Goodnight, Ladies

 Four notable, strong women have died this week.

1. July 7th - My Auntie Jean, at 101. The rest of the world did not know her, she won't get a mention on the BBC, but for her 100+ relations, and her many friends, her passing will be noted, her life and faith celebrated. She gave so much to so many. always with a warm smile or a cheeky grin.
2. July 8th - Bonnie Tyler. Aged 75. 
   This Welshwoman, with a wonderfully powerful voice had been ill for some weeks. She had been married to her beloved Robert for 53 years. They had no children, but she did a phenomenal amount for charity across the world, but particularly in Wales, especially child-related projects. Her most famous hit was "Total Eclipse of the Heart" [my favourite is "Holding Out for a Hero] Deeply loved, she was described as 'a proud Welsh Icon' by Prince William
3. July 9th - Anne Widdecombe. Aged 78. A feisty, outspoken woman, of very strong views. She was raised Catholic, became an agnostic, then Anglican, then converted back to Catholicism. Brought up Conservative, she was a local councillor, became an MP in 1987. She joined the Brexit Party, then the Reform Party. She remained single and had no children, saying she had chosen to commit her life to public service. In her later years she became a 'celeb' appearing on Strictly Come Dancing, Celeb Big Brother and made numerous other TV appearances. Rev Richard Coles described her as "Ann Widdecombe, who I knew a bit, both as an adversary and as an inconveniently congenial acquaintance." and wrote a prayer on Facebook which was very gracious, I felt. We have since heard that she was murdered. So incredibly sad. 
4. July 10th - Patricia Greene - aka Jill Archer. Aged 95. Part of the soundtrack of my life until I stopped listening to the radio soap during Covid! She was 'married' to Brookfield Farm for 69 years! She did other roles here and there on TV - but basically she had one job, and she did it brilliantly. The longest serving actor in any soap [radio, TV or Internet] in the world. The matriarch of a huge fictional farming family - her character was so popular [Queen Camilla is apparently an Archers Addict] She continued recording, even when she moved into a care home. Patricia [Paddy] was a much loved member of the Archers Team, "unfailingly warm and encouraging" She was awarded an MBE ' for services to broadcasting and charity.

May these strong women rest in peace, may their loved ones be comforted, may others carry on the good work they did and the generosity they showed.

Is There Life After Housework?

I read this book back in the 80s. Three things I recall

1. Use a squeegee after every shower, it will keep the glass and walls sparkling [at the time I did not have a shower - but in the years since, I have stuck rigidly to this habit - it works
2. When mopping the floor, keep clean water and wrung out dirty water in two different buckets. I use a pad type mop, and have a clean dry pad for drying and finishing off, rather than wringing out the dirty pad. 
3. I did not like his "life's too short" model - with frequent use of single use disposables, both for cleaning and decor. [Especially "don't put all the Christmas stuff back in store, ditch and and buy new next December"] What about saving the planet, Don?
   However, about the same time I read the book, I often walked the girls home from school along with another mum and daughter. One Friday she said "I feel so guilty, I haven't washed down the skirting boards this week"  I cheerfully responded "Don't worry, I haven't done mine for well over a fortnight, and the world hasn't ended!"  [truth be told, I couldn't actually remember when I'd last done it, it may have been after the flying chocolate mousse incident the previous autumn...I was a busy and stressed Mum back then] 

The more I think back to those sunny days, making models, visiting NT properties, climbing over the cannons at the Maritime Museum, enjoying Holiday Clubs and Pancake Parties, the more I realise Mr Aslett was wrong. The question ought to be "Have you enjoyed life before the housework?" 
Obviously there are some chores which happen as part of the daily routine. Habits like pulling out the wheelie bin on Wednesday. loading the dishwasher after the meal, dropping dirty clothes straight in the bin as you take them off, squeegeeing the shower before you get out and dry yourself, putting the milk jug back in the fridge promptly - especially in hot weather...

But the sun's shining and you want to go for a walk, take the grandchildren somewhere fun, or attend a free organ concert in the Church - so forget washing down the skirting or re-organising the sock drawer! 

Another Mum I knew back then said that she had never seen her mother do housework. Cooking and clearing up meals yes - but cleaning, washing, ironing - Mum did all those other tasks once the three children had gone to bed. I couldn't get my head round that - didn't vacuuming keep them awake? If she ran the washing machine at night, when and how did she get the laundry dry? 

