The Chrysalis Breaks

The start of a New Year

2012-01-03T09:24:00.003Z

Well what a year 2011 turned out to be - who would have thought 12 months from now that so many changes would have occured not just within our own country, but on the world stage. The most important of these for me at least has to be the Arab Spring and the fall of the Egyptian and Libyan regimes. The world now waits with bated breath to see what changes (if any) will occur in North Korea, the world's one remaining hereditary communist state.

From a personal point of view, the greatest challenge that I had to deal with was that regarding my sister and the very painful decision to let her go. I had been putting this off for some time, but when it finally came, and the pain had settled (and it was a very intense emotional pain and a grieving process for both Coran and I), both of us were left with a sense of relief, a sense of relief that both of us were free from the chains and the restrictions that we had allowed her to place around our hearts. In so doing, I know that she is now free to persue her own path too, in whatever form that takes. She still writes to us from time to time, and the letters hold no punches, tugging for the minutes that it takes to read them at the heartstrings, but I cannot and will now allow her to weedle her way back in, for I know that even if I do, it will not make a difference to her life, not one that really counts. When the chips are down, it is only her that can change her situation, by being willing to talk and explore the depths of her emotions. Until she is able and willing to do that, then nothing will change, and I have nothing else to say. I know that I did everything I could to help her, and every atempt that I made was thwarted, and sometimes you have to know when to let go.

On the subject of letting go, we have also let go of more than our fair share of residents at work this year - I cannot of course mention names, but there were at least eight or nine of them last year - some of the deaths were more sudden and unexpected than others, and some I miss more than others too.

Death does not seem to affect me as much as it did when I first started this job, and I am not sure when or why this changed. I think it was after last Christmas(2010) when one lady that I was very fond of passed away. It was a slow and painful death, watching her gradually fade over a period of weeks, so when it finally came on Christmas Day, it was in many ways a relief, for the family as well as the staff. I will always remember this lady though, and I will always remember the gentleman who passed away a few days before Christmas this year. He was a war veteran, from one of the parachute regiments in France, and had a long and eventful life with two sons and a step daughter. I spoke to his son the day before his father died and asked him how he was bearing up and it turned into one of those philosophical conversations about the nature of life and death and many different things in between. It is good to know that I can help poeple with words, both written and spoken and in my own small way, make a difference.

So, back to 2012. Will this be the year that we as David Camneron put it "go for it" and if so, then what exactly it "is?". "It" for me is the same thing that it has always been, about the relationships that I have with others, and knowing that when all is said and done, this is the one thing that counts. It is not about aiming for bigger and better, more expensive things, but all about quality of life, and it is more than anything the poeple in our lives that give that quality. So on that note, I am going to take a short walk back to the living room, where the person that I love is waiting for me, and give her a great big cuddle to show my appreciation and thanks.

Compassion - an Inside Job

2011-12-08T20:47:00.008Z

Coran and I watched a documentary this afternoon, that we recorded from BBC2 the day before, entitled Inside Job. I was glad that it was on, since when it was shown recently at the local cinema, courtesy of the town's Transition group, we did not have the opportunity to go. The documentary, which is narrated by Matt Damon and has won several awards, was and is basically an expose of what caused the banking crisis, and how it was in effect, an Inside Job.

The reasons the film makers came to this conclusion were really quite simple. Like the average man (or in this case, woman) in the street, I have limited knowledge of the financial industry and how it works, and despite the fact that I have watched several different programs on the crisis as part of the BBC's money season, this documentary taught me more about how and why things happened than any of the other programs put together.

From my understanding, the crisis began or at least the seeds began to be sown when the way in which the funds for mortgages and loans were arranged also changed. It used to be the case that when one wanted to borrow money in order to finance a large purchase (say for arguments sake a house), you would go your local bank, who would arrange the funds, subject to status. Since the bank were loaning you the funds, and since mortgages typically have a long lifespan of up to 25 years, they were naturally extremely cautious as to who they lent to. This changed when the banks started to sell their loans en masse to investment banks, who in effect sold them on again to a team of investors. The investors could insure themselves against losses in case the loans turned sour, which they often did, but the insurance companies did not have the funds to cover these losses either. Because the banks had covered their own losses already, they did not care who they lent to, allowing those on low incomes or with insecure jobs to borrow funds when they had little or no hope of being able to pay them back. The banks though actively wanted these people to borrow money, since the more risky the loan, the more money they earned. Despite the high risk involved, these CDO's as these bulk loans beame known, were given AAA ratings, indicating a lucrative investment with little or no risk.

This type of lending became known as subprime lending and infected the whole of the banking system by virtue of the fact that most banks are international operations, if not in terms of geographical location, certainly in terms of how their investments are spread around. Thus it was that when Lehman Brothers in New York failed, it had a knock on effect on other banks and indeed other businesses and individuals around the world, a fact which one of the American bankers who was interviewed on this documentary did not seem to realise.

The Americans dealt with the crisis in the same way that we have dealt with it here -the Government stepped in and bailed out the banks that had not already been taken over. These banks then are now in effect owned by the tax payer. When most businesses fail, the first in line is usually the tax man, but in this case it seemed to be the executives, for they received in many cases, pay offs of millions of dollars, to the intense fury of the American voting populace, and I hasten to add, the British too.

When the banking crisis though hit Iceland at the end of 2008, and the country was forced to go begging for loans in order to bail themselves out, how did the Icelandic population though react? In a a totally different way. Once the dust had settled following the collapse of Icesave, the British and Dutch governments demanded that ordinary Icelandic citizens pay compensation to those who had lost out. Instead of giving in, the Icelandic government asked the I Icelandic people if they felt that this was fair, and the people unresoundingly said no, they should not be held responsible for the mistakes that bankers had made - the bankers should clear up their own mess. So, a full inquiry was launched, and arrests were made, and as I write, various bankers are being tried and sentenced. The Icelandic people then set up a consultation group of 27 ordinary Iicelandic citizens from all walks of life to draft a new constitution that was written online for all Icelandic citizens to read, putting both Britain and America to shame. Sometimes I wish that I were Icelandic.

It seems to me that we can learn a lot from the way that the Icelanders have dealt with this crisis, and watching this program it also seems to me that the Americans have a lot to learn with regard to how their actions affect others. They can no longer continue with their insular existence, pretending that the rest of the world does not exist.

I am not of course condoning what happened, but it seems to me that the World Trade Centre and what happened on that fateful day was also a wake up call with the same message. It was called the World Trade Centre for a reason, the reason being that companies from all over the world had their headquarters and offices there, and that as such people from all over the world worked there. The terrorists who flew those planes felt that it was America's fault, yet it was not only Americans who lost their lives and it was not only American families who were devastated. In the same way, it was not only Americans who lost their jobs and their homes through this crisis, but citizens throughout the world. While it would be unfair to lay the blame for either crisis purely on the Americans, they have to accept their share of resonsbility for what happened, and with the banking crisis at least, I see little sign of that.

My hope for next year is that every person on the planet in some way experience compassion, compassion for their fellow man and for the planet on which we live. For each person that will be different, but it seems to me that this the only sure fire way to make sure that something like this does not happen again. It is the attitude that needs to change, and no amount of regulation or taxes on bonusses will do that, it has be brought home to them exactly how it feels to experience a personal crisis of this magnitude and compassion is the only way in which this can really be achieved.

Strength in What Remains

2011-12-03T19:28:00.004Z

I have read some interesting books this month, from various other cultures around the world including Africa and South-east Asia, but the one that stands out more than any other has been one set in the impoverished central African counnty of Burundi. The book, entitled Strength in What Remains is written by an American named Tracy Kidder, and tells the true story of a survivor of the genocide that took place in that small African country in 1993. It really made me think and question many of the things that we take for granted and which are in the scheme of life, frivulous and really quite insignificant.

Last night we had our work Christmas party, and I was fretting over what to wear. There was a lovely gold top in Sainsbury's that I have had my eye on for some time, and when I saw it was 25 percent off I was in two minds over whether to get it or not. In the end I decided not to, as I reasoned that it was not worth spending that much money even with the reduction, on something that I would in all probability wear just once for a few hours at most. I was also moaning about the standard of the vegetarian food that I was served compared to the carnivorous option, which as usual was far more substantial. Yet Burindians, and for that matter, those in many other countries worldwide, cannot afford basic clothes and have no idea as to where their next meal is coming from. The amount of money that was spent last night by some people that were there was akin to more than most Burundians make in a whole year.

The book quotes some frightening statistics about life in that country - Burundi has the lowest GDP per head of population than any other country on earth with one of the lowest literacy rates and life expectancy, particularly for women, who due to the high infant mortality rate go through pregnancy after pregnancy getting old and worn out way before their time.

The things that the main character in this book saw and experienced cannot begin to be imagined - the book describes a scene where he was fleeing from his own country into neighbouring Rwanda, and he was sheltering in a banana grove surrounded by dead bodies. It was then that he noticed the baby - a live baby trying to suckle it's dead mothers breast. He knew that there was nothing whatsoever that he could for this child and it too would die, a victim of those intent on killing those that they felt were different to them.

If I am honest, I did not really want to go last night - I like a dance as much as the next person, but prefer to do it in a quieter, less showy environment where I do not have to worry about dressing up and pretending to be something I am not in order to impress. Don't get me wrong, it is nice once in a while to be able to dress up, but it is really all about impressing others and trying to fit in and look the part. We do it for others rather than for ourselves. I had arranged to meet the rest of my work colleagues at the venue, and was so nervous on my way there and on my arrival that I drove straight past the car park and ended up having to go round the roundabout and back in again! That should really have given me a hint about what was to come.

When I entered the building, the noise of people talking hit me like a wall. I stood and waited for the boss to bring me a drink while I attempted to make small talk about how nice people looked and how much I was looking forward to the evening, all the time feeling excruciatingly uncomfortable, and wishing that I could just turn round and go back home again.

When it was time to go upstairs for our meal and the disco that followed, I found that I had been placed on a table with staff that I hardly knew, away from my friends that I had more in common with. The conversation was stilted and awkward to say the least, attempting to make yet more small talk, while at the table behind, the wine flowed and they laughed and joked among themselves. When the meal did arrive, I found that the vegetarian starter was half the size of the meaty one, and the main course, which I had been assured was gluten free, contained couscous - last time I checked, couscous is not gluten free. When I knew that I would be attending this party, I telephoned the venue to discus my dietary requirements and make sure that they could cater for them, and specifically requested that I not be given fruit salad for dessert, which seems always to be the default option at such things, what did they give me - you guessed it - fruit salad! So, while my meat eating colleagues tucked into prawn cocktail, roast turkey and chocolate mousse, I got a small salad with a few pearls of cheese, stuffed aubergine with overcooked vegetables and a fruit salad - all for the princely sum of £63 - like I said, almost the equivilant to the average Burundians annual income. Oh well, I guess it is par for the course. I may or may not bloat in a day or so's time from the couscous, but I do know that I not be returning to that venue in a hurry. At least I do know that any bloating I do experience will not be due to hunger...

For me then far from being the big night out that I was hoping for with fun and laughter, it was a bit of a damp squib. I made an excuse and left just after 10.30pm and was home before 11pm.

It left me wondering though, why do we put ourselves through all that in an effort to fit in? I could not work out whether I was more angry with myself or with my colleagues, and came to the conclusion that as always, it was about me (who else is there anyway). I should know by now that these events with their glitter and sparkle, are not me, but about glamour and falsehood, concepts which I find alien and more than a little uncomfortable. I know that this may sound like a judgement, and that I do work with those who are in their way surrounded by death, but I prefer the company of those who think about the deeper things in life, and to let my hair down in a quieter more genuine and authentic environment - the village hall rather than some glitzy racecourse with flashing lights and blaring music, where the alcohol flows freely. For some it is a chance to let their hair down, but for me it is falsehood. I will not be making the same mistake again. Real strength, like the character in the book that I mentioned at the beginning of this post, comes from being willing to face your demons and work with them, not by blotting them out with destractions, which for me at least, is what last night was really about.

An idea whose time has come

2011-11-19T08:42:00.002Z

I was really excited yesterday to read an interesting article in The Guardian about love and business and whether it was possible to combine them within the same sentence. When I read things like this, I know that the world is changing and that those such as myself and other like minded friends who have had these ideas for years, are no longer classed as nuts, but as mainstream, with those who do not share these views considered the real nuts. This is not though a debate about who is right and who is wrong, but a debate about whether it is possible to operate a business with love rather than profit as your aim. To my mind, the real question should be is it possible not to?

It is though, as the article points out, a sad fact that this is not on the whole, how the business world operates. Empoloyees, who are most companies biggest asset, are treated not as indivuals, but as commodities to be bought and sold, and tossed aside when they are no longer useful. For far too long, employees have been expected to leave large parts of themselves at home before they head off to the the shop, or the office, or wherever else it is they work, pretending to be something they are not in order to conform so the so-called corporate norm. This is something that I know all about, only too well.

As Neale Donald Walsch states so eloquently in his best selling Conversations with God series of books, the business world (in fact the whole world) is built around the concept of scarcity, the idea that there is not enough of whatever it is that we perceive we need (and most of the time we do not really need, but rather, want it), and that we therefore have to fight and compete with others in order to get our share of that 'stuff'. This is of course nonsense, for there is more than enough of everything to go round. Hence it is though that companies (and indeed life) are run as battlegrounds, with the winners and the losers. If you are not hostile enough, tough enough then you fall by the wayside and are swallowed up by someone who is, usually one of the big four banks foreclosing on your loan. That though is a whole other debate.

As human beings, we know instincively that this is not how things are meant to be - there is another way, borne from love and borne from compassion, work it not meant to be a battleground, but a means of expressing who we are in joy and in love, creating changes in the world, and offering meaning and growth (and I do not mean economic growth either) to everyone. That is nothing less than we deserve, and I count myself incredibly lucky that I have all of that and more in my own working life.

The signs are there that companies the world over, are beginning to recognise that their connection and obligations to society go a lot deeper than their share price, or how useful their goods are. It is time to tear down those walls, the armour that both companies and individuals wrap around themselves stating honestly and openly stating that this is who and what they are - it is time for compassion, for honesty and for integrity but most of all, for transparency. The signs are there that the world is poised and ready for change, as we stand on the precipice of something very big and very life changing, from the Arab Spring to the Occupy protests that have swept around the world. As they say, you cannot destroy a message whose time has come. In short, we need a 99 percent that serves the world, rather than the vested interests of the few. The Occupy protests give voice to that message, signalling the need for change.

The idea of profit being the sole aim of business no longer works, that much is clear. We need a new model based not on what we can do for business, but rather on what business can do for us, based on the idea of prosperity for all, where the acqusition of joy becomes the motivating force, rather than the acqusition of wealth.

The Storm Before the Calm

2011-10-27T16:19:00.003+01:00

For the past fortnight, I have been reading a somewhat different book for me entitled The Storm Before the Calm by Neale Donald Walsh. Neale is of course the author of the Conversations with God series of books. I have read most if not all of his works, and met him in person during one of his visits to London several years ago. It has though been a while since I picked up a book of this genre, mostly because so few of them seem to resonate with the way in which I have evolved. This one though is different, as it speaks directly to my soul about so many of the things that I have felt instinctively for so long, but have until now been unable to put into words.

I found the book purely by accident, as one does, browsing online for information about the recent protests which began as the Occupy Wall Street movement and have since spread throughout the world. Boris Johnson, the Lord Mayor of London said earlier this week that it was time for the London protestors to reliniquish their base near St Paul's Cathedral, as they had "made their point". To my mind, the fact that he even says this is proof to me that he has not begun to understand the point that they are trying to make. That is that the world as we know it, or more specifically, our beliefs about the world in general, are fundamentally flawed and are no longer (if they ever did) serving humanity's best interests. This too is the basic tenet of The Storm Before the Calm.

It is no secret that within the United States (and for that matter the rest of the world at large), 99 percent of the wealth is controlled by 1 percent of the population. Like Neale, I have nothing against the rich (he is after all one of them). I have tasted myself what it felt like, after my mother died and left me a six figure sum (most of it has since been spent). No, it is the systems that they represent, which are designed to oppress the masses and keep them in their place, so that the rich can maintain theirs. This is not necessarily the fault of the rich, but they nevertheless help to maintain this system and this way of thinking by their inertia and their failure to change this.

