A tale of three parts

Snake's-head fritillary near our safe house

"Gallia est omnis divisa in tres partes" (All Gaul is divided into three parts). I'm glad to say my last week had nothing in common with Julius Caesar's Gallic Wars, except falling into three parts. These may conveniently be labelled the shires of Devon, Cambridge, and Oxford.

The stream in the valley

Part 1 - Devon.
Returned to our remote 'safe house' where we chilled out, enjoyed the neighbouring walks (Jane and Jess) and the views (Jane and me). Among other things the farm has wild flower meadows, enjoyed by the local bees and containing flowers as common as violets and unusual as snake's head fritillaries.

One of the two beehives

Budleigh Salterton front from the hill

As well as visiting Jane's parents, we spent most of Wednesday exploring down and up the Otter Trail (from Otterton to Budleigh Salterton). Bit of a facer there :-( . The public toilets at the east of the prom were being refurbished, and I'm sure they'll look very nice soon, but there was no notice of apology or indication where the nearest ones might be. We asked one workman. He wasn't local, so he shouted to his mate on the roof. "Where's the next loos? These folk is desperate." (Not really.) "800 yards along the front, up there!" He omitted to tell us one vital fact....

Man from Mars (note the aerials)

Very pleasant it was, sitting in the wheelchair, with the sound of the waves on the shingle and the cry of the gulls, and the sun shining on the lee of the cliff. Jane however had to push me. And it's not a gentle incline at the western end. In fact as the metres extended to kilometres, the lady we asked suggested we go through the village "as the slope's easier". I'm sure she was right but navigating a street with a wheelchair and a dog put us off, and Jane opted for the one in five hill. Undefeated, we reached our destination. The Gents had metal security gates and steps leading down out of sight. So round the corner in search of the Disabled. Nothing - just Ladies, with again a turnstile arrangement and steps down. Well, Jane availed herself, before pushing me back more than mile to the car - to be greeted by a couple of swallows. "Summer is a-cumen in" - I couldn't remember whether it's one swallow or two that don't make a summer. Whatever - it was a thoroughly summery day, topped off by a shared cream tea at Otterton Mill with its very friendly and obliging staff - including access to limited but adequate disabled facilities.

One obliging swallow

We had to come home on Thursday afternoon to be ready for Part 2, and so Part 1 ended with a relaxing morning and lunch at the cottage, disturbed only by a helicopter inspecting power lines.

Part 2 - Cambridge

Ridley's Walk (or Dewey's, for our generation)

It's 40 years since I left Cambridge. Consequently my old college, Pembroke, invited me to a Feast, along with my contemporaries, of course. A feast is not much good for me, trying to eat and mumbling to make myself understood against a background of decreasingly intelligent chatter, but an opportunity to see my long-lost (and highly intelligent) buddies seemed too good to be missed. So we arranged to go to tea first, to stay overnight and to have breakfast, and hope to see friends at greater leisure. And it worked well, with the bonus of a quiet meal with our good friends, Nic and Martin, with young daughter Hannah near Huntingdon.

The Guest Dormitory M4a

Our guest room had the advantage of being very conveniently situated, even if it looked as though it was awaiting the final phase of college modernisation. The weather of course was perfect - clear skies, blossom out... completing the illusion that student-life was one blissful summer. Sadly, again, we had to tear ourselves away from the realms of nostalgia to return to an altogether inferior place, the Holiday Inn in Oxford.

Part 3 - Oxford

Matt Jones & Team Diddy present £5100+

We were heading for the local MNDA Branch AGM, and considering the time we left Cambridge were creditably on time. There were the usual reports and elections. Perhaps the most significant fact I picked up was that expenditure was 30+% above income - of course need for help for MND patients never diminishes and demand is constantly being renewed. Although the MNDA has a very committed support base, clearly the squeeze affects its income as much as the next charity.

