Thursday, December 09, 2021

Things that matter


Perhaps you are hoping I'll be writing a cheery/funny/seasonal post today. I'm sorry. I have serious things on my mind.

Yes, I care about the parties at Number 10 breaking Covid lockdown rules, and the lies about them. But it is only to be expected, as Boris Johnson cares for no-one and nothing but himself: he only has to open his mouth for a lie to come out, and his toadies back him up.

What I am even more upset about this morning is that yesterday Parliament passed the third reading of the Nationality and Borders Bill, which does many evil things, including cracking down on the right to protest. 

But it also punishes refugees and asylum seekers. This Bill has been extensively criticised by virtually all those who are authoritative on asylum matters – the UN High Commission for Refugees, the Refugee Council, some 450 immigration scholars at British universities and various organisations representing refugee women. 

*see below

This Bill will particularly harm women seeking asylum because of their specific vulnerabilities, and their particular experiences of violence.

One huge shortcoming of the Bill is that it requires judges to give ‘minimal weight’ to evidence produced later in an asylum seeker’s time in the UK ‘unless there is good reason’. But there are many reasons why women who are fleeing sexual or gender-based violence will not share relevant evidence at the initial stage. These include trauma, guilt, shame and fear of family members, or of traffickers.  

I know how vulnerable refugee women are, how traumatised they are, and how hard it is to have to put their case with supporting evidence, because revisiting their experiences to give this evidence is deeply upsetting. I also know that many staff in the Home Office are not sympathetic to these difficulties, and many refugee women don't feel able to talk about their experiences at the first interview. Many women need mental health support and legal advice before they can open up about their suffering. 

Another problem with the Bill is that it introduces a new two-tier system under which those who come by irregular routes could be prosecuted and imprisoned for up to four years. Such detention or imprisonment would be traumatic for refugee women.  The Home Office would also seek to remove the woman, regardless of her needs, to a country it considers safe. Women for Refugee Women comments:

‘Contrary to Home Office claims, women are often compelled to take irregular routes to reach safety. Even if new safe routes were created by the government, they would simply not be available to all those in need of protection. Many women would not be able to safely reach an embassy to apply for a humanitarian visa or cross a border to access a resettlement programme, if those routes did indeed exist. Others would only be able to disclose their stories once they reach a country they consider safe.

The Government has ignored Article 31 of the UN Refugee Convention which specifically requires contracting countries not to penalise people for ‘illegal entry’.

The Bill makes asylum seekers’ claims ‘inadmissible’ if they could have applied for asylum in the first safe country they entered. But the Refugee Convention does not state that asylum seekers must claim asylum in the first safe country they come to. 

Lastly, the Bill enables the Home Office to remove asylum seekers while their claim or appeal is proceeding. 

This is unjust.

As for 'off-shore processing' this would pose a serious risk to women and children of sexual abuse and re-traumatisation.’  Holding women in isolated centres where they cannot access community support is particularly unfortunate for survivors of sexual and gender-based violence including rape, forced prostitution, female genital mutilation and domestic abuse. Some may have been victims of trafficking or compelled to work in garment factories.  It will force them to relive traumatic memories of confinement and abuse.

Lastly, the Bill re-interprets the UN Refugee Convention, which is, in effect, the UK Parliament attempting to change international law. This is hugely  damaging to the international system of protection and to the UK’s international standing.

The only small strand of hope is that the House of Lords might make some changes when the Bill is passed back to them. Some members of our local refugee support network have each written to ten Conservative members of the House of Lords about the Bill and asking them to speak out. I did it too. And you could, if you're so minded.

What is morally wrong, cannot be politically right.  

John Bright (Victorian MP)


*We have hosted refugees and asylum seekers in Bakewell at our hospitality days and I wish I could post a photo of these happy times on here, but we need to protect the privacy of survivors of human trafficking, so I had to use the photo above that I found online. 


