tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64125368198190657962024-02-22T15:53:22.150+00:00FriendlyDragonSpouseWittering and ranting on the things that mean most to me.FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-65055358588108916392023-11-11T12:00:00.002+00:002023-11-11T12:00:42.896+00:00And so, Another Eulogy<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Having already written, delivered and published eulogies for my parents and my partner, I thought it only right to add that of my late mother in law, who died last month. Whatever pretensions I may ever have had as a writer (ie, none) this would not have been my chosen specialist area.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjowWsI9mQ1PJauNb1guS9ieeM5ZO2RL9hyphenhyphenZ5Jy6mPLVRUCKWSL2RXks2UWn5QF2ED10k62-6B04HxStJSmwFUf2QtIHWreWN7JMEeyoKYRmU4p2QLTLx1VIXYeR6rl9WN6yyCG3H8wxjPLkR8KKrw62UvEEwh551bpuwMwOPp1c3NkhCD2bqK_bZDRw/s2036/Pam%20Front%20Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1472" data-original-width="2036" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjowWsI9mQ1PJauNb1guS9ieeM5ZO2RL9hyphenhyphenZ5Jy6mPLVRUCKWSL2RXks2UWn5QF2ED10k62-6B04HxStJSmwFUf2QtIHWreWN7JMEeyoKYRmU4p2QLTLx1VIXYeR6rl9WN6yyCG3H8wxjPLkR8KKrw62UvEEwh551bpuwMwOPp1c3NkhCD2bqK_bZDRw/s320/Pam%20Front%20Cover.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Pamela Joan New 1934 - 2023</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">This is the eulogy I never
expected to have to give. Ordinarily, it would have fallen to Paul, the son Pam
loved so much, but sadly he’s no longer with us, so I am hoping that I can do
both of them justice today. Please forgive me if I have forgotten or missed
anything about Pam, whom I was fortunate enough to know for 35 years.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Pam was born on 30 December
1934 in Wincanton, the only child of Frank and Gladys. The family lived on Mill
Street in the town, although they stayed in touch with their extended families
in Nailsea, Yatton and Clevedon. They were frequent visitors to Nailsea, where
Frank’s family had lived for generations, and she was especially fond of her
aunt Hilda, who ran West End Stores. She also had many cousins on the Payne
side of the family, some of whom are with us today. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In 1956, Pam married local lad
Ronald New and the couple moved to Bristol, where Ron worked for the GPO (later
to become British Telecom). In 1965, they adopted a son, Paul, and the family
made their home in Headley Park, in a home with one of the finest views of the
city.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When Paul was very young Pam
worked part time, temping, but in later years she joined Royal Mail Customer
Services, from where she retired with 20 years’ service. After her retirement
she kept active, volunteering with the WRVS at Bristol Royal Infirmary for
several years.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I first met Pam in 1988 – Paul
and I had met at Manchester University, and he took me by train to meet his
mother and to show me his home city. At Stafford station he spotted a fruit
machine in need of emptying and hopped off the train, leaving me potentially
heading for a city I’d never been to and trying to locate a woman I had never
met!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Thankfully, he made the train
connection and I met Pam, thus starting a relationship which lasted until her recent
death. Pam’s mother Gladys was by this time in a care home in Clevedon, having
been diagnosed with the same dementia which Pam subsequently developed. Pam
made weekly visits from Bristol to Clevedon to visit her, initially on her
moped and later in her little Fiesta – it was only after she moved to Nailsea
that I realised quite what the journey ‘up over Failand’ entailed on a moped!
Paul and I visited as often as we could for the ten years Gladys lived at the
Belmont care home in Clevedon and as a result, I was fortunate to meet most of
the extended Payne family at family parties prior to Gladys’ death in 1996. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When she and Ron divorced in
1981, Pam had started to indulge her passion for foreign travel – firstly with
Paul and later with Brian Evans, the man who was to be her partner and constant
companion for 30 years. Together they visited all parts of the globe and had
many tales to tell of cruises and excursions.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her retirement allowed her to
continue this, and to make frequent visits to Manchester to see her
grandchildren Megan and Josh grow up. She also had the benefit of additional
‘grandchildren’ in Aneurin and Huw, Brian’s grandsons, who were just across the
Pennines in Leeds. Meg and Josh were extremely fond of ‘Uncle Brian’ and we
were all deeply saddened when he was diagnosed with cancer. Pam spent much of
the time that he was ill caring for him in his home at Whitchurch (they always
maintained separate homes) and after his death, she returned to Headley Park
only to find that it no longer felt like ‘home’ and so began a new chapter in
her life.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">At the age of 77, she upped
sticks and moved back to Nailsea, where most of her family hailed from. The
Bakers had been resident in the West End of Nailsea for generations and she and
I were able to piece together much of the family history, thanks to Aunty
Hilda’s role as custodian of family documents and photos. It is Pam’s wish to
have her ashes interred in the family plot at Holy Trinity church where her
grandmother Annie, grandfather Charley and Hilda all rest. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The move was the best move she
could have made at that time. She was very happy in her bungalow on Ashton
Crescent, and she was also close to several of her cousins. She attended Holy
Trinity and became active in social events there. Her cousin Brenda and her
husband Dave were always at hand when Pam needed help and we are so grateful
for their love and support when we were so far away.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In 2018, her memory started to
fail and she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. Unable to continue to live
independently, she moved into residential care at Silver Trees Care Home in
Nailsea, where she continued to have fun, make friends and have a very good
quality of life for several more years. Meg, Josh and I are extremely grateful
to all the staff there who made her time with them so rewarding, and for the kindness
and support they have shown us as a family over the last year when we were
dealing with Paul’s illness and our grief after his death. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She remained unaware of the
tragically early death of her beloved son almost a year ago. I consulted family
members and we all agreed that it was kinder not to tell her, as it would have
been terribly upsetting for her to no good purpose. Her memories of him, while
they remained, will have been of a devoted and loving son, who cared for her in
her failing health as she had done for her mother. The children and I have done
our best over the last eleven months to continue this legacy on his behalf, and
I hope we have done him proud.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Pam’s was a life well lived.
From rural Somerset to the Taj Mahal and the Great Wall of China, she was
always delighted by the world around her and by those she loved. She was
delighted to learn that Megan did indeed “have a boyfriend” (a frequently
occurring question) and in the short time he knew her Logan has been a great
support to us on trips out and looking after Pam with us.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And while I will now have my
birthday back (we were both born on 30 December) it will be especially poignant
from now on, as Pam will no longer be there to share it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-67357469509623741442023-06-18T09:20:00.001+00:002023-06-18T09:20:13.407+00:00Fathers Day: an Abundance of CareAs this is their first Fathers Day without their dad, here is what my kids felt about him.<div><br></div><div>Read by Megan at his funeral in December 2022.</div><div><br></div><div><i>Despite his lifelong assertion that “Your mother wanted kids, I wanted cats. I lost.”, Paul was a devoted and incredible father right up until the very end. He was the best dad in the world, though not in the sort of way you reward with a cheesy Poundland mug (though I may have tried a few times!). Those that knew him will know he’s not much of a touchy-feely person, generally leaning away from hugs and avoiding expressing any genuine emotions in a way that people could hear. He always proved his love in other ways -- secretly spending all day on a train to and from Bristol to collect Josh’s beloved cuddly toy that had been left behind after visiting grandma, or letting me punch him because his exaggerated groans of agony would make me laugh until my bad mood went away. He chose not to treat his children like inferiors, always inviting them into the grown-up conversations and giving them the opportunity to try and understand, even if they ended up not doing. He was a man of carefully measured words and carefully considered actions, characteristics that made him perfectly suited to fatherhood even when he (continually, and only half-sarcastically) claimed to have no clue. No declaration of love could ever mean more than a great lover of cinema taking his children to see Happy Feet and, even worse, Mrs Brown's Boys: D'Movie. He was good at using his own experience of (undiagnosed, but agreed by pretty much everyone except him) autism to advocate and encourage Megan and Josh whenever others weren’t sure how to. He indulged plenty of ridiculous things, like a phobia of doors and a desire to take every bus route in Greater Manchester, but he did more than that as well. He was the best at problem-solving and seemed to always know how to work through situations where emotions weren’t the solution. He often claimed that he was getting carers’ allowance without ever doing any caring, but it wasn’t true -- both of his children would agree that much of their continued survival stems from his abundance of care. For all his wonderful acts as a dad, the best thing he ever did was relinquishing his dream of naming a child Colostomy. Paul lives on through a shared phobia of moths, a dark sense of humour, a perpetual willingness to pop to the shops, and all the love and strength he left behind. These words aren’t something he’d necessarily agree with, and he might visibly cringe if he heard them said aloud, but they’re the truth. He was a better father than he ever gave himself credit for.</i><br></div>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-89928852292330981122023-02-11T14:10:00.003+00:002023-02-12T12:28:29.072+00:00So it Goes<h3 style="background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: center; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: normal;">Paul New 1965-2022</span></h3><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1fl72THPfRX2NAPUaNlMiuleNGflxTLtC4gRHrsG8d08E7hBkgPrqtVbsEGwWsGPwgb9HIIOCw0J6xVDNJNWwuku_qXw7WsSMxkolInjXvZMzuL1txx1F3P1vmcnBeWDnvLp2o4A1DZ31opsmiOP2AO75h40TJso9G3YITFiPE2g2iDv-35vWc-Rn/s1280/beach%20reading.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1fl72THPfRX2NAPUaNlMiuleNGflxTLtC4gRHrsG8d08E7hBkgPrqtVbsEGwWsGPwgb9HIIOCw0J6xVDNJNWwuku_qXw7WsSMxkolInjXvZMzuL1txx1F3P1vmcnBeWDnvLp2o4A1DZ31opsmiOP2AO75h40TJso9G3YITFiPE2g2iDv-35vWc-Rn/w429-h322/beach%20reading.JPG" width="429" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">At his happiest with solitude and something to read</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />My late partner Paul was a fan of Kurt Vonnegut's phrase from Slaughterhouse 5, so it seems appropriate to use it as the title of this post dedicated to him. As many friends couldn't get to his funeral, I thought I would share some of <a href="https://friendlydragonspouse-randomrants.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">the awfulness that was 2022</a>, and by contrast the positivity and love his funeral and wake engendered.</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He died on 14 November 2022, two days after his 57th birthday. What had started out as "a bit of digestive trouble" early in the new year, turned out to be oesophageal cancer, which was not treatable with surgery. In August, he started palliative chemotherapy in the hope of giving him another 12-18 months, but in October he developed back pain which ultimately turned out to be the cancer spreading to his spine And liver. And lungs. On 10 November, he went to the Christie for his bloods and consultation prior to chemo on the Monday and was told he was not fit enough for the treatment. Oramorph and steroids were prescribed, with a view to building his strength back. The next day, he was rushed into Resus at the MRI after his blood sats had dropped to the mid-60s and he'd started hallucinating. On the morning of the 12th he was comfortable on a ward, but by late morning, the kids and I were asked to go in.</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Despite the best efforts of the medical staff (and believe me, they tried SO hard) he was too weak to fight of the various infections, and was moved on to end of life care. Thanks to the neglect of 12 years of a government eager to sell the NHS off to private healthcare and refusing to accept that the pandemic was in fact not over, there was no side room anywhere on the enormous MRI site, so he spent his final hours on an open ward, with only a curtain for privacy. I will never forgive the politicians (of any party) who have allowed this to happen. </span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Because his final days were so rapid and traumatic, we hadn't had the time to discuss his funeral wishes with him (one of the few advantages a dying man with cancer has over those who go suddenly and unexpectedly). The only thing we knew for certain was that he wanted to be buried rather than cremated (although we never really discussed why) and so we planned for a burial in Manchester, in December, in what turned out to be the most prolonged cold spell for years.</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the days after his death, my son Josh and I started putting together a <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2n9tGuah20Tr5zTdVEMBVt?si=4b91370d13e646d7">Spotify playlist</a> of a whole load of songs that he loved, that reminded us of him, or which spoke to something which meant a lot to him (protest songs, mainly; the angrier the better). This was as much therapy for us as anything else but f</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">rom this the first framework of a funeral service started to come into view. </span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">He was not a religious man so we didn't have to include any hymns, and therefore had free reign to use whatever we wanted. We were keen to avoid clichés, so although he loved Ralph Vaughan Williams, we didn't include any classical music - do we really need to hear that damned lark ascending yet again, beautiful as it is?</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Instead, we went for <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2TOjLvePl2m3lzzhvAzdhS?si=95af702a576543de">Hallelujah </a>("No, not that one!") as the song to which he entered the chapel. As we followed him in, I noticed friends and colleagues from all areas of Paul's life in addition to immediate family, as well as a small tribe of Josh's friends who had travelled from all over the country to come and support him. I also knew that there were many others who had wanted to attend but were unable to make it due to other commitments and a rail strike (and he absolutely would <b>not </b>have wanted anyone to cross a picket line on his account).</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">We were fortunate that my oldest friend, an experienced celebrant, agreed to conduct the service, which meant that she actually knew the deceased in life. There's nothing worse than someone describing your loved one where it's clear they have no clue about who they were or anything much about their life.</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />The tributes started with Josh reading a poem which he had been reading the day we broke the news to the children about Paul's diagnosis.</span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: none; font-weight: bold; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-ccp-charstyle-defn="{"ObjectId":"9aaab464-b3e0-4ba2-a1e2-689382fd468e|183","ClassId":1073872969,"Properties":[469775450,"eop",201340122,"1",134233614,"true",469778129,"eop",335572020,"1",469778324,"Default Paragraph Font"]}" data-ccp-charstyle="eop" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">Two Headed Calf by Laura Gilpin</span></span></div><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #333333; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">Tomorrow when the farm boys find this</span><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW107836124 BCX0" face="WordVisiCarriageReturn_MSFontService, "Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span class="SCXW107836124 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div></span><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #333333; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">freak of nature, they will wrap his body</span><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW107836124 BCX0" face="WordVisiCarriageReturn_MSFontService, "Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span class="SCXW107836124 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div></span><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #333333; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">in newspaper and carry him to the museum.</span><span class="EOP SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335551550":2,"335551620":2,"335559739":0,"335559740":240}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></div></span><span class="EOP SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335551550":2,"335551620":2,"335559739":0,"335559740":240}" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #333333; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><div style="text-align: center;"> </div></span><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #333333; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">But </span><span class="NormalTextRun ContextualSpellingAndGrammarErrorV2Themed SCXW107836124 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-image: var(--urlContextualSpellingAndGrammarErrorV2, url("data:image/svg+xml;base64,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")); background-position: 0% 100%; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">tonight</span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> he is alive and in the north</span></span><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW107836124 BCX0" face="WordVisiCarriageReturn_MSFontService, "Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span class="SCXW107836124 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div></span><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #333333; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">field with his mother. It is a perfect</span><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW107836124 BCX0" face="WordVisiCarriageReturn_MSFontService, "Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span class="SCXW107836124 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div></span><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #333333; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">summer evening: the moon rising over</span><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW107836124 BCX0" face="WordVisiCarriageReturn_MSFontService, "Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span class="SCXW107836124 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div></span><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #333333; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">the orchard, the wind in the grass. And</span><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW107836124 BCX0" face="WordVisiCarriageReturn_MSFontService, "Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span class="SCXW107836124 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div></span><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #333333; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">as he stares into the sky, there are</span><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop SCXW107836124 BCX0" face="WordVisiCarriageReturn_MSFontService, "Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span class="SCXW107836124 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div></span><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #333333; font-style: italic; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">twice as many stars as usual.</span><span class="EOP SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335551550":2,"335551620":2,"335559739":160,"335559740":400}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></div></span><span class="EOP SCXW107836124 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":2,"335551550":2,"335551620":2,"335559739":160,"335559740":400}" face=""Palatino Linotype", "Palatino Linotype_EmbeddedFont", "Palatino Linotype_MSFontService", sans-serif" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #333333; line-height: 43px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmuc6Q6qTgpMfhqzmP_CqWgNHVky8HHlPc5DQ1tK50G0yS6_mSILPCLxOGnfdC_iIjCfdAxrZGzXyeAqUO558y48z0oGIpwoCaVmtAA4IQJHJfkzJs3PqKBnzFIsNJdPt0zIH0-kWKoa4XFeEAVH8gV2UtFALUImYAbUsPsxo3jrLln_73dTRcitu/s2064/2%20headed%20calf.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2064" data-original-width="1468" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmuc6Q6qTgpMfhqzmP_CqWgNHVky8HHlPc5DQ1tK50G0yS6_mSILPCLxOGnfdC_iIjCfdAxrZGzXyeAqUO558y48z0oGIpwoCaVmtAA4IQJHJfkzJs3PqKBnzFIsNJdPt0zIH0-kWKoa4XFeEAVH8gV2UtFALUImYAbUsPsxo3jrLln_73dTRcitu/s320/2%20headed%20calf.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">This is a print Josh made from an original artwork by his friend Salem (@voidheaded on Instagram), whose other work can be found here: <a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv x1heor9g x1bvjpef" href="https://www.redbubble.com/people/cyberrhaunt/shop?fbclid=IwAR0ee8ebGH9rjkQKV0W2Y75LWVpzHPPi1S1g6Ul7SnEcxMNUd_LfctaJjyI" rel="nofollow noopener" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: #e4e6eb; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: left; touch-action: manipulation; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="-1" target="_blank">https://www.redbubble.com/people/cyberrhaunt/s</a><br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">This was followed by <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/1kx6ZZjFUP3jgDmB0o6VO7?si=16cd829a9d8b4a28">Prettiest Eyes</a> by the Beautiful South, a song which sums up the love and friendship of a long-term relationship, and a personal favourite of mine.</span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">We then heard further tributes from family and friends. First Megan, who read (brilliantly) a piece written for her about Paul's qualities as a dad. It was funny, full of affection and written with the "abundance of care" that the (anonymous) author ascribed to Paul himself:</span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Despite his lifelong assertion that “Your mother wanted kids, I wanted cats. I lost.”, Paul was a devoted and incredible father right up until the very end. He was the best dad in the world, though not in the sort of way you reward with a cheesy Poundland mug (though I may have tried a few times!).
Those that knew him will know he’s not much of a touchy-feely person, generally leaning away from hugs and avoiding expressing any genuine emotions in a way that people could hear. He always proved his love in other ways -- secretly spending all day on a train to and from Bristol to collect Josh’s beloved cuddly toy that had been left behind after visiting grandma, or letting me punch him because his exaggerated groans of agony would make me laugh until my bad mood went away. He chose not to treat his children like inferiors, always inviting them into the grown-up conversations and giving them the opportunity to try and understand, even if they ended up not doing. He was a man of carefully measured words and carefully considered actions, characteristics that made him perfectly suited to fatherhood even when he (continually, and only half-sarcastically) claimed to have no clue. No declaration of love could ever mean more than a great lover of cinema taking his children to see Happy Feet and, even worse, Mrs Brown's Boys: D'Movie.
He was good at using his own experience of (undiagnosed, but agreed by pretty much everyone except him) autism to advocate and encourage Megan and Josh whenever others weren’t sure how to. He indulged plenty of ridiculous things, like a phobia of doors and a desire to take every bus route in Greater Manchester, but he did more than that as well. He was the best at problem-solving and seemed to always know how to work through situations where emotions weren’t the solution. He often claimed that he was getting carers’ allowance without ever doing any caring, but it wasn’t true -- both of his children would agree that much of their continued survival stems from his abundance of care.
For all his wonderful acts as a dad, the best thing he ever did was relinquishing his dream of naming a child Colostomy.