During the lunch break Tracy the MND Centre's speech therapist showed me the programmes for iPads, iPods and iPads for synthesising speech, as well as the different controls and speakers you can use. Unlike the old systems you can get English voices (and even Aussie), not just American, and they're much cheaper than the old market leading Lightwriter. I don't absolutely need one yet, but I can foresee it being a useful technology.

Kirstine Knox waiting (Colin Blakemore lt)

Then, after some technical projection problems, we had the MNDA's big boss, Kirstine Knox, talking about the scope and future of the association. She sent her young daughter fast asleep, but the rest of us were quite interested!

Glad to be home!

When we returned home, there were two NHS letters awaiting me: one from my consultant, Dr Donaghy, telling us he was retiring before my next appointment. It's a bit of a blow, because, as you know, I liked and trusted him a lot. However, he is handing me on to Prof Talbot who runs the MND Centre, and is also an exceedingly nice man. The other I though would be from the hospital summoning me to have my tooth removed, but no, it was from Didcot Dental Clinic summoning me for a full assessment at the end of the month. When Jane queried it by phone, she was told the waiting list at the hospital was "sometimes over a year" and that a specialist dentist would be seeing if something could be done in the clinic instead, and no, they wouldn't do treatment then.... Hmm. Is this the beginning of decay in NHS provision, I wonder.

In retrospect

We’ve had a glorious week in South Devon, up a muddy bendy lane, in a warm converted cowshed overlooking beech trees and a trout-stream valley. What a full few days! I'm getting used to the idea that even in retirement holidays are worth having.

The view from the cottage was great, with the autumn leaves just clinging on for us despite the westerly winds. I didn't notice the pylons; the nearby wildlife was a lot more interesting. I reckon there were blue, great, coal and marsh tits, as well as greater spotted woodpeckers and nuthatches on the bird feeders, green woodpeckers, pheasants and squirrels in the garden - and Jane counted 14 herons in the field across the valley. Then at night the trains down in the dip would pass back and forth with the lights of their carriages on. 

On the Sunday we made for Exmouth to seek out Christ Church - the home church of some New Winers we met this year. Though the people we'd got to know best weren't there, we received a great welcome. The worship and whole service was led by young people. Excellent. I can even remember the 'talk's' three points still: we need consistency, cooperation and confidence in following Christ.

 After that we drove down to the estuary where Jane walked Jess to the river, while I discovered the car of the third in line to the throne, as I deduced from its registration K1NGH. In fact, when it passed us later, it contained an elderly couple (even older than us). We moved on to the promenade which was remarkably busy for a cool autumnal day. Dog-walkers, kite-fliers, promenaders, and even kayakers. It was of course sunny, and actually we joined the procession on the prom. Lovely.

I won't bore you with a blow-by-blow account of the week: Seaton - overrated but nice clifftop garden; Jane's parents - impossible to overrate; Axmouth - brilliant picnic by another estuary and lots of waders and seabirds (curlew, little egret, redshank, sandpiper et al); plus a visit from my favourite journalist, walks for Jane in the area with the dog, the autumn colours, blue skies, and evenings watching 'Poldark'...! I came home reflecting how fortunate I was still to be mobile enough and able to enjoy such a beautiful place and how blessed we'd been with bright November weather.

In my inbox, among the emails, was on from my co-author, Jozanne. I don't think she'll mind my quoting from it:

"Since my last mail, I have regressed considerably. I am no longer able to use my computer and spend most of my days in bed. My body is weak and my breathing is very shallow. I have lost most of my muscle mass and probably weigh between 35 & 40 kg's. I am on a 4 hourly dosage of morphine which brings me great relief from the pain I have been experiencing in my neck and shoulders. I am not able to eat anymore due to the weakened muscles in my mouth and swallowing process. I take all my feeds through a tube in my stomach. I am completely paralysed and I am grateful for the two full-time caregivers that assist me during the day and for Dave who helps me at night.                                                                                                                                         

"My greatest challenge now is speech and communication. This is very frustrating for me because I can no longer verbalise any words. It is difficult for me to express how I feel or what I need and also for those around me to understand what I am trying to say. We do seem to find ways around this but with much difficulty and effort.