Monday, December 06, 2021

Letter from home

It's a dreary day here and we're expecting sleet, but the SAD light was too glaring to have on when I first woke up. It's 9 a.m. and it's not yet light enough to paint, so here I am blogging, and then I'm going to write to my MP.*

Since I got home from Colorado I've struggled to find a novel I want to read so turned to my bookshelves, and am now on my third re-read of books I last read 20 years ago. It's amazing how much I have forgotten. I remember the setting and the general thrust and tone of the books but not the plot, so it's been a worthwhile venture.

I have read and enjoyed again: 

How I live Now by Meg Rosoff

A Gathering Light by Jennifer Donnelly

And I am currently halfway through 

The Weight of Water by Anita Shreve.

Do you read books again?

I often reread my favourite novels, of course - read this post to see what they are - but the books above are not favourites - just ones I kept because I enjoyed them and might want to read them again. I certainly don't keep every book I buy.  I give many away, usually to charity shops.

I've been practising for a carol performance at a charity event last Saturday afternoon. It was dark and rainy at 3.50 p.m. when I set off to drive to Chesterfield for the performance, and two miles into the journey I was thinking how foul the weather was, and was it really going to happen? Were we really going to be standing under a gazebo in the freezing cold? So I stopped the car to check my phone and there was a message from Mel - they couldn't erect the gazebo and there as nowhere else that was safe enough and dry enough for us to play. We were cancelled. 

You know what, though? I have enjoyed practising the carols, and I enjoyed practising with the other players. It was good fun. Mel is talking about having a flash mob but I'm not sure I want to be part of a flash mob in a shopping centre in Covid times.

*And now I'm going to write to my MP. They are debating the Nationalities and Borders Bill tomorrow in Parliament, and people who care about the welfare of refugees are writing to their MP today to demand we open safe routes for refugees so there is no need for them to cross the Channel in small boats.





Here is a link to the Safe Passage website which has a suggested text for the email. Safe Passage is a charity that works for the safety of unaccompanied child refugees. Please read what the email says, and then consider sending it. Here are two excerpts:

In the last year, the Government closed safe routes, ending the Dubs relocation scheme for unaccompanied refugee children in Europe and refusing to replace the EU’s Dublin III Regulation which allowed for family reunion. The closure of these safe routes has forced even more children and families to risk their lives to reach sanctuary. 

.............

Right now, there are 11,000 unaccompanied and separated child refugees in Europe. Having fled war and persecution, children are stuck on the streets of Calais or in refugee camps on Greek islands – nobody can call that safe for a child. 

Please raise your voice.


Thursday, December 02, 2021

Out of it

I am playing carols on my sax in a combo on Saturday in aid of the local hospice, and when I went for a practice yesterday, my teacher Mel said 'Are you ready for Christmas?' and I said 'I don't get ready for that until December,' and she said 'But it is December.'

I have been out of it.

This time, jet lag lasted a week - so much longer than usual. I'd been puzzling why, when Chrissie pointed out that the lack of daylight in late November was probably to blame.

During this last comatose week I have been listening to an audiobook and watching television to a degree that a non-comatose Sue Hepworth would be ashamed of. But I must just tell you that Eleanor Bron reads The Enchanted April so superbly that when the book was finished and I wanted to choose another, I searched for books read by her, rather than by author or title. That's how good she is.

And I discovered that the 2019 version of Little Women is now on Netflix - oh joy! - so I watched it twice and fell in love with the clothes all over again.

Why can't I find any like them to buy? I want that waistcoat Jo wears and that deep blue blouse with the very full sleeves she wears under it. 



I want her knitted waistcoat and her brightly coloured pantaloons! And I want this jacket!




With the exception of Kettlewell, the catalogues arriving in the post are full of dreary clothes in muted tones. Yukh. And they're boring.

That's all I have to say. My brain is empty. 

But now I am awake again I need to get back into my painting, cycling and I think I'll look on Ravelry to find a knitting pattern for a waistcoat. I might start thinking about Christmas...but don't ask me if it is ON or OFF this year because after the ravages of the last two years I have absolutely no idea.