Paul lives on through a shared phobia of moths, a dark sense of humour, a perpetual willingness to pop to the shops, and all the love and strength he left behind. These words aren’t something he’d necessarily agree with, and he might visibly cringe if he heard them said aloud, but they’re the truth. He was a better father than he ever gave himself credit for.</i></span></span>
</div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">This was followed by Paul's oldest friend, who met him when they both joined Bristol Cathedral School as scholarship boys at the age of 11. A fascinating glimpse of the boy who would become the man we all knew; it was clear that the intelligence and wit was always there right from the start.</span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLi2INcpAD899rq_DGIK1-m9zgOKTITYavUvT6G5dL77HCCkzd95GVB2y1wdVOLQ6XDPgnGcsJin6X9n7fPR_V2HkhJKj1CZQkmd8svhEjt_xEt7cimTKd8OdGEltTGdFMnF8hDw7MFjUEeOOYM-XzDgOkG3sNH3Z8NF81DGiQBiG9VnKf0_NGKq9/s2148/BCS%20class%20photo.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1384" data-original-width="2148" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLi2INcpAD899rq_DGIK1-m9zgOKTITYavUvT6G5dL77HCCkzd95GVB2y1wdVOLQ6XDPgnGcsJin6X9n7fPR_V2HkhJKj1CZQkmd8svhEjt_xEt7cimTKd8OdGEltTGdFMnF8hDw7MFjUEeOOYM-XzDgOkG3sNH3Z8NF81DGiQBiG9VnKf0_NGKq9/w416-h268/BCS%20class%20photo.jpg" width="416" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I found this with his mum's photos. <br />Paul is the one in the middle at the back with the glasses and his tie crooked</span><br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none;">Next came one of our university friends, and godmother to Josh, who regaled us with tales of journalistic rigour and criticism on his part when putting together the annual Film Society booklet, full of works of varying quality but where Paul's always stood out as knowledgeable and often wickedly funny. Here we all are at my parents' house just after we'd won the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Federation_of_Film_Societies" target="_blank">BFFS</a>' Film Society of the Year. One of the most joyously drunken nights of my life.</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQ43gWLPSbF9mSnZ9owg9TGvpGQXg3aGuWV4HdsNqoZUc1wXc9QFnz_GeLm5VdetfogByqJeDfMD_s7mb65qpwYoXHxfJPygsxezyUdwe8eggHYbErlP3w-JloNba-OIs0MsbjDsSaWRgHr1xxDizvFlmpx-XUPa3tdakN-wtO9ErXVqKvGe3O97h/s1348/Film%20Society%20of%20the%20year.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="867" data-original-width="1348" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQ43gWLPSbF9mSnZ9owg9TGvpGQXg3aGuWV4HdsNqoZUc1wXc9QFnz_GeLm5VdetfogByqJeDfMD_s7mb65qpwYoXHxfJPygsxezyUdwe8eggHYbErlP3w-JloNba-OIs0MsbjDsSaWRgHr1xxDizvFlmpx-XUPa3tdakN-wtO9ErXVqKvGe3O97h/w438-h282/Film%20Society%20of%20the%20year.jpg" width="438" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">We are still in touch with all but two of these people 30 years later</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">Finally we heard from a former colleague from his twenty-plus years' service with Manchester City Council (a career which ended prematurely due to one of the frequent Osborne-induced round of "savings" heaped on local authorities during the Coalition era). He was never happier than when on his own in a room with a spreadsheet, collating the data that would inform the city's homelessness strategies, but despite all his efforts to evade </span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none;">recognition or </span><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none;">promotion he was widely admired and loved by those whose paths he crossed.</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuowNx-E7cfrKE2GBkrvqZvZGros0jI8DiL2unPmRAEugbLjmDFXHJvq_VtzMk4i1JQeEq_FvV8ehTDS4WmZr_42pcpBHqnJ9odu7w6Cg-GfZKoljSdMP93Ds-zOxfJ4eeAutYZh3868pnFwfscPq2s0pK0VLuHgQT2zDyQUVI3us0mN6RAroKtETq/s1712/Southcombe%20Walk.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1172" data-original-width="1712" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuowNx-E7cfrKE2GBkrvqZvZGros0jI8DiL2unPmRAEugbLjmDFXHJvq_VtzMk4i1JQeEq_FvV8ehTDS4WmZr_42pcpBHqnJ9odu7w6Cg-GfZKoljSdMP93Ds-zOxfJ4eeAutYZh3868pnFwfscPq2s0pK0VLuHgQT2zDyQUVI3us0mN6RAroKtETq/w429-h294/Southcombe%20Walk.jpg" width="429" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Manchester Housing, Southcombe Walk, Moss Side, early 90s </span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none;">At this point, it was time for a reading. We agonised over this - having had no chance to discuss what he might like, and wary of him haunting us should we make a bad choice, we were temporarily stumped. Then we remembered how he adored the tales of Noggin the Nog from his childhood; but how to achieve the unique delivery of Oliver Postgate, which made them so special? (He always maintained that he channelled Postgate's narration style when reading aloud to the kids when they were little. It works for everything except Dickens, apparently).</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none;">It was here that one of Josh's friends stepped in - he's currently studying Film and TV at university, and he roped in several friends and a lecturer to isolate the audio track from a YouTube video to produce an MP4 which could be played on the chapel audio system.</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVmUxJ0qnp9ryqhlsVTRXpOiG59SpI8aeC94x5rlePWbsNQTGrLcdpTsf35EEvCKmm48NmLMs6aqvh-yXpn2vYpsT-7O1n4OHUAqbekL1FYP9rkqy9ECO2bSP3IruiLjolEYXlm0SiDCToIyrJnS_29-_WrtFAdmaKeW2Ay1DJuSO9uKshIEJbLVL/s750/Noggin%20cast%20photo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="750" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVmUxJ0qnp9ryqhlsVTRXpOiG59SpI8aeC94x5rlePWbsNQTGrLcdpTsf35EEvCKmm48NmLMs6aqvh-yXpn2vYpsT-7O1n4OHUAqbekL1FYP9rkqy9ECO2bSP3IruiLjolEYXlm0SiDCToIyrJnS_29-_WrtFAdmaKeW2Ay1DJuSO9uKshIEJbLVL/w436-h233/Noggin%20cast%20photo.jpg" width="436" /></a></div></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: center; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jisqle37uWI" target="_blank">Noggin the Nog</a><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">Which brings us to the eulogy. I make no claim to be a writer - at best, I'm a hack: I can throw something together at short notice with the basic facts but little creative flair (see any of my Film Society reviews as evidence of this - I was always the one who could put together a vaguely competent review of a film no-one had seen and which no-one was quite sure why it was on the programme). On this one occasion, though, I wanted to do him proud, despite the fact that his first reaction when I started this blog in 2010 was to say "Oh, </span><i style="color: windowtext; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">please </i><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">don't start blogging!" There is a lot of life to sum up (albeit a lot less than there should have been) and I hoped to capture the essence of the man I adored for over 30 years. So here goes:</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">Paul was born in Bristol in November 1965, and was adopted at birth by Ron, a GPO Engineer, and his wife Pam who had moved to the city from Somerset after their marriage. He grew up in Headley Park in the south of the city and at 11 was awarded a scholarship to Bristol Cathedral School, where he excelled academically. In 1985, he went to Manchester University to study English and American Literature. He had wanted to study Film, but found that the only courses on offer were on campus universities remote from any actual cinemas, which, as he said, meant he could learn the history of cinema but not catch anything on general release. He made up for this by joining Manchester University Film Society where, a couple of years later, I went along to a Freshers Week Cheese and Wine, a decision which as it turned out was </span><span class="NormalTextRun ContextualSpellingAndGrammarErrorV2Themed SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-image: var(--urlContextualSpellingAndGrammarErrorV2, url("data:image/svg+xml;base64,PD94bWwgdmVyc2lvbj0iMS4wIiBlbmNvZGluZz0iVVRGLTgiPz4KPHN2ZyB3aWR0aD0iNXB4IiBoZWlnaHQ9IjNweCIgdmlld0JveD0iMCAwIDUgMyIgdmVyc2lvbj0iMS4xIiB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciIHhtbG5zOnhsaW5rPSJodHRwOi8vd3d3LnczLm9yZy8xOTk5L3hsaW5rIj4KICAgIDwhLS0gR2VuZXJhdG9yOiBTa2V0Y2ggNTUuMiAoNzgxODEpIC0gaHR0cHM6Ly9za2V0Y2hhcHAuY29tIC0tPgogICAgPHRpdGxlPmdyYW1tYXJfZG91YmxlX2xpbmU8L3RpdGxlPgogICAgPGRlc2M+Q3JlYXRlZCB3aXRoIFNrZXRjaC48L2Rlc2M+CiAgICA8ZyBpZD0iZ3JhbW1hcl9kb3VibGVfbGluZSIgc3Ryb2tlPSJub25lIiBzdHJva2Utd2lkdGg9IjEiIGZpbGw9Im5vbmUiIGZpbGwtcnVsZT0iZXZlbm9kZCIgc3Ryb2tlLWxpbmVjYXA9InJvdW5kIj4KICAgICAgICA8ZyBpZD0iR3JhbW1hci1UaWxlLUNvcHkiIHN0cm9rZT0iIzMzNTVGRiI+CiAgICAgICAgICAgIDxwYXRoIGQ9Ik0wLDAuNSBMNSwwLjUiIGlkPSJMaW5lLTItQ29weS0xMCI+PC9wYXRoPgogICAgICAgICAgICA8cGF0aCBkPSJNMCwyLjUgTDUsMi41IiBpZD0iTGluZS0yLUNvcHktMTEiPjwvcGF0aD4KICAgICAgICA8L2c+CiAgICA8L2c+Cjwvc3ZnPg==")); background-position: 0% 100%; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">momentous.</span></span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span class="NormalTextRun ContextualSpellingAndGrammarErrorV2Themed SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-image: var(--urlContextualSpellingAndGrammarErrorV2, url("data:image/svg+xml;base64,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")); background-position: 0% 100%; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">For a few months we were simply friends (at one point unsuccessfully trying to match-make for each other with other </span><span class="NormalTextRun SpellingErrorV2Themed SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-image: var(--urlSpellingErrorV2, url("data:image/svg+xml;base64,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")); background-position: 0% 100%; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">FilmSoc</span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> members) until the night of the legendary All-Night Film Show when, at 3am, he shambled along the corridor and leant against the projection box door - taken off its hinges for access reasons - took his John Lennon specs off and rubbed his eyes. It was at this moment I thought “What lovely eyes he has!” and that was it – for the next 34 years, we were virtually inseparable, apart from the 10 months I spent in Pennsylvania, to where he made an international phone call to propose to me in 1989. Sadly, we never did get around to the wedding (it was being planned over the last few months but time ran out on us) but that notwithstanding we had the most glorious life together.</span></span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span class="NormalTextRun SpellingErrorV2Themed SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-image: var(--urlSpellingErrorV2, url("data:image/svg+xml;base64,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")); background-position: 0% 100%; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">FilmSoc</span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> has been central to our lives – initially, the summer </span><span class="NormalTextRun SpellingErrorV2Themed SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-image: var(--urlSpellingErrorV2, url("data:image/svg+xml;base64,PD94bWwgdmVyc2lvbj0iMS4wIiBlbmNvZGluZz0iVVRGLTgiPz4KPHN2ZyB3aWR0aD0iNXB4IiBoZWlnaHQ9IjRweCIgdmlld0JveD0iMCAwIDUgNCIgdmVyc2lvbj0iMS4xIiB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciIHhtbG5zOnhsaW5rPSJodHRwOi8vd3d3LnczLm9yZy8xOTk5L3hsaW5rIj4KICAgIDwhLS0gR2VuZXJhdG9yOiBTa2V0Y2ggNTYuMiAoODE2NzIpIC0gaHR0cHM6Ly9za2V0Y2guY29tIC0tPgogICAgPHRpdGxlPnNwZWxsaW5nX3NxdWlnZ2xlPC90aXRsZT4KICAgIDxkZXNjPkNyZWF0ZWQgd2l0aCBTa2V0Y2guPC9kZXNjPgogICAgPGcgaWQ9IkZsYWdzIiBzdHJva2U9Im5vbmUiIHN0cm9rZS13aWR0aD0iMSIgZmlsbD0ibm9uZSIgZmlsbC1ydWxlPSJldmVub2RkIj4KICAgICAgICA8ZyB0cmFuc2Zvcm09InRyYW5zbGF0ZSgtMTAxMC4wMDAwMDAsIC0yOTYuMDAwMDAwKSIgaWQ9InNwZWxsaW5nX3NxdWlnZ2xlIj4KICAgICAgICAgICAgPGcgdHJhbnNmb3JtPSJ0cmFuc2xhdGUoMTAxMC4wMDAwMDAsIDI5Ni4wMDAwMDApIj4KICAgICAgICAgICAgICAgIDxwYXRoIGQ9Ik0wLDMgQzEuMjUsMyAxLjI1LDEgMi41LDEgQzMuNzUsMSAzLjc1LDMgNSwzIiBpZD0iUGF0aCIgc3Ryb2tlPSIjRUIwMDAwIiBzdHJva2Utd2lkdGg9IjEiPjwvcGF0aD4KICAgICAgICAgICAgICAgIDxyZWN0IGlkPSJSZWN0YW5nbGUiIHg9IjAiIHk9IjAiIHdpZHRoPSI1IiBoZWlnaHQ9IjQiPjwvcmVjdD4KICAgICAgICAgICAgPC9nPgogICAgICAgIDwvZz4KICAgIDwvZz4KPC9zdmc+")); background-position: 0% 100%; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">FilmSoc</span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> annexe at our old house on Slade Lane, where many a review was written (usually at the last minute), films booked, programmes planned; and latterly the source of so many close friends, several of whom are godparents to Meg and Josh. Paul was delighted that this love of film passed down to the next generation, although he and Josh’s reciprocal film education will now remain unfinished. </span></span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">Music was also central to both our lives. Paul loved music but was legendarily tone-deaf and never understood music theory. We watched documentary after documentary from the best explainers – Howard Goodall, Neil Brand and others – and he still understood not one word of it. Our tastes were diverse but grew together over the years, although I’ve never got the Jesus and Mary Chain and he never got Genesis! The children and I have found comfort over the past weeks in putting together a playlist of his favourites, songs that mean something to us or which make a social or political point.</span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">On leaving university, Paul joined Manchester City Council’s Homeless Families Temporary Accommodation team. For several years, many of his colleagues were also our social circle, with loads of pub quizzes and the fabled trip to York races in 1996. I drove the team there in a minibus and then headed over to visit Philippa, our celebrant today, and her family who lived nearby. It was only on our return to Manchester that we had discovered our adopted city had been blown up. </span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">Over the years, I came to know Paul’s home town of Bristol well. He always loved it, although he was torn between “These are my people!” and “Why does everything shut at half past five?” We visited Pam regularly as well as his grandmother in Clevedon, and Ron, who had remarried after his and Pam’s divorce. It was on one of these trips out to the pub with his dad in 1997 that we told him we were expecting Megan. As we said goodbye, Ron pressed petrol money on Paul, who protested that he was in his early 30s and working. “You’ll need it,” Ron said, “Now you have the babby on the way.” Sadly, Ron did not live to see his new granddaughter.</span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">The role of surrogate grandfather fell to Pam’s partner of 30 years, Brian. Uncle Brian was a much-loved part of the children's lives, although I’m not sure his explanation of prime numbers ever stuck with Josh. </span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_4-W8L3S8CCqIIBAi8C3HrI19HHPNbNCygV6Dgg1eXJWY2sG-eLXL7bgHSnwRAvZLdA9H85MRqFBsf9sqwMHj6c5HRfZRtREsWLRJE_jV_uTGtX2ZKfV9zDb_4i1o-OUiYcpHlaXviybvpxvis-RYjzP_mfqnv9-zN41BM1uqSumG1z3xvuYyhPKb/s1688/paul%20pam%20brian.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1176" data-original-width="1688" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_4-W8L3S8CCqIIBAi8C3HrI19HHPNbNCygV6Dgg1eXJWY2sG-eLXL7bgHSnwRAvZLdA9H85MRqFBsf9sqwMHj6c5HRfZRtREsWLRJE_jV_uTGtX2ZKfV9zDb_4i1o-OUiYcpHlaXviybvpxvis-RYjzP_mfqnv9-zN41BM1uqSumG1z3xvuYyhPKb/w460-h321/paul%20pam%20brian.jpg" width="460" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Paul, Pam and Brian</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">A naturally quiet man and an only child, Paul often seemed perplexed by the sheer loudness of my family, but it was always him who would fall back to accompany my mother while the rest of us strode off at speed, and who regularly corralled the children at family events. He was a good son in law to Fred and Frank and </span><span class="NormalTextRun ContextualSpellingAndGrammarErrorV2Themed SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-image: var(--urlContextualSpellingAndGrammarErrorV2, url("data:image/svg+xml;base64,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")); background-position: 0% 100%; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">brother-in-law</span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> to Sally; he was also famously ‘Aunty Paul’ to his niece Emily for several years.</span></span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJCVKnZ4DB6ghZFi7D8RreYXVDyFWo-w6-SXR-l7ouig6AxSfSsuIVe-23F8oEkPKVbhVu_DHl0_TH_-dlSLCsRyns8_ZIXmrQK7Q5jPCuAm3FLSgt1MLfuuyaKLR0Ot8XxMd64cOfADEaZoqEZoZ_4mf1zRxGu_tv5sg1xy2CYoBgFEvJHT0-51l/s2048/Otter%20family.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1185" data-original-width="2048" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJCVKnZ4DB6ghZFi7D8RreYXVDyFWo-w6-SXR-l7ouig6AxSfSsuIVe-23F8oEkPKVbhVu_DHl0_TH_-dlSLCsRyns8_ZIXmrQK7Q5jPCuAm3FLSgt1MLfuuyaKLR0Ot8XxMd64cOfADEaZoqEZoZ_4mf1zRxGu_tv5sg1xy2CYoBgFEvJHT0-51l/w500-h289/Otter%20family.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">A rare one of all of us. Taken on mum and dad's last trip out for a drink in 2016, nicknamed Operation Otter</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">As you’ve already heard, Paul was the most wonderful father despite his assertion that he was deeply unsuited to the role. From day one, he and Meg had an invisible bond – it was always Paul who could calm her when no-one else could and he continued to be her guide and her champion, delighting in her (belated) educational achievements which were often despite rather than because of the educational system.</span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">In Josh he had a kindred spirit – a love of film, a love of words, the same ferocious intelligence. They were quite the double act and it was a joy to watch them discussing Doctor Who, cinema or politics together. </span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> <br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> <br /></span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is touching to see so many of his friends and colleagues here today along with the family. I have received so many wonderful tributes from all over the world from people who held him in very high regard. I have never met anyone who, once they got to know him, didn’t love him. As someone said to me, he was “the brightest man in any room he was in” and although he wore that intelligence lightly and was quick to highlight his failings (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zOAlhkarfE" target="_blank">the lack of DIY skills</a>, the ability to sing) he was an immensely talented and yet self-effacing man. He was also a devoted son, who continued to care for his mother as her health has declined. His curmudgeonly exterior concealed a man of great love and empathy for his fellow human beings, a committed socialist and campaigner for the underdog (hence his lifelong support of Bristol Rovers).</span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-variant-ligatures: none;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">His one big failing was his laissez-faire attitude to timekeeping – the Douglas Adams quotation “I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by.” could have been coined for him - I still remember him running down the stairs of the student union and across to the Arts Building to deliver his dissertation with seconds to spare, and nearly losing him on my first train journey to Bristol when he spotted a full fruit machine in the station café, ripe for emptying, just as the train was about to pull out. To the detriment of all of us, on this one occasion he was tragically early for something, and I so wish he’d been much, much later in his leaving of us.</span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559738":240,"335559739":0,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559738":240,"335559739":0,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">A quietly effective and unassuming man, he will be missed more than he will ever know or would have acknowledged.</span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559738":240,"335559739":0,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> <br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> <br /></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">In the words of our friend and former house-mate Peter (who is currently </span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">en</span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> route between Japan and Vietnam) “Rest in Peace Paul New, </span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">you</span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW117081191 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> irreplaceable, cantankerous old star.”</span></span><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span></i></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">This was followed by Sondheim's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYGh3fqSuWA" target="_blank">Being Alive</a>, sung by Adrian Lester, a favourite of both of ours. We saw many UK premieres of Sondheim shows together, thanks to the Library Theatre in Manchester, which spent much of the early 90s specialising in them.</span></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">And so to the final music choice. Again we considered something classical but then I remembered watching the TV coverage of Glastonbury in the summer (how long ago that seems now) and him saying "THAT'S what I want played at my funeral" so how could we ignore his wish?</span></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP SCXW117081191 BCX0" color="windowtext" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5042px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span></i></div><h2 style="background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: center; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://youtu.be/Ed1tv_gCOUA"><span style="font-family: arial;">Exit Music</span></a></h2><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: center; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: center; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">So that's it, really. It was a beautiful service and the kids and I were touched that so many people made the effort to attend and stand in the compacted snow to say a final goodbye to my soulmate (such an over-used term, but what else comes close?). There are so many other things I could have mentioned, so here are some:</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The massive international phone bills we built up calling each other while I was in the USA for a year (temping for BT on my return, I discovered they'd put an alert on our account due to the suspiciously high usage!)</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">As members of the <b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colin_Weston">Colin Weston</a> Fan Club</b> quiz team, the many pub quizzes which were part of our pre-child lives (over the course of one summer, a rival team kept re-naming itself in the wake of yet another of our victories - they finally settled on <b>We Hate Fucking Students</b></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On the night we won Film Society of the Year, the sight of Paul and our friend Ian jumping round my mum's kitchen, hugging each other and shouting "We won! We won! (alcohol may have been a factor).</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Picking up an early morning taxi in Stockport on our way back from an overnight journey from London in 1997 and therefore being some of the very first people in the country to hear of the death of the Princess of Wales. That was weird.</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Him spending the whole of my 3-day labour with me - he looked more wrecked at the end of it than I did. He'd (nearly) eaten an out of date pasty from the hospital café, been there to remind the medical staff that in putting my legs in stirrups they'd forgotten to lower the head of the bed, so I was sitting in an ungainly V-shape, and witnessed Meg's arrival by emergency C-section. The man who wanted cats instead was immediately smitten. As afternoon visiting ended, he finally went home to sleep (he had to borrow my jumper, as it had been an uncharacteristically warm February and he'd arrived 3 days earlier in only a T-shirt and jeans) and I said to my midwife "He won't be back until tomorrow now." "He'll be back" she said. And he was, as soon as evening visiting started.</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Trying to research, in the pre-internet age, the likely prognosis for our beautiful new daughter, diagnosed at birth with a <a href="https://www.gosh.nhs.uk/wards-and-departments/departments/clinical-specialties/neurodisability-information-parents-and-visitors/clinics-and-services-related-wolfson-neurodisability-service/sturge-weber-and-neurocutaneous-syndromes-service/information-for-parents-with-infants-newly-diagnosed-with-sturge-weber-syndrome/#:~:text=Sturge%20Weber%20syndrome%20(SWS)%20is,the%20eye%20(choiroidal%20angioma).">rare neurological condition</a> (it was pretty grim - happily, real life has proved more positive)</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The two of us despatched to the pub by my parents for some brief respite (in <a href="https://www.greeneking-pubs.co.uk/pubs/devon/anchor-inn/" target="_blank">Beer</a>, where else?) after an awful day when Meg had had a massive seizure while staying with granny and grandpa; sitting there listening to the tide coming in, wondering whether this would be a feature of the rest of her life (to date, thankfully, it's not).</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">While I'm angry that this wonderful human being has been taken from us when so many utter bastards live to a ripe old age, I'm also grateful that I had those 34 years with him</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">At least he lived long enough to see Paul Heaton win the Novello Award that he had so long deserved...</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: center; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">"You can't have too many good times, children</span></div><div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: center; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">You can't have too many lines..."</span></div>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-37797866517739102702023-02-04T20:49:00.000+00:002023-02-04T20:49:20.163+00:002022: Review of the Year<h2 style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"></h2><h2 style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">“And worse I may be yet: the worst is not<br />So long as we can say 'This is the worst.”</span></i></h2><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>Shakespeare, King Lear</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> I didn't blog at all in 2022. See below for the reasons:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Preface: December 2021</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On a pre-Christmas trip to visit my mother in law, the clutch went on our car. It had to be towed back to Manchester from the West Country and no-one could fix it until the new year. When we hired a vehicle for 24 hours to do the last-minute Christmas Eve Stuff that couldn't be done by public transport, the vehicle hire firm accused me of putting a scratch on it (I still dispute this) resulting in a lost deposit.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>January: Car Troubles</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It took most of the month to find someone who could do the work, either because of being busy or unable to do the more-complex-than-just-a-replacement-clutch job. 4-figure bill in the end.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>February: Illness</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My partner started to suffer from reflux-y symptoms. Eventually persuaded him to consult the GP who suspected a hiatus hernia and did tests to rule out "anything more sinister." Referred to hospital for further investigations.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>March, April, May: Backlogs</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Covid restrictions and associated backlogs meant nothing else happened while meals became more and more difficult until he was on a soup-only diet (although chocolate always stayed down)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>June: Hospital</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Attended Manchester Royal Infirmary for an endoscopy but couldn't view the stomach due to the discovery of a large tumour in the oesophagus preventing anything non-liquid getting in there (which explained the soup and chocolate). Referred for more scans/tests at MRI, Trafford General and Salford Royal. <br />SatNav getting a lot of use</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>July: Plague</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Outcome of scans = yep, definitely cancer. Two options:</span></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Nasty, long operation, requiring up to a year recovery.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Chemo</span></li></ul><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The week he was due to go in </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">to have feeding tub fitted prior to the op</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">, all four of us finally succumbed to Covid (my fault - I went out for one evening) during the deadliest heatwave in living memory.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finally a</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">dmitted to Salford Royal for feeding tube fitting, during which they discover the stomach (which is needed to create a new oesophagus) also has some 'suspicious cells' meaning the op is now not viable. Stent fitted instead, which means at least he can eat real food again, albeit overcooked and chopped up small.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>August: Chemo</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">First round results in a fair amount of persistent hiccupping and throat restriction, making life very unpleasant and his lovely voice changing (luckily temporary)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>September: Car Troubles II: the Legend Continues</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Second round leaves him feeling slightly chirpier, with signs it's having some effect.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Then some arsehole of a joyrider takes a corner too fast and totals the car. Lucky it was parked and there were no pedestrians about for him to kill. So sorting out insurance and police report at the same time as attending hospital appointments, which I could have done without.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>October: More chemo, more pain</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Find another car but by this time he's too weak to walk around the hospital on his own due to backache and persistent cough that's developed so become very familiar with the Uber drivers who do the hospital circuit (some are very good and drive in a way that minimises bumps and swerves for a clearly in-pain customer; others, less so). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>November: All hell breaks loose</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Backache/cough prove to be symptoms of the cancer having metastasised at an alarming rate.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">10th - visit the Christie for bloods/pre-chemo consultation. Told too ill for chemo and sent home with Oramorph and steroids to try and get fit enough for treatment.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">11th - reacts badly to Oramorph, starts seeing things and becoming confused. Macmillan nurse calls emergency ambulance as blood sats drop to mid 60s. Admitted to MRI and taken more or less straight to Resus and put on saline drip, Now not recognising me, being aggressive to staff (proof that something is badly wrong) and hallucinating. Put on saline and wait for a bed on the ward. