An afternoon with friends

On Wednesday afternoon the local MND Association branch visited Aston Pottery for a demonstration and then for tea. These are really good afternoons when those of us with MND and friends and families spend time together.

Watching the demonstration

Although it was windy, the rain held off and from time to time the sun came out. Aston Pottery is near Witney and produces its unique brand of tableware, and also has an Aladdin's cave of a gift shop and a big beautiful café. The 18 of us started with the pottery (I believe it's technically known as slipware) demonstration given by Marian, one of the potters. She showed us the processes from pouring to completion - well, not all of them, I seem to remember that there are 27 separate processes in all, taking over two days. She was, I must say, an excellent teacher - well organised, expert and enthusiastic about her subject. I certainly ended with a great appreciation for the skill of the potters and decorators and the vision behind the whole enterprise.

Marian at work

It's amazing how split-second some of the timings need to be: for example, too short and the teapot handle is hollow, too long and the spout is solid. And there's no mass-production here. It all depends on the human factor. I was especially impressed by the glazing process, which is dipping the article into a suspension of four minerals for a few seconds. As it dries the design is completely covered in the creamy deposit. Only after the final firing at 1100+˚C does the deposited suspension melt into a micro-layer of glass.

After the wonders of potting, we proceeded to the joys of eating some of the locally made cakes and having tea from, of course, Aston pottery.

This is always the best part of such afternoons, when you sit and talk (or just smile) with your friends, and enjoy what you might call fellowship. In one way it's tinged with sadness, as you're aware of friends who have died since we began going. But there's also that great optimism and humour which is oddly a mark of the Association members. Anyway the slabs of cake were vast - and delicious.

Anne and Rachael facing us, with the Durkins

In the café

I forgot to mention that I'd been to the MND Clinic in Oxford on Monday morning, to see my new consultant, Kevin Talbot. There I'd been greeted by Anne, the Association visitor, and then was seen by Rachael Marsden, the clinic coordinator, who gave me a peak-flow

breath test and a quick interview, before I went in to see Professor Talbot. He agreed with Dr Donaghy's diagnosis of PLS (where the upper motor neurones are affected). He had a student there, which was interesting as he explained my symptoms to her. It's an excellent set-up.

It was nice seeing Anne and Rachael again at Aston on Wednesday afternoon. It feels like integrated care.

More meanderings

Talking of books, this week I completed checking the proofs of I Choose Everything, and on Wednesday, after Jane had helped at Riding for the Disabled, we decided to deliver them in person to Lion Hudson rather than send them by Royal Mail. There's just something about knowing they're there. So round to the Jordan Hill Business Estate and Jane popped out and handed the envelope over.

Then it was time to celebrate. This time it was Aston Pottery, where we'd been in February, near Witney, in the heart of Cameron country. Not that there were many posters up - just one big six-footer. I couldn't help reflecting on the irony of the most English of the candidates for the top job having a typical Scottish name, while the most Scottish has a typical English name. Such profound thoughts show how demob happy I was. The sun was shining and the air was heady with the scent of the tubs full of blue hyacinths along the path from the car park. We headed straight for the tea-room for some lunch and unsuspectingly decided on filled baps - I think mine were prawn marie with salad in sun-dried tomato baps. When they arrived they were HUMUNGOUS. We could have had half each! But very nice they were too. Taking it slowly I completely finished it, not a crumb left. And then we had coffee. Excellent! You can see the view from our table, above. The chap facing is Stephen Baughan, who founded the business with his wife, Jane, in 1990. He's a potter and she's an artist. And they're very friendly.

It's grown from its small beginning into a sizable business - they employ 25+ people now. They're just launching a new size (1 pint jug) and had a wonderful display on the way to the tea-rooms, called the Auricula Theatre. Auriculas are exotic relatives of the primrose. We were given one when we moved here. All the jugs and plates are decorated with different coloured auriculas. But no item is exactly the same as another, as they're all hand-painted. This picture will give you an idea of the beautiful displays in the shop part of the Pottery. Very tempting. We wandered around, and were tempted - a little. A bonus was meeting old (not old old) friends there, and catching up with each other's news.