Friday, November 26, 2021

Today's rant, plus a plea

I've been musing on all the documentation required these days to go abroad and come home again, much of which is digital. I told you of my struggles with the Verifly app which you must use of you want to check in online to BA. I realise now that it recognises faces and QR codes and nothing else. 

Everything is automated and high tech and sometimes it gets a bit much. If you’re travelling these days you need a barcode or a QR code on everything and when you get to any particular portal, either online or real, you need to know which bloody code they’re asking for. The instructions are either absent or opaque. Yes, it's slick if you're in the know: but if you're muddled-headed after a sleepless overnight flight, it would be lovely to have a smiling official being friendly and checking you out or in.

Do you remember the film Pretty Woman? There’s a scene where Richard Gere is trying to open his hotel door and is fumbling with the card, and he says sadly ‘I miss keys.’ That’s how I feel.

I don't use supermarket self-checkouts because I object to them. For one thing they steal jobs, and for another, the supermarkets make enough profit to provide staff to do the the checkout. At W.H.Smiths in Heathrow there is now no option: you have to use self service. And Dave even had trouble with the car park at Manchester airport when he came to pick me up. He had to ask another customer why the entrance barrier hadn’t given him a ticket. The answer: because it reads your number plate on the way out or in. But why was there no notification of that?

But you know what? 

I am lucky. I got out of the country and I got in again.

The refugees who died in the channel got in that boat because this government has closed down safe routes into this country for people fleeing war and terror. 

Under international law they had a right to seek asylum in the UK because we are signatories of the 1951 UN Refugee Convention. It was not incumbent on them to seek asylum in the first country they came to. They had the right to claim asylum here. 

This week Beth Gardiner, CEO of Safe Passage said this:

"The tragic truth is that these deaths could – and should - have been prevented. No one should have to risk their life to reach safety. Every day, men, women and children are having to make extraordinary efforts to reach safety, sanctuary and loved ones here in the UK because there is no other way. To prevent a repeat of this tragedy, refugees urgently need safe routes to reach their loved ones, find refuge and have the chance to rebuild their lives. 

More and more people are risking the freezing, frightening journey across the Channel in small, unstable boats since the Government closed safe routes to the UK last year. Choosing to play politics with people’s lives, the Government has failed to prevent people risking the crossing and this is the result. The Government must act now to save lives by opening safe routes to the UK, and scrap their unworkable plans in the Nationality and Borders Bill which will only make the situation worse."

  

If you would like to sign a petition in support of safe routes, click here.





Wednesday, November 24, 2021

Hello and goodbye

I had the best holiday I’ve ever had in Boulder with Isaac, Wendy and the girls. How special it was after the awfulness of not seeing them for 20 months. I hope I never have to go through that again.

You might be amused to know that when Isaac and the girls were waiting at the barrier for me to arrive, two other families were also waiting for English grannies  who were visiting, like me, as soon as the USA opened its doors to Brits. Isaac imagined the three of us coming out together through the arrivals door in a conga line.

Not so. After whizzing through immigration in 5 minutes when previously I've had to queue for more than an hour, my suitcase was one of the last to appear on the carousel, by which time the other two grannies had gone and one of them had left their balloon for me.  After all the other waiting I'd done, the wait for the suitcase felt like another 20 months.

But now I'm back in Blighty.

Being home feels different this time. Dave always asks 'Are you pleased to be home?' and I always say 'Yes,' and mean it. This time there is a small hard niggle in the back of my head, and it's saying '...pleased to be home as long as I only have to wait till March to go back.' The pandemic might take a turn for the worse. There might be a new pandemic. America might shut itself off again. I might be dead. 

I am going to go over to see them as much as the budget allows. The girls are fast growing up, and I'm 72 and in three years time I'm expecting the medical insurance to cost as much as the plane fare.

You saw our hello here.

Here's the goodbye.


Photo by Isaac

Saturday, November 20, 2021

Making memories

 We have watched both versions of The Parent Trap in the last week - the original one, starring Hayley Mills, and the remake with Lindsay Lohan. I loved them both. I shall be sad when the girls grow up and there is no one to watch kids’ films with any more.

