Perhaps he didn't know St Valentine's Day was over. That must be his only excuse. But at 3.45 AM, yes AM, he was at it. Yes, Romeo's back - not at full throttle, but like an orchestra tuning up. (By the way, 'throstle' is an old word for 'thrush'.) My only consolation is that it might be a sign that spring is on its way. Oddly too, on Radio 3 this morning they played Prokofiev's ballet suite Romeo and Juliet.
A lot of us with MND are a bit tired of being cooped up by the snow and then the cold. Spring sunshine and warmth can't come too soon, as far as we're concerned. All the same I'm enjoying the Winter Olympics, beside my fire! The less said about the weekend's rugby the better; it wasn't a great spectacle, I thought - though the end of the Wales-Scotland match was unexpectedly dramatic.
Songs of Praise was back to its prissy worst format (red roses, King's Singers in PINK ties...), but was totally redeemed by one interview with Peggy, of The Archers, June Spencer. In the series, she's married to Jack Wooley who has Alzheimers. In real life, her husband also had the same disease, and then a stroke: 'I remember saying, "Why me?" and God said, "Because, with my help, you can cope. And that's it.' And he did help me, and I did cope, and looking back on it I realise that I couldn't have coped without his help.' And then she went on to talk about the resurgence of love she experienced in his illness. It's a wonderful jewel of an interview and well worth listening to. I hope the BBC repeat it if they do one of their retrospective SoPs in the summer. (You can find it about 22 minutes into the programme: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00qxypn/Songs_of_Praise_Valentines_Day/).
Monday, 15 February 2010
Saturday, 13 February 2010
Update
Yesterday I had a comment from Brian, which I think is worth reproducing here. It just brings the reality of Afghanistan nearer home:
We are familiar with the repatriation to the UK of the bodies of our service men and women killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. They are flown into RAF Lyneham and, after a private funeral service there for family and friends, taken by road to the John Radcliffe hospital in Oxford. At various places along the route people gather to pay their respects as the cortege passes. As I had learned that there was to be a Repatriation today I obtained the following details from the Defence Academy here in Shrivenham: WO2 David Markland (36 Engineer Regiment), Corp. Johnathan Moore and Pte. Sean McDonald (1 Scots); Flypast over Wootton Bassett 11am, Family Service 12 noon, Cortege leaves RAF Lyneham at about 1.30pm, then passes through Wootton Basset, Gable Cross Police Station (A420), B4000 (Bridge over A420), UK Defence Academy (A420), Faringdon Folly Lay-by (A420) - then on to Oxford, passing St Anthony of Padua RC Church at the JR Hospital. As the B4000 bridge is only about a quarter-mile from home I decided to go along and join about half-a-dozen others who had gathered there to pay their respects at the approximate time the cortege was expected (around 2.30pm).
At about 3pm a lone police motorcyclist came along with blue light flashing, followed by another about 200yds behind, then a police car, then three hearses with coffins draped with the Union Flag, then an unmarked car and a final police car. As the procession approached, all the traffic on the opposite side of the road came to a standstill until the cortege had passed. It was an incredibly moving experience - indeed, I broke down recounting it to Carol and even now have a lump in my throat.
We are familiar with the repatriation to the UK of the bodies of our service men and women killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. They are flown into RAF Lyneham and, after a private funeral service there for family and friends, taken by road to the John Radcliffe hospital in Oxford. At various places along the route people gather to pay their respects as the cortege passes. As I had learned that there was to be a Repatriation today I obtained the following details from the Defence Academy here in Shrivenham: WO2 David Markland (36 Engineer Regiment), Corp. Johnathan Moore and Pte. Sean McDonald (1 Scots); Flypast over Wootton Bassett 11am, Family Service 12 noon, Cortege leaves RAF Lyneham at about 1.30pm, then passes through Wootton Basset, Gable Cross Police Station (A420), B4000 (Bridge over A420), UK Defence Academy (A420), Faringdon Folly Lay-by (A420) - then on to Oxford, passing St Anthony of Padua RC Church at the JR Hospital. As the B4000 bridge is only about a quarter-mile from home I decided to go along and join about half-a-dozen others who had gathered there to pay their respects at the approximate time the cortege was expected (around 2.30pm).