According to a survey two years before the pandemic, the average British woman spends 2 hours a day on household chores, and men a little less than that [i.e. a total of 14 hours a week] . I couldn't find out if the 2 hours included meal prep&clearing. If it does, then that seems about right for us. In retirement it is easier to share out the jobs [and he is a better cook than I] Many working women, like my daughters are well organised, busy juggling family, work and home. I know it is tiring for them [so grateful that my two always make family needs their #1 priority] Perhaps I should keep a time sheet for two weeks and see what gets done and when. But not this week - I'm off to London on Friday morning! 

How have your housekeeping habits changed over the years?

Do you have any help? [humans or gadgets]

Oh, I Love That Book!

I took a book to read in the dentist's waiting room. I had recently decided to reread this book again because I love it. It makes me laugh out loud, and is a good antidote to cold winters and depressing news reports. 
Traffic was good, and the journey to East Harling went very smoothly. I had left home in good time [two weeks before, there was one diversion and three lots of roadworks with temporary traffic lights] so I got there with 20 minutes in hand. I checked in, and then sat down, swapped driving glasses for reading glasses, and opened my book. 
A couple of minutes later, the door opened. In came a mum, with baby in pram, and Grandma bringing up the rear. The chap who was waiting leapt up and rearranged chairs to accommodate the bassinet. Everyone settled down, and then the young woman said "Oh, I love that book!" I realised she was talking about my paperback.

I quickly swapped over my glasses [she was seriously out of focus] and we spent the next 10 minutes talking about EMD's characters, and the perceptive descriptions of the children, and longsuffering husband Robert. I said I had one of those. "Does yours ever complain that he has not had sufficient breakfast?" she asked. "Occasionally" I said. This young Mum was utterly delightful, about the same age as my Liz [who also enjoys DOAPL] "I have never met anyone else before who has read it!" she enthused. "What do you think of the Vicar's Wife character?" she asked. We covered an awful lot of ground before she was called through to the treatment room. It quite took my mind off gloomy thoughts about the possibility of root canal work. [which mercifully did not materialise]
I don't seem to have ever reviewed this book on my blog, which surprises me. I think I last read it during the pandemic, when I was here on my own at Cornerstones, running Grandma's Nursery for Rosie. There had just been an article in the Guardian about the book, and it was already here on the shelf at Cornerstones.
You can pick it up and put it down without 'losing the thread' so it's ideal for an 'analogue bag' It won't be to everyone's taste - but if you are stuck for something different, please do give it a try! It's a first person narrative, similar to Three Men In A Boat in many ways. The punctuation is rather random, and she uses capitals frequently, so characters have names like Our Vicar's Wife, and she skips speech marks. You get a line like Then Lady B. said Did I Want Coffee? and I replied Not Just Yet. 
Perhaps I should write a book in this style
I was in John Lewis, and a Complete Stranger said You are our Neighbour Daphne. And when I said No, I was Angela, she pointed to my Beloved Husband, and asked Well why are You with Him? He looks just like Daphne's Boyfriend...
I suspect nobody would publish it

Happy Birthday George!

Is it really 5 years since you were born? There we were in Lockdown, and Manchester seemed so far away. Five weeks after your birth we got to meet you briefly, but it was ages till we all got together properly as a family. And now you have almost finished your first year at school. You already know more about dinosaurs than I ever will, and your enthusiasm for life is wonderful. I am so glad that your teacher says you are "thoughtful and kind" - you always show so much concern for your little brother Jacob. Looking after the pair of you last November while your Mum and Dad were away may have been exhausting, but it was glorious fun. How you have grown! Have a fabulous birthday!

Taking Stock

Back in August 2018, Liz and I had a long discussion about the concept of a Brexit Box. Groceries we could set aside in case of some sort of breakdown in Food Supply after we left the EU the following March. But April came, and the deadline had been pushed back to October, so we sorted out the stuff still properly 'in date' and took that to the foodbanks**, and ate up the rest. And then I prepared a fresh box as October approached. That stayed in the cupboard over the winter - and I was so glad of it in March 2020 when lockdown happened and Bob and I were already quarantined with covid.