As for the versions, the girls and Wendy preferred the original, Isaac the remake, and I am havering. If you took Dennis Quaid (the dad in the remake) and the luminous Natasha Richardson out of the equation I’d choose the original. 

There’s a line that stands out in both films as far as my current predicament is concerned….the bit where Hallie (or Susan) sniffs her grandfather’s jacket and explains to him she is making memories. 

“Years from now, when I’m all grown up, I’ll remember my grandfather and how he always smelled of peppermints and pipe tobacco.”

It’s been so wonderful to be here after these difficult and dreary pandemic months, and who knows what the future holds? Covid has, I hope, taught me not rely on anything and to make the most of every experience, and I am soaking up every detail of life here to take home with me. I hope to be back in March, but nothing is certain, is it?

Photo by Isaac


Photo by Isaac

Photo by Isaac




Tuesday, November 16, 2021

Holidaying

I am having the best holiday I have had in years and it’s hard to make myself blog.

It’s not just the bliss of being with my faraway family after so many months apart, it’s also being in a different world from Hepworth Towers. And incidentally a world that feels safer than at home: there is a mask mandate for public indoor spaces in Boulder.

It’s so refreshing…

Different conversational topics

Different food - which I am not cooking! 😊 

Different sights and different bike rides 

Photo by Isaac


Different telly (finally I get the chance to watch Ted Lasso and the Amazing Mrs Maizel) 

Different bookshop

Different grasses  


Different views



Different climate. Today it is 17 degrees - whoopee! (This is strange, though…in another November there could be heavy snow)

Different cafes 


Photo by Isaac

It’s going to be a wrench to come home next week.

Sunday, November 14, 2021

What would Van Gogh have thought of it?

On Friday I went with the family to see the immersive Van Gogh exhibit in Denver. I had never heard of it but it has been shown all over the world and has been very popular. We were all looking forward to it and the girls were excited. They know some of Van Gogh’s paintings and they sing the Don McClean song that begins “Starry, Starry Night” along with Isaac. They know all the words. ‘Will we see Starry, starry night?’ asked Cece.

Like me, they thought we would be viewing some of Van Gogh’s paintings, along with projections of them onto the walls of rooms. 

There were no paintings. 

And extracts from some of them were not just projected onto all four walls of the otherwise blacked out ‘gallery,’ they were animated and there was a disturbing soundtrack added. It was spectacular and it was overwhelming, but there was no texture to the images, and that is a vital ingredient of Van Gogh’s work. 

One of the girls had to leave because the sensory overwhelm made her nauseous and upset. The other (who plays the ukelele and piano and writes her own songs) hated the music. She thought it inappropriate.

I was pleased to go and see what it was all about, but actually I am perfectly happy with the paintings (which I have seen in Amsterdam and was in awe of) and ultimately this show felt like a commercial exploitation of Van Gogh’s work. As such, it was upsetting. Surely the paintings speak for themselves. Why is there a need to do this to them? 

Isaac took some excellent photos and he’s happy for me share them with you. 

Have any of you seen this show? Note that I use the word ‘show’ and not ‘exhibition,’ or ‘exhibit’ as they say over here.


Photo by Isaac

Photo by Isaac

Photo by Isaac

Photo by Isaac

Photo by Isaac



Thursday, November 11, 2021


 

Monday, November 08, 2021

Are you excited yet?

'Are you excited?' everyone has been asking me about my trip to see my family in Colorado, after 20 months away from them.

And I've been replying - 'Not until I get my Fit to Fly test result on Sunday.'

So when it arrived in my inbox yesterday at 3.30 I did allow my myself to get excited, in a sotto voce way. I say this because until I am sitting on that plane bound for Denver tomorrow morning, I shan't believe it's going to happen.

This morning I got up at 6.15 - fairly excited - because I could check in online and choose my seat.

Not so. First BA suggested it would be easier if I downloaded an app called Verifly.

Nah - don't want to do that, I thought and swerved around it to the bit where you give them your passport details again and choose your seat.