At about 3pm a lone police motorcyclist came along with blue light flashing, followed by another about 200yds behind, then a police car, then three hearses with coffins draped with the Union Flag, then an unmarked car and a final police car. As the procession approached, all the traffic on the opposite side of the road came to a standstill until the cortege had passed. It was an incredibly moving experience - indeed, I broke down recounting it to Carol and even now have a lump in my throat.
Thursday, 11 February 2010
All the way from Wales
Our new sofa arrived today - specially made in South Wales by SofaSofa. It's not quite as long as the freebie we had before, but it fits in well. The dog likes it.... It was delivered by two young Welsh guys, who were very efficient. 'Hope the rugby goes better for you on Saturday,' I said. 'We don't talk about it unless we win,' he said. So I carried on. 'Shame about Alun Wyn Jones.' 'Stupid. Right in front of the referee's nose. And he's been selected again for this weekend when someone who played well has been dropped!' We agreed it was disgusting. Well, hope they do better this weekend.
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Bitter sweet
This is going to be the last Philadelphia I eat. I'm furious with Kraft, the double dealers. When I was a lad, one of the most romantic sights lay between Bristol, where we lived, and Bath. It was a special treat when we'd drive to Saltford and take a rowing boat out for a couple of hours. On the way we passed the red brick Fry's factory at Keynsham - which was where they made Fry's chocolate cream and turkish delight and the small round chocolate creams with different coloured creams - I loved them. I don't remember going round the factory, but we did sometimes have factory seconds.... Cadbury's with whom Fry's amalgamated in the 30s, I think, had decided to close the Keynsham factory and transfer production to Poland. And then along came Kraft, the American food business, with their take-over of Cadbury's. They would, they said, keep the factory open after all. Whether that won them friends among British investors or not is a moot point. Anyway within days of their winning the battle, they've just announced they're going to close it after all. They didn't know how advanced things were - they said. Oh yes? Pull the other one! Don't tell me your advisers don't do their homework in minute detail. So I'm cross, very cross. They've raised and then dashed my childhood dreams. Cruel.
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
Oh and something else
How could I have forgotten - except they weren't that exciting: the 6 Nations' Rugger began on Saturday? I'm not sure whether England would have beaten Wales were it not for that rather stupid sticking out of his leg by Alun Wyn Jones. But there we are! That's the price you pay. The Saturday matches were rather scrappy, but the Sunday game was a different matter. France were much more exciting, quick handling and crunching defence, and to give them their due Scotland battled like Braveheart. They're my favourites for the championship, the French, that is - which come to think of it is what Bruce Forsyth says to the worst dancers on 'Strictly'; but I don't suppose that'll worry the French team. Somehow I can't imagine them watching....
And this is an historic picture, recording Jane well and truly into the cyber age. While I'm writing this, she's scanning the web for new recipes. Happy days!
Monday, 8 February 2010
Sorry - I'm busy...
... writing, but here are a few thoughts from last week. Had a great day on Sunday (not yesterday), as we had lunch with great friends, Ian and Shelley, and their two youngest sons who are a pleasure to be with, and then came home to find a message on the answerphone from two other top friends, Anthony and Ruth, who were just 'passing' on the M4, wondering whether they could pop in. We managed to reach them before they'd got too far, and so we had a lovely hour with them. There's no other word for friends like those four than a blessing.