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">12th (his birthday) moved to the ward; had a comfortable night and I'm told to visit him at 2pm. At 10.30am, get a call to say he's taken a turn for the worse and can the family come in? We arrive about 11am at which point they're still in active treatment phase. No sign he knows we're there or has seen the (very fine) card son has made for him. By 2pm, nothing working, so put on end of life care. Daughter asks to leave at the end of the day and goes home with fiancé (who spent 8 hours sitting in the corridor waiting for her because it was family only and he didn't feel he counted). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">13th Son and I spend all day with him. We are top of the waiting list for a side room anywhere in the hospital (one never becomes available). Pain medication seems to be barely touching him and seems very distracted (am told this is just the body reacting in spasms and he's not as uncomfortable as it looks. At 11pm we're asked to step out for a bit so they can "make him comfortable". We both know what that means and when we return he is, at least, less disordered and seemingly calmer. We wait.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">14th - at around ten past midnight he leaves us. Have a verbal altercation with a patient on the ward who has been awful to everyone for the whole time we've been there and chooses that moment to complain about all the noise (my son in tears at the loss of his beloved dad). Tell him in no uncertain terms how unpleasant and obstreperous he has been to the staff and how selfish he is being. Grief certainly focuses the mind!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Go home to sleep, after which lovely neighbour helps me do all the immediate stuff which needs doing. Rest of the month telling people he's died, transferring all the utilities to my name so we actually have heat, light, cooking, etc and arranging a funeral. In Manchester. In December.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>December: Grief, Funerals and Christmas</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The three of us put together a funeral service which we hope reflects the man he was, led by my oldest friend as the celebrant. Despite his assertion that no-one liked him, many friends and former colleagues come to the service and share wonderful stories about him.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Emotions still a bit wobbly, as everywhere we go reminds us of him. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Christmas a bit weird but not as bad as we'd feared it might be, Developed some new traditions along with the old.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Marked my 60th birthday as a widow - not something I would have predicted.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have always hated New Year's Eve and this was especially to be avoided. I think I've succeeded in not wishing anyone a happy new year this time - I wasn't feeling it and had a weird feeling I might bring down a year like the one I've just gone through if I'd wished anyone a happy new year!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">So, gentle reader, that is why I didn't post anything in 2022.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p><br /></p>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-42899121623789881112021-02-13T15:05:00.000+00:002021-02-13T15:05:35.741+00:00How Can I Help?<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's LGBTQ+ History Month and I've been mulling over how, and even whether, I should be blogging about it. I'm a 50-something straight, white, cisgender woman; young enough to have benefited from the actions of the feminists who came before me, old enough not to have been taken in by the post-feminsim of the 90s and noughties, when some assumed all the battles had been won and that "feminist" was an embarrassing and archaic way to describe yourself. You could easily say "What's it got to do with her?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On the other hand, homosexuality was only decriminalised within my lifetime and I was middle aged with children of my own before equal marriage was recognised in law. I was in my 20s when AIDS came to public attention, at university when Section 28 was introduced. It may not have affected me directly, but LGBT History was happening all around me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Things did get better. Section 28 was repealed; civil partnerships and equal marriage; the Gender Recognition Act. A few years back, watching Great Manchester Police take part in the Pride parade, my partner and I commented that when we had come to the city as students, the force was led by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Anderton#1986_remarks_on_HIV/AIDS" target="_blank">James Anderton</a>. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">For a good while it looked to the straight, white world as if attitudes had shifted permanently. The homophobia and racism of the 70s and 80s that we'd grown up with had been banished to the fringes of discourse, vocalised only by the very worst of people. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">What the last decade (and especially the last 5 years) has shown us, though, is that those attitudes did not go away; they merely went to ground for a while, until they were again given legitimacy by a small but influential group of the very worst people, given massive public platforms in the name of "balance."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The targets have shifted, but the aim is the same - to 'other', delegitimise and demonise a minority group. The current moral panic is about transgender people but the "debate" remains depressingly similar. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">So much of the transphobia of today is the re-heated homophobic prejudice of my youth. What is different about today's transphobia is that it is led and spurred on by..... feminists.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is unutterably depressing to watch women of my generation raging against trans people, shouting about their "sex-based rights" and aligning themselves with racists, far right politicians and extreme evangelical religious </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">organisations. Women who spent their youth acting in solidarity with other marginalised groups are now pursuing an irrational vendetta against one of the most marginalised of those groups and siding with the very people they fought against for so long, putting forward the falsehood that granting others rights will diminish their own. As academic Alison Phipps says:</span></p><p dir="ltr" lang="en"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Of all the awful things about trans-exclusionary feminism, it’s the claims of victimhood I find most difficult. In my experience these women enjoy unprecedented institutional protection: trans people and their allies are silenced & scared. We are being gaslit & it’s so painful.</p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: Times;">— Alison Phipps (@alisonphipps) </span><a href="https://twitter.com/alisonphipps/status/1172764379588308992?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw" style="font-family: Times;">September 14, 2019</a></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I think what I am coming round to, in a convoluted way, is <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intersectionality#:~:text=Intersectionality%20is%20an%20analytical%20framework,%2C%20physical%20appearance%2C%20and%20height." target="_blank">intersectionality</a>. This is, to be fair, a concept which struggles when released into the wild, but is nonetheless fundamental to how we as human beings relate to each other. Our life experiences will overlap and sometimes contradict those of others and recognising both differences and similarities is vital. Life is messy, and we sometimes may feel aggrieved that someone appears to be ahead of us in the pecking order, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't do everything we can to support those who are more marginalised and oppressed than we are. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am heterosexual, so I cannot know what it's like to be gay or trans, but that does not mean that as a feminist I should ignore (and even oppose!) the fights and rights of others. The forces of reaction won't stop at the current marginalised group - if they succeed in taking away the rights of one group of people, they will move on to the next, and finally you will be the one being demonised.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">For those of us who do have a fair amount of privilege, we should both acknowledge that privilege and not resent others' desire to have the same rights that we have. And we have a duty to act as the best allies we can be. That's not to say that we charge in and take control of the discourse (see - again - Alison Phipps' excellent <a href="https://www.thesociologicalreview.com/book-review-me-not-you-by-phipps/" target="_blank">book</a> on the tendency for white feminism to do this) but to stand up to transphobes, to amplify trans voices and to do - well, the things feminists should always do!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I came to a position of trans allyship the hard way. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I come, unashamedly, from a <a href="https://friendlydragonspouse-randomrants.blogspot.com/2012/03/international-womens-day-close-to-home.html">long line of "stroppy" women</a> who did things their way. A child of the '60s and '70s, I reaped the benefits of the social mobility of the post-war era. I can't ever remember not being a feminist - my infant brain took issue with the whole Christian Garden of Eden thing, where banishment was on the basis of "She did it!" and I was one of a group of girls at my primary school who loudly voiced our objections when we were discriminated against. When the WWII air raid shelters below the boys' playground were about to be filled in, we were all promised a trip below ground. When we discovered the demolition had begun, and that the boys had been allowed down and we hadn't, we gave the headmaster the full "women's rights" treatment (as much as 10 year olds can).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was very much a product of my age and background and I thought I knew my feminism. When my son came out as trans in 2015 it hit me like a brick. In part, I went into mourning for the fabulous, feminist woman he would have been but also I knew so little about trans issues - I'd heard of Stephen Whittle and Jan Morris, but that was about it - that I was very ill-prepared to deal with it. And, to be honest, I dealt with it </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">badly.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> A friend pointed me in the direction of literature on </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rapid_onset_gender_dysphoria_controversy#:~:text=Rapid%20onset%20gender%20dysphoria%20(ROGD,mediated%20subtype%20of%20gender%20dysphoria." style="font-family: verdana;">ROGD</a><span style="font-family: verdana;"> and told me my son was "just a butch lesbian but hasn't realised it yet." Life got very difficult (especially as my partner had been far more accepting) and it threatened to wreck my relationship with my child. Over time, I tried hard to understand the issues and things got a little easier.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The turning point was the 2018 GoFundMe campaign by some Labour party members to challenge Labour's decision to allow trans women on all women shortlists, which stated clearly that "any leftover funds would be used to fight self-ID". Two women I considered friends and political allies had signed it. I was so upset and angry that I <a href="https://friendlydragonspouse-randomrants.blogspot.com/2018/02/" target="_blank">blogged</a> about it, as a result of which I have spoken to neither since. This saddened me, but ultimately it came to a choice between my political friends and my child. Like I said, life's messy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Over the last few years, I have done my best to be a good ally. Followed and shared trans voices on social media. Got to know my son's friends (a universally lovely group). Sought out other cis het women who aren't prepared to have gender critical feminists purport to speak for us - the many cis women who have no problem with trans women sharing our spaces, who aren't threatened by trans women and who believe that feminism without inclusion is not feminism. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So my relationship to LGBTQ+ History Month is one of allyship. I have no relevant lived experience, but I can at least do my best to be an empathetic ally and if I can't do much to make things better at least not make them worse. Promoting marginalised voices rather than speaking for them and challenging transphobia. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">They say that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, so this time I'm paying attention.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p> <script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0United Kingdom55.378051 -3.435973-18.286484130999384 -144.060973 90 137.189027tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-25586375801005132712021-02-01T18:24:00.000+00:002021-02-01T18:24:46.925+00:00Patience is a Virtue (especially when you're trans)<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This started off as a series of tweets which transcribed messages sent to me by my son in 2019, expressing his frustration with Gender Identity Development Services and the medical profession in general in relation to his treatment. Delay and procrastination seemed to be SOP and since Things Have Only Got Worse© since then, I've decided to put the thread into a blog post to save me having to keep searching for it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Shared with his permission.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">"anyway it's 2am and i can't sleep and i'm angry about newcastle so i made a Timeline Of Events since u love those things"</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>25th Jan 2015 - </b>official coming out
<b>Jan 2016</b> - Saw the GP (who should've been able to refer me straight to tavi, but wasn't sure how to proceed and "felt more comfortable" referring me to CAMHS, which was no longer the recommended pathway)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b style="font-size: 23px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">June 2016</span></b><span style="font-size: 23px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> - Appointment with CAMHS, but had to be rescheduled because I had two GCSEs that day</span><span style="font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, Segoe UI, Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">
</span></span><i style="font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">(He was taking his GCSEs as his grandfather was dying of cancer...)</span></i></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>July 2016</b> - Appointment with CAMHS where they wrote my Tavi referral (going through the entire history of my "gender journey" and getting info on my feelings, plans, family situation, etc)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>23rd Dec 2016</b> - Received first letter from Tavi with initial appointment date
<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">
<b>18th Jan 2017</b> - First Tavi appointment</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Throughout 2017 I had six sessions, which were literally just a long form version of exactly what I got asked at CAMHS the year before.</span></span><span style="color: #0f1419; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0f1419; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, Segoe UI, Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">(Which had also necessitated him and us travelling to Leeds 6 times in order to answer them)</span></span></span></i></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>December 2017</b> - Final Tavi appointment, Newc referral written, came to the conclusion that I displayed all the signs of gender dysphoria and recommended me for treatment (aka <b>Diagnosis 1</b>)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>April 2018</b> - First Newcastle [Adult services] appointment (in Carlisle, given 5 days notice, cost £40+ to get there, and they spent 35 minutes asking the exact same questions and coming to the exact same conclusions as CAMHS and Tavi, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;">before telling me that because I wasn't on blockers I couldn't be put on the expedited waiting list for ex-Tavi patients, and said I had a ten month wait but they were doing their best to make it shorter) (aka </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Diagnosis 2</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;">)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>December 2018</b> - Went to my new GP [by this time he'd gone to university] with 9 pages of documentation asking for a bridging prescription (which he should have been able to give me, but he "felt more comfortable" referring me to an endocrinologist </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;">despite the fact that the good practice guidelines say that GPs have the right to prescribe hormones "when the gender clinic is unable to meet the patient's needs within a reasonable or safe time frame")</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Jan 2019</b> - Appointment with endo (two hour wait, missed a lesson, only to be told that she too wouldn't be willing to write me a bridging prescription because she "felt more comfortable" writing to Newcastle asking them what they thought she should do)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b style="font-size: 23px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">March 2019</span></b><span style="font-size: 23px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> - Bullshit letter from Newcastle arrives reading "Hi, We can't do anything, you can't either, we'll do something at some point lol"</span><span style="font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, Segoe UI, Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">
</span></span><i style="font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">[He is, I think, paraphrasing here]</span></i></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">"It's been 47 weeks since my Newcastle appointment which is a Fair Bit Fucking Longer than anyone should have to fucking wait for medical intervention."</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>[His words, not mine]</i></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Me:</b> Luckily, despite everything, he's an intelligent and resilient young man who appreciates that there are plenty of young trans people worse off than him in terms of mental distress. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;">But to all you "they're forcing young people to transition far too fast" types out there - this does not look to me like they're doing anything "too fast"; quite the reverse. The complete waste of effort spending a year going over to Leeds Tavi; t</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;">he reluctance of all parties to actually act in the way that the guidelines suggest; the lack of any progress despite not one but two formal diagnoses of gender dysphoria. Nothing here is screaming "Slow down! You're moving too fast!!" at me.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And yes, I had reservations when he first came out ("You used to be a bit of a TERF, mum, but you're OK now."). I wanted to be sure he was sure of himself, but really - would you really put yourself through this for 4+ years if you were weren't serious?</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A question I should probably put to the person who assured me a couple of years back that "she's just a butch lesbian but hasn't realised it yet."
Anyway, that's his thoughts at the moment on where he's up to. Shared with his full consent. I'm proud of him.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">(Apart from his inability to use capital letters...)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>March 2019 </b>- UPDATE: He's just re-read the thread on here, and has commented:
"literally every single person i've seen has refused treatment on the grounds of what makes <i>them</i> feel most comfortable."</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">A point which a number of commentators had picked up on. Not exclusive to trans healthcare, of course, but far too prevalent.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And so 2019 came and went without a murmur, and then 2020 and Covid, with its inevitable delays. And then:</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>October 2020 - Me:</b> A year and a half on, he's just had a letter from Newcastle about an appointment. He has to respond by the end of the month or they'll discharge him!
He came out at 14; he's now 20. He's not going to have changed his mind.
It would be laughable if it wasn't so serious.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1419; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0f1419; font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; white-space: pre-wrap;">He's since had a phone consultation and is due another appointment this month, so maybe things are finally beginning to move... </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0f1419; font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0f1419; font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; white-space: pre-wrap;">But if you want an indication of the level of misinformation and outright untruths being put forward by "gender critical feminists" pontificating about trans youth being forced down the transition route too quickly, this is it. </span></span></span></p>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-65330072268777395182020-11-28T13:18:00.008+00:002020-12-19T20:56:07.791+00:00How Not to Do Christmas<div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW63786072" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><h1 style="color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; text-align: left; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></h1></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW63786072" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><div style="color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">Listening to all the media prattle about how to do Christmas this year (now rendered meaningless thanks to Johnson the Incompetent) I was reminded of one of our attempts to travel the length of the country to meet up with family which was pretty fraught even without a pandemic to contend with. Our usual Christmas routine at this time was to visit my mother-in-law in Bristol for a long weekend in mid-December to do some Christmas shopping and to meet up with my family, who travelled up from Devon for a meal and present exchange before we all headed home for Christmas itself.</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> <br /></span></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> <br /></span></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">This post is adapted from an old Facebook Note (remember them?) I wrote 10 years ago. It was, if you remember, the year where we got unusually heavy snowfall in December.</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> <br /></span></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> <br /></span></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><b>Friday</b>: Due to an adverse weather forecast, we completely changed our plans for the pre-Christmas trip to Bristol, travelling Friday straight after school (last day of term) rather than the more civilised Saturday morning. This turned out to be a good decision, as the journey only took 4 hours, including rush hour through Birmingham (this was before the era of the smart motorway).</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></div><div style="color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: #b6d7a8; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun MacChromeBold BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; font-weight: bold; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">Saturday</span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">: We woke up to about 1" snow. My mother in law's house (as with a lot of places in Bristol) was at the top of steep hill, so this was not encouraging. </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: #b6d7a8; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-VnH1wTsWsWlLjHvSB59wbKbJpbTDfMrChJPGQJ-SNp4ikgg4o9nRTnrdnuKvmm8xr7i-UJcM2FDeMabQ8dNq8VBXEPFroCHLqLloEGNunuP71FXuZVCq6pt3lywrJB44_Yn0Y2aoxHM/s1280/DSC05564.JPG" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-VnH1wTsWsWlLjHvSB59wbKbJpbTDfMrChJPGQJ-SNp4ikgg4o9nRTnrdnuKvmm8xr7i-UJcM2FDeMabQ8dNq8VBXEPFroCHLqLloEGNunuP71FXuZVCq6pt3lywrJB44_Yn0Y2aoxHM/s320/DSC05564.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></span></span></div><div style="color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></span></div><div style="color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">Also, Kid#1 was now unwell so I had to stay at home with the children instead of all of us heading out into Bristol to shop. With no internet and only basic TV channels, it was lucky we packed the Wii! The weather wasn’t too bad in Bristol, but if anyone remembers that huge weather system which dumped snow over south east England, closing airports, etc? We saw it moving west to east across the country from the comfort of my mother-in-law's living room...</span></span></div><div style="color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vj03Xb733MVCzbE3_lovuUrIZxcy_IZBtCEOYGqnsr8ozqHIyaMOAP3uyKaz3QNBVNlj306a1AgUrMc1S-K9EgXx3HTNzCDcZMHeUYG5jxoIpdtHQpsklZQU6cqaQwOmYjx9qo8OwiA/s1280/DSC05606.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vj03Xb733MVCzbE3_lovuUrIZxcy_IZBtCEOYGqnsr8ozqHIyaMOAP3uyKaz3QNBVNlj306a1AgUrMc1S-K9EgXx3HTNzCDcZMHeUYG5jxoIpdtHQpsklZQU6cqaQwOmYjx9qo8OwiA/w439-h330/DSC05606.JPG" width="439" /></a></span></span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></div><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span><span color="windowtext" style="text-align: center;">(That's the moon showing above the clouds)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span color="windowtext" style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun MacChromeBold BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; font-weight: bold; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">Sunday</span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">: Kid#1 a little better, but Kid#2 now unwell. Stayed at home again while Other Half headed into town to shop (and buy emergency Calpol). Kids rallied enough for the planned meal with my sister and niece that evening, so headed into an ice-cold city centre for a meal in a virtually deserted Pizza Express.</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span><br /><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop BCX0 SCXW63786072" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 25.5px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span class="BCX0 SCXW63786072" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></span><br /><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span><br /><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun MacChromeBold BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; font-weight: bold; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">Monday</span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">: Kids still poorly. Got up early to take mother-in-law for a planned blood test. While in Bedminster (at the bottom of the hill from her house), more snow came on very rapidly and so we struggled through semi-stationary traffic all the way home on untreated roads. 45 mins to do the </span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">10-minute</span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"> drive home. </span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></div><div style="color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: #b6d7a8; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">While this was going on, my sister was trying to arrange to meet up for the present-swap, and eventually opted to drive to mother-in-law’s house (getting lost and stuck on black ice in the process). With the weather worsening all the time, she had to make a decision whether to head back to Devon or stay in Bristol with us (which would have meant seven of us in a small house usually occupied by one, with no additional food in the house). She decided to risk the trip home and got lucky with roads. </span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></div><div style="color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: #b6d7a8; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun SCXW63786072 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">The state of the roads precluded me getting into the city to shop for presents for Other Half, but even if this wasn't the case, the fuel leak I'd discovered on the car meant a call to AA (we were warned it could take up to 24 hrs for them to come) so I was stuck in house anyway, waiting for them. Hasty revision of plans to take mother-in-law to BRI for her op on Tuesday morning (which might be cancelled anyway, due to weather). In fact, the AA came within 90 mins of logging the call and a very, very nice man fixed the problem, but by then Other Half had gone into town on the bus and the kids were still not up to travelling. </span><span class="TextRun SCXW63786072 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"><span class="NormalTextRun ContextualSpellingAndGrammarErrorV2 SCXW63786072 BCX0" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-image: url("data:image/svg+xml;base64,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"); background-position: 0% 100%; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">OH</span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW63786072 BCX0" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"> did his hunter-gatherer bit by buying M&S food for tea, and at least we had hospital transport again.</span><span class="EOP SCXW63786072 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span><br /><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span><br /><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun MacChromeBold BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; font-weight: bold; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">Tuesday</span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">: Mother-in -law delivered to hospital and I went back to the house to pack the car, which involved carrying all luggage down 20 snow-covered steps from the house. MIL’s op fine, but our reserve plan to stay overnight to make sure she was fully OK scuppered by a weather forecast for heavy snow through Midlands on Wednesday.</span><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop BCX0 SCXW63786072" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span class="BCX0 SCXW63786072" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre;"> </span><br class="BCX0 SCXW63786072" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre;" /></span></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span><br /><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">An indication of health of the kids - neither of them showed any desire to play in the snow all weekend.</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span><br /><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="LineBreakBlob BlobObject DragDrop BCX0 SCXW63786072" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 25.5px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><span class="BCX0 SCXW63786072" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></span><br /><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">The journey home was fine, as there was little traffic on the road, but a drop in temperature froze the windscreen washer, so I was unable to clear screen properly. At one point the screen was nothing but an emulsion of salt and oil, making it virtually opaque (pretty scary), a bit like covering your windscreen with vinaigrette! Thank goodness for congestion at M5/M6 interchange (not often you can say that!) which enabled me to spray de-icer on the screen as a temporary measure until we could stop at Hilton Park.