They wouldn't let me choose my seat. Apparently I had not uploaded all my Covid documentation. And in order to do that I had to download the Verifly app, which has a one and a half star rating in the App store, with hundreds of comments that make you want to pull out what remains of your hair. 

So in a state of high stress, I downloaded the app, which wanted to know  everything about me except my bra size, PLUS I had to give them a live selfie. (I was still in pyjamas and had not combed my hair or washed my face and the light was harsh but what the hell? I wanted to check in!)

That done I had a twenty minute wrestle uploading my vaccination certificate until they eventually gave me a green tick. Next up - test result. They wouldn't accept a photo because there wasn't a QR code, so I had to upload a pdf for them to check manually. Apparently I will get an email once they have done that. Do I believe them? No.

I rang Liz, who had flown to Canada in September and had had similar problems, except she reminded me that she had seen the Verifly star rating and comments and steered well clear of it. She turned up at the airport with her paper documents and everything was fine, even though the black ink had run out on her printer and the test result was in terra cotta and orange. I was reassured.

So here I am, blogging. 

Next up, pack, bike ride, make Dave an apple crumble, and then try to untangle some wool I have found in my knitting drawer.

It is VERY soothing untangling wool, and you don't need a QR code to do it.



If that doesn't work I shall sit in the sunshine with a mug of Yorkshire tea and admire our new tree: a Parrotia Persica 'Vanessa.'




When we planted it last week it filled me with hope, and it was a strange and wonderful feeling.

Update at 9.50 a.m. They HAVE checked my document manually and say I can now check in.

I have tried and still cannot check in. Breathe.....

Update at 4pm. Success after I emailed BA and tweeted them and Verifly and I think the tweet to BA is what sorted it. It only took 9 abc a half hours 🙄🤔🧐😬

Thursday, November 04, 2021

Tired of waiting

I have nothing to say except how slowly time passes when something you have longed for is on the horizon, creeping slowly towards you, but is NOT HERE YET.  

It's Thursday today.

Next Tuesday, if all goes well, I shall be flying to see my girls. 

Every damn thing is checked off my list except my Covid test on Saturday.

What is there to do between now and then that means anything at all?

Here they are dressed up for Halloween as, respectively, a Pokemon character, and one of the fates.








I can't wait.


Saturday, October 30, 2021

Anything but news

Yesterday someone was asking me about my journey to Denver next week. This person is intelligent, switched-on, politically aware, caring, and tries to live her life according to strict ethical principles.

I told her I was flying to Heathrow to catch the plane rather than having Dave drive me there, because of Insulate Britain. She said: 'What's Insulate Britain?' 

'You know,' I said, 'they're an offshoot of Extinction Rebellion and they keep gluing themselves to motorways in the south east. They're protesting about the government's inaction on the climate. Haven't you seen it in the news?'

'I gave up reading the news. It was making me depressed.'

I know just how she feels. I tell people I'm not reading the news because it's so upsetting, but I am still skimming the headlines everyday and reading two or three stories in depth. Also, I'm still writing to my MP and she is still writing back, toeing the crap party line.

Anyway, if you too find the news too much to bear, here is my list of suggestions of things to do in bed alone on these dark autumnal mornings:

  • read a good book
  • play in Procreate on your iPad making art. 
  • do a word puzzle. I like Typeshift. 
  • look at all the fashion clothing sites you like to see clothes you have no intention of buying, except that then you alight upon a decently-priced soft cotton boiler suit in navy that would be perfect for painting in and then when you click on 'buy' find they have sold out in your size. 
  • check the hour by hour weather forecast to see when you can go out and get some fresh air without getting soaked. 
  • try writing a blog post in an email to yourself with your new apple pencil and marvel at the way it translates handwriting into print.
  • look up and realise that it is finally light and you can draw the blinds. 


    And now, some autumn photographs for you.











    Tuesday, October 26, 2021

    Battling but lucky

    Isn't it amazing how things that seem insuperable when you're ill or under the weather magically appear possible when you're feeling sprightly?

