Thought for today

I was really struck by this comment today from a friend of mine with a nasty neurological condition: "I do not know all the answers but I personally look forward to the end, but I am quite happy to let God make that decision. My husband likes looking after me as do lots of people, and I would feel I would be kicking them in the teeth if I were to take away their choice." Now that's impressive selflessness.


For a view of the Dingitas factory different from the one we normally see, I recommend this article from the Mail, A daughter watches her mother die. Karen Royle talks about the devastating effects of her mother, Rona's assisted suicide. She had MND and wanted the quick exit for herself, but it left her husband  utterly lost and her family shattered. 'Compared with Mum, Dad had the better death, without a doubt,’ says Karen. 'Although his body was riddled with cancer, he died peacefully at home with us.'


You can see what my friend means.

Things that move

from Iceland Review

I believe I slept on a volcano last night. Well, that's what I like to think. Jane had hung the washing out in the day and it ended up with shiny black specks on it, especially the fleece I rest my heels on to prevent them chafing in bed. Of course, I'm no expert, but I like to think they were from the Grimsvötn volcano in Iceland rather than Didcot power station down the road. Apparently Grimsvötn produced more ash on its first day than the unpronounceable Eyjafjallajökull let out in 40 days last year. A vivid eye-witness account described it as a black wall of ash. Possibly I've been to sleep on some of it!

The Radio 4 programme The Choice, in which Michael Buerk interviews individuals who have had to make momentous personal decisions, has returned this week. They are often gritty stories. On Tuesday he was talking to 'Mikey Walsh' who's from a Romany family which has a tradition of bare-knuckle fighting. When he was born, his father hung a gold chain with an ornament of boxing gloves round his neck. As he grew up, despite his family's best efforts, it was clear that he was just not the fighting type. He was soft. Eventually in his teens he realised he was gay and made the decision to run away from his family, cutting himself off from the whole Gypsy world. The cost to him and the hurt to his father were immense. Eventually he moved into acting and wrote his story in Gypsy Boy. That stirred up a buzz of anger among his some of his former community, whom his father personally set about pacifying, by admitting that the details were true. What struck me was the end of the programme, when Mikey told how one day he rang his mother, who passed the mobile straight to his father. He said, "I've got something to tell you: you're more of a fighting man than any of 'em, and I'm proud of you." I found Mikey's honesty and his father's humility very impressive, and the at least partial reconciliation very moving.

Whistleblowing

Yesterday morning I listened to a riveting edition of The Choice on Radio 4. Michael Buerk was interviewing Paul Moore, who hit the headlines as the whistleblower of HBOS's foolish policies which eventually contributed the banking fiasco last year. As The Times reported when he gave evidence to the Treasury Select Committee, 'Paul Moore, a former partner of KPMG and head of group regulatory risk at HBOS between 2002 and 2005, accused the bank of "a total failure of all key aspects of corporate governance" and said that he was repeatedly rebuffed and thwarted when he tried to register concern.' He was sacked by Sir James Crosby, the chief executive. It was a remarkable story of faithful witness in the highest reaches of corporate finance. I've no doubt there are others. What was special about this one was the contrast between the anything-goes culture of the banks and the integrity of their head of regulation - and also the rock-like faith of his wife. Well worth listening to: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00nk2c2/The_Choice_03_11_2009/

Today we had our friends, John and Mary, to lunch. They are two of our oldest friends. We bought our first house 35 years ago in their parish in Hertfordshire, and have remained in touch ever since. John appears in 'My Donkeybody' as the person who reassured me about MRI scans. Although he had a brain tumour, he is still going strong. We had a good meal and enjoyed catching up. Time flew by. He always blesses me when we say goodbye - I suppose that's appropriate, since goodbye means 'God be with you'.