"Despite all these challenges God has been so faithful to us. He daily gives me the strength to carry on, but not just that, He fills my life with joy as He reveals Himself to me more and more everyday...." 

That's the reality of MND for all but a few.

David & Grace (Liverpool Echo)

And then there were two about my cousin, Grace Sheppard. She has been having treatment for widespread cancer. Last month, six years after her husband David had done the same, she preached at Liverpool Cathedral's Pause for Hope service. It's for cancer sufferers, families, carers and medics. One email told us she was in the hospice; the second that she had died, five years after David. Only a few months ago she'd stayed with us. She was, and is, a lovely person. I shall treasure her book, Living with Dying, which she inscribed for us when she was here.  http://www.liverpoolecho.co.uk/liverpool-news/local-news/2010/11/12/bishop-s-wife-grace-sheppard-dies-after-cancer-battle-100252-27646634/

Finally there was the news of a new Wenham born into the world, daughter to my nephew and his wife - with the nice name of Marianne. And I also saw, with delight, an entry on Jill McCloghry's blog that after 35 weeks she's still carrying her baby girl. You may remember the extract I included in I Choose Everything from her blog of her months of agonised grieving after the loss of her first baby, Max. She's another remarkable woman of faith.

A short diversion

Just back from 26 hours with Jane's parents down in Devon - another very mellow time, helped by beautiful sunshine.

Her mother wrote and illustrated a multitude of children's stories (published by Medici), meticulously researched even as far as flying in a Tiger Moth biplane for Freddie in Flight which has an aerial view of our old home in Stanford...  Almost all of them feature animals.  She's become a miniaturist of great skill.  Her great grandchildren enjoy listening to the stories, and of course now feature in her miniatures!

We left The Italian Chapel which I've mentioned before for Jane's father to read.  You may recall it's the story of the Italian prisoners of war on the Orkneys who had to assist in constructing the Churchill barriers joining the islands together to protect the Atlantic fleet from German submarine attacks; they're still in place today, as is the beautiful chapel they created out of two nissen huts.  As I said before the book is a really good read; it's particularly moving because it's largely true, but more because it shows how good and beautiful things can come out of the most unpromising of circumstances - including friendship between enemies.  Anyway, we thought he would enjoy it; and it turned out that the first voyage he had made after signing up in the Navy in the 2nd World War was in the brand new HMS Paladin from the Clyde to Scapa Flow where the fleet was based in the Orkneys.  They hit the most horrendous storm on the way.  The destroyer lost various bits on the way, and the seaman were all dreadfully sick...!

My in-laws live on the Jurassic coast of Devon in a lovely chalet bungalow overlooking the valley.  It's well nigh perfect - except the path to the front door is steep and long.  Well, at least it feels like that to me.  One day, presumably, I won't be able to make the slow ascent, but I did it again on Tuesday between Jane and my stick.  I still feel a sense of achievement.  Going down, I submit to the wheelchair.  It's safer.  At least in the house I don't have to go up the stairs to the spare bedroom, because those two generous octogenarians give up their ground-floor room for us.  You can see they're not the in-laws of popular myth!  They've acquired a tv for the first time since I've known them, and I spent a couple of happy hours watching the old BBC production of Barchester Towers with the odious Mr Slope and the good Mr Harding.  I reckon there are similarities between the latter and my father in law.

On the way back we'd learned our lesson on the A303, which we'd discovered on our way down was entirely blocked at Mere.  They didn't give sufficient warning for you to take an alternative route, and so you were forced to take the official diversion through Shaftesbury.  Returning we took our own diversion on familiar roads round Stourhead and saved 20-30 minutes.  As a result the dog didn't have to wait too long for her supper.