    All the time I was ill I was whittling about getting tested to fly to America. Which was the right test to have? Was it really acceptable to have a rapid antigen test (i.e. lateral flow test) and not a full blown PCR? And would things change before my travel date of November 9th?

    Why has arranging this trip been so laden with anxiety? It's not really because the list of things to get sorted out has been longer than usual:

    • Visa waiver
    • NHS certificate of vaccination - will paper do or should I get digital as a back up?
    • Research and book tests - which? and from whom? and when?
    • Travel insurance (which boils down for me to medical insurance if I'm going to the USA)
    • Plane ticket - which route? how to be sure of getting to Heathrow now Insulate Britain are still gluing themselves to motorways?
    • Medication for the plane flight
    • Extra normal medication for while I am away
    • US dollars
    • Presents for all the family
    • Decision on which of my small paintings to give to Isaac and Wendy

    The girls at the reservoir



    Our Christmas kitchen



    The corner of the bedroom


    Usually I have everything sorted out and arranged at least two weeks before the flight. But this time I can't, because I have to be tested within 3 days of the flight so added to the admin is the huge anxiety attached to not being 100% sure I am going until I get my fit to fly test result, which will probably arrive 2 days before the flight. I never used to be an anxious person. It's crept upon me in the last two years. One of my sisters also feels more anxious than she did when she was younger.

    I got a text from my GP last week inviting me to my booster shot and it was booked in for last Saturday. I was so excited. How very strange to be excited about getting a jab. This is a weird world we live in now. 

    They gave me the flu shot in the other arm and on Sunday I couldn't get out of bed. I also felt so low about everything, that the thought crossed my mind as to how much easier it would be to be dead than to live through another year of this UK pandemic half-life where no indoor public space is safe because of government intransigence and stupidity.

    Then on Monday morning I was better, my head was clear and everything was  possible, and I was well enough for a bike ride! 

    It's made me think about all those people who are ill and not fit to work and are being hassled by the DWP, telling them to apply for jobs, and/or to jump through ridiculous hoops in order to get their puny welfare benefits. And then there are all the people who deal with health issues and go to work everyday.

    I am a lucky woman. I am usually healthy, I have a good and accessible GP, I have been vaccinated three times, I have a pension, and I have enough money to fly to see my family. I am very thankful.


    Wednesday, October 20, 2021

    Yippee!

    Yippee! First day free of antibiotics. I am happy I had them, of course,  because they cured my complaint, but the side effects of the medication were horrid.

    The other good news - Yippee! - is that I am going to Colorado in November to see Isaac and Wendy and the girls -

     



    My ticket is booked, and now I am trying to make sense of  tests and testing times. 

    These are certainly testing times. I was horrified when getting my travel insurance that my recent illness has cost me £200 extra this year. And my last provider wouldn't even offer me an annual policy. 

    Dave came into the study when I was wrestling with this and when he heard the prices he said : "Could you just go there and die if you were ill?"

    I hooted with laughter. 

    Later he came in and said it wasn't so bad. I should think of the cost of the holiday as being the cost of two holidays - with me away, he gets a holiday too.

    Aspies...you've got to love 'em.

    We are currently glued to a Netflix series called Love on the Spectrum, about aspies trying to start dating. It's respectfully and beautifully done. It's touching and excruciating and very moving. What a harsh and difficult world it is for aspies. I wish they were more understood.

    It just occurred to me that this is where I should recommend my novel  - But I Told You Last Year That I Loved You - for those of you who haven't read it. 

    An Amazon reviewer said this - 

    This book is an entertaining read while introducing some nuggets of revelation and ahah moments for anyone who has ever wondered if a friend or acquaintance or ... perhaps even partner actually is an alien, or just wired very differently!

    I enjoyed "But I Told You Last Year That I Loved You...." so much that I have, so far, bought 5 copies as gifts for friends and relations not just because they will undoubtedly gain pleasure from reading it but also a discussion starter about how things can be...


    Thursday, October 14, 2021

    The underpants conundrum and other trivia

    I am still not well, but while I've been lounging around feeling useless I've been wondering about several things, some of which stem from the too-much-television I've been watching.