What is needed, says Neale, is a change from our current way of thinking, from a dyad (two centred approach where politics and economics rule) to a triad where culture, that is to say everything that is not politics or economics, takes centre stage. At the moment we live in a society where economics are King, where the first consideration is always the cost. The first consideration should however be, whatever is in the best interests of the population, the majority of the population being ordinary working class citizens. It is then not a a question of redistribution of wealth, but more a question of a change of beliefs, for it is our beliefs about life, and more specifically about God (the terms life and God are in fact interchangeable, as God is life manifesting itself through us) that create our thoughts, and those thoughts that give rise to action.

The way to create this change says Neale, and I am inclined to agree, is to start a global conversation based around seven core questions - the most fundamental of which are 1) Who am I, 2) Where am I, 3) What do I intend to do about that. The answers will be personal to each and every one of us, and we have to find out for ourselves what they are to us, by putting the mind to one side, and seeing what lies in the silence that lies beyond. This takes practise and patience, but the rewards are inevitable, but once we are able to achieve this and put this into practise, a global shift will occur, the like of which we have never seen before. All it takes for us to achieve this is to converse with others on the matters mentioned in this most remarkable book. This can be done in any way and in any form that you choose with anyone that you choose, whether in person or on the Internet. I would encourage everyone to try. It is easier than you might think, and what have you got to lose? You may be surprised to find that others have been thinking and feeling the exact same as you, without you even being aware, for that is usually what happens. Someone has to start somewhere, so it might as well be you.

For more information, and to join the discussions go to www.theglobalconversation.com

High Hopes for 2012!

2011-10-18T18:15:00.004+01:00

I don't make a habit of listening to the news (too depressing), but can't help hearing the odd snippet during the time that I have the radio on during my early morning drives to work. Apart from the death of Colonel Gadaffi, the story that most caught my ear this week was that regarding the protests about what has been termed "corporate greed". This is a term that many are familiar with, but many are unsure as to exactly what it means.

According to the Dictionary, greed can be defined as the obsessive compulsion for food, wealth or power, while the term corporation can be defined as a group of indivuals who are in business, and act as one unit setting their own rules and agenda. Thus it is that corporations act with little regard for those whom they are supposed to serve (their clients, employees and the world at large), with the sole aim of accumalating more wealth and power for themselves. One of the things that the protestors have been particularly vociferous about is the fact that one percent of the global population own 99 percent of the global wealth - the word own can be used loosely here since less than 3 percent of the money in circulation is "true money" in the form of coins and bank notes, but merely numbers on a screen that exist in a virtual reality world similar to the "friends" that we know online rather than in our real lives. Nevertheless these figures are startling.

The Occupy Wall Street website where the protests began, features pictures of various Americans holding placards stating their experiences of being one of the so-called 99 percent (that is the 99 percent who collectively own around 1 percent of the worlds wealth). My own experience is perhaps not as serious as theirs, since unlike my US counterparts I live in a country which offers free healthcare and do not have to choose between this and eating. In the past few weeks though I have learnt that the man who owns the nursing home where I work, rather than investing in the business that he already has, has chosen to invest in another home, where he expects staff in his other existing business (where I work) to do overtime so that he does not have to pay for agency staff. Thankfully I am not one of these individuals. In the scheme of life of course, none of this really matters, for these issues do not concern me directly. Those individuals who are affected by this have to make their own choices as to what they wish to do, and for the most part they have. What does concern me in a good way are the changes that our new Manager is making.

I have often written about my work on this blog and how hard the housekeepers (this is the job that I choose to do) are expected to work, but when I had the chance to fill in a questionaire earlier this year regarding staff satisfaction which found its way to the Directors, I had little idea how quickly the universe would respond to my requests. I wrote words to the effect that the Directors appeared to have little concept of the workload that the housekeepers are expected to shoulder and that I believed it was time for a complete reapprasisal as to how this Department was run. I added that in order to take a load off our shoulders, the Directors needed to recruit seperate staff for both the kitchen and the laundry, so that we, the housekeepers could concentrate on our real role, that of keeping the home clean and tidy. I have no idea as to whether our new Manager saw what I wrote (she started work long after the forms were sent back) but she appears to share my sentiment, for this week I heard via our staff meeting that a new Kitchen Assistant has already been recruited - without the knowledge of the Directors! This then will be very interesting indeed.

For the moment only one Kitchen Assistant has been recruited, who will work four days a week (Thursday to Sunday) from 10am to 5pm. This has come about under the guise of infection control, rather than a desire to lighten our workload, although that will be the end result. Since there are three housekeepers, for the remaining three days of the week (Monday through to Wednesday) we will each spend one day working soley in the kitchen with the remaining four days of our working week on our housekeeping duties. Whether this will mean that we change our working hours from our existing 7am to 2pm on this day remains to be seen, but that would be very good indeed. It seems then that our job role is about to change quite considerably, and the Director has finally met his match, for he appear to be a fine example of those greedy corporate bosses that the protestors have been so vociferous about. At his heart he is of course a being of love and compassion, but he has lost sight of that part of himself and needs to be shown a different way of doing things. It seems that our new Manager is the person to do that. There will though be interesting times ahead.

At the same time this week, I have booked two holidays - a week on Lundy in March, and 2 weeks on the Isles of Scilly in June. I am staying at my usual haunt, the Old Light Cottage on Lundy and have found the perfect little flat to rent on Scilly, which is one mile from Hugh Town and surrounded by walks and beautiful countryside in all directions. I predict then great things for the coming months, and have high hopes for 2012.

Checking out my past

2011-10-09T16:19:00.001+01:00

It is not often that I review books on this blog, but every so often one comes along that makes such a big impact on you that you feel compelled to do so. Usually this is because the book in question tells a good story that resonates with you in a particular way, and I suppose that is true of this one, even though the book in question is non-fiction, for this book, entitled The Checkout Girl in many ways tells the story of my life, my life that is during the period that I too did this job.

Tazeen Ahmad is an Indian born British Muslim working as a television reporter and broadcaster and in 2009 published her first book entitled The Checkout Girl. This is an undercover expose of her time spent working on a frontline as a checkout girl (otherwise known as COG - a most fitting term, since these underpaid employees are indeed the COG's that keep everything, and not just the conveyer belt moving) in Sainsbury's. I too worked for Sainsbury's for 2 years between 2003 and 2005, at one of their larger branches in the southeast. Ahmad does not state which branch she worked in, and this does not matter, for the book is really about the people with whom she worked - this is their story, and as the book says, by the time who you have finished reading it, I can guarantee that you won't ever shop in the same way again. I certainly changed my own habits after I started working there, and like Ahmad, am thoroughly glad that I left.

The relentless grind of this job is enough to drag anyone down - contrary to popular opinion it is a skilled job that not everyone can do. One has to perfect the art of doing about ten things at once (this is the main reason why I suspect the majority of COG’s are women, for men are by tradition useless at multi-tasking), all the while engaging with the customer in what Sainsbury's refer to as a 'meaningful manner.' While it is true that if you stay in this job for any length of time, relationships can develop with customers, the majority of this banter is take it from me, far from meaningful, but enough to put most ordinary people to sleep.

As COG's every move you make is monitored, with hidden cameras everywhere. Those at the top instantly know if a COG has short changed customers, accepted an out of date coupon, forgotten someone's cash back, or heaven forbid, spoken back to a rude and argumentative customer, of which there are many. Their rudeness and arrogance is sometimes breath taking, treating you as little more than paid robots, and robots who are not that well paid at that. This is mirrored by the behaviour of the checkout supervisors - like Ahmad I know all about lack of bag packers, wonky chairs, unanswered call bells, and late reliefs. This for me was the greatest bugbear of all - the fact that if you as a COG are even one minute late for your shift, they deduct 15 minutes from your wages, yet if you are late out, which you are almost every day, you are not paid. Sainsbury's (and no doubt other supermarkets too) must be getting hours of unpaid labour from their COG's held captive at their checkouts, every day. Other staff after all, can simply leave the shop floor and go home, but not COG's who are completely at the mercy of late reliefs, forgetful supervisors and customers with huge trolleys who are unable to comprehend that a closing sign means just that.

These things may sound trivial to some, but when they happen repeatedly every single day, they begin to get more than a little wearing. Ahmad worked just 2 days a week, so you can imagine what it was like for me, working full time.

In the end I went stir crazy - I looked around at some of my colleagues who had been there so long that they were afraid to leave, and knew that if I didn't do something to rectify my own situation, I would end up institutionalised just like them. The day I gave my notice was the day they left me sitting on that checkout for over an hour calling to say I needed the toilet - that gave a whole new meaning to the term pissed off I can tell you, and I haven't looked back.

A lot of water has gone under the bridge since then. I still work in the service sector, but in a job that offers more meaning than sitting at a moving conveyer belt watching food whizz by could ever offer. Reading this book has though made me think back to those days and remember all the reasons why I had to leave, and also I suppose evaluate how far I have come. When I worked at Sainsbury's all those years ago, I would not have dared stand up to the supervisors or the customers in the way that I should have, keeping stum until the anger and frustration boiled over. Not so now. I have learned to communicate properly and with confidence so that these little things do not become larger issues. I am glad that I have changed, and I thank Sainsbury's for the time I spent working there, but I am still glad that I escaped, as most of their customers are too by the time they have finished their shop. It may be stressful for them, but they are the lucky ones for they can take their custom elsewhere, for the COG’s it is not so easy during a recession, when jobs are scarce. Next time you go shopping then, spare a thought for the beleaguered cashier, remember that a few niceties go a long way, and there is no need to be rude, they are after all just like you, only human, and trying to do the best that they can in difficult and very trying circumstances.

Turning up the heat

2011-10-06T17:15:00.002+01:00

Well, I certainly picked the right time to go away last week, as during that time off, and for the first part of this week, Britain experienced a heatwave, with temperatures of up to 29 degrees. They have dropped back since to 21 or 22, which is still warm for the time of year, but much more pleasant to work in. It was lovely though while I was away, to spend time on the beach lazing around in the sun and the surf and the spray. On the final day of my holiday, I walked for 2 miles down the beach from Westward Ho! where I was staying, to Northam Burrows, all in the way in the sea, and back again just as the sun was going down. The waves were tremendous. It was exhilerating to say the least, and a grand way to finish off the week. I returned to work on Saturday with my levels of Prana well and truly topped up.

While I was away, I had an important decision to make as to whether I wish to undertake an NVQ in housekeeping. The reason why I say it was and is important is be because to a large extent, my future in the job really does depend on it. When I say this, I mean that if I choose to do it, it would mean that I will definately for the foreseeable future at least, stay there, as my employer will be jointly sponsoring it along with funding from central Government.

The decision was made all the harder as we have a new Manager, who joined us the week before I left for my holiday. My first thoughts about her were that she came across as very austere and business like - she is a large lady, who despite her position as Manager of a nursing home, chooses to wear her own clothes rather than a nursing uniform.

Now I have got to know her a little better, I find that the more time I spend around her, the more I like her. Far from being austere and unapproachable, she is very grounded, and has the Directors very much sussed out. The day I heard her commenting to her Deputy that she could not stand the Director, was the day I knew that we were going to get on like a house on fire! I commented to my own boss, the Head Housekeeper, that it is good to know that the three of us have at least one thing in common!

I have then decided that I will do the NVQ, and the Assessor is coming to see me at work on Monday at 9am to get the ball rolling, fill in all the forms and assess the form (and pace) of learning that will best suit my needs. I expect that I will have to agree to stay at the home for a certain period of time after the NVQ is complete, since my employer will be partly funding it, but as long as it is not ridiculously long (more than a year), that is fine. It will be good for me to know that I do have to stay there, as it will encourage me to get the best from the job, instead of stressing over the small and mostly insignificant details. It will also serve as a signal to them that I am committed to them, and hopefuilly encourage them to give me the pay rise that after 2 1/2 years is long overdue.

Let's get this show on the road

2011-09-25T09:53:00.002+01:00

My bag has been packed and my legs have been waxed, so all being well, I will be off to Cornwall within the hour. It has been a strange couple of weeks, with my levels of tiredess increasing more each day, so I really need this rest. The forecast looks good, so all being well, this time tomorrow I shall be on my way to a beautiful Cornish beach for long walks along the cliff tops, watching the birds and listening to the surf.

I don't think that anyone who has a sedentary job can fully appreciate just how tiring a manual job like mine can be - with an office job you get mentally tired and your neck and shoulders ache from hours at the computer, but with my job, every single muscle aches from the moment I awake to the moment I go back to sleep. Lately I have been going to bed tired and waking up tired, with a headache that refuses to go away. At moments like that, I wonder whether I should leave and find something less exhausting, but then I look at the faces of the old people sitting in the dining room at lunch, or in the conservatory reading and doing what they like to do, and realise why I am really there - it is not about cleaning up their mess, but about making a difference to their lives, and an office job would not offer me that, so for the moment at least, I stay.

Our new Manager started on Monday, five months after the previous one left, and she has been ruffling feathers already. She is a very tall and commanding woman with a huge prescence, and very firm ideas as to how things will be - and some of those ideas will not necessarily agree with certain members of staff, or for that matter, the Directors. I had to chuckle the other day when I overheard a conversation between her and her Deputy to the effect that neither of them can stand the Directors, and their attitude towards things! It is good then to know that we have at least one thing in common ...

But, I am on holiday for this week, and so work should be the furthest thing from my mind - on that note then, time to zip up that bag and get this show on the road.

Five days by the sea

2011-09-10T19:31:00.002+01:00

Since the Olympic Test Race, which will be four weeks tomorrow, I have been trying to decide where if anywhere I shall go for my next holiday at the end of September. Orignally I had planned to take a full five days holiday, stretching it around my days off to nine, but when I realised that this would not allow me sufficient time for a trip to Lundy in the late winter/early spring, somewhat reluctantly changed this to three days, seven when you allow for my regular days off. My working schedule means that I have Thursday and Friday off one week and Saturday and Sunday the next. Since this is a seven day a week business, in order to have these weekends off, I have to work for seven days in a row beforehand, which really is exhausting. Having to chnage my plans in this way is then less than ideal, since it now means that I will have to work for seven straight days upon my return, but in this case, it cannot be helped.

This could have been avoided if I had not taken a long weekend off for the Olympic Test Race, but at the time I felt that it was necessary to get the pictures that I thought we would need for a special Olympic edition of the newsletter that I hoped we would publish next summer. Unfortunately for me, the rest of the Box Hill News team, for reasons of their own, did not feel that this was a good idea, and so those two days were in effect wasted. Coran and I were not best pleased about this, but what can you do?

The combined effects of this, Corans health issues (he continues to have tests to find out what is causing his sudden energy dips) and constant staff shortages at work, has not surprisingly left me extremely depleted and lacking in energy, so much so that I have been going to bed most nights this week by 8pm. Sleep when it does come is fitful. I wake up several times a night, and once awake, find it extremely dificult to get back to sleep. I wish there was some way top break this cycle, but I have no idea of what it might be. I suspect that what I need is to get out into the fresh air in nature, in particular to sit near the sea. I realise now that it was a mistake to rent a car for as long as I did on the Isle of Man, as it meant that I was unable to do this, and I am now reeping the results, in that I have not had my full quota of light to set me up for the winter months ahead, hence the fact that I find myself now craving the outdoors in a way that I haven't for quite some time.

This is why, despite the long drive, I have decided to go to Cornwall again at the end of the month - actually Cornwall and North Devon. I enjoyed that week that I had there last year so much, walking by the sea and breathing in the air, that I really feel that I need that again, before the winter sets in and I lose the chance. So, I have booked two nights at the youth hostel in Tintagel and three at Westward Ho. I know that part of Devon well from those previous trips to Lundy, and it is a beautiful part of the country, ideal for relaxing by the sea, or on a clifftop with a good book, or in my case, a collection of good books on a Kindle. I can't wait.

Re-kindleing my interest

2011-09-02T08:25:00.003+01:00

Last week after several months of deliberations, I finally went out and bought a Kindle. A Kindle for those that do not read books (I really pity those poor souls what they are missing out on), or otherwise live on Mars, is an electronic reading device similar to an Ipod, whereby books are downloaded via a computer direct to the device where they can then be read.