</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></div><div style="color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: #b6d7a8; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">Once home, all I had to do was all the planned Christmas food shopping and an attempt at last-minute present buying with two poorly/bored kids in tow! Still at least I wasn't stuck at Heathrow bemoaning the fact that I couldn’t get to Bali!</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></div><div style="color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="none" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB">As ever, though, Christmas (just the four of us) came and went as normal, regardless of preparation or panic, and we’ll be doing much the same this year except for meeting up with family – Manchester and Bristol are both Tier 3 and my sister’s bit of Devon is Tier 2. That way, hopefully, we’ll all still be around to meet up next year.</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span><br /><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":360}" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></div></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW63786072" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW63786072" paraeid="{a8aad456-8da4-4c0a-a599-99f783b10298}{192}" paraid="930927610" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p></p></div><div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW63786072" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;"><p class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW63786072" paraeid="{a8aad456-8da4-4c0a-a599-99f783b10298}{200}" paraid="1782631917" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; color: windowtext; font-kerning: none; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="TextRun EmptyTextRun BCX0 SCXW63786072" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-GB" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 27px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-GB"></span></span><p></p></div>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-67202836181994780882020-09-03T18:39:00.000+00:002020-09-03T18:39:25.220+00:00Dettol be the Day...<span style="font-family: verdana;">This morning the Campaign to Get the Serfs Back in the Workplace to Save Capitalism was bolstered by the appearance on the London Underground (and shortly thereafter on social media) of this piece of inanity from a well-known manufacturer of disinfectant:</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQC8NkObe6Ox9xTSlZwejNe3dsN-L1EcJxvfKi_dN0Uhj8zNXCV296VFyQoUSLT93HTyvVNl94k0IZByEXmFsDVxdf9QaT1MwC-aAozbFoLx5uNcdKyJctAXAPHv_tTLe8i43LcRHvDQ/s680/Dettol.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="680" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQC8NkObe6Ox9xTSlZwejNe3dsN-L1EcJxvfKi_dN0Uhj8zNXCV296VFyQoUSLT93HTyvVNl94k0IZByEXmFsDVxdf9QaT1MwC-aAozbFoLx5uNcdKyJctAXAPHv_tTLe8i43LcRHvDQ/w500-h483/Dettol.jpeg" width="500" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'd put good money on the people who created this not having worked in a typical office in some years. Or, like the "creatives" on the floor above us in one of my previous workplaces, have spent their time lounging on beanbags, playing ping-pong and setting the fire alarms off because they don't know how to use a toaster.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Let's take their points one by one...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Hearing an alarm </b> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Nope, haven't missed that. Having ditched the Today programme after more than 40 years, I wake up in a far better mood. And you know what? I'm never late for work - I now wake up naturally at the right time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Putting on a tie</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Pah! Ties are a 19/20th century anachronism which should have been ditched years ago. If open necks and rolled-up shirt sleeves are good enough for the G8, they're good enough for an office<span style="color: red;"> </span>in Slough. As with school uniform, they're all about petty control and damping down individuality.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Carrying a handbag</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There you go again with your gender stereotypes. Hate handbags, always have done. Although my backpack's looking a little unloved of late, give me something practical.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Receptionists</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ours are lovely, but I don't go to work because of them...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Caffeine-filled air</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Fine if you like the smell of coffee, I suppose... my partner, who dislikes the smell of coffee used to find his office unbearable at times. And does caffeine even have a small?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Taking a lift</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The stairs at home are better for you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Seeing your second family</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Second family?! Who makes this s**t up? I mean, I like my colleagues but if you think of them in this way you probably need to seek help. Just because we used to see more of them than our own families due to Britain's long hours culture, doesn't mean they actually <i>are</i> family.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Watercooler conversations</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We're in sitcom territory here, aren't we? I mean, do you know anyone in real life who stands around the big bottle of water chatting about last night's TV (especially now that we don't all watch the same few channels live). I'm usually a good 6 months-10 years behind the viewing public...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Proper bants</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anyone using "bants" should be fired immediately.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2JPwZliVy3_qnPnKVqjr5kWk_58HI8Uer4SspxiG6EFe_t9pJSiseKH-J2F5IZmspF7T6Bcp9j1ByzDKjEp4yCl_MalcunpNaE7i0JkOVLfNzfpu2FpmjzZJBzJJlwA97oDDDhaBjFaw/s180/Colin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="135" data-original-width="180" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2JPwZliVy3_qnPnKVqjr5kWk_58HI8Uer4SspxiG6EFe_t9pJSiseKH-J2F5IZmspF7T6Bcp9j1ByzDKjEp4yCl_MalcunpNaE7i0JkOVLfNzfpu2FpmjzZJBzJJlwA97oDDDhaBjFaw/w351-h264/Colin.jpg" width="351" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>The boss's jokes</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">...can still be heard via Zoom, if that's your thing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Plastic plants</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Or a summer of home-grown potatoes, courgettes, raspberries, blackcurrants and apples...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Office gossip</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Probably sour grapes as I'm the world's worst for picking up gossip, but not sure spreading rumours and sniggering about colleagues is really what we go to work for (unless you work at Labour HQ, I suppose).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Those weird carpets</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Do you spend your day staring at the furnishings?! You need a better job.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Face to Face meetings</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As we've discovered, in all but a few cases we don't need them. And as someone whose working life used to revolve around trying to arrange meetings for busy people, trying to get them all in the same place at one time, my (and their) lives have been made immeasurably easier through the use of virtual meetings. Of course without face to face meetings there's little justification for spending all that money on HS2 to cut 20 mins off journey times to London...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Not having to make lunch</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Actually, mate, I now stop and have lunch (something I was very bad at in the office). Not an over-chilled, over-priced sandwich, either. Proper food instead of the bag of crisps I was likely to snaffle on the go. Better all round.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>cc-ing, bcc-ing</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These things can be done from any computer, anywhere in the world. Amazing, isn't it?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Accidentally Replying All</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ditto. But not recommended in any setting.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Hearing buzzwords</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">See "bants" above. Home working offers some level of protection from both.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Leaving early for a cheeky afternoon in the sun.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So much to unravel here - </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If you can leave early for no reason without it affect you or your colleagues, you probably don't have enough to do. Your boss needs to take a look at that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A "cheeky" afternoon in the sun (in the UK. In September?) sounds like skiving to me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Millions of us have been working flat out - from home - since March. I probably have more additional hours built up than the PM has put in to COBRA meetings since the start of the pandemic. We didn't "leave early" for <i>any</i> reason, because there was a load of work to be done (that's what happens when you're in care sector). Making sense of the government guidance that changed overnight; trying to source enough PPE; making provision for keeping staff safe while still providing vital services; our teachers providing virtual lessons and pastoral care to our students. We haven't been at home doing nothing - we've been working as usual. Nothing changed but the location. So I'm getting a bit fed up with the presumption that we haven't been doing anything for 6 months. I mean, who's had the time to make sourdough? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love my work and I have brilliant colleagues, but home working has been really beneficial to my wellbeing. There is only one thing I really miss about being away from the office, and that can't be replicated at home - the wonderful young people from our training kitchen coming round with the trolley; they make the best scones and cakes!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yes, there are people who need to get back to a workplace because of their home circumstances, and they should have priority. If we're going to reduce emissions, we need to cut down on commuting. Employers are seeing benefits, too, so HM Govt may find that the ship has already sailed. There are already reports of local independent retailers and food outlets experiencing increased activity in the suburban localities where people live - if the big sandwich chains don't want to fold, they need to invest in some bikes and go out and look for custom, just like Norman Tebbitt told us all to do in the 80s.The world of work has moved on.</div></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To be honest, when I first saw this ad I assumed it was a passive-aggressive GOV.UK thing rather than an advert from a commercial company. I think that says quite a bit about the state of HM Govt these days. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's an alternative view:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: white;">Having time for breakfast. Not having a commute that can take anything from 20-70 minutes for a 5 mile journey. </span><span style="color: white;">Having a proper window with light and ventilation. </span><span style="color: white;">Not falling asleep in your armchair at 9pm. </span><span style="color: white;">The prospect of seeing daylight during the week in the winter months. </span><span style="color: white;">Being able to make a "cheeky" trip to an appointment for a young person</span><span style="color: white;"> with a disability, knowing you can just make the time up later on. </span><span style="color: white;">Keeping up to date with colleagues via online meetings (and getting to know them better than you did when you were at work with them all the time).</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've always preferred Savlon anyway.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></span></div>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-90446132981758307442018-12-28T15:37:00.000+00:002018-12-28T15:37:57.215+00:00There's a Camel in Our Cellar...<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of this year's Christmas presents was Rhodri Marsden's <a href="https://wordery.com/a-very-british-christmas-rhodri-marsden-9780008256753?currency=GBP&gtrck=Q08yQ016Y2U2RDVkcUNPMWI2Q0Y1ZFJ1Y1h2MjBnUzkxTVFhSEFJVkhRUkhhaUkydGtOL1dVUXp0K1pLcjkxdXc1N2Z2QlFlTGdSTi81dzFYT1EwUGc9PQ&gclid=Cj0KCQiAsJfhBRCaARIsAO68ZM4rZ0WDtzJZTljQyyTeTfxCapwVPflU6RGTvKpCQ4fENoKChgJo8-MaAjRBEALw_wcB" target="_blank">A Very British Christmas</a>, an affectionate tribute our national traditions and eccentricities regarding the festive season. My reactions ranged from "Oh, yes, I remember those..." to "They do WHAT??!!" and agree with his conclusion that there simply is no 'right' way to do Christmas, and part of its glory is that you can be as reverential, daft or indifferent to it as you see fit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In our house, this includes continuing to hang up the decorations made of DAS modelling clay which I made when my partner and I were students and couldn't afford to buy decorations:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTxPu3sCc1k0qZhdQkTvfF_etl_3ceQiKLQTY2Ry1VL0ih2lodbKHeHDX9P7CMSzAivhRWydWnqmBP9IKFPpi3O0LdHr2ItcL1sSRW07aiVVxeoSRa7_2emwdFohp8gm5B1PSzTzRTgw/s1600/20181224_212557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTxPu3sCc1k0qZhdQkTvfF_etl_3ceQiKLQTY2Ry1VL0ih2lodbKHeHDX9P7CMSzAivhRWydWnqmBP9IKFPpi3O0LdHr2ItcL1sSRW07aiVVxeoSRa7_2emwdFohp8gm5B1PSzTzRTgw/s400/20181224_212557.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCftDO8BjMquDUSNs3V5_Lseq7jAd7P6BwhY1jLLgdvHvoCh5PYhzdO4GUlq1Ko1hUrFKeXvIwZ_FY34zfG8WD9Cz2kggzOAelj10vkfhdjIa7NyW5Bwxe8ZzJif73PL1hge4GdJXBMo/s1600/20181224_212605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCftDO8BjMquDUSNs3V5_Lseq7jAd7P6BwhY1jLLgdvHvoCh5PYhzdO4GUlq1Ko1hUrFKeXvIwZ_FY34zfG8WD9Cz2kggzOAelj10vkfhdjIa7NyW5Bwxe8ZzJif73PL1hge4GdJXBMo/s400/20181224_212605.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NnJhZ37taV6h8G-pNGxOW8z3LEIQv976zaypCVPy0px7XuFCAA2PgmvAhzi8vCbdgrIFTZG61u8cRUOGFxnVPsAiPPob8ByTvK2mxp0MLloYC1fU1iog7HTi1Y9Z4fhlxuP3OBWC-xs/s1600/20181224_212620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NnJhZ37taV6h8G-pNGxOW8z3LEIQv976zaypCVPy0px7XuFCAA2PgmvAhzi8vCbdgrIFTZG61u8cRUOGFxnVPsAiPPob8ByTvK2mxp0MLloYC1fU1iog7HTi1Y9Z4fhlxuP3OBWC-xs/s400/20181224_212620.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Or my late mother's 1930's cherubs, complete with the piece of cotton tied unceremoniously round one of their necks, the one with the tetanus-inducing wire hook on its wings and the one with no wings at all. These used to glow in the dark, which has spooked the odd guest who wasn't expecting it, but are now completely glow-less.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6WkqJKZ4BJ9pgbIjBV-AM-01ZX1Wz7FcAKEA7U54p8dlKxThJdYsFrRo6Nyk0-0sUJD89TBY4SzPh0RHzGLqvSdm-9C6AwCuREmxXVW6tiaYHcYHZkXuKpOXwfzxOb-ws4jpMHAgl2zs/s1600/20181224_204247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6WkqJKZ4BJ9pgbIjBV-AM-01ZX1Wz7FcAKEA7U54p8dlKxThJdYsFrRo6Nyk0-0sUJD89TBY4SzPh0RHzGLqvSdm-9C6AwCuREmxXVW6tiaYHcYHZkXuKpOXwfzxOb-ws4jpMHAgl2zs/s400/20181224_204247.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then there is the falling-to-pieces rocking chair my sister gifted us as she didn't have the space for it, and about which we keep saying "We really should get rid of this" - except it's where Rudolph the stuffed reindeer spends his Christmas! Originally, he was placed over the back of the chair to stop our small children rocking it back into chimney block or - worse - the glass doors of a cabinet when it was moved to accommodate the tree, but they're now adults and we are only keeping the chair so Rudolph has somewhere to sit...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These are all 'traditions' which relate to our immediate family, and are changing now the kids are grown and off doing their own thing. We don't 'go away for Christmas' (partly so as to minimise the change/disruption for our autistic daughter) - our family get-together is held a few weeks' earlier, when we de-camp to Bristol for the weekend to visit my mother in law, and where my family come up from Devon to meet for a meal. At one time there were 12 of us, but the passage of time has reduced the number and this year we were 6 and likely to get smaller still over the next few years, as the younger generation have their own work, study, or families to contend with.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is one major component missing from the Christmases of my childhood, though. My mother was a dancing teacher and she and my dad ran an amateur theatre group in my home town. Despite having a Municipal Theatre (later re-named the Hazlitt, after one of Maidstone's few notable residents), the Borough Council didn't see fit to put on a pantomime, so mum and dad decided to fill the gap. Mum always said her pupils had little outlet for their dancing other than interminable 'dancing displays' and that it would be good for them to get some actual theatre experience, and for their parents to see the results of the lessons they were paying for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwTG2J7JmmN50ba-0rEBDZ3-2kJo-DPj1yTkNmNN37j5ksphwl50tebGqB-iPGNies_rniZ-TIbHkNPez7fc6Oabs3bzbA7SoY9K2QtcutFrbDhLj36H_tHEMI2QrJ2qhoEayrfiN_NzY/s1600/F%2526F+PIB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="988" data-original-width="893" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwTG2J7JmmN50ba-0rEBDZ3-2kJo-DPj1yTkNmNN37j5ksphwl50tebGqB-iPGNies_rniZ-TIbHkNPez7fc6Oabs3bzbA7SoY9K2QtcutFrbDhLj36H_tHEMI2QrJ2qhoEayrfiN_NzY/s400/F%2526F+PIB.jpg" width="361" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Between 1966 and 1976, we provided the town with its panto - mum's rule that only pupils of six and over could take place, meant that I missed out on being in the inaugural production of Cinderella (I was 5), although I did sit in the audience with my granny, fuming that I wasn't allowed on stage, especially as I knew all the dances. From the next year (Aladdin) until I left home, I was in every production, initially as one of the dancers, then taking on small parts and eventually principal boy (Aladdin, Dandini) or - much more fun - comedy sidekick.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTiGOTfY3E_-fhjGFHAT513j3eQli09QY13v2mvDgqH4luXTGC4VAlEEwA-fG7_QIArkpRRirdlXiA7QrP2yII5Hfcraoj3-pIxUj7qPq3cyROL98FZZPfjVvRQpVzXjJ2srdJEJdePQ/s1600/Dandini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="524" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTiGOTfY3E_-fhjGFHAT513j3eQli09QY13v2mvDgqH4luXTGC4VAlEEwA-fG7_QIArkpRRirdlXiA7QrP2yII5Hfcraoj3-pIxUj7qPq3cyROL98FZZPfjVvRQpVzXjJ2srdJEJdePQ/s400/Dandini.jpg" width="333" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">From September every year, when rehearsals started, the house turned into Panto Central. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I told my first proper boyfriend "This is what I do every year. You don't have to get involved but..." and bless him, he subjected himself to several years of dancing, singing and tights on my behalf. W</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">e lived 'above the shop' - dance studio downstairs, flat above) so scripts were churned out on the dining table on an old Gestetner machine:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjpl1LMThUAx5qCveY-Oy6lHqGL9KHqNDGofHpVCpqPCRU9F_FbC3QSMC2UfOVtt4quLR-XxNlVNz8wj_V6twRbiMzgrGguAGZ9164ZbfGK4BSemCuA9s44bncwqeHDGzMJhBLlnPsOo/s1600/DSC08667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjpl1LMThUAx5qCveY-Oy6lHqGL9KHqNDGofHpVCpqPCRU9F_FbC3QSMC2UfOVtt4quLR-XxNlVNz8wj_V6twRbiMzgrGguAGZ9164ZbfGK4BSemCuA9s44bncwqeHDGzMJhBLlnPsOo/s320/DSC08667.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The living room was festooned with costumes, the sewing machine had to be moved in order for me to do my homework, scenery-painting took place in the cellar (there's a whole other <a href="http://friendlydragonspouse-randomrants.blogspot.com/2018/03/miscellaneous-items-with-no-better-home.html" target="_blank">story</a> connected to that - see "A broken mug"), it completely dominated our Autumn and Winter. On Christmas Eve, the panic would set in and mum would rush round un-hanging the costumes from the living room picture rails and hanging them up somewhere else for the duration; the ironing board would be stowed away and the living room would again become a normal family space for two and a bit days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My special Christmas job was emptying the ashtrays, in advance of the Christmas Eve open house my parents held for friends and family. Mum baked industrial quantities of mince pies and chicken patties (I was never sure what these were - the filling suggested some kind of poultry-based, short crust vol au vent) and a punch which I've never managed to recreate - cider, brandy and a cinnamon stick thrown at it. Mum also used to make her own Christmas puddings which - every year - dad would assess as "Lovely, Fred, but not <i>quite</i> as good as last year's." Her reputation for them grew and at one stage she was producing about 6 puddings for friends and neighbours as well as ours. She never quite got out of the habit of mass-production, though, and was still producing extra puddings and tons of mince pies even when it was just the two of them. The mincemeat recipe - dad's thing, nicked from Mrs Beeton - was passed down to me. It was only when I was discussing mum's newly-diagnosed diabetes 20 years later and mentioned the mincemeat having no added sugar that we realised dad had missed the sugar off when typing out the recipe (I still make it without).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LCIINpvsa_Z5NcuHLneTKfVKsBQv8NaCQZL5A9XWNdzeko97y7x3bm6cfnL1HF_Wox_GlV5xJHVlq5EXFpxmHttykCK2izwdLkRcYvzsSGrHkUt6G4e3J08PQKoWMCz8cr0moV7uXnI/s1600/Christmas+Pudding+72015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1364" data-original-width="1600" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LCIINpvsa_Z5NcuHLneTKfVKsBQv8NaCQZL5A9XWNdzeko97y7x3bm6cfnL1HF_Wox_GlV5xJHVlq5EXFpxmHttykCK2izwdLkRcYvzsSGrHkUt6G4e3J08PQKoWMCz8cr0moV7uXnI/s320/Christmas+Pudding+72015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Christmas pudding, 1972 (the year I got a Kodak Instamatic). Not quite sure what that drink is in my sister's hand...</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, back to panto. Once Boxing Day was over, the costumes reappeared, and we prepared to move into the theatre. As my birthday falls between Christmas and New Year, my birthday tea was very often held on trestle tables onstage, between the matinee and evening performances. In a pre-Whacky Warehouse/stretch limo era, this was pretty damned cool. And we all got to wear fancy dress (there wasn't time to change...).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When the council finally cottoned on that they might be able to make money out of a professional pantomime, we found ourselves without a gig so mum and dad simply re-designed the existing productions and took the show on the road, visiting residential homes and village halls, taking panto to the masses (or at least those sections of the masses for whom getting in to the rival panto at the Hazlitt was a bus-ride away). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After a few years, we realised that those people who'd taken the kids to the panto in December were ready to submit themselves to another round of it in January (when, let's face it, there's not much else to do), so we returned to the Hazllitt after the pro show had finished. Mum and dad continued to put on shows until their retirement, at which point the costumes were given away to other local groups and they moved to Devon.... where they proceeded to join a choir and carried on doing performances well into their 80s, when they finally decided to call it a day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And as for the camel? That was me aged about five. Like all good amateur drama groups, we had a pantomime cow (stage name: Christabelle) and a camel whose name was Phyllis. One day the gas man came to read the meter and I announced "There's a camel in our cellar." "Yes, dear" he said indulgently, only to emerge from the cellar having read the meter and said to mum "She's right, there <i>is</i> a camel in your cellar." Grown-ups, eh? They don't believe a word you say.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was an odd childhood....</span>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-43138487267816589252018-05-25T18:32:00.002+00:002023-02-04T21:07:21.222+00:00Scattered Black and Whites...
<style type="text/css">
p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; color: #1d2129; -webkit-text-stroke: #1d2129}
span.s1 {font-kerning: none; background-color: #ffffff}
span.s2 {font-kerning: none}
</style>
<h3>
<span><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1d2129;">Nearly two years after their deaths, I am still going through my parents' many photographs. Dad was a keen amateur photographer and did his own black and white processing, so there are hundreds of images to sort through. Today I found a couple of a</span> family holiday in the late 1960's. They say every picture tells a story... </span></span></h3>
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"><span face="" style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span>
</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZaq7QdVh037RTuvXR10DguHPfWalcccqE_Hox5JeBWUqSEzuIssM8ncN_RIzlCB7GWFydJ821YdjjlqUa0EKlQMPdVoEcRDR0kK74M73Ud0MdEca69ZWizJc2ay4emKI7okmnSaiDbNk/s1600/Cornwall+1+2.jpg" style="background-color: #b6d7a8; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="984" data-original-width="1600" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZaq7QdVh037RTuvXR10DguHPfWalcccqE_Hox5JeBWUqSEzuIssM8ncN_RIzlCB7GWFydJ821YdjjlqUa0EKlQMPdVoEcRDR0kK74M73Ud0MdEca69ZWizJc2ay4emKI7okmnSaiDbNk/s400/Cornwall+1+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span><span face="" style="background-color: #b6d7a8; color: #1d2129;"><br /></span>
<span face="" style="background-color: #b6d7a8; color: #1d2129;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span face="" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-size: large;">The cute little moppet in the ill-fitting bathing costume, sunhat and cardigan(!) is me, seen here with mum and our (t)rusty old Austin A35 van. You'll notice the CalorGaz bottle and cooker on the grass, along with a 1 gallon water carrier and assorted items lying around the place. This was the morning after the night before.</span></span><br />
<span face="" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span face="" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-size: large;">We had been staying in Devon for a couple of days and then broke camp and headed for a campsite near Looe, in Cornwall. As we took the tent down it began spitting with rain.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span face=""><br style="color: #1d2129;" /><span style="color: #1d2129;">By the time we reached Cornwall it was raining very hard and getting dark, so dad pitched the tent in the only space he could find available and mum tried to organise some food for two small, tired, hungry girls. The rain kept on coming and when the gas bottle floated out from behind the cooker, dad realised that a) pitching the tent at the bottom of a field was probably not the best idea and b) that it was time to evacuate!</span><br style="color: #1d2129;" /><br style="color: #1d2129;" /><span style="color: #1d2129;">My sister and I were put in the van to try and keep dry, along with two bowls of tinned spaghetti, our makeshift tea. Mum and dad tried to salvage our luggage and bedding and get it back into the van. The rain carried on into the night, until it looked as if the van was going to get bogged down in the mud. At this stage, a family with a caravan pitched higher up the site came over to offer assistance. The teenage sons were offering help to stranded campers and their parents asked if my sister and I wanted to come and sleep in the dry in the caravan - I said yes, but my sister wanted to stay with mum. I repaid this kindness by keeping them awake all night telling them that yetis are really very shy creatures and not at all like the nasty ones on Doctor Who!</span><br style="color: #1d2129;" /><br style="color: #1d2129;" /><span style="color: #1d2129;">Eventually, dad decided that he had to move the car to higher ground - by this time his clothes were soaked and he was dressed only in a towel round his waist. He got in the car and went to put his foot on the clutch, but instead put it into a bowl of cold spaghetti which one of us had failed to eat.</span><br style="color: #1d2129;" /><br style="color: #1d2129;" /><span style="color: #1d2129;">The next morning the rain had passed and the day dawned bright and breezy; amazingly, by mid-day, everything was dry and ordered and dad finally lay down in the tent to get some rest. Just as he dozed off, he was aware of some movement and opened his eyes to see the van rolling downhill towards him...</span><br style="color: #1d2129;" /><br style="color: #1d2129;" /><span style="color: #1d2129;">I had got into the van to get my colouring book and crayons and in doing so had trodden on the handbrake, thus releasing it. Fortunately there was a 5 gallon water carrier lying on the ground and the van rolled into this and to a stop. This is me shortly thereafter, with said colouring book and not a care in the world, least of all having </span></span><span face="" style="color: #1d2129;">nearly </span><span face="" style="color: #1d2129;">killed my father.</span></span><br />
<span face="" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRvJGR-o9JpB-AMrNZPjgTYfzdnGMOsqz6S6xQElPQkRZPMHauDRaZ9pv7eb95WvthnDreXwZyk3SrUVmG-ddk6Zc1ckLG_Icjt5KU_IHbv1QK6ZhRpU2USG6HgLW_OAPxWH1DODKPVs/s1600/Cornwall+2+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="963" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRvJGR-o9JpB-AMrNZPjgTYfzdnGMOsqz6S6xQElPQkRZPMHauDRaZ9pv7eb95WvthnDreXwZyk3SrUVmG-ddk6Zc1ckLG_Icjt5KU_IHbv1QK6ZhRpU2USG6HgLW_OAPxWH1DODKPVs/s640/Cornwall+2+2.jpg" width="384" /></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span face="" style="font-size: large;"><br style="color: #1d2129;" /><br style="color: #1d2129;" /><span style="color: #1d2129;">I'm guessing from the position of the van parked safely next to the tent in the earlier picture that it was taken after this event. The L-plate was for mum. She was a fine driver - dad used to sit quite happily in the passenger seat while she negotiated the winding Cornish country lanes. Sadly, this competence deserted her in test conditions and she never did get a full licence.</span></span><br />
<span face="" style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span></span>
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;">I don't remember what we did for the rest of that holiday. A lot of people would never have gone camping again, but mum and dad continued to do it for another 25 years. Eventually they stopped dividing the holiday between Devon and Cornwall and settled on the tiny but lovely village of Strete, near Dartmouth, where we spent many happy childhood holidays, including the long, hot Summer of 1976, when the campsite threw up dust whenever a car drove in or out and the skyline was dotted with hillfires.</span></span><br />