    Firstly, what's happened to Grace and Frankie? The latest four episodes released are absolutely dire. They're not funny, they're crass. Do they have different scriptwriters? After six great series is the show going to crash and burn on the last?

    And what has happened to Jane Fonda? She's always looked unnaturally 'lovely' for her age and I've grown used to it, and as her on-screen character has developed into a softer person, her appearance has not mattered so much. But in these latest episodes her wrinkle-less face is looking grotesque, and more like a doll-like mask. Has anyone else noticed that?

    Secondly, against my socialist principles I have been working my way through Downton Abbey and loving it. It's really just a high-class soap, isn't it? But can someone tell me why Lady Mary talks in that peculiar way? I don't mean the poshness I mean the cadence of her speech. It is so unnatural, it makes her character seem even colder than her behaviour already suggests. What a nasty piece of work she is. Her kindness to Anna is her only saving grace. How could Matthew be so besotted with her?

    Thirdly, I've had a revelation about wrinkles. In September I saw Mel, my sax teacher and friend, after 18 months of online-only contact. Mel is 20 years younger than me. She said 'Well, you haven't changed,' and I said 'Except for more wrinkles.'

    And without hesitation she said 'When I look at you I don't see the wrinkles.'

    And I realised she wasn't being tactful, she was telling the truth. Because after the initial meeting, when you're talking to someone you don't look at their wrinkles. You look at their eyes and their mouth. It made me feel a whole lot better, because now my jowls have sunk, for the first time ever I have been thinking that if my puritan scruples would let me - in other words if I was a  different person - I might think about having a facelift. But I am me and I won't.


    Photo by Isaac: Me in 2015




    Photo by Wendy: me in March 2020

    Dave is still puzzling over an article he read in the weekend paper about a woman journalist (of 46) who had plastic surgery on just about every part of her body and is now pleased with her appearance. She got all of it free because she's a journalist, but a lot of it will have to be repeated and she will have to pay for that. What he just said was 'We don't need a cult of youth, we need a cult of wisdom.' Rock on, Dave.

    On the other hand, his underpants problem has re-emerged and he goes to the chest of drawers in the morning bewailing the demise of his current set of pants, and the impossiblility of finding others that would be up to the mark.

    In case you are new to the blog, I quote from an earlier blog post, and book -

    “So what do you think the perfect underpant needs?” I said.

    “Security, material that shrugs off stains, adequate ventilation – possibly assisted – and a reliable fastening. It’s about time persons of quality gave their attention to the comfort and protection of the nation’s manhood. Paxman tried a few years ago – do you remember all that kerfuffle on the Today programme? Nothing happened. Next thing you know, Prince Charles will be muscling in with the Poundbury Pant and the Prince’s Truss.” 

    Today he described himself as the Don Quixote of the underpant Grail.

    Then he said: 'Do you think Paxman was bought off?'

    OK. I've written the blog, and now the question is - do I feel strong enough to  get showered and dressed? or shall I go back to bed?


    Wednesday, October 13, 2021

    In bed

    I’m ill, and won’t be blogging till I’m better.

    I asked Dave why he wasn’t going to Sheffield and he said ‘Well, if I came home and found a cadaver it wouldn’t be very encouraging.’

    Here - a propos of nothing - is an early morning photo of Askrigg I took when we were staying there last week.




    Monday, October 11, 2021

    A brand new blog

    Do you remember Di McDougall who in the comments section on my blog goes under the name of Marmee? She has been reading my blog for at least ten years, and she wrote a guest post on here last March, telling us about her experience of Covid in South Africa.




    Guess what?  She has begun her own blog and it's terrific. I commend it to you.

    Plus, I'm going to add a link to it at the side of my blog with the other links.

    I wish you good luck, Di, and look forward to reading your blog in the years to come. 

    Thursday, October 07, 2021

    Time away with the sibs

    The news was making me anxious last week, but after 5 days away in Wensleydale with my sibs, and a news blackout, I feel so relaxed I may give up reading the news forever.