There are quite a few of these on the market, but the Kindle is by far the best in terms of value, not least of all because of the screen which enables you to read in bright sunlight without glare. There are two (in the UK at least, in the US there are three) versions available, one of which works on a normal Wifi signal and one of which works on 3G. 3G is the signal normally used by mobile phones. What this means in layman's terms is that the the 3G model can be used to download books anywhere that a mobile phone can also be used, whereas the non 3G version, which I plumpled for, mainly because of security concerns, can be used only at home or in secure Wifi "hotspots", such as coffee shops and the like. The most obvious advantage of this is that books can be downloaded where and when you like (in some instances I am told, for the more unethical readers, Waterstones - a practise I would never condone). This would be little comfort though if your password details were stolen and your accound hacked into because the network was not secure, as many of them are not, so for the moment at least, I prefer the non 3G version.

This small device though with its six inch screen (the perfect size for a girl), has revlutionised my reading habits. I no longer have to go to bookstores and spend hours browsing the aisles, but can now order everything from the comfort of my own home. If I am not sure as to whether I will like the book, instead of flipping through it in store, I can download a free sample chapter direct to my Kindle in less than a second, and peruse it at my leisure.

Increasingly books are being published only as e-books with no paper edition at all, so it has also opened up a whole new world of choice - books from all around the world in all different genres. In the short time (nine days now) since I have had the device I have downloaded sample chapters from books set in at least six different countries, most of which I will buy. I would almost certainly not have been aware of any of these had I not purchased my Kindle.

Sure, it has taken a bit of getting used to, and nothing will ever compare to the feel of paper and the smell of an old book, but these will still be around for the collectors to enjoy. In practical terms the Kindle will win every time, for that one small device, not much bigger than the palm of my hand can hold 3500 books, more than I am likely to read in my lifetime, with a battery that lasts up a month. How much space would 3500 books take up in your house? It is also better for the environment, since all that paper and ink need no longer be used. E-books may have VAT on them, but in most cases they are still at least a few pence cheaper. The biggest advantage of all though is for the person who actually writes the book, as for the first time, they can publish books direct to the Kindle, taking 70 percent of the profits and cutting out all those middle men - except of course Amazon, who I am beginning to realise are not so evil after all.

The Kindle then for me wins every time, for with this, everyone especially the author, really is a winner, and that is what it is all about.

Olympic Test Race comes to Box Hill

2011-08-15T21:26:00.004+01:00

After months of consultation, the long awaited Olympic Road Cycling Test Race (otherwise known as the London Surrey Cycle Classic) finally took place, on Sunday 14th August. The first sign of activity around the Hill was around 2 weeks ago, when a large crane appeared in the National Trust members car park with what appeared to be a TV aerial attached to it. This later turned out to be a mast which was used to test the communications equipment for the Marshalls and other race officials. The mast was quickly followed by a team of security guards. Their presence went a long way towards reducing the criminal element among local teenagers who like to visit the Hill during the summer evenings and at the same time, a significant increase in parking revenue!

The preparations though began in earnest 10 days before the event. The ZigZag was closed over several nights much to the consternation of residents, and red circles were very much in evidence along Boxhill Road. The National Trust car park was turned into a makeshift storage depot for the hundreds of barriers which were gradually placed at various points around the Box Hill loop towards Dorking and Leatherhead town centres and along the A25. Once the barriers were erected, the storage area became the medical centre with first aiders and ambulance crews in attendance. It was difficult to imagine the scale of the event until we saw the infrastructure actually being set up, and it was only at that point that it began to seem real.

As Editor and (unofficial) Asistant Editor of the Box Hill News, Coran and I were lucky enough to secure media passes giving access to the restricted areas, so as to photograph the event. There were three such positions available, one immediately opposite the wristband area, one at the first hairpin bend along the Zig Zag, just past the National Trust car park, and one up at the Donkey Green. We had originally intended that Coran would stay near the hairpin with me at Lodge Hill for the first lap, swapping over for the second, but on the morning of the race after a particularly bad night, Coran did not have the energy for the three mile walk down the ZigZag and so I covered both of these areas while he stayed around the Donkey Green and the village. I was a little concerned as to whether I would have the time to swap between the two areas in between laps, but in the end it worked out well, and we got some great pictures which I hope will be more than adequate for our needs.

We left home shortly after 7am in order to get to the bottom of the ZigZag by 8am, the time alloted for the media gates to open. Walking through the village at this early hour, large amounts of people were already starting to make their way down the Hill. There were groups of marshalls stationed at various points throughout the village manning the crossing patrols and making sure the road remained free of traffic, other than offical vehicles used for testing the route, and ferrying essential personnel back and forth (the roads were closed to the public shortly after 6am and did not re-open until 1.30pm). The Neighbourhood Council and a large team of volunteers were busy at the Village Hall serving drinks and bacon butties, while a few enterprising villagers were doing the same from their front gardens.

I left Coran at the Village Hall and made my way down Burford Spur to the media entrance shortly after 8.15am to be greeted by large amounts of spectators who were waiting patiently for their own entrance to be opened. Most of the media personnel opted to walk to their positions, but having already walked down once, I had no intention of walking back up, so gratefully accepted the lift that was offered. We finally made it to our position opposite the wristband area by about 8.45am. We then to wait what seemed like eternity for the race to begin.

I spent the time walking up and down, watching and photographing the crowds and chatting to the Marshalls and Police Officers, most of whom seemed unaware that Box Hill News even existed. The rest of the media seemed very impressed when I told them that I lived on the Hill, and I soon became enrolled as an informal advisor, letting them know about the geography of the Hill and more about the importance of protecting the natural beauty and wildlife. I stationed myself slightly away from the other photographers to ensure that they did not step in front of me while I shot my own footage, and chose to stay on the left bank opposite the spectators,. This ensured a clear view of the road below and also meant that I had a view of the crowd in the background.

Announcements were made every so often as to where the riders were so that we knew approximately how long we would have to wait, with the crowd becoming more and more excited the closer they got. When the announcement was made that the riders were approaching Dorking, I telephoned Coran to let him know so that he could get into position and be prepared and I set my own camera to burst mode to take a series of shots in quick succession one after the other.

When the lead car arrived shortly after 10.30am, we were informed that Kristian House from the Rapha Condor Sharp team was leading by 6 minutes and 7 seconds.
My position opposite the spectator area provided an excellent vantage point and a bird’s eye view of the riders as they approached around that first hairpin bend. House was the first to appear, closely followed by three others, with the main peloton several minutes behind. A big cheer went up from the crowd, with everyone waving their flags, with the last of the riders receiving the biggest cheer of all.

For the second lap, I hotfooted it down a very steep slope to the photographer’s area at the first hairpin bend. Once again, I chose to stay slightly apart from the other photographers for an uninterrupted view. I had a hairy moment when I thought my camera had frozen, but it later turned out that I had been unable to hear it firing over the noise of the support cars and Police escorts.

With the second lap over, I made my way back to the spectator area at Lodge Hill, and joined the throng for the walk back to the National Trust Centre at the top. Coran met me halfway up and so we walked back up together, feeling very important in our media bibs and beaming with satisfaction for what we had seen and achieved. We handed in our passes before grabbing a bite to eat and a much deserved cup of tea, and then the long walk home.

We had been told to advance to expect crowds of anywhere up to 35,000 but the total was probably less than 10 percent of that figure. The turnout for the stall holders was then very disappointing. Issues with communuication no doubt played a huge role, as all the websites and printed literature advised people to avoid Box Hill as it was retsricted access, and instead watch the race from other parts of the route. This was not strictly true, as it was only the wristband area which was restricted, with the rest of the Hill, from the National Trust centre onwards open and available for all. The organisers in their infinite wisdom failed to differentiate between the different parts of the Hill, assuming that people would know what they meant, which of course they did not, and as a result, people took them at their word and stayed away.

There are many lessons to be learnt from this, and I am sure that meetings will be held in the coming weeks to discuss all these issues and many more. From the point of Box Hill, despite the inconvenience, and the gripes of a small but nevertheless singificant minority, it remains a once in a lifetime opportunity that we have to embrace. No matter how much a small minority might complain, the real race next year will happen and nothing can change that, so we have to embrace it and go with the flow. I for one felt honoured and priviliged to have the opportunity to watch it from this beautiful spot.

The London Riots from my own unique perspective

2011-08-12T10:40:00.002+01:00

Important as the forthcoming Olympic Test Race is the people of Box Hill, the biggest story by far on a more national scale has to be the largescale riots which have seen across London and much of the Midlands this past week.

What precipated is hard to tell and depends on whom you spoke to; some say the lethal shooting of Mark Duggan, who was rumoured among other things to be a gang member and drug dealer with an altogether unsavoury past. He was also though rumoured to be a respected member of the society in which he lived, the notorious Broadwater Farm Estate in Tottenham, North London, and a loving father and partner to this girlfriend (fiance) of 12 years. Whatever the truth, what followed was and is truly shocking and a sad indictment of how far our society appears to have fallen.

It is all too easy to fall into the trap of name calling and issuing blame - the words thug, and animal (unfair as always to the animal kingdom who would never behave in this fashion) spring to mind, but this solves nothing, and in fact makes the problem even worse. It is the mob mentality pure and simple, but we are all guilty of that - of following the crowd and being swept along, losing our own sense of identity in order to conform and fit in at some point in our lives. Every ounce of instinct that I had told me that getting embroiled in the emotion of the situation was useless and would not help me, yet being at work the morning after it all erupted, watching it on television, and seeing the girls talking about it non stop, it beccame all too easy to do just that, and I found my own anger spilling over as I joined in the banter and the discussions.

What brought me down to earth with a bump were some comments posted on a reading site that I frequent from one of the US based members. She pointed out that such violence in the United States is in fact nothing new, and that as a Black American (it is a fact and it is not racist to state that the majority of those filmed committing these crimes were and are black skinned), she can see it both ways. But she also acknowledged that not everyone will be able to see it that way - I guess you would have to walk a mile or two in their shoes first. In her own words, when one is pushed beyond reason it is human instinct for either flight or fight. Pent up rage, anger and frustration spills over and results in an outpouring of violence.

Ther are of course though many reasons why people strike out, and not all of these are justified. Some do it simply to get attention, or due to the afforementioned mob mentality, but the majority do it because they feel they have no other recourse. This is not of course an excuse for what has happened, but it goes someway towards explaining and helping us to understand the underlying cause, for there always has to be one. People do not behave in this manner for no reason.

It is easy to say that we have to pull ourselves up and make things happen, but it not always that easy. When you grow up in an environment where the majority are impoverished, poorly educated, and come from highly dysfunctional homes, what else can you expect. The kids who grew up in such an environment know no different; no matter which way they look, everyone else is the same with the same lack of prospects, and seemingly powerless to change their situation. They feel that they have to adopt that 'swagger' and the gang mentality in order to fit in, as if reinforces the idea that they are helpless victims, or are they?

Youngsters today from my perspective have far more opportunities than my own generation ever did - there were no youth clubs in my area, at least not that I was aware of, but the kids did not run riot in the streets. There was little career counselling either, or advice on drugs, birth control and how to stay out of trouble. The youth today have all this and more. They even have the opportunity to go and meet the Mayor of London and sit on a special session just for them, something that would have been unthinkable a generation ago. They have a greater voice than my generation ever did, but the apathy still remains.

I remember something that one of my white South African colleagues told me about her own time working in the townships in her own country, that she would organise various iniatives to try and help the residents and not one of them would turn up. It was almost as if they did not want to be helped. I suppose it goes back to that sense of hopelessness, that if a people are downtrodden for long enough then they start to believe that there is no point in anything that they do to try and help themselves, as it will not make a genuine enough difference to their lives. This is of course senseless and could not be further from the truth, for if nothing else, it makes them feel better about themselves. The collective consciousness then come into play, starting off in a small way, but from little acorns big oaks do grow, and you have to start somewhere.

Of course not all the rioters come from this impoverished background, many are what I would term professional people, who are fairly affluent, and come from good homes, one is a millionaires daughter and so wants for nothing. This is the mob mentality, pure and simple, and these people deserve to have the book thrown at them, so that they can then experience the other side of the coin. It is all about cause and effect.

Those who are not so affluent should of course also have to account for their actions, but this is not all about them, it is about society as whole. If society cna be judged on how they treat the poorest and the weakest, I wonder what it would say about us? And those that serve to criticise the Government and lay the blame at their door for all the cutbacks they have made, should also ask themselves that if the inner does indeed refect the outer, what does that say about them?

The race is on ...

2011-08-05T11:41:00.002+01:00

The London Surrey Cycle Classic (otherwise known as the Olympic test race), is fast approaching next weekend. It will be an interesting weekend for the small village of Box Hill where we live, with 148 cyclists doing 2 loops of the Hill right through the centre of the village. Preparations are in full swing with bunting ordered and tea ladies at the ready, not to mention the cameras of yours truly and her intrepid partner as Editor and unofficial Assistant Editor of the Box Hill News.

Our media accreditation has just arrived, so I have spent the last half hour printing it out to make sure that everything is clear and reading it through. We can collect our passes next Friday afternoon but on the day itself have to be at the media entrance by the bottom of Hill by 8am, an hour before the riders leave The Mall. I was excited to hear that Mark Cavendish, the fastest man on 2 wheels will be among them.

This though is a real opportunity to put our village on the map and to celebrate the unity of village life. It's a pretty good one when I come to think of it, and I would definitely not want to live anywhere else. Moving here was the best thing that both of us did, and it will be five years this December.

A test of strength

2011-07-31T21:07:00.004+01:00

Yesterday Coran and I attended a one day workshop with our friend Shirley Flint entitled Rituals of the Dark Moon. This was an invitation to meet and work with the Dark Mother or Goddess in all her glory, transforming our hopes and fears along the way. It was a powerful and tranforming day for both of us, uncomfortable in places, since it meant a willingness to let go of everything and strip it all away (in a spiritual sense), until we were laid completely bear, facing the true reality of who we really are.

The Dark Goddess represents the dark and hidden face of our nature, the wise woman
within. She represents the journey to wholeness through our willingness to look at our inner darkness in all its facets - our beliefs about love, about life and about who we are, both conscious and unconscious.

It had been several years since I attended a workshop of this kind, and to begin with I felt more than a little uncomfortable about sitting round the circle in the Sanctuary sharing what I hoped to get from the day. I had meditated on this beforehand and was clear about this was - the thing I wanted to work on the most was the need to gossip and criticise others, particularly at work, in order to fit in and feel part of the crowd. I received some very practical help with that, and was told that like most other things, it was and is a choice that I have to make. It is as ever about how it makes me feel, for I know in the moment that I do this that it does not make me feel good, about myself or about the person whom I criticise, both spiritually and energetically. There is a better, more appropriate way of doing things and that is simply to speak as I find. What I find is that each being in whatever form they choose to inhabit is a being of love, who is doing the best that he or she can do, the same that I also am. As such, they should be treated with compassion and reverence, for we do not know the agenda of their soul. They should be honoured for the contribution they make to our own evolution in the same way that we ourselves would wish to be honoured.

That is a really big thing for me - the need to be honoured and the need to be acknowledged. I always felt in my current job, that this was not happening, yet during one of the many meditations that we did yesterday, I came to realise that this is far from the case. I have in fact been seen very clearly for who and what I am, by all those whom I come into contact with during my work, including those who own the business. It is that in fact that presses their buttons, in the same way that they appear to press mine. I detect then a large amount of mirroring, but then again, isn't that what happens?

I found myself relaxing more as the day progressed and thinking about why I had stopped attending events of this kind. It started I suppose when we moved to our Surrey village 4 1/2 years ago from the Surrey/south London subburbs. Up until then I had been attending events on an almost weekly basis at our local non denominational church. When we moved here the distance seemed too great for us to travel and so we gradually stopped attending, until we no longer went at all. I did not exactly lose my faith, but my faith changed to one where I was no longer dependant on the 'crutches' of crystals, angels etc that many on the path still seem very hung up on. Many of these things seem to me so very last decade. I have moved beyond the point of needing to attend these workshops, read the latest new age books etc, and am at the point now where I want to just live it.