Since then I have always maintained a reasonable stock of non-perishable food in the cupboard. The village shop is nearby but has a limited range of goods, and is not the cheapest. It is useful to be able to rustle up a meal from stores if there are unexpected visitors [taking my cue from Matthew 25;4]

It's five years since covid arrived - and eighty five since WW2 Rationing started [end of January 1940] I came across a list of foodstuffs which the government recommended to housewives in 1939, as something to keep in stock in the event of an emergency, as the War started. [we will ignore the assumption that all food shopping was done by the females!]

Have a look at this, and compare it with your cupboards

I have to admit I currently have most of these things in store, but...

• No 'tinned fat' - but definitely cooking oil 
• Plain Biscuits and rusks replaced with sweet biscuits and cheese crackers 
• No Bovril [but there is always Nutella for the children] 
• No saccharine, but I do have some Stevia for a friend who likes sweetener in her tea
• No jellies or dried eggs
• Peas are in the freezer, and beans in tins
• No pickled or dried eggs- ever!!!!

How has our diet changed? Well my Brexit Box definitely contained rice and pasta- two staples of my store cupboard for 40+ years, but not a regular part of the British diet in WW2 [although the list has curry powder, so what did they serve with their curries?] And a bottle of fruit squash.

Which of these items are usually in your cupboard?

Which do you never buy?

And what is missing for you?

**I usually put a few extras in my trolley at the supermarket when I do a big shop, and leave them in the foodbank donation bin on my way out, as well as supporting our regular collections at the chapel. And I try to be mindful about it - nobody wants an unvaried diet of baked beans, or pasta and sauce. 

What's Thirty Minutes?

 

People round me are still discussing their experiences of flu and covid jabs. Venues seem to fall into two categories- the in-and-out  ones, and the standing-in-a-queue-for-ages places. A member of one such conversation stated she was in&out, but she couldn't see why other people were unhappy with queuing.
"What is thirty minutes out of someone's life. It means nothing!" she declared. I mumbled it was tough if you were 90 and struggling to stand for all that time. 
I have thought a lot about the remark since. There was a woman ahead of me in the queue who had brought her husband for his jab. He had severe Alzheimer's, they'd travelled in on the bus from their village for his timed appointment. The delay meant he was getting agitated, they'd probably missed the bus back and would have a further hour to wait. 
In other situations a 30 minutes delay can be really significant - a delayed train may mean you miss your connection for the rest of your journey. A 30 minute traffic jam can make you late for an important appointment.

30 minutes in someone's life can be very special - the time you sit with a child reading a storybook, or snuggled on the sofa watching an episode of their special tv programme. Half an hour travelling in the car, or walking home with a family member, having time to talk properly without other distractions.

Thirty minutes spent writing/reading a letter, having a long phone conversation, or chatting on WhatsApp, can help make loved ones feel closer, more in touch. Half an hour spent writing a blogpost, preparing a meal, planting out seedlings,darning a sock, knitting baby bootees, creating a greetings card - these are all practical half hour tasks which give me joy, and I hope will bless others.

Half an hour by someone's bedside, in the hospital or Hospice, - giving them your full attention, listening to what they need to say, and responding to them. For someone who is unwell, or one who knows their time is limited, those thirty minutes are truly precious, those conversations matter.

For anxious Mums and Dads, that time slot at the parents' evening can help clear up problems, improve communication with the school, and benefit the children.

So please don't tell me thirty minutes out of someone's life is nothing and doesn't matter. More to the point, it is not my place to decide what matters for someone else. And it is not my place to waste someone else's precious time, if I can possibly help it.  We each have a responsibility to live wisely and well. And to consider the impact of our actions on others. Time is not there to be wasted
I am not saying that Kipling was right in urging men to "fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run"  - it is appropriate to walk sometimes, to stop and appreciate the beauty around us, to notice the needs of others, just to find rest for our souls, simply to be.
The Psalmist says "Teach us to number our days, that we may gain wisdom" [Psalm 90v12] and I am inclined to agree