    It rained a lot, but that made the many waterfalls worth visiting. This time we didn't go to Aysgarth Falls, but we saw Mill Gill Force, West Burton Falls, Cotter Force and Hardraw Force.

    Here, for example, is Mill Gill Force, which has featured on the blog before




    And here is Hardraw Force





    Jonty and I climbed up and walked above and around it




    Here's the top of the waterfall. The small yellow circle shows you how small the people at the bottom look.





    Hardraw is where Kevin Costner made an appearance in Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves, and where my brother Jonty used to walk behind the waterfall carrying a glass of beer, to see if he could do it without spilling it. (FYI Jonty was also the first streaker in Hawes.)

    We drove more than usual because of the rain. This included a trip up to Tan Hill, the highest pub in the British Isles. It was too wet and cold to stand outside and take a photo so I took one of the stunning front cover of a book about the pub. Just look at that fabulous sky.





    There is a large porch at Tan Hill which they leave unlocked night and day so that anyone lost in a storm can take shelter. When we were there it was full of sodden anoraks. The sodden people were in the bar.

    The rain didn't spoil the holiday. We still had a lot of laughs. 

    Driving up there on the motorway during a chat about online and texted scams, one sister asked me to text a reply to her husband as she hadn't got her glasses on. That sister's communications are notably succinct (I still remember a text she got while away from home that said 'All fine. Hen dead') so I didn't bother adding a kiss at the end. 

    Then my other sister's phone pinged, and as she was driving she asked me to text her husband back (as if I was her). I typed the brief response and wondered how many kisses to add. Neither of my sisters are as soppy as me, so I finished with one kiss.

    'Thanks, Sue. How many kisses did you put?'

    'One.'

    'Oh my God, he'll think it's a scam!'

    One morning during one of our leisurely breakfasts I was telling the others about my recent annual check up at the doctor's. The nurse came to the waiting room and asked me to step onto a machine in the corner that would weigh and measure me and take my blood pressure simultaneously. 

    I told them I'd protested to the nurse that I was wearing my boots and my coat and how much would that add to my weight?

    Jen said: 'What about your false boob? That adds extra weight.'

    'Not that much,' I said.

    'Weigh it!'

    Much laughter.

    I found some scales in the holiday cottage kitchen cupboard.


    For the record it weighs 250gms.

    It was so wonderful to be all together after two years since the last time (though we missed Pete, who because of Covid restrictions didn't feel able to come.)

    We argue and snap at each other from time to time - of course we do - but I find a deep down comfort in being with them all. I am struggling to express where this comfort comes from. Is it because I have known them all my life, and we all loved our parents and our childhoods?  There are some stark differences between us but there is something underlying that means we accept those differences and see there are far more important things at stake than whether we agree on the need for the monarchy, whether Robert Peston looks grubby, or how to cook baked potatoes.

    We certainly all agree that the £20 cut to Universal Credit is cruel.

    I just found an earlier blog post from five years ago exploring this conundrum.
     
    "Four sibs are keen ornithologists. One sees a bird that's been pointed out to them, and thinks: "Yes. And?"

    One objects to a milk carton on the breakfast table, two think that coming down to breakfast in pyjamas is a capital crime, and the others are baffled by the strictures (although two protest at an electric kettle left on the table.) It's complicated.

    Four like background music. One prefers silence.

    Four are technophiles. One's a technophobe.

    Four sibs are tough stoics. One is a wuss.

    Three have cats, one prefers dogs, and one has hens and brought eggs for us all. 

    Two think Mrs Brown's Boys is funny. Two think Mrs Brown's Boys is beyond the pale. I forgot to ask the other one.

    Three are foodies. Two consider cooking to be a tedious necessity.

    Two are monarchists. Three are republicans. (N.B. the lower case r.)

    Two sit in bed in the morning reading the news on their iPads and fuming about the current government. The others don't, but are nevertheless prone to the fuming bit. 

    I suspect that Venn diagrams drawn up by my sibs would highlight different things.

    Our undisputed commonalities would be our love of Wensleydale and our love for each other. Priceless."



    Our family circa 1958