This is not meant as a criticism to those who feel that they do still need these tools or 'crutches' as I sometimes call them, for they serve a valuable role for those that are new to the path and those who are learning about their own personal power. Many are now coming to the path who previously poo pooed these ideas as new age psycobabble. For me though it is not where I need to be, I am however immensely grateful to those teachers who helped me to reach this point. It is a marker of how well they taught me, and how far I have come.

Shine, shine on ...

2011-07-22T17:13:00.002+01:00

It's five days now since I returned from the Isle of Man, and already it feels like a lifetime ago. I had a wonderful time, in almost complete solitude, and will almost certainly go back. The overriding memories are ones of mountainous glens and rushing waterfalls, a cacophony of birdlife and beautiful sunlit coastal walks. Also of delicious seafood and fresh gluten free cakes (no Ray, it is not pronounced gluton, but gluton is spelt June).

I stayed a small hostel called Junior House, part of King Williams College in the south of the island near Castletown, which once acted as a dormitory for younger pupils at this famous private boy’s school. The accommodation was a little spartan, but comfortable nevertheless, fulfilling my meagre requirements of a bed, a shower and a well equipped kitchen in which to self cater (important if you have special dietary needs as I do). I ate out a few times, mostly at The Sound cafe, near the most southerly point of the island, but for the most part, catered for myself. Doing so meant that I could control what I ate, ensuring that the food would not make me ill, at the same time helping to keep costs down.

I rented a car for the first week from Isle of Man Car Rentals, and despite requesting a small automatic, on arrival was presented with the keys for a brand new Mondeo. This was a bit bigger and much more powerful that I am used to, so initially I was quite nervous about driving it, but once I got used to it, I found the larger engine invaluable for negotiating the mountain roads. The island, despite its small size (33 miles long by 10 miles wide), has a lot of mountain roads. The hairpin bends where I live are nothing compared to these, and the views were tremendous. During the second week I relied on public transport, which I found to be excellent, and for the most part extremely punctual and reliable. I found it was much better than driving, since when you take in so much more when walking, and can stop to take photographs where and when you like, without worrying about whether it is safe to park or who might come up behind you. Given the high cost of diesel (almost 149 pence per litre), if and when I do go back, I am certain to use this method again.

Most of my time was spent around the south, as that is where I was based, but I managed to explore most of the island, from the northernmost Point of Ayres to Peel in the west and Douglas, the capital on the eastern side. I must admit that the car was useful for reaching these out of the way places, as not all of them were directly served by busses, necessitating a walk of several miles from the nearest stopping point. One of the highlights was a visit to the Calf of Man, a small bird sanctuary on an island off the southernmost tip, and also the Manx Museum in Douglas, where I learnt all about the islands history and native language. There is much of which I could write, but the memories are best kept to myself as the personal mementoes that they are.

So, on Monday it was back to work and right back into the fray. While I was away it seems that the boss was complaining yet again - not only regarding the standards in general, but also about me, who committed the heinous crime of going upstairs to get changed on the eve of her holiday, having just worked for seven days in a row, five minutes early. The Director wanted the Acting Manager to ring me at home and reprimand me but to her credit she refused, stating that I had probably already left for the airport! If this were not so stupid, it would be almost laughable, but actually this is deadly serious. There is something seriously wrong with someone who is this petty and it is to my mind frankly ridiculous to get upset over a few lousy minutes.

There is no space for anyone in the care home business for anyone who does not come from the heart. The Director does of course have a heat as we all do, but he is first and foremost a businessman, an investment banker with political aspirations, who thinks that the minimum wage should be abolished to make Britain more competitive, and went into this business as he realised it was a growth opportunity that presented the means to make even more money. Care homes are of course a business like any other, and do have to make a profit in order for the Directors to live, but this needs to tempered with the needs of the residents and the staff who work there and should not come at their expense. His attitude then needs to change in order to reflect this.

Given the problems that we have recently experienced, and the criticisms levelled at the housekeeping department, in order to increase accountability, it has been decided that for the foreseeable future, I will work only downstairs and my colleague only upstairs. I am not completely unhappy about this, as I do prefer being downstairs, as you are more involved in what is going on, but at the same time, it also means that I will no longer see those room bound residents who reside upstairs and whom I have bonded with and have a good rapport. We will I am sure both miss each other a great deal. This though is the decision he had made, and I have to go along with it.

I can though turn this to a positive, as the kitchen, lounge and dining room are all downstairs and these are the heart of the house, where all the activity takes place. I am then exactly where I need to be. These areas are by their very nature much more visible, meaning that I too will be more visible, with the fruits of my work on display for all to see, as will also be my ability to interact with and make a difference to the residents with which I do remain in contact. When one works upstairs, one remains unseen, disappearing into the background, whereas downstairs is the opposite, making this role I some ways, much more important. I have had issues with many of my jobs regarding being unseen and unnoticed, and have often felt this here too; this then is an opportunity to shine loud and clear and be seen in all my glory.

It is better not to know ...

2011-06-28T14:47:00.004+01:00

A month, maybe more has gone by since last I wrote on this blog, and as usual too much has happened to detail or even remember for that matter. For the moment then, I havr to concentrate on what I feel right now, in this moment (knowing of course that this moment is all I have). So, how do I feel? In some ways this is a difficult question to answer, perhaps it should be what do I feel?

What I feel is a sense of relief. A sense of relief that the heatwave that we have been experiencing for the past day or so has broken, also a sense of relief in the fact that four days from now I shall be on my way to the Isle of Man, in fact, four days from now, I shall already be there, probably trudging around Tesco's - and I am looking forward to that?!

Seriously, I do need this holiday. I have been getting way too stressed (as usual)of late, with work, with the newsletter that I edit, and with life in general. The Manager of the nursing home where I work left abruptly at the end of May, without the staff being informed until right at the very last moment. She wrote us a letter supposedly letting us know what the situation is, but it left us with more questions than answers. Rumour has it, she experienced some kind of breakdown due to stress - I know her mother died recently, but really it is all conjecture. We will probably never know, but one thing I do know is that if these rumours are even halfway true, then she did the right thing in resigning in order to take time out, as that is the only way to truly heal and reflect on your life. Whatever she is doing I wish her well, but life goes on, and as the Directors atated in their own letter to us, she was just one member of staff, and the rest of us have to carry on doing what we are good at. I just realise that sometimes that was recognised a little more. We have received a staff satifsction survey to fill in detailing our thoughts as to how the home can be changed, so this is our chance to be totally honest and say what we feel, and I for one have taken the opportunity by the horns, knowing that I may not get another opportunity, and that if I fail to take this one, then I have no right to complain.

It seems a lifetime ago since everything kicked off with my sister, but she remains in my thoughts, and I do wonder how she it, and what she is feeling. I had a card from her on my birthday last week, and I gather from that that she is back in psyciatric hospital. They were unable to talk to me without her permission, and in order to get that permission they would have had to tell her that I had been in contact, so it is better at this stage that I do not know. They do however know where I am should there be an emergency.

So for the moment, I sit here at the computer drinking my tea and listening to the rain, wondering what the next few weeks will bring - it is better perhaps not to know, for the fun is in the sense of discovery that not knowing brings.

After the rain - refreshed and relaxed

2011-05-13T19:09:00.007+01:00

After my last post, I sunk into what seemed at the time like a deep depression that I can only describe as a feeling of underlying hysteria. This seems to be common at the moment for those on the spiritual path, but when I was in the depths of that despair, that knowledge brought little comfort. It was a feeling of being completely overwhelmed by everyone and everything around me, that life was just too difficult and too hard to bear. I tried as much as I could to stay out of people's way, aware that my sensitivity made be bristly and awkward to be around, but even so, the least little thing would set me off. Several times I got to work and just sat in the car park and cried, and once after an altercation with another staff member, who yet again misunderstood my words, I went to the dining room and bashed the living daylights out of one of the chairs. This person like me, had their own stuff to deal with, and I suspect was feeling just as I was, in her own, and also like me, was not dealing with it very well.

A week later, after an American friend emailed and asked how I was, the feelings finally subsided. It was almost as if, that hand reaching out, and asking how I was, enabled me to open up and finally admit the truth - that I felt lost, frightened and alone, as if, if I found the courage to admit, truly admit how I felt inside, and let go, I would not be able to stop. Loss of control has always been one of deepest fears - perhaps because as a child I witnessed the results of it so many times.

The feelings though did subside, as always, to a feeling of acceptance and great calm and the recognition that I am not responsible for how others feel. My sister has made her choice, as we did too to change out number, and now we both have to live with the consequences. As for the meeting at work, well that too turned out to a bit of a damp squib and not nearly as bad as I feared. The results for the housekeeping team have been outstanding, in that the carers in their unwillingness to help us by bringing leftover trays back to the kitchen where they belong, have created another job for themselves, as one of them is now allocated the task of going back upstairs after their morning meeting to bring them down, clear them away and stack the contents nearly in the sink for us to deal with. It has also been made clear to them that it is their job to wash up and clear away the tea trolley, no matter how senior they are, as some have made comments to the effect that they feel it is menial work that is beneath them. These two small changes have done wonders already to bolster team working, removing the us and them mentality that seems to have developed of late.

So, on Monday Coran and I departed to Glastonbury for a much needed 3 night stay at the Chalice Well Lodge. The weather was mixed - sun and cloud with a light smattering of rain, but it was a joy to sit in the gardens each night and bathe in the energy of the town. I for one feel so much better for the break and can go back to work tomorrow refreshed and relaxed for the seven week countdown to to my visit to the Isle of Man.

Not the best day

2011-04-30T16:44:00.003+01:00

Today has not been the best day for me - not only do I have to contend with the aftermath of changing our number and how I feel about having to do that, but I have also had to deal with stroppy memos from the boss claiming once again that the standard of housekeeping has fallen. It is bad enough that I have to deal with one of these things, but put the two together and then consider the way in which both have happened, and you can see how the two things have conspired to tip me almost to the edge.

I have been aware for a while that the boss was not altogether happy with the standards in the home, as there has been a definite increase in the number of items written in the housekeeping book, but I did not expect her to write what I consider to be extremely rude and confrontational memos to her assistant regarding this, expecting her to deal with it in her absence.

When the Assistant Manager informed me this morning that there would be a meeting to discuss various issues on Wednesday, when the Head Housekeeper is back from extended sick leave, this was one thing, but when I read the memo that the Manager had sent to her Assistant asking to deal with it, it knocked me six. It stated that although she is aware that the Head Housekeeper has been away, and there have been three housekeepers in on several occasions (actually not that many at all), there is still no excuse for the falling standards within the home and there needs to be a meeting to address these issues. The memo goes on to say that this meeting is to be properly minuted and a note put on each of the housekeepers personnel files stating what was discussed and what the outcome of the meeting was. This sounds to me like some kind of written warning, which I believe is totally unwarranted, and which I want no part of. When I accepted the full time job which commenced at the end of February, despite the fact that I had been here for 21 months already part time, doing the exact same job, they insisted on a second three month probationary period. I am worried now that they will use this as an excuse to extend it, like they did the first one, again for trivial things which have been largely outside of my control.

Up until the end of February, when the department was fully staffed, we had three full time housekeepers and one part time. When my colleague left and I took over her full time hours, this created a part time vacancy which is yet to be filled. So, when the Head Housekeeper went on extended sick leave, barely one month later, following an accident, this left us one full and one part time person down. When there are two housekeepers in, one works downstairs and one upstairs, cleaning the residents rooms and doing the kitchen and laundry respectively. Three days a week all three of us work together and that is when the Head Housekeeper does her weekly tasks of cleaning other areas around the home - among other things, filling the soap and paper towel dispensers, descaling the shower heads and cleaning carpets and upholstery. This is one of the areas being complained about, which under normal circumstances would be fair enough, but these are not normal circumstances. It does not seem to occur to them that these tasks can only be carried out when there are three of us in, and where this would normally be for three days each week, for the past six weeks it has been for one day every other week.

Given the the circumstances then I think we should be praised for managing to maintain the home as well as we have done. The Assistant Manager, who has been given the task of dealing with this while her own boss is away (the mark of a coward if ever I saw one), has indicated to me that she actually agrees with me, and cannot see what the fuss is about, but she has to go through the motions of conducting this meeting anyway.

To me, after all the hard work that I have put in, it feels like a kick in the teeth, and coming on top of everything else, it has been too much for me to deal with. When I got home, and found that BT had still not changed our number, despite their assurances that it would take 24 hours to complete, I rang them to find out why and was told that they do not count weekends and Bank Holidays as working days, and it will not be complete until next Tuesday - suddenly one day has become six. I really tore into them and told them in no uncertain terms exactly what I thought. Luckily the same rule apples to the call barring which we also cancelled, as otherwise we may have been exposed to yet more nuisance calls.

With Coran away for the afternoon though, helping a disabled friend to move, by the time I got home and finished dealing with all this, I just hid under the duvet and cried. I don't think anyone can truly understand how difficult and how stressful the last few months, dealing with all this nonsense from my sister has been, and the prospect of yet another meeting with her CPN on Tuesday does not make it any easier, as I know that I will have to rehash the whole thing and justify to yet another person why I feel the way I do, and why I felt forced to take the action that I did. I am just sick and tired of people continually pussy footing around giving credence to everyone else's needs other than my own, because I appear to be able to deal with things. Well appearances can be deceptive, because the truth is, I am not dealing with things nearly as well as they think I am. Like DelBoy from Only Fools and Horses, I do not want to play the tough guy (or in this case, girl), but do so because it is all I know how to do. It is a protective mechanism designed to insulate myself from the knocks that life has dealt me, and the lack of support from everyone it seems bar Coran.

Keane - This Is The Last Time

2011-04-29T20:46:00.000+01:00

The final letting go

2011-04-29T10:01:00.012+01:00

After a month or so of blissful silence and peace, two days ago, we had another 2 calls from my sister, both from different mobile phone numbers. She was shouting so loudly and being so abusive and unpleasant that Coran could literally hear her at the other end of the house. I promptly put down the phone and added both of these numbers to our barred list and then telephoned the Police, like I said I would do in my previous letter to her.They came round the following evening and stayed for an hour, taking a full report and making all the right noises, but it turned out to be just that - noises, with very little substance, for yesterday morning they telephoned again to say that they would not be speaking to her, and were closing down the file.

The only advice they could give us was to go back to her care team and/or change our telephone number, something we had been resisting until that point due to Coran's business. It was clear from that that despite the fact that it was them who actually caused the problem, by giving her our phone number in the first place, they are not prepared to help us, but continue to simply pussy foot around her, because of her 'illness' and unpredictability. It does not seem to occur to them how much this impacts on our lives, and how powerless it has made us feel, instead they just sit there saying that we have to talk to the care team and in their own words "make them earn their money". Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!

Well, Coran and I decided that if they are not prepared to help us, then we have to help ourselves, so despite the inconvenience this will cause to both of us, in my role as Editor of the village newsletter, and for Coran in terms of his business, we have taken the power back into our hands and gone ahead and changed our number, knowing that this is the only guaranteed way to make sure that she does not call us again. There is nothing we can do to stop her writing, but we do not have to open her letters, and letters are far less disruptive than her constant whining down the phone, refusing to accept her humanity or the part that she has played in creating this scenario. So in the words of Keane, "This is the last time that I will show my face, one more tender lie and then I'm out of this place".I am sad of course that it has come to this, and I would have hoped that another solution could have been found, but it was not to be, for she showed a total unwillingness to meet us even a quarter of the way and we cannot have a relationship that is based on need, with we give and she just takes. Both of us have had enough.

It does seem so very final and I am so very sad that it has come to this, I am not sure if I will ever come to terms with the way in which this happened, and the way that she has forced our hand. It is like a grieving process, and I know that I have to let her go. The feelings though come and go, as I am sure they will for a while - feelings of anger, guilt and despondency at the seeming injustice of it all, and for the great loss of the person she once was and could be once again - the person that I may never see blossom into her full potential and become a functioning member of society. I have to though accept that it was and is her choice to remain in that situation, and so it was also my choice to accept that choice that she made and at the same time, to let her go. Maybe she will come back to me, maybe she will not, it is not my choice to make. The only thing I can do is to let her go with grace and get on with the rest of my life. With God's help, and the solace of some very good friends and a wonderful partner, I will get through.