Jabberwocky

Saturday was an interesting day. In the morning I had my covid jab, in the afternoon we both had flu jabs. I cannot believe how utterly different the two appointments were. 
Bob dropped me off at 9.55 outside the clinic in Dereham - he went off to do something else and we agreed to meet up in the library afterwards, just a little further down the High Street. I went inside, gave my name to the receptionist and stood waiting with all the other 'jabbees' - the 'jabber' was on the other side of the room behind movable screens. The jabbees were all very friendly and chatty. Which was probably a good thing, partly because the jabber had quite a loud voice, so her discussions were not exactly confidential - and partly because everything was running horribly late. 
My appointment was at 10, there were two others in the queue also booked for10. And another pair booked for 9.45! I WhatsApped Bob to warn Bob I'd be late. The room had insufficient chairs, and a bizarre slope in the floor. It made me feel quite queasy queuing along the wall. [nifty alliteration there!] and my heavy bag [containing library books, CS bag and my raincoat for the dry cleaners] had to go 2 feet in front of me, as it wouldn't balance on the slope. 

People kept arriving, and a chap with a stick asked if there were any more chairs. The receptionist found 2 more. Everybody seemed my age or older. "No! Esther Williams,"came a loud voice from behind the screen "like the swimmer!" The jabber had asked the jabbee to repeat her name. But the jabber was a young woman who had clearly never heard of this filmstar of the 1940s.[Why would she?] The conversation behind the screen continued. "She's very chatty" said the woman standing next to me.[it was now 10.15, the time for her appointment] I promised not to engage in any conversation other than answering basic questions, in the hope I would be in and out quickly. 

Bob WhatsApped me"I'm in the library waiting for you"At 10.25 I was called. "Why do you qualify for the flu jab?" she asked. I said I thought it was my age, I am 69. Then she asked for my date of birth, and other questions about my health. I nearly said "If you had asked for my dob first, you'd have realised I am old" but I didn't. She was concerned I had only had one previous jab. I said I contracted covid before lockdown, and since then have had every jab offered to me. She looked at my notes again and agreed I had. But that last time I had Pfizer and this time I was having Moderna. So she said that after my jab, I must stay in the waiting area for 5 minutes in case I have a reaction. She injected me [left arm] , thrust a leaflet* in my hand and called the next person in. I hung about for 3 minutes - it was gone 10.30 - then went off to drop off the drycleaning and CS bag en route to the Library. We came home, stopping to visit my brother en route, and enjoyed a cuppa. 

After lunch we walked together round to our village surgery arriving 5 minutes early. My appointment was 15.01pm. We checked in, and joined the queue of jabbees [loads of seats available if needed] My name was called almost immediately, I went to the front, got jabbed [right arm] and I walked home. Back by 15.04pm, Bob a few minutes later. So much more efficient. 

I was OK till 10pm when I went to bed. My left arm [covid] started aching like I'd been kicked by a horse. I felt nauseous, and alternately sweaty and shivery. Did not sleep at all. I've not reacted this badly before. I stayed in bed Sunday morning, Bob went to church via Zoom. Fortunately I felt much better by Sunday evening

Have you had flu or covid jabs - was it efficient , and are you ok? Keep well, everybody!
* I was confused, the leaflet was all about possible reactions to "SpikeVax" - the jabber never explained that was the name for the Moderna Vaccine which she'd given me. 

Puzzled!

 

If the journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, does the jigsaw of a thousand pieces start with a single corner? 

During Lockdown, my good friends Richard and Mary lent me lots of puzzles from their vast library. And every one had just 500 pieces.

I discovered that this size really suited me. 

Apart from the Notre Dame puzzle I did in May, [1000] I've stuck to the smaller size.

But before Lockdown I'd picked up a 1000 piece one in a CS and left it on top of the wardrobe here at Cornerstones. It was John Constable's Salisbury Cathedral - a place we loved to visit when we were in Dorset. I thought I'd tackle it in retirement and it would bring back happy memories if that lovely city. 

I finally took it down and tried to assemble it recently. It took two evenings of real concentration to complete the edge. It is a good quality Falcon puzzle.  But [unlike this picture] I think mine was in the window of the CS for a long time. The picture is really faded and I've found the jigsaw impossible to complete because I cannot work out where the pieces go.  Many shapes are so regular that some are interchangeable. After two weeks, I have given up on it. It was giving me headaches! 

But I don't know what to do with it now. It is too difficult and I really wasn't enjoying it. I feel it wouldn't be right to put it back into a CS, but I'm reluctant to consigned it to the recycling bin.

What would you do?