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZC4XnuzmoP2MXN1iWbg3oroHGwYaz9TaN5nQ0VGYrD6zKVnHtdSw8HHZ8za6-qILtekZWU7rSSwmxDst9v4xl6fJxABJ3Q3lf6MXoHUvM5M6YKPe-Yt_kW6_zwklaYtCY6GO5sbQmWIc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-25+at+19.13.15.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="497" data-original-width="303" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZC4XnuzmoP2MXN1iWbg3oroHGwYaz9TaN5nQ0VGYrD6zKVnHtdSw8HHZ8za6-qILtekZWU7rSSwmxDst9v4xl6fJxABJ3Q3lf6MXoHUvM5M6YKPe-Yt_kW6_zwklaYtCY6GO5sbQmWIc/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-05-25+at+19.13.15.png" width="195" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span face=""><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: large;">Me in '76: my propensity for stupid hats remained undiminished</span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;">And it is here that their ashes are scattered, in a place that meant the world to them - "Who needs foreign holidays" my dad would say, "when you have views like this?"</span></span><br />
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFKHuiWDvw-fAFM8hAL1A8F1-wOB2F9jxfPB9fUHkUW2zcd0h-O_dzjZSuzee8DjoU_sX9OSpr_DdEjh-3up7anjwkS3XEYD7GwVN8ofQfLMKIdQLAwVORKcCJa-8KOY9Jrv9PxSUFad4/s1600/20170624_182901.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFKHuiWDvw-fAFM8hAL1A8F1-wOB2F9jxfPB9fUHkUW2zcd0h-O_dzjZSuzee8DjoU_sX9OSpr_DdEjh-3up7anjwkS3XEYD7GwVN8ofQfLMKIdQLAwVORKcCJa-8KOY9Jrv9PxSUFad4/s400/20170624_182901.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><i>[It should be noted that they never went abroad, so really didn't have anything to compare "this" to, but I take his point - it's a lovely bit of the country.]</i></span></span><br />
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;">Mindful of these events, though, when we go on holiday we hire a cottage!</span></span><br />
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><b>Post Script:</b></span></span><br />
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;">The bowls with the cold spaghetti in them? These!</span></span><br />
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"> I found them while clearing the house and brought them home with me to use for gardening. I couldn't just throw them out, could I?</span></span><br />
<span face=""><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYabiA-tO4vT_c9UFqUIbqB7bGvOj5l1ugfTCFdDrqN_s3hHeV1Gxv5uNqwAbgukqFxJdJGb5zX0qzh126OGIXt3VPmKlnCRrZoUAUki49kLPEOD8uD270fS-3LO_CRUDqjFzIdEP5XX0/s1600/20160517_131149.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYabiA-tO4vT_c9UFqUIbqB7bGvOj5l1ugfTCFdDrqN_s3hHeV1Gxv5uNqwAbgukqFxJdJGb5zX0qzh126OGIXt3VPmKlnCRrZoUAUki49kLPEOD8uD270fS-3LO_CRUDqjFzIdEP5XX0/s320/20160517_131149.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span face=""><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><br /></span></span></span>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-27113645854277935402018-03-07T19:09:00.001+00:002018-03-07T19:09:38.170+00:00Miscellaneous Items with No Better Home<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A <a href="https://twitter.com/rhodri/status/971106853844344842" target="_blank">tweet</a> last night about odd things older relatives store prompted me to share a picture of a file I found while clearing my parents's house:</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYN9bvbCjMH6Ucd9tIRYP-VLKKdNr5JwmdkRrOFasN69XhWA2f6Bn8aHCMxuuGRS52ozEP1Yi5z337icONCwL3b1UBVEnkAqsGqWvR83F1MgqlecC_yziASKrOZvR-FZ216Wvi1AtGtiI/s1600/Misc+Items.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="888" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYN9bvbCjMH6Ucd9tIRYP-VLKKdNr5JwmdkRrOFasN69XhWA2f6Bn8aHCMxuuGRS52ozEP1Yi5z337icONCwL3b1UBVEnkAqsGqWvR83F1MgqlecC_yziASKrOZvR-FZ216Wvi1AtGtiI/s400/Misc+Items.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This got me thinking about the other oddities we found. My late parents were inveterate hoarders - possibly something to do with being the wartime generation that couldn't afford to just throw things away, but not entirely....</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mum always despaired of the unnamed, dis-assembled pieces of mechanical detritus ("little iron dingbats" as she called them) which dad would bring into the house and then leave on the arm of his armchair, the coffee table, etc. They ran a dancing school and amateur theatre group (for a fuller picture of them, click <a href="http://friendlydragonspouse-randomrants.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/end-ii.html" target="_blank">here</a>), and we lived 'above the shop' so space was a bit limited and our family Christmases tended to be a race against time to tidy away all the costumes before Father Christmas arrived!</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When they retired, they converted the house back to a conventional 4 bedroomed house in anticipation of their retirement to Devon. When the time came to move, I was advised to take a trip home to pick up anything that belonged to me that I'd not already collected. We were in the process of buying our own house, too, so it was the perfect time to collect my dolls house (!) and some furniture they no longer wanted. I distinctly remember a conversation with dad which went something along the lines of:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"We're having a good old clear out, as we can't take all this to Devon and it will be less for you to sort through when we die."</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This was in 1993. They did multiple trips to the local tip, donated all their costumes to local groups, and off they went to set up their new, streamlined home.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Fast forward to 2012. They were getting on a bit now, and no longer the active 60-somethings who'd moved in. Dad's tendency to stockpile bits of timber (when they bought a new sofa, rather than send the old one to the tip he stripped it down and kept all the component parts, "just in case.") and mum's accumulation of fabric, flower-arranging kit and teddy bears (a late-onset obsession) meant their house was full to bursting. Down for a week over the Easter holidays with the grandchildren, I volunteered to clear out dad's workshop, which was looking like this:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQSaneMn04GaV_w1TGW3jhPw9lTarnkHuwKePT5rlNHXQ5IQREj093a85S9p1UqvDEB0E8FCY9XCp2Yh1-02gIHzj7LzoXmpd9stGns7vGsToEe284Hl-GebG-9Ke6-005Cyjx8TLBZLA/s1600/DSC08632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQSaneMn04GaV_w1TGW3jhPw9lTarnkHuwKePT5rlNHXQ5IQREj093a85S9p1UqvDEB0E8FCY9XCp2Yh1-02gIHzj7LzoXmpd9stGns7vGsToEe284Hl-GebG-9Ke6-005Cyjx8TLBZLA/s640/DSC08632.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Beneath that lot you can just make out mum's old bureau and a barbers' chair, several sets of tools (dad's, his dad's) the number plate to a long-crushed Vauxhall Cavalier, the strimmer which broke several years before and which he'd attempted a repair with <a href="http://www.go-araldite.com/" target="_blank">Araldite</a> (as a child, I thought the whole world was held together with this). </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Reader, it took me a week to clear it. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Fortunately, I had the foresight to catalogue what I found, so I can now treat you to the highlights. Bear in mind, most of these had been transported 250 miles across country in order to sit there for 20 years:</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYBv6E0kdwGKotzDTG7EBgWBV9tbTwEiNx1c0mzJylFV9ULuaKksLFxLiDJc4XMn68CFVIsKHdW09k1x0ngCgmKKu-RMkEkCqgi6ERrzLcnao6cvl7aqyKiiDwGDPTR5U9qOBkZEIoCM/s1600/c.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYBv6E0kdwGKotzDTG7EBgWBV9tbTwEiNx1c0mzJylFV9ULuaKksLFxLiDJc4XMn68CFVIsKHdW09k1x0ngCgmKKu-RMkEkCqgi6ERrzLcnao6cvl7aqyKiiDwGDPTR5U9qOBkZEIoCM/s320/c.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTkMadlnnII3QbyBpdHxto6cVYa76XfPurd3ITKblQ6u_UwSgFYOQ-C82r463nrnOIdIPnDZU3Rxe8bEjU77SK9rMYcuRwfnFXKG_DSTpwvwbiU4GaGY-lRrM_yxfer3-s6QBetV8xjO0/s1600/DSC08610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTkMadlnnII3QbyBpdHxto6cVYa76XfPurd3ITKblQ6u_UwSgFYOQ-C82r463nrnOIdIPnDZU3Rxe8bEjU77SK9rMYcuRwfnFXKG_DSTpwvwbiU4GaGY-lRrM_yxfer3-s6QBetV8xjO0/s320/DSC08610.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This was a vacuum cleaner which he'd kept because it had an attachment which converted it into a paint sprayer for decorating. It plugged into the light socket. Last used: 1968</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZzUyGQQKpzI5F0DdVy57TX-YZk0OJJ6N4NGfGJI5h8IBG82DwIVKuwJ0rvW2x6OymRL9FclR_vZ2kr6QpMKICt_XDS1PEePLq6I66pdHT-8f1CxoUnbGGFTZyadioUMjmAPeo4R1yyc/s1600/DSC08615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZzUyGQQKpzI5F0DdVy57TX-YZk0OJJ6N4NGfGJI5h8IBG82DwIVKuwJ0rvW2x6OymRL9FclR_vZ2kr6QpMKICt_XDS1PEePLq6I66pdHT-8f1CxoUnbGGFTZyadioUMjmAPeo4R1yyc/s320/DSC08615.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A broken mug. To be fair, there is a story to this. We painted panto scenery in the cellar, and there was a hatch in the floor through which flats were lifted and dropped back in. Dad and a friend were painting in the cellar with the hatch open and my sister brought them both a cup of coffee. "Where do you want it?" she asked. "Oh just bring it in" they said, so she backed in through the door in plunged straight down the hatch. Luckily, heavily-painted hessian broke her fall. And the mug (above).</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Why on earth did you keep this?" I asked. "I always intended to make it into a novelty lamp for your sister." he said.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZjqF8GzaBhmhA7U0hGVMM315_sE9tPn5OQ3K0qm75mg3K-1b9szXr7BAt14JsxhFRf2rmqoOmpD1hFFLy1vNwX0ETPbc7TPIQ5BotH_88bk1X8v-Bih32SWco_DIFfJCQc6BHgTiH_0/s1600/DSC08617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZjqF8GzaBhmhA7U0hGVMM315_sE9tPn5OQ3K0qm75mg3K-1b9szXr7BAt14JsxhFRf2rmqoOmpD1hFFLy1vNwX0ETPbc7TPIQ5BotH_88bk1X8v-Bih32SWco_DIFfJCQc6BHgTiH_0/s320/DSC08617.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have no idea of the provenance of this, but it's older than me and probably a fire risk.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNs96ftBDvStR8yaaybeJawzGnM9you1y_hzLB7WqVsr8nhWWhdILb63IIs_Y2I0hmWNQwlYF94gKA1cMVkVrb9mptGOzefhLD6UZAGGHjYm_83EJCtNm7sVhL72JsVDQEXE8W4Xfc5A/s1600/DSC08618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNs96ftBDvStR8yaaybeJawzGnM9you1y_hzLB7WqVsr8nhWWhdILb63IIs_Y2I0hmWNQwlYF94gKA1cMVkVrb9mptGOzefhLD6UZAGGHjYm_83EJCtNm7sVhL72JsVDQEXE8W4Xfc5A/s320/DSC08618.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">An Oxo tin full of sash pulleys. The house was fully double glazed in uPVC.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0o3RMunl81Ks202rLprWMIfnX_erm72NAtWmgjSd-g5SHHfQumKzFhnMOVBLmBh_vTWYJ_rUQXU9PLQBPN6oSXGqN6uqWU3QKf6ZprYAMomSwuHjzL99IP0CD65jP2poMZjr_r3Aq2Hk/s1600/DSC08626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0o3RMunl81Ks202rLprWMIfnX_erm72NAtWmgjSd-g5SHHfQumKzFhnMOVBLmBh_vTWYJ_rUQXU9PLQBPN6oSXGqN6uqWU3QKf6ZprYAMomSwuHjzL99IP0CD65jP2poMZjr_r3Aq2Hk/s320/DSC08626.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Three light bulbs he rescued from a skip when his office was refurbished (he did a lot of skip-cycling). They are oversized, screw-thread 200w bulbs that didn't fit any light fittings we either owned or were aware of, at the old house or this one. Again, transported across country.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnWZnaMU8hxtTkmCBJgPsZ6WReKxUdkPzFPs3PEdkWj645JiulpHXP8N_l2YbgwfKTC-X26RZjCXxAkH_b9ZoivEosQEZ4e5_isujF0ASZmkbXLwYN87lKx3eJkniTBTdXoFrVMqXJTrs/s1600/DSC08627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnWZnaMU8hxtTkmCBJgPsZ6WReKxUdkPzFPs3PEdkWj645JiulpHXP8N_l2YbgwfKTC-X26RZjCXxAkH_b9ZoivEosQEZ4e5_isujF0ASZmkbXLwYN87lKx3eJkniTBTdXoFrVMqXJTrs/s320/DSC08627.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A box full of dowel rods, "just in case". The yellow ones are from my cot.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjJbb-3UGckaCtj2Xtp_QGIg4IU07rFvpUiyEedn-1aOB190Hx30t29xaDnEfxV3_rByWB-FXKImOghWJPL2ToJLYSk4xZiLG3j68xTlZRU1lRVHP3TUbLY-_NRw0Uhnnd7hEZEg8scA/s1600/DSC08630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjJbb-3UGckaCtj2Xtp_QGIg4IU07rFvpUiyEedn-1aOB190Hx30t29xaDnEfxV3_rByWB-FXKImOghWJPL2ToJLYSk4xZiLG3j68xTlZRU1lRVHP3TUbLY-_NRw0Uhnnd7hEZEg8scA/s640/DSC08630.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is the other end of the workshop, after I'd cleared it so he could get to his circular saw bench. As I said at the time, "pondering the wisdom of an 82 year old using a circular saw, but let's park that for now..." </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Note also the one spare toilet seat we let him keep of the five he had stored there, "just in case"; the bathroom cabinet from the old house; a home-made light box and a set of plywood circles, purpose unknown; and my grandmother's white stick (she died in 1976).</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; letter-spacing: -0.12px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.12px;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiREXScI38IRMcgot29WB0xDSImSU2SWuugSVPZXkOReRvRMlu_hcftXjQ1gLs-Y0d7sRu8tV4_yEQ4O_pdywBwVeyU0kZZQpm_qZOYOWO16XF3Xfq3J7cgv25W64ryg5suC0XfX7zB8Hc/s1600/DSC08643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiREXScI38IRMcgot29WB0xDSImSU2SWuugSVPZXkOReRvRMlu_hcftXjQ1gLs-Y0d7sRu8tV4_yEQ4O_pdywBwVeyU0kZZQpm_qZOYOWO16XF3Xfq3J7cgv25W64ryg5suC0XfX7zB8Hc/s400/DSC08643.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.12px;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A wooden box, containing.... stuff. "You can't throw that out, it belonged to Uncle Bert" - this was the man who sold my parents their old home. He wasn't an uncle, but some kind of family friend of my mother's. I left it there - I'm not heartless!</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7lRjzSWvyqEIuyBqdSs2h7W-ROJinst6Iz9PJ7AdH5kvTikQ6mtU9SCYQD90QpRXhc7a2I69EM-9Sqb7Fy-80S7Kx99Crrsx5M0gk1s-TnksfVfVgp9aXbIArB_EfPBcmwqBq88y4_Ug/s1600/DSC08657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7lRjzSWvyqEIuyBqdSs2h7W-ROJinst6Iz9PJ7AdH5kvTikQ6mtU9SCYQD90QpRXhc7a2I69EM-9Sqb7Fy-80S7Kx99Crrsx5M0gk1s-TnksfVfVgp9aXbIArB_EfPBcmwqBq88y4_Ug/s320/DSC08657.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This was a home made inspection lamp, fashioned out of a 'Party 7'-style beer can. "It's only a bit illegal" he said."It's not earthed."</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-PbSsT7yYn93hDElMPswjYEdTV8EDTE2SC9nXYpU-iEEmIWn7ribmXumwceZT7HCMgAVqIyMPweBmj4OiVD7jkJPaSHl6rxyssj4Btj2rrsI7U2c92au2Ec-dURlHkoQP4oLjEdAEixA/s1600/DSC08658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-PbSsT7yYn93hDElMPswjYEdTV8EDTE2SC9nXYpU-iEEmIWn7ribmXumwceZT7HCMgAVqIyMPweBmj4OiVD7jkJPaSHl6rxyssj4Btj2rrsI7U2c92au2Ec-dURlHkoQP4oLjEdAEixA/s320/DSC08658.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A dolls' wardrobe, given to me by a family friend who is now a grandmother herself. Not sure how/why it made the trip to Retirementland.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGMNHiFLKnSWwGJkiBi3Ftuw4dvxuPs7PpiUd4hSRLUE4i_Dw4L6ULwksVSXP3OPW_G3PSXlRiPnq9ewznEUr0kvSV7Z6015YAyEhVj3a3vIXO78RT60m2aAdUKcTdsEHmES83eLht2s/s1600/DSC08661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGMNHiFLKnSWwGJkiBi3Ftuw4dvxuPs7PpiUd4hSRLUE4i_Dw4L6ULwksVSXP3OPW_G3PSXlRiPnq9ewznEUr0kvSV7Z6015YAyEhVj3a3vIXO78RT60m2aAdUKcTdsEHmES83eLht2s/s320/DSC08661.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Reclaimed window glass..... yes, you guessed, "just in case"</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuqD_RtFJrrpFwf1_1Nfm2iOiGHEUbGYeGV0k1isjT22nWnTGrXPbeEoXi8e8S7pc6I0ZTzY6yjVR8Ua2gVF-Kwek8hos7J-s8oNzhOzM0nueYiUxCGcFdMDsn1babFFPgZveFgu3DmQ/s1600/DSC08664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuqD_RtFJrrpFwf1_1Nfm2iOiGHEUbGYeGV0k1isjT22nWnTGrXPbeEoXi8e8S7pc6I0ZTzY6yjVR8Ua2gVF-Kwek8hos7J-s8oNzhOzM0nueYiUxCGcFdMDsn1babFFPgZveFgu3DmQ/s320/DSC08664.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The ladder to our childhood bunk beds, long since replaced with new bunk beds (with an integral ladder) for when the grandchildren come to stay.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZb99teMYKxDRW8ib9ywDrWqdkEHu973ZH0_8rX_34as694geA72y96bTRLAeF0joDZspguqS4Z13IifGWZ953QKvVYyNVEUER1nZMBbifrlSrV7j-5Cz6nPtC0JJDDa4YmX5udbxcCU0/s1600/DSC08666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZb99teMYKxDRW8ib9ywDrWqdkEHu973ZH0_8rX_34as694geA72y96bTRLAeF0joDZspguqS4Z13IifGWZ953QKvVYyNVEUER1nZMBbifrlSrV7j-5Cz6nPtC0JJDDa4YmX5udbxcCU0/s320/DSC08666.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My first record player, a very old Garrard deck which dad replaced with a newer one in 1973.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhi8MDfat0vDP4ivlJBPyum5_o3mie6Q5BYDVdy9Efp0B59qPuOwWCs1Yff8w9rXWjqBcLuYCQPI49yjikV7LlbYzoxaGgHDnJsLe4zt4NW9P63Y6FipnwZr8j4AgiUqu4MC0GHvudQ04/s1600/DSC08667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhi8MDfat0vDP4ivlJBPyum5_o3mie6Q5BYDVdy9Efp0B59qPuOwWCs1Yff8w9rXWjqBcLuYCQPI49yjikV7LlbYzoxaGgHDnJsLe4zt4NW9P63Y6FipnwZr8j4AgiUqu4MC0GHvudQ04/s320/DSC08667.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A Gestetner duplicator, the photocopier of its day, which used a wax-coated stencil onto which panto scripts were typed and reproduced using a horribly sticky ink. Making corrections was very difficult, though, so on one occasion Prince Charming declared that "Cinderella shall be my bridge!"</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwUbMb0LUA7FXaGPd7jnzql5RUj02JHtH0PmkNdDuMQFRt1LHsGAw0K3q-UvtlMaKHHKbnoDxmO3kohhbuWCfxRSHu7IrTYaYL-rvD_hWtJjVS5fkhaJ70Iwy87E4xXZqM7XAT3x-GQA/s1600/20160721_194135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwUbMb0LUA7FXaGPd7jnzql5RUj02JHtH0PmkNdDuMQFRt1LHsGAw0K3q-UvtlMaKHHKbnoDxmO3kohhbuWCfxRSHu7IrTYaYL-rvD_hWtJjVS5fkhaJ70Iwy87E4xXZqM7XAT3x-GQA/s320/20160721_194135.jpg" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4Z6KedQ-n8fzZzMB1cvGAP_sXuMMavRwjtVNmp2iXB9pwCb8cSbykAooBD7X2ZwtNgd9e8fU6ZXvddVkKozkLyDV2s3im2p0MnWzj_safq-RsO6VSG8t_-mjAAjo7f3JbfB1cHm6zLc/s1600/Photo0230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4Z6KedQ-n8fzZzMB1cvGAP_sXuMMavRwjtVNmp2iXB9pwCb8cSbykAooBD7X2ZwtNgd9e8fU6ZXvddVkKozkLyDV2s3im2p0MnWzj_safq-RsO6VSG8t_-mjAAjo7f3JbfB1cHm6zLc/s320/Photo0230.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oh, and there were these in the bathroom cabinet. Corfe's the Chemist had ceased trading before I was born.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At the end of the week, I had the workshop looking like this:</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3pX7QVaTrijlW09bQ3v0s8_lFED5bEnwGICc9e76GAcppMSlDVgBlQPtroOCYzqCUqAoBS8e8UUZDkZm_NArICmv12su-qjoKcKcKkHMYJk3yOfD007xnwsWVRQXqmBMUQfLIVtBxnhE/s1600/DSC08650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3pX7QVaTrijlW09bQ3v0s8_lFED5bEnwGICc9e76GAcppMSlDVgBlQPtroOCYzqCUqAoBS8e8UUZDkZm_NArICmv12su-qjoKcKcKkHMYJk3yOfD007xnwsWVRQXqmBMUQfLIVtBxnhE/s640/DSC08650.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Emboldened, the following year I cleared the attic (well, I needed something to keep me busy while the Royal Wedding was on). Upholstery, old bank statements and the five spare kettles that were stored up there. And the next year, my daughter and I redecorated their bedroom, taking the opportunity to clear a few of the bags full of carrier bags, etc, that were in the cupboards.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then, in 2016, everything changed. In February, dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer and as his health deteriorated, we had to make adjustments to the house to accommodate his increasing frailty and lack of mobility (Note: don't think just because you future-proof your home by installing a stairlift that old age won't defeat you - eventually, just getting on and off the stairlift is a challenge). As a result, my sister and I had to empty their dining room/study to make room for two beds. Part of the clearance included finding the file that prompted this post, b</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">ut also some other gems. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Why, for instance, was his map of all the doodlebugs which fell on Kent in WII stored next to the dishwasher instructions?</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHThutfxDpvbElPaYcpkQD-eCeWy0a_pJoNONhHYL_5_gmEVOFV-sJcoCn0jgF1VncsO61kjKkRBKaMUoL9xHOoM5Ejo-eV0jqGqyrFWwCoX6Uzmqf90aB-beurfqaUf88Q31Kz41HVpQ/s1600/20160625_134657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHThutfxDpvbElPaYcpkQD-eCeWy0a_pJoNONhHYL_5_gmEVOFV-sJcoCn0jgF1VncsO61kjKkRBKaMUoL9xHOoM5Ejo-eV0jqGqyrFWwCoX6Uzmqf90aB-beurfqaUf88Q31Kz41HVpQ/s400/20160625_134657.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">His annotated copies of some promotional videos:</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDsge2G019JMy7o8gLrli2lWcog9kuG3oF2qmLz3DKjveSlTmVeIm2t_K2LVhqW3acPTj5mREQx_N6oLMg07OH0QmyvkomWWBXZ_yuWmGwLNXzkLuYwroF9Zwo_mxvXZeti7iIF4YcWn0/s1600/20160517_095849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDsge2G019JMy7o8gLrli2lWcog9kuG3oF2qmLz3DKjveSlTmVeIm2t_K2LVhqW3acPTj5mREQx_N6oLMg07OH0QmyvkomWWBXZ_yuWmGwLNXzkLuYwroF9Zwo_mxvXZeti7iIF4YcWn0/s400/20160517_095849.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And with this over-taping, I swear he was just trolling us...</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ0Mqi7MRkpzsWweJ1KJ6NP-KdXaK_Nhu_0vylLs1CK7XYh5UiWocyqdO5XGq4TMcH1kOVBUFWJgwm6MZKeM18Vq9qHTs2oflPpAKhCiYN2aaJyMO2SAxoIhRezN7uAC94zeFIkCFUIz8/s1600/20161001_100727.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ0Mqi7MRkpzsWweJ1KJ6NP-KdXaK_Nhu_0vylLs1CK7XYh5UiWocyqdO5XGq4TMcH1kOVBUFWJgwm6MZKeM18Vq9qHTs2oflPpAKhCiYN2aaJyMO2SAxoIhRezN7uAC94zeFIkCFUIz8/s640/20161001_100727.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sadly, both mum and dad died within a few days of each other and once their joint funeral was over, my sister and I had to clear the house. Despite the clear-out before they retired and my sporadic life laundries over the years, there was still so much to do. My sister's trips to the tip were so frequent that the staff honestly thought she was identical twins! Every utility bill, including the gas bill for the year before they left the old house. Details of every car he'd ever owned. The full pupil registers and exam reports of mum's dancing school from 1948-1992, and the books, the books...</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CXctq1XW8hdz6iYO6dgz1JWcTCfttzZtapupRvtRdK7iEVHa00z6gPvyUMGX1c-M4tc4Q5k2NX3ZNEdBC5HgYG2WNVga8kOWKwuI56A9LDXsZn56tdT_k9g_z4wn7k4oSks_59Cu9ew/s1600/20161127_000459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CXctq1XW8hdz6iYO6dgz1JWcTCfttzZtapupRvtRdK7iEVHa00z6gPvyUMGX1c-M4tc4Q5k2NX3ZNEdBC5HgYG2WNVga8kOWKwuI56A9LDXsZn56tdT_k9g_z4wn7k4oSks_59Cu9ew/s320/20161127_000459.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj91IrXzAODtYQUti8NIESF9UD8JY2eDhR9tN3Y5lOOwIQJWLefkiZo6LtSf1EOym5q0zLBpQjSZQUAL2Wo2pXWJLa5tgq8V4eUXN2TjrFot8h7P8boDcdd09D6acGCOhRQDFfpoU8Ez8/s1600/20161127_000502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj91IrXzAODtYQUti8NIESF9UD8JY2eDhR9tN3Y5lOOwIQJWLefkiZo6LtSf1EOym5q0zLBpQjSZQUAL2Wo2pXWJLa5tgq8V4eUXN2TjrFot8h7P8boDcdd09D6acGCOhRQDFfpoU8Ez8/s320/20161127_000502.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbpYqXRZKhuWK91lhzx0NlkBk7vHmaPAYFe1qtsDB2e3901VVKhR_dioyA6xAO_ViU8sIDz8TUgw4F7Nk2TLHXUIMhryzl8rugw5ujPgfabuL2mOlEAA-31QrryecTl6yMcjbKh20bFp0/s1600/20161127_000509.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbpYqXRZKhuWK91lhzx0NlkBk7vHmaPAYFe1qtsDB2e3901VVKhR_dioyA6xAO_ViU8sIDz8TUgw4F7Nk2TLHXUIMhryzl8rugw5ujPgfabuL2mOlEAA-31QrryecTl6yMcjbKh20bFp0/s320/20161127_000509.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We still have most of these and more still in boxes, waiting to be sorted. We are both book hoarders too, so we now have <i>four</i> people's libraries in the house. Mum and dad's aren't in great condition - mum tended to use paperbacks as coasters - but I don't want them being pulped just because a charity shop can't shift them. We may be e-Baying these for years....</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Other items captured for posterity include:</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcy0CSHIbJWYd93EtsMfBr2Lf-rjwEN9_gDC6LxnTKID0yhl11S5hTSZxPp3nBfdDb8eIByolGQaxORHMeqm9W2t4F2vQkPRGjog9w358RPQVFApck9X3Lke-651JNotgv7_aXWTmbM0Y/s1600/20161115_193940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcy0CSHIbJWYd93EtsMfBr2Lf-rjwEN9_gDC6LxnTKID0yhl11S5hTSZxPp3nBfdDb8eIByolGQaxORHMeqm9W2t4F2vQkPRGjog9w358RPQVFApck9X3Lke-651JNotgv7_aXWTmbM0Y/s320/20161115_193940.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Seriously damaged. Cannot repair" (but still kept).</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0eIPzzZx5lREyZFMejz3LdzEYSyaveBX0dzTq-7GMJ9dO-JZvi2JEFOl39fBPKv1dHypEVRcQn029Xik1Ak_NXbevKLIAU8Q58NGqqYvbsFTQuHrYvkqWn4rYj2W04Ai23CoBuroDgE/s1600/20161018_192641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0eIPzzZx5lREyZFMejz3LdzEYSyaveBX0dzTq-7GMJ9dO-JZvi2JEFOl39fBPKv1dHypEVRcQn029Xik1Ak_NXbevKLIAU8Q58NGqqYvbsFTQuHrYvkqWn4rYj2W04Ai23CoBuroDgE/s320/20161018_192641.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bought for my A level Graphics course in 1979... </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qS49ixO7WMw9eMKCP8xFArXEzA9apf8R2TBX-61NyBJQ8-H7CiCqA0ylGoxpqrGMRNASNlFzh_DMEMSijsDzVHAZGUjfFDbzpt-IESfuTID4fdp9wH5Gh8WKgwVZRNWdfpEk8cvdN-4/s1600/20161013_190026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qS49ixO7WMw9eMKCP8xFArXEzA9apf8R2TBX-61NyBJQ8-H7CiCqA0ylGoxpqrGMRNASNlFzh_DMEMSijsDzVHAZGUjfFDbzpt-IESfuTID4fdp9wH5Gh8WKgwVZRNWdfpEk8cvdN-4/s400/20161013_190026.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">From left to right - dad's 1940s edition of Pigeon Post (bought for him by his elder brother); my rather more battered 1970s edition; the mug I bought him which he kept especially for hot chocolate.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKAta_6DHCIyN0KcM8ATm6D6onxFGpDGut8sEq9gohy07uv-_5zbwvMptWfAPMRPq40ZRBvO2M1tr-I7W7ZKMbay2c1MIFh1FbxfSdVKcMIjdI-E7g30cP15ctxVkeazuCCR5YGQzKzBI/s1600/20161015_191741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKAta_6DHCIyN0KcM8ATm6D6onxFGpDGut8sEq9gohy07uv-_5zbwvMptWfAPMRPq40ZRBvO2M1tr-I7W7ZKMbay2c1MIFh1FbxfSdVKcMIjdI-E7g30cP15ctxVkeazuCCR5YGQzKzBI/s320/20161015_191741.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mum's barrel bag - very modish in the 1950s and it fascinated me when I was little. Not sure I'll ever use it, though.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And finally, I found a swatch of the wallpaper from our childhood bedroom, which stayed up, much to my chagrin, until I was 14.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6_GDGynpXawtEjP3qLRWA9g61YJUZaBQ-NdyuRnIupPXV8Ghy3p36SwZvzO25Sz057-Bp0g6dNOMTlbkbghPa8cshh3Ipv_yy1cyCS86t7t2MHtwtLrTsDm48CIBs4iAkRH46Oz1M3o/s1600/20161008_225608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6_GDGynpXawtEjP3qLRWA9g61YJUZaBQ-NdyuRnIupPXV8Ghy3p36SwZvzO25Sz057-Bp0g6dNOMTlbkbghPa8cshh3Ipv_yy1cyCS86t7t2MHtwtLrTsDm48CIBs4iAkRH46Oz1M3o/s640/20161008_225608.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And now the house and its clutter has gone, and I really need to start sorting things out here so my children don't have exactly the same thing to deal with when the time comes. These were all small, inconsequential objects but contain so many memories of my parents, and the daft-ness of some of them is really evocative of the people they were. As memorials go, this is a fine way to remember them.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">[With thanks to @<a href="https://twitter.com/rhodri" target="_blank">rhodri</a> for giving me the idea.]</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-90499555824853960942018-02-03T15:24:00.001+00:002021-12-24T12:33:59.130+00:00Let's have a heated debate....<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Back in the late 80s I went to Manchester University as a mature student, and in Freshers' Week I went to a cheese and wine social at the university film society. A momentous decision as it turned out, as I met my partner there and 30 years later we are both still in Manchester, with a son studying A level Film (about whom, more later).</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At that time, FilmSoc was a bit nerdy and bloke-ish, but we were a pretty professional bunch for a student society. We showed 5 films a week (from obscure world cinema to recent blockbusters) on industry-standard 35mm projectors. This meant that we needed a team of volunteer projectionists, all of whom needed training. When I joined, their one female projectionist had just graduated and what was left was a bunch of male </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">(mostly)</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">science undergraduates sacrificing their degrees to the needs of the society. Originally, I'd gone along with an idea of writing film reviews, like a good little arts student, but I signed up as a trainee projectionist because it looked like fun. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now this was real projecting, not just pressing 'play' on a video recorder. It took several weeks of training and supervision before a trainee was let loose on a live screening. If it goes wrong swapping between projectors (a changeover) the screen goes dark (or, worse still, the melty fireball of doom appears on the screen); if you lace the film up incorrectly the film appears 'out of rack' (the black bar between frames appears in the middle of the picture, with the bottom of one frame and the top of the next). All of which incurs the derision of your audience and is best avoided.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A couple of weeks into the Autumn Term a university women's group approached us to ask if we could put on a women-only screening of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0089015/" target="_blank">Desert Hearts</a>, which had been released a couple of years earlier but not widely shown (this was before the age of the multiplex and even in Manchester there weren't that many screens). We agreed and our Chair, a lovely gentle man who was an expert projectionist after three years doing the job, went to discuss the screening with them. Except he didn't. Not only was he prohibited from entering the Women's Office in the Union building, he had to stand at the end of the corridor to have the discussion. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The women-only screening, he was told, must have a female projectionist and there were to be no men present in the projection box or the Film Society office behind it. He explained that at the time (only a few weeks into the academic year) the society had no women projectionists, but this was apparently irrelevant. I had done about 2 weeks' training, and could just about lace up a projector and do a changeover, but I'd only ever done it as an exercise and was still nowhere near screening a whole film, even supervised. However, I was the least worst option, and I think a compromise was reached that a more qualified male projectionist could talk to me through the projection box door if there was a problem, but could not come in!</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I did it. I managed to show a whole 5 reels without mishap, but it was a petrifying experience and I've still never watched Desert Hearts, but the women's group got its safe space screening, albeit a pretty ropey one. I hope they enjoyed it. I remember thinking at the time (maybe because I'd already had several years out in the real world beyond student politics) that this kind of exclusionary feminism was a bit daft and potentially harmful, something which has come into stark relief over the last few weeks. I've never really enjoyed women only events and don't join women only organisations. I'm not convinced we can smash the patriarchy by removing ourselves from engaging with men. Confront misogyny, certainly, but I would rather come from a position of inclusive feminism. Which brings me to that crowdfunder.