One Big Society: Hiding in plain sight

2011-03-18T11:51:00.014Z

Coran and I were listening to the news this week, in the aftermath of the Japanese disaster, discussing the difference between how this has been handled, compared to what happened at Chernobyl. It made us think how influential the Internet has become in spreading news so rapidly around the world, so that things like this can no longer be hidden. Bear in mind that the Egyptian revolution which recently toppled their Government, and is threatening to topple other regimes throughout the Middle East, started on the Internet.

The world is becoming smaller and smaller, like one big global village, reflecting the changes in society. The average man or woman in the street is no longer powerless, but does in fact have a voice, a voice that is increasingly being heard. We are beginning to realise at long last, that one voice can indeed make a difference, as all change has to start from within.

This also brought to mind the somewhat confusing Conservative Policy known as the Big Society. It is a phrase that has been much bandied about, but very few seem to understand exactly what it means, David Cameron quite possibly among them. The Big Society Network website states that the Big Society is: "a society in which ordinary citizens feel big in terms of being supported and enabled, creating real change in their own neighbourhoods". This is all well and good, but what if we took this one step further, and looked at this not only on a local level, but on a more global scale. We, every man, woman and child live on this one blue green planet, which we call Earth, collectively forming one big cohesive society.

When David Cameron states that we are in this together, people tend to think in terms of budget cuts and how rich and poor should, but appear not to be, sharing the pain, yet if we look at this from the global perspective maybe it does not mean this at all, maybe in our efforts to manage our own small lives, we are missing the bigger picture of what the Big Society really means, for in sharing this planet which is home to all of us, we literally are all in it together, like ants sharing different hills in the same field. Everything is connected by strands and threads of energy weaving their way across the ether, connecting all of our thoughts together until they make the whole. The thoughts that dominate become the collective conscious and conscious is the key word here, for we need to become more conscious of the impact that we have not only as individuals but as a whole, to look at the bigger picture of what will benefit the Big Society (and for that read the entire human race) as a whole. We can no longer isolate ourselves away thinking that the problems of others do not concern us, for we are all one, and we are quite literally in this together, whether we like it or not.

I suspect that Cameron himself is not aware of the deeper implications of his brainchild, this policy that he appears to have created, but one thing is clear from the events of Japan and throughout the Middle East, there will be many more changes to come. It is heartening to see green energy being debated on Question Time as a real alternative to nuclear power. This could also go a long way to resolving our dependence on oil, as the crisis in the Middle East intensifies, spiralling prices out of control. If the Americans think that their fuel prices are high, they should see what we have to pay, an average in this area at the moment of 136 pence per litre and rising.

Of course, I had rather a disaster like the Japanese one had not occured, and I feel desperately sorry for those who have lost their homes and their livelihoods, but maybe it was the only way to get our attention, to make us wake up and force through the changes that are so obviously needed, the redistributon of wealth and power back to the people on the ground, who form the majority of our population, wresting it away from the 5 percent who currently account for 95 percent of the world's wealth. They too can learn a lesson from this, that wealth does not bring power, and the higher you are, the further you have to fall. There are so many lessons that we can learn from this, if we choose to see them, and not buy into the negativity that has become a media frenzy. It is dificult to step back sometimes and see the higher perspective, but this year will go down in history as the one where everything began to change very much for the better, for here we have the makings of a society which truly is equal in every sense of the word.

The stormy seas of Surrey life

2011-03-12T19:49:00.009Z

Two weeks into my almost new full time job, I am enjoying my first proper weekend off (apart from holidays) for almost 2 years. It was a novel experience for me to have a lie in at the weekend, and not to have to rush to get up and out ready for work.

I am pleased to report that the transition to full time has been relatively smooth. The 7am starts have not been nearly as bad as I thought they might be, aided no doubt by the time of year, as it begins to get light earlier in the morning. I have settled into it so well that I wonder how on earth I used to do the job without that extra hour. It makes a big difference and enables me to do the job much more thoroughly, finding time to do those extra tasks that I never had the time for before.

This week I have been working upstairs, which was a novelty for me, being used to working downstairs. I had to find a whole new routine, getting to know many of the residents who do not normally leave their rooms, and washing dirty laundry instead of dishes. Next week, starting on Monday I will be downstairs again with Thursday and Friday off, and then have seven days in a row to work until the following weekend when the rota starts all over again.

I find the days go so much quicker when the mind is occupied and relish my afternoons off being able to relax and read. Once the nights begin to shorten and spring turns to summer, I look forward to some afternoons at the viewpoint, relaxing on the grass and enjoying the sun without having to rush off back to work in the evenings.

Sadly not everything in my life is smooth sailing. Just as we thought we were finally going to get some peace, on Wednesday night, we had another call from my sister, three calls to be precise. I picked the phone up, not recognising the number and thinking it might one one of Corans clients, so was surprised to hear her voice, in the usual accusatory tones asking why we had stopped ringing her and why we had palmed her off on the care team. Attempts to explain were as usual fruitless, with my sister becoming more and more agitated and accusatory with every breath. In the end I was forced to tell her that I was unable to continue the conversation and I put down the phone. Five minutes later she rang again, and this time I let the answerphone pick it up. She left a message saying more of the same, why won't we talk to her, she needs us and we need her, blah, blah, blah. Well actually, no we don't need this at all.

One hour and one phone call later, with Coran home from his evening at the meditation group, the number was barred. The following day, calls were made to her new CPN, the local CAB and the Police, asking what the hell we can do to stop this once and for all. As fast as we block her numbers, she gets a new phone and calls all over again, leaving angry and abusive messages, failing to listen to one single word that we say. After the last meeting, two weeks ago, we really thought that this was it, but no, the message has still not sunk in, so this time, with the advice and support of her new CPN, we have written her a letter, setting out in no uncertain terms that we will not entertain this behaviour anymore and that she made the choice to walk away from us, knowing full well what the consequences would be.

She has to understand in the words of J Michael Strazynski, that the problem is not between her and us, but between her and herself. If the message still fails to get through and she continues to harass us, for this is what it is, we may have no alternative but to seek an injunction. This is not something that either of us would choose, but we have run out of other options, as everything else has failed.

Against the backdrop of this, I have then been very pleased to be at work, as it has meant that I am busy there and not sitting at home brooding and mulling things over. On a brighter note, the deposit has now been paid for my trip to the Isle of Man (I am going on July 2nd for 2 weeks), staying at a former boys boarding school in the south of the island). I have three months in which the find the balance, so all I have to do now is save the money and book the flight.

Facing our deepest fears

2011-02-28T17:04:00.005Z

Three days after that fateful meeting with my sister, Coran and I are waiting anxiously to discover what if any, the fall out has been for her care team. As anticipated, it did not go smoothly at all, and we finished up going our separate ways. When she visited our house just after Christmas, she sat at our dining room table, after we had cooked her a lovely meal, and quite brazenly, without any shame at all, stated in her own words that she did not care who she hurts as long as she got what she wanted. I must admit that that knocked both of us for six, as up until then, I had not realised in quite such stark terms, exactly what we were dealing with.

On Friday then, when Coran asked her if she remembered having said that, she repeated it vociferously and in much more angry and defensive tones. She has a habit of leaving the room when we say anything that is too close to the truth, and in this way, not facing up to the consequences of her actions, therefore nothing ever gets reeolved. Ths time, when she got up to leave, we told her that if she walked away from us, then we would lwalk away from her - forever. She immediately sat back down. However, when challenged again, and after repeating our words to the effect that if she left, so would we, this time for good, she upped and left anyway.

In that moment she made a choice, a choice as to which of her fears was the greatest; the fear of dealing with her issues and what that might unleash, or the fear of losing us - the fear of dealing with her stuff was evidently much greater, for that is the choice that she made, and like all other choices in life, it was hers to make. It saddens me that it had to come to this, but as I previously stated, the situation as it was was completely untenable, and a change of some sort had to made.

We offered her a a carrot, a way out, but in the end, she chose the stick, a stick with which to beat herself up, for make no mistake, in making that choice, to walk out of our lives and not to confront her stuff, she will now be forced to do that very thing that she feared the most, for she will realise in no uncertain terms that this is the bed that she herself has made and she is the only one who can unmake it.

She may not face it in this life, and I may not see her again in this life either, but she will have to face it at some point, and I will see her again, if not in this life, then in another. I comfort myself with the knowledge that in a parallel life somewhere else, this has already happened, and she is a happy and functioning member of society. In making that choice though in this life, she can no longer blame us, or anyone else, whining down the telephone, expecting us to solve all her problems, and come running to the rescue every time she is lonely and afraid. No, she is now on her own.

We have said to her care team that we want no further contact from her in either written or verbal form, and that if she turns up at our home in a taxi, intruding on our peace, we will call The Police. This is the only language that she understands. I am sorry in some ways that it has come to this, and upsetting as it was when it all happened, my consciounce is completely clear - I did everything in my power to help her and she thwarted us at every turn with no intention of moving from where she is. That is the choice that she made, and so we, being unable and unwilling to support that situation any further than we already have, made the only appropriate choice that we could in response - to walk away so that she can find herself once more. In so doing, we have set her free, and also ourselves.

A month of change

2011-02-25T11:51:00.006Z

Almost a month has passed since I last wrote on this blog, and so much has happened both in my own world and the one at large, that one hardly knows where to begin. The big thing happening at the moment is of course in the Middle East, with the unrest that started in Tunisia in the middle of January, and has toppled the Egyptian regime, gradually spreading throughout the region.

Reports in the British and indeed world media, have been a curious mixture of fear and incredulity, for we are indeed witnessing in these troubled times, the unfolding of a new era in history, as the old ways collapse in order to make way for the new. Freedom is after all the most basic of human rights, freedom of speech, freedom to choose your own Government and your own job, and freedom to be who you wish to be. There is still however a long way to go before the women in some of these countries achieve the same freedoms as men, and this I suspect will be the next battle to be fought.

For many all the major decisions that affect their lives are still made by men in the name of religion, and ultimately no matter how much the style of Government may change, until religion releases its stranglehold over the masses, it will not be true freedom at all, for everything that people do, think and say is ultimately shaped by their beliefs. Until those beliefs change, then nothing else will, not really.

I then sit back and observe from a detached perspective, and send light to the situation in the hope that this will take place - as indeed it will, for it is only a matter of time. The people are becoming increasingly tired of this way of life and are beginning to realise that true freedom comes from within. If you want to create change, then you yourself have to be that change, and it begins as always with your beliefs. Change your beliefs, and everything else will fall into place. By the time this is over, I predict that Saudi Arabia will be the only fundamentalist religious country left.

On the personal front, it has been confirmed that the Olympic Road Cycling Race will be going through our village, and indeed, half the county. What makes our village of Box Hill different is the fact that the athletes will not just be passing through, but completing multiple circuits around the area - nine times for the men and twice for the women. They are obviously a lot fitter than I am! A meeting with representatives from LOCOG, Surrey County Council and other officials has been arranged for this Wednesday at this Village Hall, and I get the feeling that it will be pretty packed! The District Councillor has reserved 12 seats in the front row for the press, of which I am of course a member, as Editor of the Village newsletter. I will then be taking a rather large notebook with several pens and a camera and hope that my hand can keep up!

On a more personal front, I returned on Monday from a week long sojourn on the island of Lundy in the Bristol Channel. This was my first visit in more than 18 months, and the longest in fact that I have been away from the island since I first visited in June 1995. It was strange in some ways to go back, and it did feel different. If I am honest, I was a little unsure right up until the actual morning that I went, but once I got in the car and began the drive to Hartland, and the lighthouse began to come into view, all the doubts were erased. By the time I got to the heliport and saw the island standing out there on the horizon, I knew that I was doing the right thing.

I have changed a lot in those 18 months since I last went, and even more so since I volunteered and applied for that job on the island, almost 2 years ago to the day. I am glad in retrospect that I did not go to live there, for I can see now that I wanted it for all the wrong reasons - I thought that being on the island would solve all my problems, when in reality all it really did was create another set. The irony is that it led to the best, most rewarding job I have ever had, where I am about to start full time. I still then have a lot to thank the island for.

While I was there I experimented with the video camera function on my Ipod, and I am hoping that some of the footage that I shot may be good enough, with some editing, to put on YouTube. Coran and I plan to go through them in the next week or so, and see if we can amalgamate the best bits together.

This afternoon though, we have a meeting with my sister that neither of us are looking forward to at all. I get the feeling that this might well be make or break. It is time for us to stop pussy footing around and sit down together and be really honest about what happened last summer, as is has become clear to both of us that she is still not taking responsibility and either does not or cannot understand the impact that her actions had, and why we took the action that we did. Our relationship with her, as with other people, has to be based on mutual understanding and respect, and that means give and take, with each having the opportunity to express their own point of view, without fear of guilt and recriminations. This so far, she has not given us the opportunity to do. Today then is her last chance to give us that opportunity and to listen to us. If she cannot or will not do this, then it has to be the end, for it causes too much pain and disruption and is no longer in either of our interests to continue in this way.

I have let go of as much of the guilt as I can, although I suspect that there is always more. Coran is though a great supporter and is behind me all the way on this, as he always has been. Ultimately he is the one that I share my life with, and he has to be my focus and priority. This is not about being selfish, but about doing what it best for all three of us. I only hope that my sister can understand this, but we will see.

I got the job!

2011-01-26T14:35:00.006Z

I am pleased to say that the wait for news is now well and truly over, as last Thursday just before I went to lunch, my Manager confirmed that I have indeed got the job. The feeling when she told me was a mixture of elation and pride - elation in that the at times unbearable situation that I have been struggling with for so long is finally over, and pride at the way in which I asked the universe for help and saw it respond, in what seems like when I stop to think about it, a remarkably short time.

I think she had known all along that the job would be mine, but wanted to give me time to mull over certain points, as like she said, it will be different to being there part time and in terms of lifestyle, will be a complete about turn - although not as complete as some may think. The main difference is that my hours will shift from the end of the day to the beginning. When you consider the amount of overtime I have done over the past year, and factor in my second job at the school, I have actually worked full time for quite lengthy periods of time throughout the year already - for almost three months at the beginning of last year, and at least six weeks throughout the summer during the main exam period. The main thing is that I will now have the stability that I need, with a reliable income and benefits to match.

She has asked me not to notify my colleagues for the moment while I wait for the official letter to arrive, and I must admit that I quite like having this secret knowledge! Because it is close to the end of our holiday year, and I still have leave to take, we have decided that I will start in an official basis at the end of February after my holiday is complete, as it just simpler all round. I may have to continue working one evening a week until 7pm to keep things ticking over in the kitchen during the evenings, until they can find a replacement, but I know this will not be permanent, and it is really par for the course.

Yesterday then I worked what will be probably turn out to be my last day at the school, invigilating 2 exams, both of which were re-takes - Sociology in the morning and General Studies in the afternoon. All went without a hitch (there was only one pupil involved in each), and it was sad in a way to say goodbye. I have come to enjoy working there and I cannot deny that in many ways it has suited me well, having that mix of working with both young and old. Both jobs in their own way do make a difference. I will also miss the other invigilators, some of whom I have come to regard as friends.

I said to the exam secretary that it may be possible for me to continue working there on an ad hoc basis maybe one day a week, and she has said she will send me details of the March exams and the next invigilaors meeting, but in reality I think I will find that I need my days off. The extra money though I must admit would be useful, especially since the Council in their wisdom overpaid some of us last summer, in my case to the tune of almost 40 hours, processing one of my claim sheets twice. Because they are so inept, they have only just got round to asking for it back - I have been told that a letter is on its way. This is a pain in some ways, and the timing is not brilliant, coming as it does just as I get a full time job, as it means that my first months wages will go on paying them back, but at least they waited until I do have the money.

I am hoping it may be possible to pay them back over a period of months, but we will have to see once the letter arrives. For the moment though my thoughts are turning once again to holidays - I am off to Lundy in three weeks time and have started to make a few preparations with regard to the purchase of wheat free food, that I as always will need to take with me. I have booked a hotel for both ends of the trip - the Travelodge in Taunton on the way out and Tiverton on the way back - it will be nice to relax into a comfy bed and a hot bath after a long day on the road. The helicopter too has been booked, so I am more or less all set.