Hot Soup For Cold Days

Bob was at The Shed, and I was with Liz and co. She made a tasty lentil and carrot soup for lunch. It was so comforting on a cold wet day. I decided to follow her example later in the week and made the Armenian Soup from my Cranks Cookbook. Last time I made this was at the start of lockdown, when I was working hard at 'recipes from my storecupboard' - because we were both in isolation at the time, and couldn't get to the shops.

Armenian Soup (from Cranks cookbook)

• Red lentils, 50g
• Dried apricots, 50g
• Large potato 1
• Vegetable stock 2 pt
• Lemon juice (half a lemon)
• Ground cumin 1 teaspoon
• Parsley, chopped 3 teaspoons
• Salt and pepper to taste

Place lentils and apricots in a  large saucepan. Roughly chop the

potato and add to the pan with remaining ingredients. Bring to the boil, cover and simmer for 30 minutes. Allow to cool, then blend in a liquidizer goblet until smooth. Reheat to serving temperature and adjust seasoning to taste.

Delicious [although Liz's soup was a glorious orange colour, not a dismal khaki!]

Room 101

Today Bob and I will be meeting up with some other retired Baptist Revs and their spouses. Many of us have been friends for years - others are newer to the group. But we usually have some activity [a discussion, visiting speaker, whatever] before we eat our packed lunches and sit and chat together. Today is a visit to "Room 101". In George Orwell's 1984, this was the room where the things most hated were gathered and used to torment people, but somebody decided this could be made into a lighthearted TV show.  That's what we are recreating today - but without Frank Skinner.
I've been asked to be one of the three 'guests' - and present things I'd like banished. Specifically something personal that I absolutely hate, something to banish for the sake of the nation's well-being, and also something I would like to see removed from church life. I will share my first two with you [not the third, that might cause too much disagreement!]

My personal pet hate is Cheap Instant Coffee. I drink 'proper' coffee, made in a cafetiere or filter machine, or a stove top pot. Never powdered stuff dissolved in boiling water. This is not coffee imho! It does not taste like the real thing, and studies have shown that it is possibly not so good for you, due to the presence of acrylamides. Unfortunately people serving coffee to a group often try and save money by having the cheapest jar of this abominable powder, and a mug of teaspoons next to the kettle. "Help yourself!" they say, as if they are offering you the nectar of the gods. 

No Way!! Proper coffee or nothing. And usually this is not a fairly traded product [ok Asda's is Rainforest Alliance, which is supposed to help the wildlife - but it doesn't support the workers] Banish it!

My choice of something to banish 'for the benefit of the nation' is the move towards "contactless/card payments only" situations. 

Yes, cards are useful - but what is wrong with cash? 

No, please don't tell me that it spreads covid, the WHO said so, and you read it in The Times 4 years ago. 

Yes the Times did print that misinformation - but did you also see their subsequent retraction of this mistake, [the WHO never said this] printed on the inside pages in a corner where it wouldn't be noticed? And yet hundreds of trading establishments stopped taking coins and notes immediately, and many have kept up the cashless situation ever since.

And this is making life difficult for many people. Children like Rosie, whose finance is all in pocket money - hard cash. Older people who do not trust credit cards, or internet banking, who feel secure with notes in their wallet. And many people with debt issues, who are working their way to being debt free by reverting to the old system of jars and envelopes to manage their spending each week, and to help them stick to a budget. They do not wanted to be tempted to 'flash the plastic' and run up more debts. For the sake of these people, I want more, not fewer shops and carparks and 'venues' to take real money, please. Banish signs like this one!

What would you send to Room 101, and why?

‘Salus Populi Suprema Est Lex’ **

I have listened, in amazement, to the news reports of the Covid Inquiry. I'm appalled that the people in power could have been so callous, and careless, about the health of the nation. I admire the skills of the Government appointed scientists and epidemiologists - but I am horrified that the "Eat Out To Help Out" scheme was launched without consulting them. And that contributed to the spread of the virus, but did very little to help the hospitality industry. 

I do not expect everybody to understand the science - but if the man in Number 10 was "bamboozled" by it, why did he not admit that, and allow the ones who did know what they were talking about to make the decisions? All this rubbish about hairdryers up the nose killing the virus. Boasting about shaking hands with everybody And as for the rest of us social distancing, whilst others were partying, and canoodling in cupboards, words fail me. 