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Whatever the arguments about gender self-identification and all-women shortlists, the actions of some of the proponents of this GoFundMe appeal have been completely unacceptable. Whatever pretence they might make at wanting a civilised debate are undermined by the vile comments made by some of its supporters. Dead-naming and deliberately using the wrong pronouns, using insults such as 'dicksplash' and 'chicks with dicks' is if nothing else provocative and downright bloody rude. And when you state "any left-over funds will go to fight against self-id", you've pretty much stated your debating position. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's not as if all-women shortlists haven't been used in the past as a mechanism for keeping un-favoured male candidates out of a selection process, so forgive me if I don't see them as some kind of holy grail. If you want to increase representation, you can determine a shortlist for a particular group (we had a recent BAME-only shortlist locally); increasingly this is probably the direction the Labour Party should be moving in. That's a debate; throwing insults at trans women is not.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've found myself alienated recently from women I had previously considered comrades; this pains me, but I really won't be associated with this kind of intolerant behaviour in the name of feminism. The same women would rail against hate speech for any other minority group, but for some reason trans women are legitimate targets. Women who have rightly fought against misogyny in the Labour Party are now behaving in the same way as those misogynists. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Encouragingly, though, this appears to be a minority view, and many more people have been supportive of trans rights than have signed up to this campaign. I'm glad, because I have to declare an interest here. My son, that A level Film student I mentioned, is trans. That's not something you're really prepared for as a parent and, yes, it does challenge your feminist views, but ultimately your duty as a parent is to love and support your child unconditionally. I've been told by certain feminists that "it's a phase" or that he's "just a butch lesbian" * but, to be honest, it's looking like a pretty permanent phase, so he (and therefore trans women) will have my full support in this "debate." It wasn't always an easy journey, especially when he first came out, but I've learned a lot and come to respect him for being true to himself. And, given how many of his friends have been disowned or ridiculed by their families, I want him to know that we will always support him.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It would seem that trans men don't figure much in the exclusionary feminist worldview, but I have friends with trans daughters and as far as I'm concerned, it's one fight - trans rights really are human rights. I'm still learning, and I don't always get it right, but at least I'm not getting it completely wrong.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As my son said recently, "Yeah, mum, you used to be a bit of a TERF, but you're better now."</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'm happy with that.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Lato, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">*which conveniently overlooks his preference for men...</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-11411024825268942452017-10-03T18:35:00.001+00:002017-10-03T18:35:08.387+00:00Mr Cellophane<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, we're having problems with M's education and social care again. Nothing new there; it's been happening pretty much all her life. Except that she's now an adult and we're running into the brick wall that is adult social care, where you only count if you're actually currently suicidal (and not always then).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Back in the summer, after she had been admitted to hospital due to an attempt on her own life (which put paid to the two GCSE's she was due to sit), we contacted our local authority requesting an adult social care/mental health assessment, as we didn't feel we could keep her safe. When she turned 18, we were told "don't bother applying for a social care assessment, she won't meet the threshold." Reading up on it since, this seems a bit contrary to the Care Act, which says that local authorities should be <i>proactive</i> in offering assessments to people on the autistic spectrum, but we didn't question it, assuming that these were professionals who knew what they were talking about.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She was given a mental health assessment, carried out by a very pleasant and empathetic person whose train of thought was, sadly, interrupted by the realisation that she would have to go and move her car around the hospital car park mid- appointment, due to the Trust not providing all-shift parking for its own staff. She was sympathetic, but admitted M was unlikely to get much help, given that she was no longer at immediate risk of harm to herself or others (on the day of the appointment, at least). As with the RAID team in the hospital, she was able to offer useful phone numbers (no use at all for an autistic person who would no more phone a helpline than break the land speed record), referrals for counselling (4-6 month waiting lists) and a referral for a carers' assessment for my partner, her primary carer (we're still waiting on that, too - we anticipate more helpline numbers and offers of coffee mornings). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As to a social care assessment, nothing. "We should really be talking to her rather than you, as she's over eighteen." Well, yes, but she won't talk to a stranger, especially over the phone, so she won't seek help herself even when she needs it. So good luck with that...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And so we tried to get her back into some kind of routine. Her anti-depressants (which she'd been on for several years) were reviewed and amended and we tried to get her back on an even keel. The end of the academic year was fraught, although she managed to complete enough work to gain her Level 1 BTEC course, in preparation for the L2 Art & Design course she had been wanting to study for several years. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then we had a letter from Transport for Greater Manchester regarding the renewal of her travel pass. We duly filled in the application and returned it, only to have it refused on the grounds that "autism is not a learning disability" so she no longer qualified for it. I phoned the local authority and was told that this was because she was now an adult, and no longer came under Children's Services. We approached TfGM, who helpfully suggested applying on the grounds of having been refused a driving licence (although, to be fair, she would probably have qualified under the mental health criteria as well) and this was granted just before the Autumn Term began. With this pass she only qualified for free travel after 9.30am, a problem if her timetable included 9am starts, but better than nothing. As it turns out, we'd been wrongly informed; her EHC Plan means she is still entitled to the free travel she has had for the rest of her post-16 education, so we've now reapplied for the pass she should have had at the start of term.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the meantime, I had taken some advice and was advised that her EHC Plan had some notable gaps in provision on the non-educational care needs and since her mental health had deteriorated sharply since the Plan was implemented in October 2016, we were advised to request an emergency statutory annual review. I wrote to the local authority on 2 September to formally request this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Back at college enrolment, she discovered that she would not be allowed to sign up for the L2 course as she did not have English GCSE (the one she missed due to being an in-patient, hooked up to a drip) and was put on a L1 Art & Design course. Then she was told that the single Art & Design course was not running due to low numbers and that she would be doing a mixture of art, media and other disciplines. Having been put on a different L1 course last year, due to the Art & Design not running, she now found herself studying another course she didn't want to do, at a lower level than she thought she would be studying at. Her timetable didn't arrive before the beginning of term and rooms changed from day to day. Can anyone see why this might unsettle someone on the spectrum?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As a result, her anxiety went through the roof again and and she was pretty difficult to deal with, swearing at staff and spending half an hour hanging around the doorway trying to get into class (thresholds have always been an issue for her, but with careful management this can be overcome). Eventually, we were called in to a meeting, where it was proposed she should sign a behaviour contract; she declined to do so with 4 adults and her parents all sat around the table looking at her, so she was given some time to go away and think about it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As with most teenagers tasked with decision-making, she procrastinated. Last Monday she got a letter fro college stating that as she had not responded they would be starting withdrawal. This resulted in a frantic phone call to me at work (her carer had rashly though he could take half an hour off to go food shopping without incident) with M in floods of tears. I contacted the college straight away to see if there was any way to avoid this. I was assured someone would contact us. No-one did, so the next day, my partner contacted the college and was assured that someone would get back to him by the end of the day. That was a week ago, and despite us chasing twice since then, we have had no contact from anyone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Similarly, the local authority has not contacted us regarding her annual review. No reply, not even an acknowledgement of our request. I worked for this local authority for 17 years and during my time there we had strictly-enforced service standards regarding response times to the public. 3 weeks' silence, despite the intervention of IASS (Parent Partnership as was) and a local councillor, was not part of the service standard then. Budget cuts, staff shortages and increased workloads notwithstanding, failing to even acknowledge a request for a <b>statutory</b> procedure is pretty poor by any standards.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We are beginning to think we are invisible, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WKHzTtr_lNk" target="_blank">hence the title of this post</a>. A vulnerable young person, at risk of self-harm has been pretty much abandoned, and her parents are bearing the brunt of her frustration. She is, as everyone keeps pointing out, an adult. We can't keep her locked in the house, but our hearts are in our mouths every time she announces she's "going out". It seems the parents of adults with autism are fine for fulfilling the state's responsibility for care (until the point where we become too decrepit to cope) but we don't warrant a reply to our very polite (for now) emails asking for help.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You'll be pleased to learn though, that the local authority's self-assessment of its Autism Strategy is all "Green". So that's OK.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-59633505180662709862017-05-29T11:46:00.000+00:002017-08-24T16:56:24.664+00:00Let's not let dead cats decide this election.<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The rest of the Tory election campaign will be headed up by Lynton Crosby - a very unpleasant, unelected Australian 'strategist' with some <a href="http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/politics/theresa-mays-election-guru-lynton-10471574" target="_blank">unanswered questions about his tax arrangements</a>, who delights in using '<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dead_cat_strategy" target="_blank">dead cat</a>' tactics wherever he can and is very effective at making nasty and incompetent people (Cameron, anyone?) look good. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yFkdYwqxiHUxZ6GAoXYPh87-q0SW-Cqn2vdkA55UWx8PKJAMcYMuFUAFFk_H9uqTUITg2hVVuZNPpiP0UQDU0oKX-dNtzx85iXDPP8lCp6l2Oe6fYYgiiJ9uvsg8KIqUDK098Jz_6Mo/s1600/crosby.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="177" data-original-width="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yFkdYwqxiHUxZ6GAoXYPh87-q0SW-Cqn2vdkA55UWx8PKJAMcYMuFUAFFk_H9uqTUITg2hVVuZNPpiP0UQDU0oKX-dNtzx85iXDPP8lCp6l2Oe6fYYgiiJ9uvsg8KIqUDK098Jz_6Mo/s1600/crosby.jpeg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Please don't be fooled - May will not deliver a good (or possibly any) Brexit deal but she will continue to hammer the poor, the disabled and anyone other than the wealthy, despite all her faux concern for "ordinary hardworking people". And the NHS will continue to be run into the ground to soften us up for a US-style insurance system (look up how many Tory politicians have a financial interest in private healthcare companies if you don't believe me). </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">She is a weak PM (and was a rubbish Home Sec if you <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2016/jul/18/what-does-theresa-mays-record-as-home-secretary-tell-us" target="_blank">look back at her record</a>) who crumbles and then hides at the first sign of adversity. And if Brexit is what you're worried about, look at her negotiating team - the <a href="https://blogs.spectator.co.uk/2016/02/boris-for-in-mayor-teases-readers-in-column/#" target="_blank">dilettante</a> Boris Johnson, the security risk <a href="http://www.newstatesman.com/politics/uk/2016/02/less-shameless-world-liam-fox-s-career-would-have-ended-2011" target="_blank">Liam Fox</a> and David Davis, who really doesn't seem to know what he's doing so far. Angela Merkel has already given up on us, seeing the UK as Trump's ally! If we have to have Brexit (and I voted Remain, so I'm less than happy about it) then we at least need a decent settlement, and we won't get that with this bunch. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'm old enough to remember when Tory governments had Big Beasts - you may have disagreed with them and not liked them but at least there was a level of competence. Instead we have people like First Strike Fallon, who can barely control a tv interview, let alone our national security. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And then there is what they're not telling us. There should have been an announcement on the state pension age due out before the election, but they're <a href="https://www.ft.com/content/625e3b48-2c0b-11e7-9ec8-168383da43b7" target="_blank">holding it back until afterwards</a> - from which we can probably deduce that it's going to be bad news for us and we'll all have to work even longer than the current 66/67/68. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So yes, you may not like Corbyn (although it's funny how many people have changed their mind now they've seen more of him in action) but really - does the Conservative Party really strike you as Strong and Stable after the last few weeks? Compare that with the calm response Corbyn has shown over two years of vilification from a hostile press (and large chunks of the PLP). If there's one thing he doesn't do, it's panic when things go pear-shaped. Unlike May. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And before anyone starts with that "magic money tree" bollocks, there is no Magic Money Tree; what there is is a costed <a href="http://www.labour.org.uk/page/-/Images/manifesto-2017/Labour%20Manifesto%202017.pdf" target="_blank">manifesto</a> - and that's something else that's missing from the Conservatives. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So if you live in a marginal, get out and vote - preferably for Labour, but tactically if that works better where you are. The collapse of the UKIP and LibDem vote means this is the most 2-party fight in a generation, but there are some marginal Tory seats that can be overturned - in some cases by a few hundred votes. And if you live in a safe seat, vote to keep the vote share high (and start campaigning for voting reform!) </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you're young, follow up on that phenomenal registration surge and actually turn up on the day. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you're older, consider what old age and frailty will be like with no NHS, and vote for a party that won't allow it to be taken away from us. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you're poor, unemployed, disabled vote to stop being demonised by your own government. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you're not poor, unemployed, disabled have a bit of compassion for your fellow citizens and vote to stop them being demonised by your government. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you have children, vote for a party that won't starve schools of funding to levels not seen in a generation while reintroducing unjustified and un-evidenced educational segregation through grammar schools. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So in conclusion, vote. Obviously, I'd like you to vote Labour, but in reality vote for anyone who can get rid of this shower of unpleasant incompetents. And remember, what you see from them over the rest of the campaign will be Crosby, not May.</span></div>
FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-32208493474886433612017-05-15T15:12:00.003+00:002017-08-24T17:00:40.557+00:00A year's unpaid leave, you say? How generous!<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Twenty one years ago, my partner and I both worked in the public sector, in modest but secure jobs. Our parents were enjoying well-earned retirements and were, in the main, fit and healthy.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Nineteen years ago, our first child was born with a rare neurological condition which meant that much of her young life was taken up with medical appointments with a range of medical professionals. After 6 month's maternity leave (the maximum I was allowed or could afford), I went back to work full time, and my partner and I managed these appointments between us, thanks in part to decent terms and conditions (good annual leave entitlement and flexi time). Our daughter had a place at a council-run SureStart Centre, with exemplary support from qualified, experienced childcare workers.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">From the day she started school, there were clearly problems with her behaviour and by Year 1 she already had a statement of Special Educational Needs and at one point had 200% 1:1 support in class. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At 9, she was additionally diagnosed with autism,</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> which helped inasmuch as school staff at last knew what they were dealing with, but didn't make it any easier to manage. We were no strangers to exclusions, and each of those meant one of us taking time off from work. We will be forever grateful to those managers who allowed us to work from home at short notice and even, on some occasions, allowed us to bring her to work with us!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In 2007, my professional life took a hit when the project I had been working on with the council was put out to national contract, and I was TUPE'd to the private sector (thanks, New Labour). Now, I was working in a culture where I dreaded having to ask for time off, for fear of it being seen as a sign of weakness. Much of the "please come and take her home" requests then fell to my partner, with such frequency that he came to dread the school's number coming up on his phone. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The following year, my daughter suffered sudden and unexpected sight loss in one eye and needed emergency surgery over in Liverpool and at least a week's recovery time. For an 10 year old autistic child, who needed to remain still and calm during her recovery, I was given <b>3 days'</b> compassionate leave. No "take what you need and we'll sort it out on your return" but the maximum (grudging) allowance with an instruction to work at home for the rest of the time. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this decision was made with by a male manager with no children....</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A year later, I was offered a voluntary severance package, which I accepted with almost indecent haste. My daughter was about to transfer to high school, and this gave me the opportunity to take a year out (as I thought) to get her settled in. My partner carried on working full time, and by living carefully, I made the severance money (about a year's salary) last a year and a half. At that point, we applied for DLA. Although she would probably have been entitled to it for some years, we both felt that we had been earning reasonable salaries and that we could absorb the 'additional costs of disability' that DLA covered. (We were earning substantially less than David Cameron, who did claim DLA for his son, but let's not go there).</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We battled on. My daughter's behaviour continued to challenge and became more erratic as she entered the hormonally-challenging teenage years, resulting in more exclusions and eventually a spectacular crash out of mainstream schooling and a hellish (for both of us) 6 month spell at home while the local authority tried to find a place at the over-subscribed special school. My 'year out' didn't look like coming to an end any time soon, as although she eventually did get back into school (it took Sir Gerald Kaufman's intervention to get it resolved), I still needed to be on hand during the day. A</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">nd then my partner fell foul of the local authority job cuts imposed on council's by Coalition austerity. He had to make a decision - take voluntary severance or hang in there and hope that the next round of cuts wouldn't include compulsory redundancy. We had a talk - I had been a full time carer for nearly five years, and the effects on my wellbeing and mental health weren't good. We decided to take a risk - he would take the severance package and I would look for work. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Things were a bit ropey for a while (especially with the continued Coalition assault on social security benefits), but eventually I found a part time (well, 30 hpw, so almost full time) job. The salary wasn't great - about half what I'd been on before, but it was a route back into the workplace after a 5 year absence in my 40s - never a good time to lose skills and a track record!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">By now, our household income was about a quarter what it had been in 2007, and we were held together by goodwill and tax credits. My partner now became our daughter's full time carer as she moved on from school to college. things should have been improving, but this was a troubled time for her (in part down to the college's actions) and it became clear that it would not be possible for him to find part time work to augment the massive £60 a week Carers Allowance he got for being permanently 'on call' for the next crisis (and there always is a next crisis). </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And then my parents became ill. My mother was 90, with the multiple ailments of old age and the beginnings of dementia, and my 86 year old father (not in the best physical health himself) was her carer. I had encouraged them to apply for Attendance Allowance and we were all (pleasantly) surprised when they were both awarded higher rate; indicating how much we just absorb caring into our daily lives without appreciating quite how bad things might be getting. In February of 2016, my father was given a terminal cancer diagnosis, with a suggestion from his GP that he should probably put his affairs in order.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And so our lives shifted again. Our daughter was still struggling with college, but I had to leave my partner to deal with that (and our other child doing GCSEs) while I went to work and then did a 500 mile round trip every fortnight to my parents' house. Trips to the hospital, a weekend where my sister and I turned their dining room into a downstairs bedroom, setting up care plans, talking to the hospice staff, making sure their bills got paid and, as dad got weaker, discussing mum's inevitable need for residential care (something neither of them wanted). I called them nightly from home during the week and the calls become less and less coherent as dad's morphine levels rose. Luckily, we had excellent care workers coming in four times a day for each of them, but towards the end I was getting panicky phone calls as their grip on time deserted them. My sister lived closer, so was able to call in on them, but her ongoing health condition meant that she was physically and mentally exhausted and was limited in what support she could offer without making herself worse. And even though I worked in the field of adult social care, it was still really hard work navigating the many and various departments and people involved in their care, from the excellent carers to the unhelpful social worker; hospital OTs, community OTs, hospice staff, district nurses, pharmacists, the GP, the local authority ASC department. It was a full time job, but at least I had the income from my day job, all £16,000 a year of it, to hold the family together back home.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One Friday in mid-June, mum was taken into hospital, and I got a call at work from my sister to say that mum wasn't expected to come out again, so maybe I had better come down straight away (I had been planning to go down that evening anyway). On the same day, dad was admitted to a different hospital with chest and urinary infections which had made him very poorly. I did the 5 hour drive and arrived very late at night (the M6/M5 traffic </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">on a Friday </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">could mean journey times of up to 6 hours). The hospital(s) hadn't phoned to tell us of any deterioration so we got some sleep and intended to go and see mum as soon as visiting time came round. As it happened, we were on our way there when the hospital rang to say she had taken a turn for the worse, and by the time we arrived she had already died. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We then had to go to dad and break the news to him. To be honest, we both thought, looking at him, that he was about to join her that day, so I called my partner and suggested he and my son (who had just finished his last GCSE) come down by train. The following day, we were all together as a family, and dad held court from his bed - a hospice bed within the local community hospital - and said his goodbyes. Physically frail and in pain, his mind (now the urinary infection was being treated) as sharp as ever, and he was lucid and funny. We said our goodbyes, thinking this might be the last time we saw him.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On the Monday, I phoned work and explained the situation and was told to take whatever time I needed. In fact, dad lived another ten days after mum's death, and I spent a week sleeping on my sister's sofa and visiting him as often as possible (save for a quick, 24 hour round trip to vote in the referendum, having not had time to arrange a postal or proxy vote). As I was packing my bags to go home at the weekend, the hospital phoned to say he'd taken a turn for the worse, so another panicked call to work who (bless them) told me not to worry about it and to take the time I needed. In the end, dad died peacefully and pain-free on 28th June. My sister and I spent the rest of that week making arrangements for a joint funeral and initiating the legal processes as their executors, and I then returned home for a well-earned rest at work before travelling down again for the funeral.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There followed another few months of estate-sorting and house-clearing, involving more weekend trips and, finally, a large rental van to bring stuff back home to sort and we finally closed the door on their home of 23 years in October.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In the meantime, we had managed to find our daughter another college place and get our son into sixth form college (he passed his GCSEs, if you were wondering). We are still caring for our daughter (we probably always will be, given the nature of her disability) and now my mother in law is showing the first signs of dementia, so it looks like the cycle is about to start again.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">All of which goes to demonstrate that a new "worker's right" to twelve months' unpaid care leave is utterly useless - most of us cannot afford to do without pay for a year, even if our jobs are held open for us, and so we mostly just juggle our caring responsibilities as best we can. The best employers already make accommodations for their workforce; the worst don't now and will do their best not to in the future (and to be fair to them, why should employers subsidise the care industry by effectively seconding their employees to it for a year?). My partner and I have both, at various times, given up work in order to care for a relative, but it was a decision forced on us by other circumstances and we did at least have the paltry £60 a week the government deems sufficient to pay carers. Neither of us could really "afford" to give up work and it's been damned hard work coping on that much of an income reduction.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In reality, those who can afford to take up the generous offer of unpaid leave will, by and large, have parents with savings of their own; in other words, the already-comfortable middle classes. In essence, this policy will end up (by accident or design) being more about preserving inheritances than truly solving the care crisis.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And since when did the Conservatives ever really care about Workers' Rights?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-4705577934318239422017-04-30T12:08:00.000+00:002017-08-24T17:01:53.461+00:00Mad About the Buoy...<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I went for my regular Sunday morning swim today. We have a lovely new leisure centre, which is well-used and inviting, with two pools (something of a luxury in this day and age). Today, owing to some staffing issues, the swimming lessons which usually take place in the second pool had been moved into the main one, with half of it roped off for general use. This made lane swimming a bit tricky for the Desperate Old Codgers like myself - I can keep up a slow and steady pace, but am easily sunk by an over-eager youngster suddenly lurching in front of me or splashing me unexpectedly. Still, no-one begrudges children their swimming lessons - it's a vital skill which will become ever more important as ocean levels rise....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As I was plodding along like an out of condition <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dugong" target="_blank">dugong</a> I started to reminisce about my own swimming lessons. As I recall, my primary school took us every week, on foot, to the local municipal pool. Initially, this was the old Maidstone Baths, apparently the first municipal baths in the country (we also had the first municipal theatre, which as the theatre manager once said was ironic, as "the town has never been known for either its cleanliness or its culture"). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I can't remember how young we were when lessons started, but it was certainly pre-decimalisation, because I recall taking a threepenny bit with me every week. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Later, we moved to the brand new pool built in the early 1970s, which had a main pool, learners' pool and diving pool. A council-built and -run facility. A Tory council, no less. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">These lessons continued every week up to the end of what is now Year 6. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Every week. For six years.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Now, our kids get one year's school swimming, to which they're bussed (a sizeable chunk out of the school budget). So if you're not fortunate enough to become a strong swimmer in the course of the year you probably won't get any better.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The only alternative is for your parents to fork out for lessons from the company that runs the leisure centre for the council - "from £16.50 a month" isn't easily found when money's tight, so inevitably, the poorest and "just about managing" will lose out again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To be fair, Manchester City Council offers <a href="http://www.manchester.gov.uk/info/200087/sport_activities_and_fitness/5256/swimming_in_manchester" target="_blank">free swimming</a> to the under 16s during school holidays but it's still no substitute for regular supervised tuition over a number of years to produce strong, safe swimmers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Increasingly I'm feeling that if I wasn't fortunate enough to be part of the baby boomer generation at least I benefited from a childhood where the welfare state and civic provision was embedded in our post-war culture and made us a progressive nation. All that has now been stripped away by the cult of individualism that has marked the last 35 years. I grew up in an era when even Tory governments saw the merit in public provision. Successive governments since 1979 have outsourced everything of value to us as communities and then we wonder why communities have given up on politics.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I wonder what on earth we could do to start rectifying that....on June 8th?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-1982523533693344812016-08-07T17:43:00.000+00:002017-08-24T16:58:50.092+00:00End of an Era<div class="p1" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A few weeks ago, both my parents died within ten days of each other. In time, I will probably write about the last few months of their lives, the issues of dealing with end of life care and the memories they left us with, right up to the end. For now, though, I am just posting the eulogy I wrote for their joint funeral, which my sister and I delivered together.</span></b></div>