Anthony and Ruth have been working all hours receiving and despatching medical supplies to Haiti, through their amazing charity, International Health Partners UK. I've probably written about it before. They work at getting pharmaceutical companies to donate in-date stock and then with aid agencies distributing them at no cost. It's such a good concept, but such hard work. I saw them mentioned today winning one of BA's opportunity grants - which is well deserved and will be well used
(http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sponsored/business/opportunitygrant/6469188/British-Airways-UK-Opportunity-Grant-competition-winners-business-awards.html).
The other good thing that Sunday which in fairness I have to mention is 'Songs of Praise' (since I've slagged them off in the past) which came from Peterborough. Contemporary and some trad worship, real people enjoying worshipping, and talking about their lives. And actually this Sunday wasn't bad either, from Southwark Cathedral of all places, a few choristers' ruffs in evidence, but mainly a whole variety of people again really worshipping with a variety of hymns and songs. So I give Tony Nagri and the Beeb their due - and hope we don't revert to the travelogue/concert formula.
Then on Monday there were the two BBC programmes about assisted suicide, Panorama about Kay Gilderdale, who was acquitted of murdering her daughter Lynn with ME - which wasn't exactly a documentary, with its background music and wheeling seagulls and of course lots of inevitable emotion. I was struck by Chris Woodhead (who has MND and wants the option of choosing when to end his life) whose view is that changing the present law would actually make things worse - which I think is right. Then in the evening was Terry Pratchett's Dimbleby lecture, Shaking hands with death. That was another emotive essay. He'd obviously learned my father's maxim about preaching, 'Placere, docere, movere.' Please, teach, move - in that order, i.e. win over your listeners, inform them and then persuade them to action. It seemed a persuasive case for assisted 'death' as he chose to call it, when you listened to it, but afterwards you realised what he hadn't said, for example, about the effect on others (I think Sue has already made a comment on this blog to the effect that 'No man is an island') and the culture of fear rather than of hope. I noticed he said, 'If I knew that I could die at any time I chose, then suddenly every day would be as precious as a million pounds.' Hang on, I thought, every day is already infinitely precious as far as I'm concerned. And his resounding aphorism was, 'My life, my death, my choice.' Since when, I wondered, did any of us choose to enter life? And why are we so frightened of the unknown, of losing control, of chance? I'd rather, 'My life, my death, my adventure!'
And then, after a quick read of my bro's rather good short manuscript on whether Paul changed the message of Jesus as Philip Pullman is preparing to claim (again... yawn!) - to which the answer is a considered and well informed and argued 'No', the rest of the week is was nose the laptop working on the next book with Jozanne, I Choose Everything. We're aiming to finish the draft this month.
Anthony and Ruth have been working all hours receiving and despatching medical supplies to Haiti, through their amazing charity, International Health Partners UK. I've probably written about it before. They work at getting pharmaceutical companies to donate in-date stock and then with aid agencies distributing them at no cost. It's such a good concept, but such hard work. I saw them mentioned today winning one of BA's opportunity grants - which is well deserved and will be well used
(http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sponsored/business/opportunitygrant/6469188/British-Airways-UK-Opportunity-Grant-competition-winners-business-awards.html).
The other good thing that Sunday which in fairness I have to mention is 'Songs of Praise' (since I've slagged them off in the past) which came from Peterborough. Contemporary and some trad worship, real people enjoying worshipping, and talking about their lives. And actually this Sunday wasn't bad either, from Southwark Cathedral of all places, a few choristers' ruffs in evidence, but mainly a whole variety of people again really worshipping with a variety of hymns and songs. So I give Tony Nagri and the Beeb their due - and hope we don't revert to the travelogue/concert formula.