In 1937, the Borough of Southwark opened a public clinic in Walworth. It is really to close to Rosie's home, so I see it whenever I make a London Trip. This was the first London Borough to have the whole of its health services in one, easily accessible building. The buses still stop right outside.  And on the front is a plaque, bearing the English translation of **Cicero's Latin statement made 2000 years ago.

On the roof of the building is a fantastic art deco statue representing Public Health. [picture below, details here] In the first half of the twentieth century, following WW1, Parliament became more active in promoting Public Health. The good works of Victorian philanthropists were built upon, and things got much better, culminating in the Beveridge Report of 1942, and the founding of the NHS in 1948. Healthcare free for all at the point of need.

And now look at us, seventy five years later. Crumbling hospitals, medical staff working impossibly long hours, a shortage of midwives, and ambulances queuing for hours in hospital carparks. 

I accept that a new government cannot instantly repair all the damage - like turning round an oceanliner, it will be a slow process - but surely we can do better than this?

Not That Sort Of Fencing!

 

Back in the 80s, Liz, Steph and I used to sit together after school and watch Dogtanian and the Three Muskehounds. Later I watched Tom Burke, Peter Capaldi and others in the BBC series "The Musketeers". There is something fascinating about watching swordplay, the movements almost balletic. I once had a boyfriend who was keen on fencing.

But I digress - the problem here at Cornerstones is the other sort of fencing - the stuff round our property. In February 2020, a month before lockdown, our SIL Gary stayed here as he had business in Norwich, and reported that the back fences had suffered in the high winds. By the time we got here a week later, they were in a worse state. We planned to sort it over Easter. But then Covid...

...We will sort it when we retire, we said. Then things went awry with our planning, and only now is the work about to start. In that time the tenants on one side have changed [twice] and the neighbour the other side is no longer here, and her bungalow has just gone on the market. 

Early Tuesday morning, as I sat in bed drinking tea and reading blogs, I heard a vehicle outside. Is that the bin men already? I mused.

No,it was the bloke with all the fence panels, posts and gravel boards. He was very adept at managing his crane and depositing the materials alongside the raised bed. I stood in my dressing gown, monitoring the process. I am hoping that the work goes smoothly, and that the weather is kind.

We've just discovered that the oil tank is not healthy. We know it is 14 years old [because of this ] and they have a life expectancy of about 15 years. So that will be the next bit of property maintenance to get sorted. 

The English language is fascinating - fencing can mean to fight with swords, or the wooden boundary round a property. And tanking can mean to fail completely, to apply a waterproof membrane to a structure, or to deliberately lose a sports match. 

My fencing was tanking, so I am getting it replaced!

Thank You To Our Key Workers!

For two weeks, from 26th March - 28th May 2020, people stood outside their doors, and banged pots and pans and 'Clapped for Carers'. People hung banners on their fences saying "Thank you NHS" and key workers were able to obtain all sorts of benefits- special shopping slots at the supermarkets, discounts on all sorts of goods...And rightly so. When the majority of people were Working From Home, and shielding from Covid, the police, fire brigade and NHS worked on regardless. Many put themselves at risk, others separated from their families, in order to do their job without the possibility of bringing the virus home. 

In Early Years teaching there has always been a part of the curriculum which includes acknowledging those who serve our society in this way. As a "Young Leader" in Girls' Brigad ein the late 1960s, I had to teach the Explorer Section [aged 5-8] for one of the badge sections entitled "People Who Help Us". Last term, one of Rosie's class assemblies was a Thank You to the NHS [she wore a green tee-shirt, and played the part of a paramedic] I was really excited to find these three characters for £1.50 each in the CS last week. Aren't they lovely?

Representatives of the Fire Service, Ambulance Service and Police Force. [there was also a lady doctor, but she'd been picked up by the woman who'd got there five minutes before me!] I put the police constable on my hand and strolled to the till. "Allo!Allo! Allo!" I said.

"Oh! are they puppets? I thought they were just soft toys" said the saleswoman. 

I brought them home and washed them thoroughly. Here they are, standing on the bookshelf, drying out, balanced on plastic bottles.

They are in superb condition, I don't think they'd been played with at all [sadly] But given the grandchildren's fondness for role play, I hope they will get a lot of use over the next 2 or 3 years. 