<div class="p2" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></b></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Freda was born in 1926 in Maidstone, to Albert (aka Gerry) and Frances Oliver. Her mother wanted to call her Geraldine, but the family advised that this would mean she would end up being called Gerry, a boy's name. It's ironic, then, that she was known universally as Fred or Freddie for most of her life. Albert was a Chief Petty Officer in the Royal Navy and was absent for the first few years of her life – she remembered hiding under the kitchen table when this strange man came home – but was able as a 2 year old to answer a neighbour's “Where's your daddy, then?” with: “In the Mediterranean.”</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Frank was born in Tonbridge four years later, the son of Henry, a police officer, and Rosa. Within the year they had re-located to Maidstone when Henry was promoted to Sergeant. The family – children Bill (Son), Robert, Frank and Brenda - lived at the Police Headquarters at Wren’s Cross. Sadly, Robert died at the age of 5.</span></div>
<div class="p4" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhio00g_ehQ170RVChsZZ_aC0MtMGq_PffgF2z85f74xqlS7V-7JpBZwEv-gSJQBjNLIN56nov8f6LtayaKyVTQgazvSjZYEwXcp-YaKr4v_TQBmbABblosyXdS07OXCPzYawNxtre_srs/s1600/Freddancer_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhio00g_ehQ170RVChsZZ_aC0MtMGq_PffgF2z85f74xqlS7V-7JpBZwEv-gSJQBjNLIN56nov8f6LtayaKyVTQgazvSjZYEwXcp-YaKr4v_TQBmbABblosyXdS07OXCPzYawNxtre_srs/s320/Freddancer_2.jpg" width="297" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Despite a profound dislike of school Fred was one of the first pupils to attend Maidstone Commercial School (later Maidstone School for Girls/Invicta). She often told the story of the wind carrying her much-hated school hat into the River Medway, only to have someone drag it out and return it to the school. To add insult to injury, she then had to write to thank the man who had rescued it. Much more important to her than school was her dancing, which she had been doing from a very young age.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p5" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p5" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p5" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p6" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p6" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Frank, meanwhile, gained a scholarship place at Maidstone Grammar School, the passing of which exam he put down to the intervention of WWII. Worried about air raids, his primary school teachers took the children out to the relative safety of the oast houses at East Farleigh, where they crammed past scholarship papers. Anyone who knew Frank and that fierce intelligence he still demonstrated even to his last few days, may suspect he was being (uncharacteristically) modest. It meant, though, that both of us were able to point to the scholarship board at All Saints Primary School and say “That's my dad!”</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For Frank, the war years were something of a schoolboy adventure. He always claimed to be Maidstone's first war casualty, as he put it himself a few years ago:</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“<i>On the morning of Sunday 3rd September 1939 Neville Chamberlain made a wireless broadcast stating that a state of war now existed. Within a matter of minutes the Air Raid sirens started to sound. At that time I was a rather cherubic choirboy and the strains of the siren came to us through the chords of the organ while I was at choir practice. We were hurried back to the vestry where the vicar dismissed us with the words "we are in a moment of very great danger - I want you to hurry to your homes". I did not need a second telling. I ripped off my surplice and cassock and leapt through the vestry door, tripped over a tombstone and fell headlong on the ground, taking off a large piece of skin from my knee. Because of this I claim to be the first civilian casualty of World War II.”</i></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The family moved to the new Police HQ in Sutton Road in 1940, where the cells were used to house downed German pilots. As Frank's best friend's dad was the overnight jailer, this meant they were able to get autographs. The war was a formative experience, which he recorded in his (as yet) unpublished work “The Second Great War in Pictures by Frank J Hayward, aged 9 3/4” His best friend at this time was Michael Todd; together they got into all sorts of (almost lethal) scrapes, such as electrifying the whole street by putting crocodile clips on a chain-link fence to run electricity out to the garden shed and constructing a diving helmet out of a gas mask which Frank then tested in Loose stream by weighing his pockets down with rocks! Mike, though, was to have a much more important role in his life.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Fred had by this time left school and was working at Royal Insurance. With the war in full swing she found herself taking a more important role than she would have done in peace time, and was soon trusted to produce what her boss called the “Dear Sir, you're not covered” letters. She was also required to fire watch during air raids, although with her legendary ability to leave cigarettes burning in forgotten places, her colleagues often said the office records were more at risk from her than the Luftwaffe. It was at this time she gained the nickname “Incendiary Fred” and where she met a young co-worker called... Mike Todd.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As Frank told Jill (a few days before he died) “I first met Fred in Mote Park in 1946, at a bonfire to celebrate a year after the end of the war” - Mike was the connection and they all remained lifelong friends.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It wasn't all plain sailing, though. Fred was already seeing another young man at the time and in 1947, married Monty Temblett. She was also by this time growing bored with office life. With the war over, and men returning to their old jobs, she found her role diminished so she took the plunge, left a safe job and formed her own dancing school in 1948.</span></div>
<div class="p4" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtSrEvTW5bj79Z3mdqUp8elptZvA21HZkgXMrNnyICCxFn6RhR9FC7GB-GOkD5SZ590lewGDjVEqvDbw3Mqi-pQC7J1K559khyCeL3c1swEsAQBwR_zbUew-p_WQZVMbmJbrtXJ270mws/s1600/Frank+RAF2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtSrEvTW5bj79Z3mdqUp8elptZvA21HZkgXMrNnyICCxFn6RhR9FC7GB-GOkD5SZ590lewGDjVEqvDbw3Mqi-pQC7J1K559khyCeL3c1swEsAQBwR_zbUew-p_WQZVMbmJbrtXJ270mws/s320/Frank+RAF2.jpeg" width="201" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At the same time, Frank was called up for his National Service. Having been Lead Cadet in his ATC Squadron, he became one of the first five national servicemen to be trained as pilots. He trained initially on Tiger Moths, and always retained his love of flying, although he was less impressed with air travel as a passenger. On a work trip to Perth, he once remarked. “That's not flying, it's just like being on a bus.”</span></div>
<div class="p5" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p5" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p6" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p6" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p6" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p6" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p6" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p6" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p6" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Back in civilian life, his career in insurance went hand in hand with his love of entertainment. He helped out with shows put on by the Freda Oliver School of Dancing throughout the 1950s. It was during this period that the infamous “Shooting of Dan McGrew” incident took place. One of the cast, Tony, was reciting this poem as a set piece and told Frank, who was operating the curtains, to listen for the cue to bring them down. It's quite a long poem, and Frank drifted off into a reverie; he was jolted back into action when he suddenly heard the cue. He quickly pulled on the ropes.....</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">….and Tony launched into the next verse! Not knowing quite what to do, Frank thought “do nothing and the audience won't notice”, so he hung on to the ropes until the end of the piece. It was only afterwards he was told that the curtains had descended just enough to obscure Tony's head, so the last few verses had been delivered by a disembodied voice. This has passed into family legend and makes events such as funerals quite awkward. At Tony's funeral, his brother came up to Fred after the body was committed, held her hand and whispered, “At least Frank wasn't on curtains this time.”</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In 1959, Fred and Monty were divorced and in July of that year, she and Frank were married. Their 57th wedding anniversary would have been two days before this funeral, but as they frequently forgot to celebrate it it seems fitting that we were also two days late for it.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Fred and Frank began married life in Brewer Street, but moved shortly afterwards to an upstairs flat at 21 College Road. In December 1962 Jill arrived, in a blizzard, during the second coldest winter of the twentieth century! In 1963, their landlord decided to sell up and offered Frank the whole house. As this included a sizeable front room, which could accommodate a dance studio, they found the money to pay a mortgage, and the rest is history. </span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The Hayward family was completed with the addition of Sally in 1965, and from this point on the school became a family affair. In 1966, Fred decided that her pupils had little real outlet for their dancing skills, so she and Frank decided to stage a pantomime, Cinderella, at the town's Municipal Theatre. This was successful and so the following year they formed the Freda Oliver Theatre Group, and provided Maidstone with its pantomime for the next ten years.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In addition to Theatre Group work, Frank also found time to sing with Maidstone Opera Group. He also played Mitch in a production of a Streetcar Named Desire, notable for a press photo which captioned all the cast members' names as John – even the woman in the photo!</span></div>
<div class="p4" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_KLDViGXIu4QcXJnC7G4K9Ufi4q2yahKTX7UF2PZ2WeVchayQnL6h5R1aEFl_WUUE1Ogq6PE7b2LQSLLOnAzZS61KljObxUpvuezkhjFK3mFyUVJ5w_l8airKJthz-TLh4GGtF_ZTjGM/s1600/Dandini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_KLDViGXIu4QcXJnC7G4K9Ufi4q2yahKTX7UF2PZ2WeVchayQnL6h5R1aEFl_WUUE1Ogq6PE7b2LQSLLOnAzZS61KljObxUpvuezkhjFK3mFyUVJ5w_l8airKJthz-TLh4GGtF_ZTjGM/s200/Dandini.jpg" width="167" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Panto scripts were written by both of them (with a fair amount of 'homage' to the Basil Brush Show). Fred's typing – for in those days, multiple scripts meant several sheets of carbon paper and hitting the keys very hard – was legendary. On more than one occasion, Prince Charming declared “...and Cinderella shall be my bridge!” <span class="s2"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p4" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p4" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1acIvc18CNedz38U6MDnLuDuOF5BUp1vevVjks2f8pMbYOnzlq6cUoPfGiWzrn9EfT4NqsLZZYeKKDRmn0HaXQIkxOctLiyXsdE1oV6lfsQ0l5BqIWZTJ4SzI_022MEbjU2qEZW_UC78/s1600/Ogre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1acIvc18CNedz38U6MDnLuDuOF5BUp1vevVjks2f8pMbYOnzlq6cUoPfGiWzrn9EfT4NqsLZZYeKKDRmn0HaXQIkxOctLiyXsdE1oV6lfsQ0l5BqIWZTJ4SzI_022MEbjU2qEZW_UC78/s200/Ogre.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Panto took over the entire household from September, when rehearsals started. There was usually a mad dash on Christmas Eve to remove all the costumes from the Living Room so that the family could actually have Christmas. In addition, all four family birthdays fell between the end of December and mid-January – Jill's birthday parties occasionally took place on stage between matinee and evening performances.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When in 1976 Maidstone Borough Council finally woke up to the income-generating possibilities of having a professional panto, the group found itself without a home. Undeterred, Fred and Frank simply re-designed everything and took the show on the road. The Barnstorming Years meant transporting the whole production from one venue to another – village halls, care homes, Medway Little Theatre.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">During the 1970s, the Group also put on a series of variety shows and a musical – Cloud 7 – which was conceived, written and performed in the space of 6 weeks when Fred realised she had forgotten to cancel a provisional booking of the Theatre in May 1979. So instead of O level revision, several of the cast were up to their eyes in costumes and rehearsals.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">By this time, their children were growing up and doing more. Sally spent many years helping with the running of the school, taking classes, sorting costumes and performing, in addition to college and eventually starting her own school in Sittingbourne. Jill moved from stage to orchestra pit in later years before leaving Maidstone for university.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In 1992, with Frank's retirement from General Accident (something he had been counting down to for about 10 years!), they put on their final pantomime, closed the school after over 40 years and their thoughts turned to moving to Devon, site of our family holidays and somewhere they had always wanted to live. And so, in 1993, they cleared College Road of costumes, pantomime horses, cows, camels, and other assorted momentos of 30 years' residence, packed them up and (as we later discovered) transported much of it with them across country! The garden shed contains the entrance of an Eygyptian tomb painted on hardboard and a lion's head.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Once in Sidmouth, they again threw themselves into local life. Fred joined her local WI branch, serving a term as President; Frank stood for election to public office and served a term as an independent councillor on Sidmouth Town Council. They also enjoyed many a summer evening in Connaught Gardens listening to the town band, as well as seeking out the best local pubs. They were also active members of East Devon Conservative Association, canvassing and advertising cream teas.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In 1998, they became grandparents. Frank threw himself wholeheartedly into this new role, pulling faces and generally being silly. He was also M's greatest defender, always righteously indignant on her behalf and scathing in his opinion of the educational establishment's inability to deal with her autism. </span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Fred and Frank also joined the Sidmouth Songsters, Frank singing and Fred turning pages for the accompanist. They also assisted in putting programmes of songs together and Frank spent many a happy hour printing out sheets of music. One of the grandchildren's fondest memories is of when Grandpa (then approaching 80) jumped off the stage during a rendition of Flanders and Swann's “The Hippopotamus Song”, although others questioned the wisdom of this!</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The Songsters raised thousands of pounds for local charities and it was only in 2012, when they and other members felt they were getting a bit too old for it, did they finally retire from entertainment. As Frank said to Jill a few days before he died, “All my life, from the time I was a choirboy, I have been entertaining people.” This is so true of both of them.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Frank was diagnosed with cancer in February of this year. He accepted it with equanimity and, true to form, set to organising his affairs. I made as many trips as possible down from Manchester and Frank was delighted that he was able to buy M her first pint at the Conservative Club (and even more delighted when she bought him one in return!). Happily, the family were able to get Fred and Frank down to the Club one last time in April.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In mid-June, quite unexpectedly, Fred was admitted to the Royal Devon and Exeter Hospital with a chest infection and sadly died the following day. Frank was, by this time at Sidmouth Community Hospital, where he died 10 days later, with us by his side.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Reading the tributes of old pupils and friends on social media and compiling this eulogy has made us all appreciate quite how significant an influence they were on a generation of young people in Maidstone. Some have themselves pursued careers in entertainment as a result. Fred was a major figure in the town and Frank was a loyal consort, never complaining when he was mistakenly called Mr Oliver. How fitting it is that these two great entertainers, who had known each other for 70 years, should be leaving us in the way they would have wanted – as a double act.</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">RIP</span></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaNkT6IMxCtldxBI2nNZQtZt8sAeFo6JenxXghn84KdEYMMmDHAMyGcAwHzza_G7B48O1ojnDwBNRXkoiFsJsGV8tFY_EiyiPIVmqKUzYnkm_YFen5gWtCx9ASOOVaAULxgqUQi-f6gY/s1600/Screen+shot+2016-08-07+at+17.58.34.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaNkT6IMxCtldxBI2nNZQtZt8sAeFo6JenxXghn84KdEYMMmDHAMyGcAwHzza_G7B48O1ojnDwBNRXkoiFsJsGV8tFY_EiyiPIVmqKUzYnkm_YFen5gWtCx9ASOOVaAULxgqUQi-f6gY/s400/Screen+shot+2016-08-07+at+17.58.34.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-21560016209931683302016-02-06T19:15:00.003+00:002021-02-23T19:04:19.631+00:00Adventures in Politics<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="">
“<i>There are copies of candidate statements available. Can you return them at </i></span><i><span face="">the end of the meeting, to save
on copying for other meetings?” said the </span></i><i><span face="">officiating party representative.
There was no need – the pile remained </span></i><i><span face="">untouched and un-read at the end
of the meeting.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="">It was no surprise that others had
ambitions for our ward – that became clear </span><span face="">when the recently-victorious
candidate failed to thank any of her </span><span face="">campaign team but managed to
name-check a couple of people from outside </span><span face="">the ward at her victory party.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">One of the criticisms our opponents
threw at us for years was that our candidates weren't local – that
they didn't live in the ward and until selection had little or
nothing to do with it. For the 2015 campaign, the branch had two strong potential candidates
from within the ward. Both with experience in campaigning and local
activism, who were (or had been) union reps, school governors, local
authority workers; who knew the area, whose children were educated in
the local state schools, who had demonstrated commitment to the
branch and to the campaigns of previous candidates. The branch was
newly-energised, with a core group of dedicated members who regularly
attended branch meetings, strong distribution networks for leafleting
and a mission to engage with all sections of the local community, in
one of the most diverse wards in the city.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<i><span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></i></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<i><a href="http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2016/feb/05/muslim-women-blocked-seeking-office-male-labour-councillors?CMP=share_btn_fb" target="_blank"><span face="" style="color: red; font-family: verdana;">“Local Labour party members select their local candidates within the party’s rules and guidelines. Those wishing to become Labour councillors are interviewed by an independent assessment team.”</span></a></i></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">Selection is a two stage process: shortlisting enables branch members to decide who to invite for interview (based on their candidate statements), and the selection meeting interviews all those shortlisted before voting for a candidate.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="">The shortlisting meeting had been
booked at a local community centre, and all </span><span face="">branch members were invited to
attend. They were reminded that membership </span><span face="">cards would be required on the
night, to establish eligibility to vote. The shortlisting meeting is
often the first opportunity ordinary members get to assess the
capabilities of prospective councillors.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="">When the regular members arrived,
they found that the meeting had been moved to a larger room than the
normal one used for branch meetings and the AGM, and a sea of
unfamiliar faces were already seated some 20 minutes before the </span><span face="">meeting was due to start. There were
two party officials present as observers </span><span face="">but it was felt, as the Chair and
Secretary were both potential candidates, that </span><span face="">one of those observers should chair
the meeting instead.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="">The procedure for the meeting was
explained, membership cards checked </span><span face="">(although some people were 'vouched
for', having not brought their </span><span face="">membership cards, despite this being clearly requested in advance) and it was agreed that the
two potential in-ward candidates present would leave the room once the
nomination process was due to start.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="">At this point, someone from the
floor asked that any shortlist be restricted to </span><span face="">just two names. The chair explained
that the size of any shortlist was something that could determined
once all nominations had been received. The two local potential candidates then
left the meeting.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="">A total of 5 nominations were made;
the two local candidates and three from </span><span face="">outside the ward. At this point the
size of the shortlist would normally be </span><span face="">determined before discussing the
merits of the nominated candidates and </span><span face="">voting to determine which should go
forward to selection. The proposal for a </span><span face="">two person shortlist was voted on
and accepted (without, apparently, any discussion of the rationale behind it) and the meeting then proceeded to a secret ballot; no
discussion of the candidates' merits, just the vote.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="">A few minutes later, the meeting
broke up. Two out-of-area candidates had been </span><span face="">selected for interview; one of them,
the person who'd been “thanked” by our </span><span face="">new councillor....</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="">Regular, active members, those who
had been out knocking on doors and </span><span face="">delivering leaflets in all weathers,
were visibly upset at the outcome. That with </span><span face="">two good local candidates to choose
from, they had again been landed with an </span><span face="">outsider. The one big campaign issue
that could have been neutralised </span><span face="">immediately (“You don't live
here!”) would now once again be a fight campaigners would have to
have before even starting on policy differences.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">And this had been done on the basis
of the votes of people who had never involved themselves with the
branch, had never joined in campaigns, but had simply turned up to
vote one one occasion, without any discussion of alternative candidates and seemingly no wish to hear what the other 3 nominees
might have to say to them at the selection meeting. Notably, few of them have been seen since.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="">For a branch without a sitting
councillor (which was in itself contentious, as the </span><span face="">incumbent was not included on the
panel of candidates, effectively de-selected by the party
without reference to the branch who originally selected him, and whose appeal to the NEC was still pending on the night of the meeting), it
would not have been unreasonable to have interviewed all five
nominated candidates. While no rules had actually been broken, the
selection was conducted in an unethical (and yet clumsily obvious)
way. Active members had been left in no doubt that their hard work
and commitment counted for nothing, and they would simply be given a
favoured candidate for whom they were expected to campaign.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">Nor was this the first year in which
this had happened. When selection took place for 2014 candidates, the
branch again had two candidates from within the ward (both male), but
it was declared an all women shortlist (not that there is anything wrong with those). The branch was also the very last to
hold its selection meeting, so the shortlist voted on by the branch
diminished as other candidates got selected until on the night, there
was only one remaining candidate to be interviewed. When this was questioned from the floor, the response was that if the branch did not make a 'selection', a candidate would be imposed.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">The two local candidates in this
case (the branch Chair and Secretary, don't forget) were not, and have never been, formally
notified of the outcome of the meeting. Not that they had failed to
be shortlisted, nor the names of those who had. As branch members, they should have been
invited back into the meeting to discuss the final agenda points
(timing of speeches, questions to be asked of candidates, etc for the
selection meeting next week) but they were not, and were left outside
until the meeting broke up. No commiserations from the two councillors present, both of whose election campaigns had been
reliant on these people's hard work and enthusiasm. A very shabby way
to treat good people. And if they treat their own activists with such
contempt, one has to query what they think of the local electorate?</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">The party 'machine' had been
used before the shortlisting to try and preclude one of the in-ward
candidates from standing, on the grounds that he had a substantive
job within the local authority. It had to be pointed out to them that
under the rules a) local authority employees were entitled to stand
as long as they resigned at the point of nomination (this has also,
on occasion, been extended to resigning <b>if</b> elected) and that
b) the person in question had disclosed his employment status at the
initial panel interview without it being questioned. The machine then
cranked up a gear, with a story being circulated that the other
in-ward candidate had stood down from the process prior to shortlisting, an (incorrect) fact that was happily passed around the
party.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">After the selection, relations
between the elected councillors and the branch executive worsened
considerably. Laughable appeals for 'unity' which appeared to mean
the branch supporting councillors' actions without question, failure
to respond to reasonable requests for information, while accusing
branch officers of inaction (when the officer in question was on
holiday) regarding councillor actions/activities, discussing a
significant issue about a branch officer privately with another
officer on a matter which affected the branch more widely, seemingly
appointing a campaign manager without reference to the Executive Committee and arranging a campaign meeting at 24 hours' notice during August, when most of the EC were unable to attend. There was also a
(hastily withdrawn) threat from the CLP to suspend the branch for
questioning councillors' actions, with the accusation that the branch
was “trying to impose its will” on the councillors. A formal
complaint to the party about the conduct of one of those involved has not given
any response some sixteen months after it was made.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">The smears continued. The first
branch meeting of the autumn was held at a new venue, but some people
turning up at the old one were told that it had been cancelled as
'trouble' was expected. Only mischief-making possibly, but deeply
unprofessional. The next leaflet omitted the sitting-but-deselected councillor (whose term of office did not run out until May 2015) from
the 'team' contact list, effectively air-brushing him from the
branch.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">In the next few months, both the
branch chair and secretary resigned; a branch fundraiser attracted
only about 15 people; activists stopped going out on the doorstep. By
the time of the AGM, it was felt necessary to put forward a motion declaring that the branch had “complete confidence in its
councillors and candidate” which, in itself suggested there might
be a problem.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">This is not an isolated case. There
are reports of similar things happening all over the country. The
Labour Party has many fine, committed activists, but increasingly,
they were not being given the chance to serve their communities. It
is a profoundly worrying trend and will ultimately do harm to a party
already accused of ignoring its core vote and parachuting candidates
into seats with which they have no connection.