And so we came home. I did watch the last PMs' debate last night. I'm afraid I was frustrated by the lack of engagement with the serious issues and specific policies. It seemed to me that at least two of the gentlemen were more concerned about projecting image, and that, frankly, doesn't interest me. I admit the debates have apparently aroused people's interest in the election, but I think the cost will be too high if we decide our Prime Minister on how telegenic he or she is. By the way, I've still not had a reply to my letter from Mr Vaizey... How odd!

And á propos of nothing in particular, by way of light relief, here's that donkey story from Brian I promised you. 
Father O'Malley rose from his bed one morning. It was a fine spring day in his new Ballina parish.

He walked to the window of his bedroom to get a deep breath of the beautiful day outside.  He then noticed there was a Donkey lying dead in the middle of his front lawn.

Not knowing who else to call, he promptly called the local police station. 

The conversation went like this:

''Good morning. This is Sergeant Jones. How might I help you?"

"And the best of the day ter yer good self. This is Father O'Malley at St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church. There's a Donkey lying dead right in der middle of me front lawn "

Sergeant Jones, considering himself to be quite a wit, replied with a smirk, "Well now Father, it was always my impression that you people took care of the last rites!"

There was dead silence on the line for a long moment and then Father O'Malley replied:

"Ah, to be sure, that is true; but we are also obliged to notify the next of kin."

Life is life

On Sunday I went out for the first time for four weeks, what with my festive infection and the subsequent 'deep freeze'.  It was almost a springlike day, and so like a hedgehog I came out of hibernation and, with Jane, headed for church (the building) in my electric wheelchair.  Fresh air tastes good.  And so does bread and wine in communion.  It was great returning to a more normal routine.

Stephen who called in during the afternoon mentioned an article by Charlotte Raven in the weekend Guardian (http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/2010/jan/16/charlotte-raven-should-i-take-my-own-life).  Its headline is 'Should I take my own life?'  After her father died of Huntington's Disease (a peculiarly nasty terminal disease) and she had had her first baby, she had a test which confirmed that she would get it too.  She decided she'd choose to commit suicide (for example at Dingitas), assembling an array of arguments to support her decision.  Then she went to a part of Venezuala where there is a high concentration of HD, and, although she was faced with the stark reality of what she would have to face if the disease ran its full course, she experienced a quite unexpected reversal of perception.  'I had never thought of suicide as violent or vile, and no wonder – our preferred methods are designed to obscure this painful reality. Suicide consumers have been sold a chimera of a " peaceful" end.'  She goes to a clinic for Huntington's sufferers and ends up in the arms of a nurse.  The article concludes: 'Registering the discomfort of existence, I felt a great wave of self-pity, the first since my diagnosis. I felt worthy of being cherished and knew I'd do whatever it took to survive....  Back home, I told my husband he was right.  The case for carrying on can't be argued.  Suicide is rhetoric.  Life is life.'  It's a long article, but every word is worth reading.

To add to my joy, yesterday dawned sunny and even warmer.  So we celebrated and went to collect a late mystery Christmas present from Rachel.  She'd told us it was awaiting collection at Aston Pottery (which is south of Witney).  There's also a rather nice gift shop and café there, and we decided the drive there would be a pleasant start to the week.  And so it proved.  There was some flooding around the Thames.  In fact The Maybush was almost on an island.  Some trees even had a greenish sheen, an early sign of spring.

                                

So we picked up our present, and then went to have a coffee and brownie.  Very nice.  There were still traces of snow left where it had slid off the roof and where, the owner told us, the children of the village had built a large snowman.  Refreshed, we wandered back through the gift shop - which is quality, and incredibly tastefully set out.  I fell in love with a couple of cushions which I coveted for the sofa we've just ordered....  However they were rather pricey, and good sense prevailed at last with a bit of encouragement from Jane!  Here's some of our Aston pottery ware, including the new butter dish.