I am also conscious of the need to make plans for the summer, as my work colleagues make plans for their own trips and the time off begins to gets booked up. To this end I have ordered a copy of a guide book to the Isle of Man, which I will devour upon its arrival, to help me ascertain how long I need to stay - 10 nights or 14. This depends on whether I decide to overnight on the Calf of Man, which I must admit would be nice (indeed, this is what got me interested in the island in the first place, from when I used to go to Fair Isle in Scotland). I have ascertained that I can fly from Gatwick for around £80 return, and that the airport is not far from Castletown where I hope to stay, so all I need to do now is read the book for ideas, look at some public transport timetables and choose a date, outside the motor racing season, which this year is from the end of May to around the middle of June.

A prayer to the universe - with some insights along the way

2011-01-19T19:58:00.008Z

I have had a pretty tough time of late, waiting for a decision regarding the full time job I applied for and was interviewed for on Monday. I was told that I would probably know the outcome yesterday, but yesterday has come and gone with no word from my Manager at all, despite meetings with the Director, and today, which was my day off, has gone as well with the same lack of communication.

At times like this, the mind starts to go into overdrive imagining all sorts of scenarios and reasons as to what the delay may be about. Most of them of course have little bearing on what is really going on. Today though I had one of those ah ha moments which helped to shed light on what it is I have been feeling these past few months. I have been aware that for some time now there has been this feeling of discontent, that when I look back on things began last spring. This time last year my colleague, the one who has just left, went off sick for three months with a slipped disc, and I was asked to step in to help cover her hours and keep the home ticking over. During that time I worked more or less full time, and then when she returned to work I was dropped like a hot potato and went back to my normal part time hours. It was almost as if I had a taste of what things could be like for me if I was to go full time, and having got used to it and told myself that this might be a possibility, it was abruptly taken away. Add to the mix problems with my sister that kicked off at about that same time, a busy exam season and preparations for my first overseas trip in almost 7 years and you can see that I was under considerable stress. The last thing I needed was to be asked to undertake a distance learning course in my own time, and have the Director moaning about standards in the home having slipped, but that is exactly what I got, with no annual pay rise to boot. No wonder I felt dispirited, unseen and unheard.

I then discovered that I had been rostered to do extra work without having been asked. You can imagine then what my reaction and indeed what the reaction of any rational human being was. I was not pleased and made my feelings known. In retrospect I can see that this was not the right thing to do. It is not so much that I should not have said the things that I said, but more the way in which this was done.

You see, when you have a history of working for companies where you felt unable to express yourself and be honest about what you feel, and then find yourself working working for someone who you do feel safe enough do do this with, it tends to explode outwards. You go from one extreme to the other and like a pendulum which swings from left to right before settling int a balanced state, you need to do the same, and find appropriate ways of expressing that which is in your heart. Because I am new to all of this and have been suppressed for so long, as I have yet to learn that new way of being and so the things that I say come out in the wrong way sounding accusing when that is not the way it is meant to be. I need to find a way of honestly and openly expressing my needs without blame, but plainly and simply stating the facts as I see it, and that I am yet to learn.

It is easy to figure out why I am the way that I am, for when one has a long history of working for those who abused your trust and used you as a scapegoat for their failings and inadequacies you become afraid of stating your truth, for fear that you will not be understood and of what the repercussions will be. Several times I have ended up having to walk away from jobs because my employer would not or could not understand what it is I was trying to tell them. I do not want the same thing to happen here.

It always seems to happen that you start off on a nice even keel, with your mind clear, knowing your reasons for doing things and being where you are and somehow the mind begins to creep in creating dramas and conflicts to test your sanity and keep you on your toes. I know that I have had a lot to deal with these past few months, but I am not the only one and need to find ways of expressing what I feel and letting off steam without it affecting those relationships at work, as otherwise I may start to get a reputation as someone who is difficult and this will affect my future prospects.

I do not think this has happened yet, and my Manager and I have had several frank discussions on certain things, but she is unaware as to exactly what has happened in my past and what it is that makes me at times like this. Maybe it is time to share that information. One thing I do know is that I do deserve this job. It is the waiting and the not knowing that I hate, where like I said, the mind starts to go into overdrive imagining discussions between the different parties as to why you may not get it, and what your reaction will be. None of this helps as you end up quite possibly creating the very thing that you do not want.

This waiting period, which is also the time of the Full Moon, gives me the opportunity to focus on what I do want and to bring that into manifestation, so tomorrow when I have the opportunity I will take the bull by the horns, and if there is no news then I will ask. It is the only way to know, and after all, you know what they say, those who do not ask do not get. So tonight I say a prayer to the universe that I have done all the thinking and all the analysing that I need to, and this is truly from the depths of my heart with every fibre of my being what I desire - to work full time as part of this wonderful team that gives me the opportunity to serve and make a difference, helping my own soul to evolve in the process.

Turning dreams into reality

2011-01-17T09:17:00.005Z

Well this morning, the day of my interview for that long awaited full time job, it is pouring down with rain. As I sit here at the computer I watch it cascading in rivulets down the window pane, listening to its gentle patter against the walls and the roof of our house. Rain is of course, as with the water element in general, symbolic of our emotions, so it is no surprise that my emotions on the day of this very important interview, which is in many ways (remember that I have done the same job part time now for almost 20 months) a formality, are running riot.

I don't think anyone who has not been in this position can truly understand how difficult it is for those working part time who wish for more hours, sitting at home endlessly with little to do except read, watch television and eat. There are only so many games you can play, books you can read and episodes of Jeremy Kyle you can watch before you start to go stir crazy.

The answer lies in going out into the fresh air, and while it is true that walks are free, the refreshments that you inevitably want at the end of your walk are unfortunately not. When one has little money, you need to watch those pennies. I hope that after today I will not have to watch them quite so closely as I have been. One of the things that I hope to do if I am successful (and it is still an if) is to start travelling a lot more. In my younger days before I met Coran and gave up work to write Genesis of Man, I used to travel a lot - I have been all over Europe, and seen large swathes of Canada and the Far East. In recent years I have tended to concentrate on the UK - not only is it cheaper, it also saves you the hassle of airports and foreign languages and currency. After my trip to Iceland though six months ago (is that all is is) I have bitten by the bug again.

I am hoping that this year I may be able to afford two main holidays - one to Norway and one to the Isle of Man - I suspect that the Isle of Man will be the longest one. I have started to do a little research and ascertained that I can fly from Gatwick for around £80 return. I have also found a nice hostel in the south of the island that offers rooms for £14 a night and discovered that the island has an excellent network of public transport.

As for Norway, I visited the country briefly in the early 90's when I went inter railing and have wonderful memories of those times. If I manage to go again this year, I hope to do the run from Oslo to Bergen and take the mountain railway to the little village of Flam. This is an exceedingly picturesque area, and unfortunately one of Europe's most expensive places - however, as with Iceland, there are ways and means, and being the thrifty and resourceful person that I am, I will find them.

These are for the moment though dreams, gradually coming into reality. Lets hope that another dream that I have held so long now turns into fruition this afternoon, so that these others can also do the same.

The light returns

2011-01-16T19:50:00.005Z

It has felt at times in the last few months, and more so since the dark nights began at the end of October, as if I were going mad, with so much darkness, not only with regard to the time of year, but also within - reflecting as always the turn of the year. I am relieved to know then in reading the latest update from Karen Bishop, that I am not the only one to experience this, and it is in fact for those on the spiritual path, quite normal. Part of this has of course entailed releasing our own darkness, and I have experienced this in abundance also, especially with regard to work, although it has by no means been restricted to only this area of my life. There are more deaths at this time of year, and in the environment in which I work, I experience this too at first hand.

It was good then to get away for a few days last week during my five days off from work. When those lovely people at Travelodge emailed me to say they had a sale on, it was an offer too good to refuse, and Coran and I booked a room at Amesbury near Stone Henge. We had not been to the stones for a while, and it was good to take the opportunity to walk around. We were blessed with superb weather, the sun peeping out at just the right moment to take some excellent photographs. While we were there we also took the opportunity to go into Salisbury for a potter around the Abbey and of course go on to the nearby stone circle at Avebury. The energies were flying that day with some major clearing going on, and by the time we got back in the late afternoon we were both pretty much shattered. Still it was nice to have a rest from work. Unfortunately the feeling doesn't last for long, and after going back yesterday, the aches and pains have returned with a vengeance.

When I got home there was a letter waiting for me from the Manager asking me to attend an interview for the long awaited full time job tomorrow afternoon at 3pm, so it's fingers crossed that we will be able to work something out with hours to suit both parties. I am open to suggestions but fully expect that I will have to get used to the dreaded 7am starts. Actually this is probably not as bad as it sounds, and I will quickly get used to it and find that I have more energy and am a lot less tired than I was before when working part time. It is amazing how tiring doing nothing can be.

If I had any doubts that I an doing the right thing, they were dispelled this morning when the Manager came into one of the rooms I was cleaning and informed me that she had something for me, and when I opened it would explain all. She handed me an envelope which when opened revealed a lovely thank you note from the family of our lady who passed away on Christmas Day with a Marks and Spencer gift card. They really did not need to do this and it was totally unexpected, but a lovely sign of their appreciation for all our hard work and dedication. It is funny how a simple cleaning job can turn into a vocation and a symbol of how despite the darkness that I spoke of earlier, when you look for it, the world is filled with light and that as in nature, the light is beginning to return. Lets hope that this too is a symbol of what is to come tomorrow, that I get the job and the hours that I need to secure my future and continue to make a difference to the lives of those whom I serve.

In its own time

2011-01-07T11:32:00.005Z

I am in a strange place at the moment, in that space between tick and tock waiting for things to happen - the thing that I am referring to is of course that full time job that became vacant a few weeks ago. I noticed on the rota last night that my colleagues leaving date has been brought forward to next Friday, January 14th, but I am still yet to hear back about my own application. I know that the Manager has a lot to deal with, and it is also true that I have not seen her, but still I want to make the transition as smooth as possible, and make my own position official as soon as possible - it is not just a question of finance after all, but also employee benefits, as pension contributions, holiday pay and all other benefits are paid on a pro rata basis according to contracted hours, taking no heed of any amount of overtime. This seems a little unfair in some ways, since when I looked back through my diary for last year, I was surprised to find that I actually worked an average of 26 hours each week as opposed to my contracted 20, and so lost out quite considerably in this way. Still, it is what it is, and with any luck all of that will soon be behind me.

The transition may not be as difficult then as my Manager may think, for I am already familiar with most aspects of the job - I will have to get used to the routine of working upstairs as well as down, but this will help me, as is it easier to pace yourself upstairs without the constant demands of piles of washing up, plus it will also enable me to get to know the residents upstairs. It has always been the case up until now that I worked downstairs, and so know those who live downstairs very well, while I hardly see many of those who live upstairs - as a result I have got far too close to some of them, and get very upset when they die. Working upstairs as well will help to balance things out, emotionally as well as physically.

I suspect the hardest part will actually be getting used to starting work at 7am - but we are halfway to spring already, with the winter solstice already behind us, and I find myself waking up early in the spring and summer months anyway. I am sure then that given a few weeks, all will be fine. The main thing is that I will finally have two proper days off each week - hallelujah. This week and next week when I have five days off has then felt like a holiday in preparation for what lies ahead. Now that my body has recovered from the worst of the flu bug, I can relax and start to enjoy this time of rest.

On Monday Coran and I are off to Amesbury for the night, for a potter around Stone Henge and Avebury which will I am sure be nice, and then it is only another month until I go to Lundy. I hope the job will be finalised by then as it will be a month by then since my colleague left, which I personally feel is quite long enough. Things will though happen in their own time and I am sure it will all work out for the best.

The Silly Book Awards for 2010

2011-01-04T10:57:00.003Z

For several weeks if not months, I have been poring over a myriad of book titles, both fiction and non ficton to ascertain which if any, are worthy of awards for services rendered to man and of course womankind, by raising awareness of the human condition and the pure stupidity of the world that we live in.

Here I can finally reveal the contenders for 2010.

You Don't Have to be Mad to Work here but it Helps by Luna Tick
How to Cheat the Benefit System by Cash N Hand
A Bankers Dozen by G Reed
The Dummies Guide to Crime by Robin House
The Debt Crisis by Owen A Fortune
Honesty in Politics by Hugh Rinal
Off the Wall by Humphrey Dumpty
How to Live on Part Time Wages by Penny Pincher
The Cook that Came in from the Cold by Iced Pie
A Tail of Two Computers by Anon E Mouse
Katie Price: The Unofficial Biography by E Norma Stits
Snookered by Paul Table
Internet Whaling by I Pod
The Art of Giving by Genny Rouse (not nearly enough copies of this really excellent book were printed)
The Perfect Cuppa by T Bag

And on that note - the overall winner can be revealed (are you ready) as:

Honesty in Politics by Hugh Rinal (they are as we all know, experts at taking the piss).

I don't make New Year Resolutions ...

2011-01-03T22:13:00.004Z

I don't make New Years Resolutions - not because I won't keep them, but because I have nothing that I need to resolve! I am old enough and wise enough to know that we are not here to learn harsh lessons about life and about who we are, but rather, to remember what we long ago forgot - namely that we are aspects of God in all his (or perhaps her) glory.

Life is not about doing this and doing that, but rather, life is about being - being authentic to ourselves. The only thing that matters is to enjoy life, to strive to remember who we are, and to make a difference to the lives of those whom we serve. Most of the time, I like to think that I do a pretty good job of all three, although I have my moments ...

Seriously though, all that stuff that people trot out at this time of year about losing weight, getting fit, reading more books is well and good, but does it make you a better person - no. Reading more books might, especially if one of them happens to be mine ... Seriously, those things that people like to trot out may be important to them and no doubt have great signifiance, but they are not what we are here to do - they are merely the means that some at least use to achieve those ends, they also encourage us to live in the future rather than the present by concentrating the mind on some distant goal that we have to achieve before we can be happy. For me it is all about being happy now, focussing on what I already have rather than what is lacking.

What will the New Year bring ?

2011-01-01T19:45:00.003Z

I saw in the New Year last night huddled up in bed with a hot water bottle and a bad case of flu, drenched in sweat while desperately to sleep. It is safe to say that for me, the year did not get off to a flying start. Flu is always the body's way of gaining attention, of telling you that you need to take time out to refind your balance, and considering all that has gone on since I last wrote on this blog, it is hardly surprising that my body feels the need to attract my attention in this altogether unpleasant way.

Christmas Day at work was marred by the sad but not unexpected death of one of our residents - a lady whom I was particularly fond of. She had been lingering for some time and had said on numerous occasions to not only myself but also other members of staff, that she wanted to die, so I was happy for her in some ways when the end finally came - just before 7am on Christmas Day. We tried not to let it affect the festivities for the rest of the residents and their families, but I would be lying if I said I was completely unaffected. It was hard to see her family - her daughter and son in law, whom I was very fond of and got to know very well, so upset when they came to see her later on in the morning, and there was a hairy moment when one of the other residents almost walked into her room just as the undertakers were taking her away. Not the nicest thing to have to see being wheeled in - a trolley with an empty body bag, but I suppose it goes with the job.

As with last year, Coran and I celebrated Christmas on Boxing Day, and then on Monday my sister came round ... Our relationship has been strained this year to say the least, not aided by her schizophrenia and her seeming need to ring us up at all hours of the day and night demanding that we fix her problems. Things came to a head while I was in Iceland and we were forced to have her number barred. She now has a new mobile and must have somehow got hold of our number again, and started ringing us again - that number too has been added to the barred list.

Her visit on Monday was though a disaster from start to finish - I turned up at the wrong house because she hadn't informed me that she was with her 'boyfriend', and when I finally did get there, had to wait for almost half an hour for her in his lounge in the company of a pile of over flowing ashtrays and a pile of beer cans - nice ! Once I got her home, it was obvious that she had no interest in us whatsoever, admitting openly (and these were her exact words) that she does not care whom she hurts as long as she gets what she needs. Schizophrenia or not, this girl knows exactly what she does and how to manipulate the system and other people to get what she wants. She spent more time sitting on our doorstep smoking than she did in the house, and both Coran and I found the experience really quite draining, so much so that we are re-evaluating whether we really want her in our lives at all. Coran had a long chat with her care worker after Christmas, but we are still no closer to finding a resolution.