Yes, there will, sadly, always be those who are not worthy of honour - firemen and police officers who abuse their power in order to rape women,doctors and nurses who deliberately inflict suffering and death on patients. There have been all too many such cases just in the past year. 

But the majority of these people are decent, hardworking people, who put themselves at risk for the greater good - and sadly some sacrifice their lives. Men like Graham Saville, a Notts police officer who was killed, just six weeks ago, whilst trying to help a distressed person on the railway tracks. And Fire Officer Barry Martin, who died in January, fighting a huge blaze in Edinburgh. There have been more than 300 healthcare professionals who died of Covid in the past 3½ years.

I hope these puppets will bring joy to my grandchildren as they play with them - but also I hope they will learn to respect and to be grateful to all those who serve in our communities.

Turn It Off!

Don't get me wrong - I think there is some brilliant children's TV around. My generation had Watch With Mother [Andy Pandy, Woodentops, Bill&Ben etc] and my brother was in the first cohort of PreSchoolers to watch PlaySchool. Now they have CBBC and Cbeebies.
I am not the first [and won't be the last] parent to admit that sometimes you just have to plonk the child down in front of the Box,

to watch a suitable programme, whilst the grown up has a drink [tea, cola, gin...] and just recovers for 25 minutes.

But I am concerned that many littl'uns seem to have unlimited screen time. Maybe it was lockdown, and the struggle to keep the children happy at home when there were no play facilities available. It's hard work, but so important to engage with these youngsters, and not leave all the conversations to be one sided from the TV presenter, and all the activity to be watched, without interaction.

It has been good to see how our family plays together and learns together over the past few days. George [3] has been baking fairy cakes in the kitchen, and was able to tell Auntie Marion at the BBQ  about the ingredients used, and the patterns made with the icing. 

Little Jacob [1] watches his brother, and then plays with the PlayDoh himself. He's a really cheerful 

child and 

such fun to be with. 

Jess [2] is developing amazing language skills and loves an audience to tell her stories to. She spent ages explaining to Grandad Bob about the ducks visiting the pirate ship. And Marion was told all about ballerinas.

Rosie brought her new origami kit when she came to stay, and had a lot of fun with Grandad as they folded one of the models. 

She also built a model boat with him, out in the Lathe Palace, and taught Julian how to play the Shut The Box! Game**. None of these activities needed great skill on the part of the adults - just time, and patience.

And the benefits are immeasurable - vocabulary skills, maths skills, developing creativity, building relationships...

What activities do the children you know enjoy doing, away from their screens?

**I highly recommend Shut The Box for age 6 upwards [we did modify the rules in the beginning to make it easier for Ro - but now she uses +, -, x and ÷ to make her score]

Rain Did Not Stop Play

It rained a lot on Saturday. The planned family walk was cancelled. The family asked if they could come over to Cornerstones instead. I decided we needed a Plan Of Action. 

Signs went up on doors and windows outside. The IKEA igloo playtent was put up in the lounge, and swathed in an old blanket. 

Inside the Bear Cave I put all the teddies I could find plus some cushions, a bag of storybooks, and a box of cups, plates and cutlery. And we waited for the grandchildren to arrive. They really enjoyed having a pretend picnic. 

Jess was telling little stories and chatting to the bears - and Grandad was involved in the fun too

After lunch I baked biscuits with the girls, while Mum and Dad went for a stroll in the rain. It really didn't take long to assemble the "props" - and it was much more satisfying than just sitting in front of a screen. I got the igloo for about £5, back in 2010 and it's been well used, as a prop at Church Holiday Clubs, a play tent for the grandchildren and a Dinosaur Cave during Lockdown. 

But I will admit, I was utterly exhausted by the time they all went home! 

 

The Rules Were There For A Reason...

December 2020 -  Rick and Angela - the generous couple who gave up their Christmas morning to cook lunch for around 50 people who would be alone that day - and the team of masked and distanced volunteers who helped get those meals out to the recipients. Following all the covid protocols

April 2021 - Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, sitting alone at her husband's funeral. Following all the covid protocols

November 2021 - where my beloved cousin Gillian spent her 65th birthday, and the kind staff apologised to us that they were unable to give her any sort of party. Visiting was strictly limited, even for the dying. 

Following all the covid protocols

December 2020. Conservative Party HQ, London. The party  invitation has just been disclosed to the press. Following all the covid protocols????

I am not in the least surprised that many people are desperately sad, and very angry, right now. 

