talked about cricket in this post. The charity is the Ruth Strauss Foundation - and though I didn't know much about the charity beforehand, I had actually heard of Sir Andrew Strauss, the England cricketer. His wife Ruth passed from a non-smoking related lung cancer, leaving two young children. But before she died, she and Andrew planned and launched the charity, the Foundation, to provide support for families where a parent has a terminal diagnosis, and to fund more research into a cancer that is increasing in prevalence.

 I've been reading the research and 'mission' information about the charity and didn't realise that so many children lose a parent each year, nor that non-smoking related lung cancer is the eighth most common cause of cancer-related death. Although smoking is still a huge cause of lung cancer, I wonder about vaping (we have no idea what impact that will have as it's such a 'new' habit) and, of course, our deterioration in air quality as we continue to pollute the planet.

So this charity speaks to me as a parent, a grandparent, someone who has had cancer and as a conservationist. 

I will blog more as I learn more (it's only day three!), but in the meantime, on my very first day I was cheeky enough to ask for a selfie from the man himself, who just happened to pop into the ECB and made a special visit to see the team who were there that day.

Useful links

• Support for families facing bereavement (Ruth Strauss Foundation)
• Losing a parent (Cruse)
• Non-smoking lung cancers (Ruth Strauss Foundation)
• Non-smoking lung cancers (CDC USA)

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