Then on Monday there were the two BBC programmes about assisted suicide, Panorama about Kay Gilderdale, who was acquitted of murdering her daughter Lynn with ME - which wasn't exactly a documentary, with its background music and wheeling seagulls and of course lots of inevitable emotion. I was struck by Chris Woodhead (who has MND and wants the option of choosing when to end his life) whose view is that changing the present law would actually make things worse - which I think is right. Then in the evening was Terry Pratchett's Dimbleby lecture, Shaking hands with death. That was another emotive essay. He'd obviously learned my father's maxim about preaching, 'Placere, docere, movere.' Please, teach, move - in that order, i.e. win over your listeners, inform them and then persuade them to action. It seemed a persuasive case for assisted 'death' as he chose to call it, when you listened to it, but afterwards you realised what he hadn't said, for example, about the effect on others (I think Sue has already made a comment on this blog to the effect that 'No man is an island') and the culture of fear rather than of hope. I noticed he said, 'If I knew that I could die at any time I chose, then suddenly every day would be as precious as a million pounds.' Hang on, I thought, every day is already infinitely precious as far as I'm concerned. And his resounding aphorism was, 'My life, my death, my choice.' Since when, I wondered, did any of us choose to enter life? And why are we so frightened of the unknown, of losing control, of chance? I'd rather, 'My life, my death, my adventure!'
And then, after a quick read of my bro's rather good short manuscript on whether Paul changed the message of Jesus as Philip Pullman is preparing to claim (again... yawn!) - to which the answer is a considered and well informed and argued 'No', the rest of the week is was nose the laptop working on the next book with Jozanne, I Choose Everything. We're aiming to finish the draft this month.
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
A bit of a burden
'Really old like forty five' is a new play by Tamsin Oglesby, just opened at the Cottlesloe Theatre on the South Bank. I heard about it on the Today Programme this morning. It sounds very relevant and quite chilling. The publicity about it says, 'There are just too many old people. As a government research body seeks to deal the problems of a maturing population, a family addresses its own. Lyn's memory starts to go, Alice takes a fall and even Robbie has to face the signs of ageing. Relations are put to the test across three generations. As are those who enter the increasingly sinister world of state care. 'Tamsin Oglesby's furious comedy confronts head-on our embarrassment and fear about old age. It exposes a society in which compassion vies with pragmatism and, by asking unequivocal questions, it comes up with some extraordinary answers.' I gathered that 'euthanasia' was part and parcel of the sinister world.
Baroness Warnock and Tamsin Oglesby were both interviewed, and what most struck me was Mary Warnock's bald and, to me, chilling statement that the elderly were 'a burden'. Which is not a neutral word. A burden is a nuisance, something you want to get rid of - the archetype in literature, I suppose, is Christian in 'Pilgrim's Progress', who was mightily relieved when his burden rolled off.
Is it a coincidence that a recent news item was about changes in demography in the countryside and local authorities telling the government it had underestimated the future cost of care for the elderly by £1/2 billion per annum, if I remember right? Certainly the Baroness seemed to relate economic productivity to personal value. It's quite a turn round from respecting old age for its wisdom and for our inheritance. Baroness Warnock was introduced as 'the euthanasia campaigner'.... To give her her due, I don't think she was suggesting bumping off all non-economic units of production, and no doubt she would choose assisted suicide for herself. However you can see how easily we could slide into the nightmare world of 'Really Old'.
Baroness Warnock and Tamsin Oglesby were both interviewed, and what most struck me was Mary Warnock's bald and, to me, chilling statement that the elderly were 'a burden'. Which is not a neutral word. A burden is a nuisance, something you want to get rid of - the archetype in literature, I suppose, is Christian in 'Pilgrim's Progress', who was mightily relieved when his burden rolled off.
Is it a coincidence that a recent news item was about changes in demography in the countryside and local authorities telling the government it had underestimated the future cost of care for the elderly by £1/2 billion per annum, if I remember right? Certainly the Baroness seemed to relate economic productivity to personal value. It's quite a turn round from respecting old age for its wisdom and for our inheritance. Baroness Warnock was introduced as 'the euthanasia campaigner'.... To give her her due, I don't think she was suggesting bumping off all non-economic units of production, and no doubt she would choose assisted suicide for herself. However you can see how easily we could slide into the nightmare world of 'Really Old'.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)