Of Simon And Samuel

Early on Saturday morning, I listened to a wonderful radio interview with Simon Armitage, the Poet Laureate, about the piece he had written to celebrate the Coronation. 

He said some really interesting things about the ideas that had led him to this poem...

• this was a special event - but things are only special if there is something ordinary to compare them with.
• The King had said he wanted ordinary people at the ceremony, not just bishops and heads of state and other royalty. Charity workers, covid heroes and others
• any poem needed to reflect that - not just the grandeur of the Abbey, the pomp and ceremony of the rituals, but also how it was viewed by the people there.

Armitage said he looked back to the coronation of the last Charles, in April 1661 - after the Commonwealth, and Cromwell and all that. New crown jewels commissioned and on display. And at the Abbey, there was the great diarist Samuel Pepys - a man who really was just an 'ordinary bloke', but through his work had come into contact with the rich and powerful, and the royal family - and he had kept a record of it all. I'm re-reading Pepys at the minute [another blogpost will explain why, sometime] 

Armitage writes from the point of view of a 60 year old woman whose invitation from the Palace was totally unexpected, for whom a trip to London was something special and unusual. She marvels at the other people there - many who had done 'good things' and been invited as an acknowledgement of their service to the nation. She cannot quite believe she is there - clutching her precious invitation, waved in through the great doors - along with heads of state, high priests, NHS heroes and that boy-in-the-tent. It is a marvellous, magical day for her

And in the middle of his poem, Armitage quotes the passage from Pepys' diary, where he shares his thoughts on the coronation of the other King Charles. It becomes a collaborative effort. Having heard the poem on the radio, I had to look it up - I have read and re-read it since. For me it really hits the spot - how a Poet Laureate's poem ought to be. Commemorating the national event, and setting it in the context of the people, and of history. 

An Unexpected Guest - by Simon Armitage [featuring Samuel Pepys]

She’s treated herself to new shoes, a window seat
on the fast train, a hotel for a night.
She’s been to the capital twice before,
once to see Tutankhamun when she was nine
and once when it rained. Crossing The Mall
she’s just a person like everyone else
but her hand keeps checking the invitation,
her thumb strumming the gilded edge of the card,
her finger tracing the thread of embossed leaves.
In sight of the great porch she can’t believe
the police just step aside, that doors shaped
for God and giants should open to let her in.

**

She’s taken her place with ambulance drivers
and nurses and carers and charity workers,
a man who alchemised hand sanitiser
from gin, a woman who walked for sponsored miles,
the boy in the tent. The heads of heads of state
float down the aisle, she knows the names
of seven or eight. But the music’s the thing:
a choir transmuting psalms into sonorous light,
the cavernous sleepwalking dreams
of the organ making the air vibrate,
chords coming up through the soles of her feet.
Somewhere further along and deeper in
there are golden and sacred things going on:
glimpses of crimson, flashes of jewels
like flames, high priests in their best bling,
the solemn wording of incantations and spells,
till the part where promise and prayer become fused:
the moment is struck, a pact is sworn.

**
And got to the abby . . . raised in the middle . . .
Bishops in cloth-of-gold Copes . . .
nobility all in their parliament-robes . . .
The Crowne being put on his head
a great shout begun. And he came forth . . .
taking the oath . . . And Bishops . . . kneeled
. . . and proclaimed . . . if any could show
any reason why Ch. . . . should not be the King . . .
that now he should come and speak . . .
The ground covered with blue cloth . . .
And the King came in with his Crowne . . .
and mond . . . and his sceptre in hand . . .

**
She’ll watch it again on the ten o’clock news
from the armchair throne in her living room:
did the cameras notice her coral pink hat
or her best coat pinned with the hero’s medal she got
for being herself? The invitation is propped
on the mantelpiece by the carriage clock.
She adorned the day with ordinariness;
she is blessed to have brought the extraordinary home.
And now she’ll remember the house sparrow
she thought she’d seen in the abbey roof
arcing from eave to eave, beyond and above.

That's the poem - 

What do YOU think of it?

[NB Pepys mentions a  mond/monde, meaning 'world', this is the orb located near the top of the crown. It represents, as the name suggests, the world that the monarch rules. It is the point at which a crown's arches meet. It is usually topped off either with a cross for Christian monarchs]