And then the bombshell - on my return to work I discovered that finally one of the full time housekeepers is leaving - but she gave her notice in on December 17th and no one had told me ! My pain body went into overdrive imagining all sorts of scenarios and giving voice to them too - words that later came back to haunt me. I left the Manager a note asking if we could speak about it when we next saw each other and was horrified to discover that those words had been repeated back to her, which understandably made her very upset. Well, this started triggering all those feelings of rejection and isolation from my working past, and all the emotions came rushing right to the surface, raw and out there for everyone to see - and everyone did see them. It was not a pretty sight, but my application has now gone in, so for the moment, I have to wait.

When I saw the girl who is leaving on Friday, she informed me that she had asked the Manager outright whether she should let me know, but was told not to, as I would see it for myself on the rota soon enough. So much then for not deliberately hiding things from me and wanting to follow protocol, not that she would ever admit to that. The whole situation was as ever designed to get me to look once again at all that stuff which I thought was long forgotten, but with the events of Monday with my sister and the death on Christmas Day, has resulted in this severe form of overload and the need to rest and recharge my batteries.

So, today when I should been at work, most of the day was spent in bed, mulling over these various things in my mind. I wonder what the New Year will bring - the old one was not without its challenges and I suspect that 2011 will bring many more of the same, but the difference that this full time job will make and not just in terms of finances, is immeasurable. To many my reaction must have seemed over the top, but they do not understand how important this is to me and how demoralising it is for those who work part time but want to work full time. There are only so many books, television shows and computer games you can play before you start to get bored, but all of that will soon be at an end. The year may not have started on a high note, but my star is about to start rising high into the sky, and once it is up there, who knows what the year will bring.

The real meaning of Christmas

2010-12-22T11:12:00.004Z

As this year comes to an end, one begins to reflect on what has passed during the previous twelve months and analyse, if that is the right word, what it means and what we have learnt from our experiences. When I look back on my year, it has been a year of great challenges but also great joy. The challenges have come as always, predominantly from the ego, and from listening to the gossip of others - certain people whom I work with are definately more negative than others, and I have found myself at times joining in the banter in an effort to bond and feel part of the team. The universe has conpired as always to keep away from those who seek whether they know it or not, to distract me from my path by changing their hours so that I rarely see them, at the same time it has brought me into closer contact with those who challenge in a different way, by reflecting back to me those things that I need to be aware of inside myself so that I can become more conscious of who I am and what I need to work on.

For me this has been a year of both challenges and surprises - and one of tremendous growth. It has seemed at times as if I were plodding laboriously uphill through treacle, so dense has been the energy, and there have been periods of almost complete exhaustion. The feeling around Christmas is though different this year - last year I felt upset and angry that I had just one day off while others in less important (perhaps not the right word to use) jobs than my own, had two weeks off with which to do as they pleased. But, one thing I have learnt and recognised this year is that my path is to serve, and so this year is does not feel like a chore, but an honour and a privilige to spend time with those who in many ways are more my family than my real one, for I spend more time with them than with those to whom I am connected by blood. In the end though, we are all one big family anyway regardless of skin colour, blood, or any of that, as science has now shown.

If there is a message re Christmas that I would like to pass on, it has to be the words of author Neale Donald Walsh. I have my Canadian friend Michele Doucet to thank for passing these words on to me. Michele who is also a writer, reminds me in many ways of myself when I was new to the writing scene and full of hope and aspirations.

What Neale has to say is this:

“The Christmas celebration itself has gotten so big, so almost out of hand, that it seems that a lot of different people have a lot of different ideas about what it's all about. It's about the birth of the savior, for sure, but only if the savior is born again right now. We have been told that there was a savior born in a manger many, many years ago. But here is something that we have not often been told - there has been a savior born every night and every day and every minute somewhere on this planet, from the beginning. What if each of us was intended to be a savior? What if we all were? What if every time someone is born, a savior is born? The only question then would be, whether we know it or not”.

Neale goes further to say that ... “There is something very special we are celebrating during the days and weeks ahead, and it feels to me that it's larger than any one person or any one religion or any one spiritual doctrine. There's a feeling that millions of people experience at this time of year - they experience it in common and they experience it together. I'm sorry if this sounds naïve, or even sappy, but I think that feeling can be put into one word - LOVE. If Love really is what we are celebrating here, it will not matter what kind of package it comes in, what kind of dogma it's wrapped in, or what kind of doctrine it's flavored with. It would only matter whether it was real and true, and present here and now - in our lives and in our world. And there is one way to guarantee that it is ... by putting it there. It is, in the end, up to us.

If we want humanity to receive the true gift of Christmas, and if we want to have it last the whole year through, we have to agree to become, each of us in our own way, the savior. Nothing that is going on during this special time will have any meaning until I give it meaning in my own life, and in the lives of others. All of us do, and if we will give ourselves permission to see it that way, and to see ourselves that way - as the person making the choice, as the person modeling the choice, as the person sharing the choice - we can save the day for humanity. The savior can be born again when we allow Love Unconditional to be born again in our hearts.

If you think of someone with love right now, as you are reading this, light a candle in your heart. Whether the person you are thinking of is in the body or has left their earthly body, it will not matter. He or she will feel it. And this is how it begins. Through simple acts such as this. I promise you. The love for another that you ignite in your heart is ignited in the heart of the other. The light may be dim at first, but it will never go out. It cannot, as long as you keep placing it there. That was the message of the man whose birth I celebrate at Christmas. So here's the gift you can give this season. Help me be that. And, for that matter, help everyone whose life you touch. Do it by loving them, simply, plainly, openly, without condition. Return them to themselves. Let's give it to each other, and to all people everywhere. Then, the savior is born .... in us. And then we can bring, we can truly bring, Joy to the World”.

And that sums up more than anything the reason we are all here, to be true to ourselves and in so doing be an example to all those whom we come into contact with by radiating that love that we feel for ourselves out into the world, and letting our own light shine. As Marianne Williamson also said, "It is our light, not our darkness that we are most afraid of". That is why I choose not to make New Year Resolutions, but simply to state that my goals for the year ahead are to continue to grow both spiritually and emotionally and to make a difference to the lives of those whom I serve. Nothing else matters and in the final analysis it is the reason we are all here - to remember who and what we are by serving and interacting with others.

A week of rest

2010-11-26T11:02:00.002Z

Despite the fact that I have had the past five days off from work, I have not made the time at all to sit down and write. Where you may ask, has the time gone?

Actually when I say that I have not made the time to sit down and write, this is not really true, for most of the time, up until Wednesday at least, was spent sorting out the Christmas edition of the village newsletter thatn I edit. It was a good job I had this week off, as otherwise I seriously doubt that it would have got done. There seemed to be such a lot that I had to do this month - chasing news regarding the proposed Olympic Cycling route that rumour has it will be running through our village (a decision will be made by the end of the year I am told), sourcing Christmas jokes and riddles, typing up recipes, writing obituaries (we had three this month), the list goes on. I finally though got it done and printed it out yesterday morning, and the printer duly picked it up - he is doutbless printing it out ready for distribution as I type.

It has been nice though to have these few days, and not to have to worry about going to work each evening - people don't realise how even those two hours cut into the rest of the day, as you are thinking about it all day long and mentally running through your mind how much time you have before you have to leave. The weather may have been cold and frosty (I am not looking forward to scraping the car tomorrow when I do go back to work), but I have taken advantage of the time to go and do all those things that are normally quite difficult when you have to work. On Monday night we went to see the new Harry Potter film, and this afternoon I was going to s see The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest. Tuesday was spent shopping in Guildford, where I spent far too much in Lush and Waterstones, and where I also had a delicious lunch in The Beano vegetarian restaurant at Guildford Institute. It made a nice and very welcome change from the usual Pizza Hut salad.

The rest of the week has been spent not doing much at all - most of yesterday was spent wrapped in various layers reading - shame ! I have started to read The Passage by Justin Cronin, which I have had my eye on for a while now, and very good it is too - it is one of those books that you don't want to put down, so I may have to pck it up again very soon!

I seem to have read a bit less than usual this year, but looking back on the list of books that I have read (mostly crime fiction), there have been some very good ones from different countries - the United States, The United Kingdom (of course), Spain, Sweden, Iceland, India and Rwanda. I do enjoy reading books set overseas, as I find it teaches you such a lot about different places and cultures. I used to be a prolific traveller but nowadays due to budget constraints I am more of an armchair traveller.

Of course there was the trip to Iceland earlier in the year, and I do plan to go back (maybe in the winter next time to see the northern lights), and Cornwall at the end of September, but I miss the trips to Lundy that I used to make. I decided at the end of last month that it was time to go back, and so have booked a week in February, which I am thoroughly looking to. It will be nice to renew acquaintances with the island and the cottage that I love so much and see what changes have taken place in the last 18 months (has it really been that long), but it will also be interesting to see how I feel and whether it feels any different.

Two meetings, two deaths and a resolution

2010-11-03T14:28:00.005Z

My pain body, that emanation of fear, anger and despair has been rearing its ugly head again this week, no doubt exacerbated by the fact that on Friday I saw my sister for the first time in over a year. Last Monday Coran and I had a meeting with her care worker at the local Police station to discuss my sister and her needs and whether it may be possible for us to forge a relationship with her again. Both of them warned us that she has not been in a good space, but still we were shocked at what we found when we finally saw her on Friday. Her appearance was dishevelled to say the least and her speech incoherent with her mind clearly darting all over the place, the conversation difficult to follow or understand.

We had hoped to be able to talk her properly and lay down some boundaries, setting out why we took the action that we did in blocking her phone numbers after she bombarded us with almost 120 nuisance and very abusive phone calls in little more than 2 months. However, at the end of the meeting when she finally did ask us that question and I began to give her an answer, explaining in the best way that I could, she just upped and left the room. The truth is just too difficult for her to bear, and running away is for her the easiest option. Anything but face up to the truth and admit that she is at least partly responsible.

We had such high hopes though for that meeting and really felt that it could be a turning point, where we could begin to be honest with each other, but sadly it seems that this is not about to happen any time soon. The upshot of it all is that we arranged to telephone her at 4pm the following day, after I was home from work, and work towards her visiting us some time after the Christmas holidays. The first phone call went reasonably well all things considered, but there is still an awfully long way to go. Whether she is ready or not to make that journey is as always open to her.

This was difficult enough by itself, but in the last week we have also had 2 deaths at work. The first one was our oldest resident, a lady aged 103 (she would have been 104 in January). She had been in the home for around 5 1/2 years but rarely left her room, so I didn't get to know her well, unlike the other lady, who was considerably younger at just one week short of 57.

This was a particularly sad case and one that affected each one of us deeply, but in different ways. She was bought into the home in June, suffering from a brain tumour and having been given at that point just three months to live. Perhaps she affected us so much because her illness was so visible, as you could not help but notice her bald head and the scars across her cranium.

She appeared to be dealing with her illness well, but every so often I would hear stories from the staff as to how they had found her crying, and sometimes she would sit in her room shouting "my tumour, my tumour". It was heartbreaking to hear as she was such a beautiful soul. It is often these people though that are taken from the earth first while those whose behaviour is less than exemplary go on forever (not that I am suggesting this with our 103 year old).

I remember how she used to sit in the dining room during those first 2 months chatting away to the other residents and philosophising on all manner of different things. Some of the conversations I was able to join in with, which I like to think she appreciated.

About 2 weeks before she died, I went up to her room just to see how she was and found her lying in bed, her eyes barely open. She was aware of my presence and opened her eyes and took my hand as she began to tell me that it was exactly one year to the day that she had been told the terrible news that there was nothing more the Doctors could do for her and she had at the most one year to live. How she asked, would you deal with such a thing? I looked at her, squeezed her hand and replied that the only thing you could do would be to live each day as it came and to regard each day that you lived as a blessing. That she replied was exactly what she had set out to do, and so she had.

We knew that the end was coming when she stopped eating and drinking. I went home that same day (the night that the clocks changed) and went to bed early as I was tired. I found myself thinking about her deeply as I drifted off to sleep and pictured her in my minds eye, happy and well and smiling, surrounded by light and free from pain. I found myself having a conversation with her in my mind and sensed that there was some resistance to her moving on and taking that next step into the light, and so began to reassure her that it was safe to let go. The following day I went to work and was told that she has passed over at the exact time that I experienced this. You can imagine how I felt, sad, but blessed at the same time - blessed and honoured that like the 99 year old resident who shared her last moments with me last Christmas in a similar way, she had felt able to do the same.

With all of this going on plus the added financial pressure of having several large bills for new glasses and so on to deal with, my pain body at the beginning of this week really did have a field day. When I learned that one of my colleagues was on holiday at the same time that I had requested and found that my own holiday request form had not been noticed or actioned, I decided to put my own holiday back by a week to take advantage of the overtime. All I was offered though was one split shift amounting to an extra 6 hours, while in the meantime one of the full timers was rostered to work 12 days in a row. I was really angry and fed up at this, especially as there was no acknowledgement of the fact that I had changed my plans to help them out, and so arranged to go into work and discuss it with my Manager in what started as a rather heated exchange.

We eventually reached an understanding and she acknowledged that part of the problem has been that the Director has not made it clear as to what the budget is and how many extra hours she has to play with. She was due to meet with him today and will send a memo out to all the staff with her findings. In the meantime, she has been able to offer me an extra long day on Tuesday 16th, which I have agreed to do. With exams coming up during the first 2 weeks of December and more in January/February the pressure will lighten somewhat and I will have to find a way to manage.

All of this though has left me utterly emotionally drained and feeling like I have been through a washing machine (on the high speed spin cycle). I don't know why or how I manage to work myself up into this state, but now after the event, I look back on it and wonder what it was all about. In the end you can analyse to your hearts content, but it doesn't change the situation, what was said and how you felt. What matters is to find a resolution, to talk about your feelings and to move on.

Getting what you want

2010-10-13T10:50:00.003+01:00

Last night I felt so fed up when I got to work that I wasn't sure who I was more mad with - myself or the girl who told me about my other colleagues job offer, for it turns out that in doing so she has built my hopes up over something that may not even happen. I have since learned that the job in question is not a proper job at all, but an offer of bank staff, which can and often does mean anything. In theory it can mean no guarantee of work at all, but in practise it may turn out to be full time hours as many of our own bank staff work more or less full time. I cannot in all honesty say what I would do in such a situation, probably take the job and do it for extra money to test the water and see if I liked it first, and from what I understand this is what she plans to do.

So, in one fell swoop all my dreams have once again come crashing down. I don't why I continually do this - listening to gossip and rumours, for that is what it is (the girl who told me based her information on a conversation that she had overheard and had no business in telling me or anyone else for that matter) and base all my hopes and dreams around something that is not even tangible. I seem to do this time and time again and never seem to learn that you cannot believe what you hear unless it comes straight from the horses mouth.

Of course there is no one at work that I can share this with, for I never see the girl concerned (the one who has been offered the job). I can imagine how displeased she must be to know that her colleague whom she thought that she could trust would blab her personal and private information to others.

I don't know why she felt the need to do this anyway - in a strange sort of way maybe it was some kind of bonding, for we haven't always got on that well. In contrast I get on with the other housekeepers very well, and can speak to them about virtually everything. If I had the oppotrtunity I would speak the girl to whom the job was offered right now, as I really do need to speak to someone, but since the housekeepers hours were changed, I no longer get to see her, for she does not work weekends. In the meantime, the Head Housekeeper is on holiday, so I will not get to see her either for at least another ten days, or whenever her next weekend in is.

I really am though thoroughly fed up. It feels like I am trapped in this situation - all I do is sit around at home waiting to go to work with nothing to fill my days except an endless round of farming and daytime television with the occasional cup of tea. At least I had some respite when I used to go to the gym, but we had to cancel our membership two months ago as we could no longer afford to keep it going. I do not want to be sitting around the house for weeks on end with hardly any work and then rushed off my feet the next, constantly at their beck and call every time they need extra hours covered.