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">In the last 24 hours, there have been news stories about <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2016/feb/05/muslim-women-blocked-seeking-office-male-labour-councillors?CMP=share_btn_fb" target="_blank">muslim women being prevented from standing as candidates</a>. Sadly, this is all too credible, despite the party's reassurances as to the robustness of the selection system. This system can be, and is, played to the advantage of the party machine. And it's not just muslim women, but all women (<a href="http://www.salfordstar.com/article.asp?id=3117" target="_blank">and some men</a>) whose faces don't fit, for whatever reason.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">Of course, there's a right of appeal. But when no actual rules are broken (just twisted to within an inch of snapping), what would be the point? As many of us have discovered, complaints disappear into a black hole. And, as we're always being told, party unity is important, so why would 'ordinary' members want to cause embarrassment?</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;">Suggesting that other political parties don't have ways of influencing candidate selection would be naive. Other parties may be "worse". But I expect better of the Labour Party. Members have had enough of 'keeping quiet' for the good of the party. This is wrong, and we shouldn't have been putting up with it. </span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<span face="" style="font-family: verdana;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div id="sdfootnote1">
</div>
FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-48024816778199560482016-01-31T19:27:00.000+00:002016-02-03T16:46:23.211+00:00Sometimes it's Hard to be a Woman...<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, it is in the Labour Party, at any rate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>I warn you not to be vocal</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>I warn you not to be working class</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>I warn you not to rock the boat</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm beginning to think the Labour Party (and wider movement) really isn't a good place for women. For all its window dressing about equality, it's sadly lacking in a lot of respects. From the low-grade stuff (referring to two middle-aged women Vice Chairs of a branch as "the Vice Girls"; the routine lack of eye contact and engagement from some groups) to outright rudeness and intimidation. And then there's the tolerance of sexual impropriety (see <a href="http://friendlydragonspouse-randomrants.blogspot.co.uk/2015_12_01_archive.html" target="_blank">previous blog</a>) which, in the light of serious CSE cases, is very worrying indeed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">From the young turks who think they know it all to the "creepy*" older hands, there's always an opportunity to be looked down on, marginalised and (in extreme cases) smeared. Challenge this, though, and you are labelled a troublemaker.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course, there are the proper channels to go through if you are in dispute. You can put in a formal complaint. You can wait a year and have no response. Your enquiries can go unanswered. Democracy in (in)Action.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then there's the Women's Groups. Eternal forums for discussion but essentially just divisive and separatist.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Loyalty, it seems, is only a one way street, with members (especially women members) expected to shut up and do as they're told. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It seems to me that "inclusion" in the Labour Party is about as meaningless as it is in education - in reality, it is integration - you do it our way or not at all - rather than true inclusion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The fact that your least worst option in British politics is this sorry state of affairs is profoundly depressing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">*<i>not my description, but it says a lot about perceptions of new members</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-13146289061251284072016-01-21T18:43:00.000+00:002016-02-03T16:48:15.582+00:00A Menopausal Malcontent Sounds Off.<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This may turn out to be several posts in one. I think I've just had enough.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><b>For the Good of the Party </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">All those years the Left kept quiet in the name of party unity. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">How rash of us to believe that the same would apply now that the Right (sorry, "Moderate") wing of the party is no longer in the ascendant. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was fine during the leadership campaign - voice whatever opinion you like in support of your candidate (up to and including "That Corbyn bloke will be a disaster" and so on) but we have a result now - a decisive one, with the biggest democratic mandate in the history of the party - and the fact that you don't like the result does not give you the right to spout off about the leader and brand those of us who supported/voted for him as "a rabble", Trots, and a whole lot worse. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And yet we have MPs and front benchers who spend their days slagging off the leadership, and are then astonished to get the sack. Rentaquote "feisty" types who "won't shut up" or others who whinge incessantly and then flounce out of the party. Yesterday's men (the same ones who drove so many from the party over the last 25 years) pontificating <i>ad nauseam</i> in the press to any journalist who'll listen (and that's most of them - easier than seeking out alternative narratives beyond London and the South East).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And then there are local councillors who see their assured future careers as MPs (via the Progress finishing school) suddenly receding into the distance, and have spent the last few months snarking about the leadership like the group of self-declared "cool kids" in the playground, and who then suddenly turn up with their own pressure group, Open Labour, which arrived in a blaze of glory a few weeks ago and then....... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As social media groups like <b>50+Corbyn Supporters</b> show, "Corbynistas" aren't all young, naive or SWP entryists; they are ordinary folk who are old enough to remember what life was like in the 80s/90s under the last lot of Tories and, more importantly, what life was like before that - when we had <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2011/oct/23/miss-britain-of-public-ownership" target="_blank">the Britain of Compassion and Public Ownership</a>. You remember? The one where we weren't "intensely relaxed" about inequality, and where we didn't believe that outsourcing public services to large private BPO companies was the answer to everything. These are the people who are flocking back to Labour, along with the young who have never had the fortune to experience life without triangulating consensus of Thatcherism and New Labour.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And yet some of the PLP and some councillors, far from being chastened by the rejection of their uniformly lacklustre leadership candidates, have seen fit to try and trash both the leader and the 59.5% of party members who voted for him. Not for them acceptance of a democratic mandate. Not for them keeping their opinions to themselves for the good of the party.No. They are Important People and their opinions MUST BE HEARD. In public. All the time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For years it was those of us on the Left who were urged to keep our misgivings to ourselves, to "not wash our dirty linen in public", etc, etc. We did. And do you know what? It allowed all kinds of unacceptable behaviour to continue which should have been challenged openly. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The manipulation of candidate selection to ensure preferred candidates were selected over the wishes of local members, branches and CLPs, resulting in candidates being foisted on members and activists, and whispering campaigns to undermine those who had the temerity to object. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The disdain with which the party hierarchy treats its members is quite staggering in some places. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The reluctance to challenge wrongdoing for fear of causing cultural offence has led to powerful blocs within the Labour Party whose values run counter to those the majority of members hold.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Silencing voice </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">of the membership</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> within the party in the name of electability (which continued long after that electability faded) resulted in focus-group/ opinion poll/core vote strategies which took no notice of what was happening in real life (and which activists could have told them if they'd bothered to ask). For a Democratic Socialist party, we became pretty undemocratic and not the least bit socialist, defending policies of which we should have been ashamed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><b>My Enemy's Enemy (isn't Necessarily my Friend)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sadly, bad behaviour is endemic. It's not just the so-called Moderates, either, although their sense of entitlement is almost as breathtaking as the Tories. To be honest, though, elements of the Left are just as bad. The upsurge of support, activism and enthusiasm which made Corbyn's election campaign so exciting has rapidly descended into nasty little power games. Just as much of the PLP sees members and activists as unimportant foot soldiers, so a few self-appointed "leaders" of Corbyn-supporting groups are busy carving out niches for themselves, ignoring the voices of the thousands who signed up in the summer. And the dirty tricks have started; goading (I won't call it bullying - yet), undermining other groups, tampering with social media accounts. More like the SWP than the Labour Party. Some of the comrades are being decidedly un-comradely at the moment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Which brings me on to....</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Rum, Misogyny and the Lash</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Labour has a woman problem. Not just whether or not they hold the highest "offices of state" or whether they make up 50% of the shadow cabinet (which they now do), but the way in which the party treats women. Yes, we have All-Women Shortlists, but these can also be used to manipulate candidate selection to exclude good local male candidates when it suits. Low level misogyny is never very far from the surface, and attitudes among some male members of the party are pretty neanderthal. When a number of women members go through the correct procedure (independently) to complain about the same party official, their case drags on for over a year and their polite enquiries as to progress are not even acknowledged. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Similarly, there were a distressing number of male party members who were unconcerned about Simon Danczuk's actions simply because the girl concerned was over the age of consent. Again, more like the SWP than the Labour Party.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This is not to say that all the men in the Labour Party behave poorly; there are some fine, honourable comrades with whom I'm proud to be associated. There are also, however, a sizeable number who appear to think that women's voices don't count for much ("who <i>are</i> these people?") and they certainly don't like women who stand up to them! I thought we'd moved on from Stokely Carmichael's view about the place of women in political movements, but there you go. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've stayed very quiet about a number of things which make me unhappy about the Labour Party at the moment. Yes, the right of the party and their reluctance to accept that life and the British people have moved on from the heady days of New Labour is infuriating, but I had so much hope that things would be different under Corbyn. He still has the right message, but he needs to stop listening to the siren call of those who see his leadership as their shortcut to greatness. As with Ed, when Corbyn is being his own man he is engaging, intelligent and with all the right messages. He just has to put the party in order. Sadly, though, there is a group of men/boys lurking in the shadows of the broad church, playing silly games while Britons suffer.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-40532535793603348112015-12-31T22:23:00.000+00:002016-02-03T16:47:10.900+00:00Somebody's Daughter<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="d64e8-0-0" style="color: #141823; direction: ltr; line-height: 16px; position: relative; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="d64e8-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative;">
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm so disheartened at the number of men in the Labour Party who consider the age of consent to be the sole determinant of wrongdoing. </span></div>
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A child (for, in the eyes of the law, she is still that) of 17; a 49 year old Member of Parliament. Does that not strike anyone as inappropriate? It would have been pretty sleazy even if they had been the same age - that she's a minor makes it even more inappropriate. She asked about a job; he offered dubious sexual remarks as a reply.</span></div>
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And apart from anything else, he is a Member of Parliament - you know; one of those "people of good standing in the community" who can vouch for us mere mortals on passport applications, etc. Is this really the kind of person you want to confirm that you are of good character? I don't.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And yet, a number of male party members have today bravely stood up to say "I don't see what the problem is."</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Which is exactly what the problem is.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We are the Labour Party - we should be better than this.</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="background-color: white;">
</span></div>
</div>
FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-49769070157826907582015-10-07T17:06:00.000+00:002017-08-24T17:00:01.997+00:00Today's Tories: Generation Not-a-Clue<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Cameron's going to turn us into Generation Buy, is he?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/how-much-you-need-earn-6587292">http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/how-much-you-need-earn-6587292</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When I was young and foolish (20), I took out my first mortgage - £11,000 for a studio flat. Two years later, we sold it for £15,000, and thought we'd done pretty well. A few years later, the late 80's Yuppie boom saw the same flats going for around £40,000 (they were close to the railway line to London). Quite a price for a 12' x 24' room with a kitchenette in one corner and a bathroom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">(They now go for £70-80,000)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When we took out our current £47,500 mortgage in 1993, I was a Scale 4 Admin Officer and my partner was a Clerical Officer, both working for a city council. Our combined income would probably have been in the mid-£20,000s at most. It was a bit of a stretch financially, but it was still cheaper than renting, thanks to MIRAS, etc. Of course, tax subsidies for mortgage payments were phased out, but we could still just about keep our heads above water.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">J</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">ust before the crash i</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">n 2007 </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">we had, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">through the "hard work" that Cameron and his ilk set so much store by, reached the heady heights of Senior/Principal Officer level, with a household income of around £52,000. Yippee!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Except that in that time, house price inflation had boosted the value of our house to around £250,000, so we couldn't have afforded to buy the house we were already living in, despite decent salaries.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then came my outsourcing (a combination of New Labour government and </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">council</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> actions) and subsequent severance (from Capita - a merciful release), followed by my partner's departure from MCC thanks to coalition cuts. I'm now back at work (on a little under £16,000 a year), and he's surviving on £60 a week Carers Allowance (with no time off or outside support), and our house is now worth around £180,000. Again, we could not afford to buy the house we live in. And in today's inflated market, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">renting</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> would also be beyond us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, Mr Cameron:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1) Do you realise how little most people actually earn in this country? The "average" of £26,500 is a pipe dream for most of us (I only earned at or above that for about 4 of my 22 years' local government service)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2) Do you remember the Blessed Margaret's devotion to home ownership, which resulted in profligate lending and rampant price-inflation? Boosted by that wheeze of selling off council houses as loss-leaders that brought the whole thing crashing down in the early 90's (which was how we picked up a decent 3 bedroom house for £50,000). If it was unsustainable when prices still bore some relation to reality, how's it going to work this time?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You can only be "Generation Buy" if you have secure employment and sufficient income to meet your lovely new mortgage. Nothing your government has done in 5 years has made anyone's employment more secure, and despite what we're told by the media, I know no-one who's had a salary increase in years.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Oh, and if you're under 25, forget home ownership - you're simply "not productive enough" to earn enough to take out a mortgage!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2015/10/06/matthew-hancock-living-minimum-wage_n_8252008.html?utm_hp_ref=uk">http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2015/10/06/matthew-hancock-living-minimum-wage_n_8252008.html?utm_hp_ref=uk</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-57932907161503552792015-04-29T19:15:00.000+00:002017-05-18T22:34:28.782+00:00Don't Risk Your Future with Labour? It's Not Much of a Risk, Dave.<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here's a thing. Listening to Chicken "Pumped Up" Dave the other day warning me how much worse off I'd be entrusting the economy and my livelihood to Labour, it occurred to me that I'm not, and never have been, better off under the Tories.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I left school in 1981, in the middle of a recession. It took months to find a job, despite my dad nagging me every day about going to the Job Centre. I got lucky in the November of that year - I landed a temporary job as a Library Assistant (Scale1) on the massive salary of £3,945 per annum!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Unfortunately for me, after 6 months, the woman whose maternity leave I was covering returned to work, so I faced a return to the dole queue. Fortunately, the Kent County Library Service seemed to like me, and were able to offer me another temporary post in another library, along with another girl whose fiance was in the Falklands. At the end of our 6 month contract, they had to let one of us go, and chose the other girl (even though she and I knew she was off to wherever the fiance was going to be posted on his return from the South Atlantic). So, back to the Job Centre...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then, a couple of weeks later, they contacted me to say Jane had left, and would I consider coming back? I asked mum what I should do (I was only 19!). Her advice was "if you say yes, they'll always just kick you around whenever they feel like it" so I turned them down. A few months later I was again working for the Library Service, this time as a Cataloguing Assistant, repairing and processing books, and then, a couple of weeks short of my 20th birthday I got a proper, permanent job as a Scale 1 Clerical Assistant with the local education office.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">From this point on, local government became my career (apart from the 4 year break I took to go back into full time education to get the degree I had no interest in at 18). By this time, I had managed to work my way up to the heady heights of a Scale 3 Admin Assistant, and a lot of people thought I was mad to give up a steady job to go to uni. But with no ties, it seemed like the best chance I would have, and I was right. I loved my course, I spent a year studying overseas, I met my partner, I made good friends who are now my kids' godparents - it was all good stuff.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I graduated in 1991.... in the middle of another Tory recession! Jobs were scarce, so instead of the graduate-level job I'd been hoping for, I settled for a Scale 4 Admin Officer post with Manchester City Council, working with the Advisory/Training team for the new National Curriculum. The work was interesting, and the team were great, but in terms of career progression it was stagnation. The body clock kicked in and in 1998, our first child was born. Despite her diagnosis of Sturge Weber Syndrome and epilepsy, I was able to return to full time work after my 6 months' maternity leave, and almost immediately found that there was finally an opportunity for promotion. Some advised against going for it, thinking it would be too much to cope with in addition to a new baby (and a disabled one at that!), but with the stunning support of my bosses, together with a brilliant, council-run nursery (later part of the Sure Start programme), I was able to "have it all" as the Daily Mail loves to put it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So I found myself in a Senior Officer post (don't get too excited, it was still well short of the Average National Salary). A couple of years, and another child, later, I was redeployed into a team working on the development of the Adult Learning Grant, part of the last Labour government's Skills Strategy (A 'strategy'! When was the last time a government had one of those, eh?). I started out as a operational team leader, moving on to become Deputy and then (Acting) Scheme Leader. And then it all went a bit pear-shaped...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This, remember, was New Labour whose belief in outsourcing was every bit as evangelical as the Coalition's. In their infinite wisdom, they decided to group ALG with EMA and a bunch of other grants into a massive Learner Support contract. This meant that it was too big a scheme for the council to bid for, so the entire team (some 50 people) ended up TUPE'd to the private sector. For a while I carried on as before, but when the inevitable 'restructure' came, I was demoted and de-skilled and thoroughly miserable, as the project I'd spent 4 years of my life developing was changed beyond all recognition. Eventually, the contractor and I parted company by mutual agreement (they didn't need me and I hated working for them!), and I received a reasonable severance package which allowed me to take a year off (as I thought) to settle my daughter into her (mainstream) high school. And so I became a full-time carer. Paid around £3000 a year for a more-than-full-time, high stress 'job', caring for a traumatised autistic teenager. (see other blog posts for more details). Our household income halved, but my partner had been quietly plugging away at a local government career, too. Nothing flashy, but he was hard-working, conscientious and damned good at his job. so we managed. Money was tight, but we were OK - just. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One year turned into two, three... she never really settled in mainstream and crashed out fairly spectacularly in Year 9, with six months out of school while a suitable place was found (it took an intervention by Sir Gerald Kaufman to get that sorted, so guess where my vote's going?). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And then the killer.... the bloody Coalition and its Austerity-for-Some meant some of the harshest cuts in the country for Manchester. He avoided the first round of redundancies, but when the second round came up, he took voluntary severance (on the not unreasonable grounds that next time it might be compulsory, with a much worse financial deal). So that was it. 37 years' combined service, and both our careers over before we hit 50. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I had been looking for a job since we realised our only income was under threat. Despite my experience there was very little about. I got interviews, but no success ("You have lots of experience, but it's more 'management' than this post needs" was one bit of feedback!). Finally, I got one! Almost full-time (30hpw); an Admin Officer. On a fte rate which was pretty much where I had left off when I went to university nearly 30 years ago. In the first 9 months I didn't earn enough to start paying tax (I'm supposed to thank Nick Clegg for that, right?). Don't get me wrong - I love the work; it's worthwhile, and I'm working with awe-inspiring people who are really knowledgeable, empathetic and effective, but the fact remains I have pretty much nothing to show for a nearly-30 year career. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Resentful? You bet! And I'm not the only one. I know so many people in the same position. "Working People", "Hard-Working Families", whatever they're being called this week. Except many of them either aren't working because of the Coalition's public sector cuts, or are finding themselves in severely reduced circumstances (and we're not taking Daily Mail-style 'reduced circumstances, where Jacinta has had to give up her second pony and they've had to send the kids to a STATE SCHOOL!!!!). In all my years working for a local authority, I only earned at or above the average salary for about three years. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So all in all, you can see why I'm not taken in by the Bullingdon Boys and their scare stories. Any government which has to promise to legislate so that it can't break its own taxation pledges really doesn't deserve our vote.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Labour isn't perfect (I'm still worried about their stance on social security and immigration), but faced with the alternative - a dog-eat-dog future with no civil society - I know where my vote's going in the General Election.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here's a handy graph showing what my income has done over the course of my working life. Note the years where there was a Conservative government, and where a Labour one....</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFG0jjdRgd0SVAyekD6c7g38bjB9YEb6QF_9DP4aEMWSj-abhjrv9TlROAnVQ1-7WPZyaUh3OBID_OaYZHbZwCva5bLrYQjJB5zO4_z0HtdwtyrfKwES8FHrguS0WXXW-4LRJNkSl_oU0/s1600/Screen+shot+2015-04-29+at+18.52.25.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFG0jjdRgd0SVAyekD6c7g38bjB9YEb6QF_9DP4aEMWSj-abhjrv9TlROAnVQ1-7WPZyaUh3OBID_OaYZHbZwCva5bLrYQjJB5zO4_z0HtdwtyrfKwES8FHrguS0WXXW-4LRJNkSl_oU0/s1600/Screen+shot+2015-04-29+at+18.52.25.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-36581920164577676602015-04-22T20:15:00.000+00:002016-02-03T16:49:35.362+00:00Thoughts on the Hustings...<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My first thought is: "Great! We have hustings, and they're well-attended."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">One of the great things about Levenshulme is how engaged its residents are. We might disagree, squabble, snark and sneer, but ultimately we all love where we live, are proud of it and will defend it when outsiders look down on us. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We go out on the streets, we campaign loudly and effectively and we speak up when we think something's wrong.</span> So where other areas fail to engage voters in the electoral process (especially at local level), we have hustings, organised by the Levenshulme Community Association, which packed out one of the few secular meeting spaces in the area (that, in itself, is an issue) on a warm spring night when people could have simply stayed at home enjoying the weather. Thanks are due to the LCA for organising it, and to the Klondyke for being excellent hosts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Many of us already knew each other socially; others, I suspect, will have been putting faces to names from social media pages. Some of us are overtly political, others defiantly non-aligned. The evening was designed to allow us to get to know the candidates who seek to represent us on Manchester City Council from next month, with written questions and some from the floor, addressed to all candidates in turn. We have five candidates, UKIP perhaps wisely recognising that they stand little chance in an inclusive multicultural area such as ours. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Conservative candidate was a no-show - pretty disgraceful, as the (admittedly few) Tory voters in the area deserve to be represented, just as the other parties were. To be fair, he did have a bit further to travel, I suppose - from a street just over the border in the Gorton South ward. It seems that like their leader, though, Conservative candidates don't feel the need to turn up to debates.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The LibDem candidate was the veteran former councillor John Commons, eager to distance himself from his party, and emphasising his credentials as a longstanding Leve resident and activist. He gave a barnstorming performance (aided by knowing pretty much everyone in the room, residents and 'visitors'), and it will remain to be seen whether he can distance himself from his party sufficiently to win back the seat he lost a few years back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Trades Union and Socialist Coalition (TUSC) candidate was Fiona Higgins, a Leve resident and care worker who spoke with passion and integrity from a position of having experienced the effects of austerity cuts and zero hours contracts in the care sector. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Labour Party's candidate was Basat Sheikh, the owner of a care company (the only candidate present not to live in the ward). He was loudly supported by (as John Commons pointed out) a sizable number of Labour councillors and assorted supporters, who were both very vocal and combatative (one criticised the chairing of the meeting, another heckled and interrupted while others were speaking). The enthusiasm for Mr Sheikh appeared to be confined to this section of the room, though, and it begs a question as to why it was felt he needed so much partisan support, including a question from the floor from his campaign manager? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Things got particularly tetchy around the issue of zero hours contracts (the widespread use of which the Labour Party has committed to ban), when he was tackled on whether his care company does (or did) offer such contracts to staff. He stated that he does not, and has never done so, a statement which was queried by several of those present, including one voter who had a copy of a letter which seemed to indicate otherwise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The final candidate was Dick Venes of the Green Party, who also stood in 2014. Sadly, although I recently scored 97% Green on one of those 'Which party are you most aligned with?" quizzes (a bit embarrassing for a Labour Party member and former branch official*), I find, 24 hours on, that I can't recall any of his answers in any detail. I have the same problem with the Foo Fighters...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">There were a range of questions on local issues, and most of the candidates acquitted themselves well on them. I'm sorry to say that 'my' candidate was severely underwhelming. Not having even an estimated completion date for the new leisure centre (possibly the biggest issue in the area over the last year or so), suggesting an Eric Pickles-style 'grace period' for those parking on yellow lines, telling us that he wants to make Leve "the kind of place you move to because you want to, rather than because you can't afford Chorlton or Didsbury" (which was met with a concerted response that many of us already ARE here because we want to be, and have no desire to live in Chorlton or Didsbury). He then compounded this by telling us that it really doesn't matter if the candidate lives in the ward (Yes, it does!) and telling us that "Sir Gerald Kaufman doesn't live in Levenshulme." It had to be pointed out to him that Sir G. might not live in Leve, but does live in the constituency he serves! So, factually irrelevant and very disrespectful to a much-admired MP who has served this community with great distinction for 45 years. It was not a high point.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">All in all, it was a good evening but I have to say that, with a few notable exceptions, the clacque of Labour politicians present was a bit of an embarrassment. Do they consider their candidate so weak that he needs the support of so many councillors from other wards? Where were the Levenshulme Labour members who selected him for the candidacy**? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">As I've said, Leve residents are intelligent, committed and engaged. We don't take well to being talked down to by someone who'd barely set foot in the ward before last year, or being told our area is a second choice stepping-stone to Hipsterville. We want to know who our candidates are and what their values are, which is why we turned out in pleasing numbers last night. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I will be voting again for Sir Gerald Kaufman on 7 May, but the local elections are another matter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">*that's a whole other blogpost....</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">** and that's another....</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>[Full disclosure: I was one of the unsuccessful nominees for the Levenshulme candidacy. If anyone would like to see my candidate statement, I'll happily post it and folk can judge for themselves whether the best man won.]</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412536819819065796.post-82669359352763735612014-07-31T10:59:00.003+00:002017-08-24T17:02:39.093+00:00Short and SweetThere's nothing I can say that puts it any clearer than Sue does:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://diaryofabenefitscrounger.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/confirmed-full-impact-of-cuts-disabled.html?spref=tw">http://diaryofabenefitscrounger.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/confirmed-full-impact-of-cuts-disabled.html?spref=tw</a><br />
<br />
We were right; IDS and his team were wrong.<br />
<br />
<br />FriendlyDragonSpousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07331040455658434089noreply@blogger.com0