It seems to me very unequal but I am not sure what I can do, I did after all make the decision to stay and why was that? It was because of the people and because deep down inside I do love this job and want to stay because it makes such a difference - to me as a person and to those whom I serve, and I see this as a service in more ways than one, for the residents too are serving me in terms of what I get back from them. It is not that I am unhappy with the rate of pay that I do get when I am there, more that there are just enough hours being offered. That is why this seemed like such a good opportunity that was heaven sent - I have been putting out to the universe for months that I wanted a solution to be found that would enable me to stay and be better compensated for the work that I do, and really thought that this was it. It is only natural then to be disappointed when I find that this is not the case.

Oh I know there are others that are far worse off than I am and all of that, and I also know that I have a lot to be grateful for, and I do somehow manage to always keep ticking over, but I want a bit more than that. I do not want to have just enough to live on, I want to have a bit left over that I can save and have money in reserve for those unseen things - items that need to be replaced, luxuries and treats and to save for my own future. I am choosing then the wrong word, for I do not want to do this, I need to do this. The universe obviously has other ideas, but I do not have the slightest idea why or what they might be.

My horoscope for October by Sarah Jane Grace indicates that there may be more to this than meets the eye, but it is difficult right now to see it in this positive light. She says that I would be wise to expect the unexpected, and that is certainly what has happened with this situation, for I didn't see any of this coming. Rather than feeling let down and left in the lurch, as I undoubtedly do, I need to see it as yet another opportunity to stand on my own feet, and prove to myself and others than I am in control and that I have the resources to overcome this, and I know that I do, for as always it is all in the mind. I am always in control of everything I think, do and say even if I like to think otherwise (and most of the time I do).

There are several ways to look at this - maybe she should not have done what she did and told me about this job offer, but it has happened and I need to deal with it. Feeling disillusioned and sorry for myself really solves nothing, for I am the only one who suffers and truly feels the pain. The pain though will pass as it always does and something beautiful may still come from all of this. Maybe she will decide to cut her hours at work and do both jobs part time, maybe she will end up with so much work from the other place that in a few months time she does resign, or maybe nothing will change at all, and I am the one who needs to change. I very much suspect the latter, for what I need to change most of all is my mind, to move out of fear mode and back into the present moment. It will all come out in the wash, and it while it may not be the outcome I would want, it will always be the one that I need.

Pimpled, single and seedy - who me ? !

2010-10-12T11:44:00.003+01:00

The BBC website, which is undoubtedly one of Britain's best known institutions, and arguably exports, has almost 100 blogs attached to it whose readers are invited to comment on a range of different topics. However, Andrew Marr (former political editor of BBC News) has dismissed most of these bloggers as "inadequate, pimpled and single", and so-called citizen journalism as the "spewings and rantings of very drunk people late at night". He goes on to say that "Most citizen journalism strikes me as nothing to do with journalism at all. A lot of bloggers seem to be socially inadequate, pimpled, single, slightly seedy, bald, cauliflower-nosed young men sitting in their mother's basements and ranting. They are very angry people."

It seems to me from my own observations, that he is talking about social networking sites such as Facebook and Twitter more than real bloggers. There I see all sorts of comments, some obviously made by drunks, some yes by angry people, who in the heat of moment lose all social graces and communication skills (assuming they had any to begin with). Andrew is right when he says that people say stupid things online because it is anonymous, things that they often wouldn't dream of saying if they were face to face. Face to face communication though sadly in modern Britain, no longer seems to exist. Instead of meeting up to talk in person, or even talking over the phone, people share important news by text or email, where the words are all too easy to misconstrue. I have had first hand experience of this myself, when I used to moderate and at one time administrate, internet based forums.

This type of communication, to my mind at least is not communication at all. While it may be true that some bloggers are angry, late night uneducated drunks letting off steam,the vast majority are decent uright citizens simply voicing their concerns. Will blogging ever replace professional journalism? No, nothing can ever take the place of in depth news analysis which only a trained journalist can write, but when it comes to other issues, celebrity gossip, the insiders view of particular industries, gardening and everyday issues that are part of all our lives, then yes, blogging can be and often is, just as valid a means, if not more valid, of obtaining information, and I mean real information.

Self publishing, which I am of course an expert on, is a case in point. If you wish to obtain information on this, which source do you feel would be more reliable, a book written by a professional journalist who had not actually tried this method, or a blog written by someone who had? I know which I would prefer and find far more authentic, and I think the majority of other self publishers would agree with me. The same could be said of anything that you wanted to find out more about - which stereo or mobile phone to buy, which hotel to stay at, blogs written by those who have tried these things for themselves are infinitely more reliable and better informed than articles written by journalists who are given these things for free and simply asked by the manufacturer to write a review.

Is Andrew then right to attack bloggers in the way that he does or does he need to open his ears and eyes a little more to the real world - I suspect a bit of both. Yes there are some angry people out there (and most may well have good reason to feel angry), but this does not excuse their behaviour. On the other hand, there are also some very good blogs written by some very good and responsible bloggers. If he doesn't like a blog and the comments that it attracts, then he can always like everyone else, hit the escape key (or maybe the beep should just have better filters so that comments such as these don't appear inthe first place)!

The universe does listen after all

2010-10-09T19:48:00.004+01:00

After weeks if not months of agonising over what do with my job, and having finally made the decision to stay and put out to the universe that a solution needed to be found that would enable me to stay, it seems like my request may at last have been heard. While I was cleaning the laundry room earlier this morning, my colleague came in and informed me that another of the housekeepers, has obtained another job. I know she has been looking for a while, as I discussed it with her, and what she wanted to do, and now it seems that like me she has also made a decision, the opposite of mine, in that she needs to go.

This is good for me, since it will now pave the way for me to get the hours and the long term security that I need. Of course I cannot jump the gun and speak to the boss until I have confirmed this with the girl concerned, for the information was after all second hand. Unfortunately I will have to wait a while for that, since as of last week, the full time housekeepers have been changed so that I no longer see her. I used to see her each week when she did her long day, but long days are now not so long, so she finishes at 4.30pm half an hour before I come in. Something tells me however that the Care Home Manager will speak to me about this anyway though, as soon as things are confirmed and she has handed in her notice. Again this may not be for a while, since her new employer will need to obtain CRB clearance, which can take some time. It seems though that all being well, I will be a full time employee by Christmas.

What a huge relief this will be in so many ways - I will no longer have that constant worry about finances and being able to afford things, and will once again be able to save. Neither will be running around going from job to job, working for a few hours at a time doing washing up for minimum wage just to earn a few extra pounds. There will be no more split shifts either of sitting on my bum in the staff room for 3 hours as the Manager in her own words "cannot justify paying me for those three hours in between". I won't be sitting around bored at home anymore either, with nothing to do but play Farmville, yes this make a really big difference to my life, in many very positive ways. All of this goes to show that good things do indeed come to those who wait, and the universe does indeed listen as well.

Anyone want to buy a book?

2010-10-08T10:34:00.003+01:00

Today I am going to write about something that I have not written about for some time - my experiences as a self published author, and the problems associated with book promotion. I have not actively promoted my own work, Genesis of Man, for over a year now, in fact probably nearer two years, since after my return to work in retail in November 2008, it became more and more difficult to do so. I found out the hard way that the two things for the most part at least, are just not compatible. For those who work in the service sector, as I did and still do, it is well nigh impossible to concentrate on both your paid job and your book, as at the very time that you should be at home promoting your work, by writing press releases, phoning book shops, arranging book fairs, talks and signings etc, you are at work promoting other peoples wares. Writing, not to mention promoting a book, takes time and costs money. How are you to this on the ever dwindling royalties that authors now earn? The majority of authors, unless that are married to or in a relationship with someone famous, or have other independent means, cannot do this and have to find some other means of making money, which inevitably takes them away from what they love. It is a struggle and a dilemma that authors the world over have to face, and one that spelt the death knell on my burgeoning career before it had even got off the ground.

The thing that has prompted me to write about this today is another anomaly within the writing world that I found incredibly frustrating during the two to three years that I was promoting my work, and which has re-surfaced back into my consciousness again this week, prompted by a link to a free review site for print on demand works which I was notified of my another blogger whose site I used to read on a regular basis. This anomaly is the fact that there are far more resources (and far more of them are free) for fiction writers than there are non fiction.

Think about this for a moment if you will - what are the typical resources that writers use to perfect their craft and promote their wares - writing courses, networking via the Internet (blogs, peer review sites, forums and so on), radio, television and the press. Now some (in fact most in my experience) would say that non fiction is easier to market because the market is more clearly defined, and in many cases this may well be true, but they are assuming that the work in question can be defined in the first place. When that work (as was and is the case with mine) falls into three or even four categories then what do you do? It as my friend described the promotion of fiction, like throwing paint at a wall.

Actually though I disagree with his observation and his views that promoting non fiction is easier. In my experience it is in fact the opposite. It is a fact that the majority of resources that are open and available to fiction writers are closed to those who write non fiction. Peer review sites for example - there is to the best of my knowledge just one that accepts non fiction and even then without a separate Editor, blog sites - again most state fiction only, writing magazines are full of articles on how to write love scenes, how to write thrillers, write for the stage blah, blah, blah, but try finding an article on how to carry out academic research and gain access to the British Library archives or some such and it is nowhere to be found. The closest I have ever come to a writing course for non fiction writers was one in journalism, which is hardly the same thing (although I am an amateur journalist too as Editor of my village newsletter, so the course was useful from that point of view).

It all though leaves a very sour taste in the mouth and makes you think why? And more to the point what is the point, because I cannot see one. Even with forums it is the same, and I find doors slamming shut in my face - one in particular that I joined a few years ago, is a case in point. It is supposed to be a site for book lovers, but the non fiction forum is rarely used at all. When I contacted the owner about getting my book reviewed, I was told "We will get back to you". Two years later I am still waiting, and in the meantime, fiction writers who joined five minutes ago have their work reviewed and heavily promoted by free. It is just not fair.

I suppose though the point I am trying to make is that it is precisely the fact that there are more resources and more avenues for the fiction writer to try that makes it easier to promote. With non fiction, once you have exhausted all the avenues that are open to you (contacting magazines, specialist websites and forums etc, the press and so on) and they have done their piece or more likely not bothered to get back to you, what do you do then?

The fiction writer however has endless opportunities to play with, new sites and new avenues are constantly springing up to cater to their needs and help them with whatever it is they need, and all this despite the fact that at least two thirds of the books published in the UK are not fiction at all! Surely it should be the other way around and the the resources should be directed at us, but no, not a bit of it. Oh well, I guess I can't change people's attitudes, so maybe I should start a site of my own to try and address these issues. The trouble is I am too busy earning a living. Anyone want to buy a book ? !

Back from Cornwall

2010-10-04T10:44:00.003+01:00

On Friday the first day of October, the south of England received around a quarter of its usually monthly rainfall, and this was the day that I chose for driving back from Devon - as it turned out, not a wise move, as it took 8 /12 hours against the usual 5. I thought I was never going to get home. As soon as I thought I was getting somewhere, the traffic seemed to slow again, and by the time I finally got in, I was tired, miserable and thoroughly fed up.

Still, it was worth it. The weather up until the day before had been fantastic. In fact it is hard to believe now that just last Wednesday I was sunbathing at Bedruthan Steps, one of the more stunning North Cornish beaches that I was lucky enough to be able to visit.

To try and keep costs down, I stayed at youth hostels. There are plenty in this part of the country to choose from, and the three I chose were Boswinger, which is in the south near St Austell, Tintagel and Westward Ho! which is just across the county border in Devon.

The drive out was long and tiring, along for me, an unfamiliar route, but now I have done it once, I will remember the way for next time. I usually find that I only have to go a place once in order to get my bearings, and remember my way around sometimes years after that initial visit. Boswinger is a small village near Goran Haven in the south of Cornwall, not far from the Lost Gardens of Heligan, which is of course the main reason I chose to stay there. Sunday then was spend exploring the different routes around the garden, and eating a delicious lunch of baked potato brushed with olive oil, salt and cracked black pepper with Cornish Yard (a Brie type cheese made with nettles), coleslaw and salad, all of which (apart from the cheese) was grown on site. When I returned to the hostel later on that day, I drove to nearby Hemmick beach, which is less than a kilometer from the hostel along a very narrow and very steep road. It was a a beautiful beach, but on the way back I met two cars trying to go the other way. Reversing round all those bends to the nearest passing place on a road barely wide enough for one car proved hairy to say the least, and is not something I would do again - I have a mental note to walk to the beach next time.

Monday was spent driving across Bodmin Moor via Golitha Falls and the village of Minions, which is the highest point on the Moor and close to the Hurlers Stone Circle and various other ancient artefacts. I had lunch in a lovely little tea room in the village and went back to the car to read before continuing the journey on to Tintagel. It was a lovely day, the scenery was stunning and I was in no hurry to get the hostel, which didn't open until 5pm anyway.

The directions said that it was perched on the cliffs near the south west coastal footpath at the end of a very rough track, and they weren't kidding. The track turned out to be a path strewn with rocks and gravel, and I found myself wishing for the first time, that I had a four wheel drive. I managed though, navigating the hairpin bends to arrive at the most beautiful location imaginable. I knew I was going to have an amazing few days and I wasn't wrong.

The weather was variable throughout my stay in Tintagel, but I managed to see all the sites - King Arthur's Castle, The Old Post Office and of course the various shops around the High Street. On one wet and windy lunch time, I treated myself to a delicious plate of scampi and chips. I then drove into Port Isaac, where the television series Doc Martin is filmed, in the company of an Australian lady named Barbara and bought some geranium flavoured Turkish Delight and a CD by local group, Fisherman's Friend.

The following day I went to Bedruthan Steps, around a hour and a half's drive from Tintagel, and not far from Newquay. There are probably quicker ways to get there but I was not confident at finding my way through all the small villages and so chose to stick to the main roads going, through Padstow. It was an amazing day and so warm - I removed the legs form my convertible trousers and walked up the beach for around an hour, stopping every now and then to take pictures of the surf and the huge boulders littering the beach, and supposedly used as stepping stones to the sea by the giant Bedruthan, hence the beach's name. It really was a beautiful day and probably the highlight of this trip.

Unfortunately it was over all too soon, as the following day I headed off out of Cornwall and back towards North Devon, en route for home. The last night was spent in the very cosy and by youth hostel standards, luxurious hostel at Westward Ho! I was the only guest and so had the place to myself - what luxury and how nice to was to sit in the conservatory watching television while listening to the rain, and to go upstairs afterwards for a long hot soak in the bath (the only hostel I have ever stayed at that actually has one). The following day it was back in the car for that long drive home.

It was a tiring week in some ways, with lots of driving (around 800 miles) but one that as ever stretched the boundaries and blew away the cobwebs of the preceding weeks. Of course now I am home, things continue pretty much as before - thankfully none of the residents at work died during my absence, but it is coming up to that time of year, so you do start to wonder who might be next. I would rather not think about it, but the thought is there.

My next time off now will be in November, this time just for five days, and then again in January, before I hopefully head off back to Lundy at the end of February. I need the wide open spaces and the solitude and sense of familiarity that only the island can bring. At the moment the cottage is free from Valentines Day onwards towards the end of March, so Is shall probably book as soon as the next credit card statement is processed, around 15th.

Early to bed, early to rise

2010-09-22T21:48:00.002+01:00

When we got to the hospital on Monday after my last post, we were told that could do the scan on Coran's lungs there and then while we were there, so off we trotted and duly waited and waited for the results, which eventually came back clear. What a sense of relief that was. We were asked however to return the following day for an ultrasound scan on his left leg, which as it happens also turned out clear. So, all as they say, ended well.

What a difficult and traumatic few days it was though for both of us, not just because of the uncertainty of it all, but also because of the implications it may have had, and may still have, for Coran's hormone treatment. If the hormones that he takes have been responsible for this scare, then it does throw up all sorts of doubts as to whether he should continue to take them, and if it is really worth the risk. This is a decision that only he can make, in consultation with his Doctor at the gender clinic and his own GP. I am happy with whatever he decides, as long as he is happy and makes that choice for himself based on up to date information and honest, genuine advice as to the likelihood of this recurring. The risks do increase as you get older, but then again, so do most risks. You cannot go through life without taking some risks, but you have to weigh things up carefully and make an informed decision based on the information you have to hand.

So, things are gradually getting back to normal (whatever normal is) for both of us - I was back at work last night and again tonight to try and make up some of the hours I lost. I have a long day tomorrow of 11 hours and then 6 hours on Friday. I would normally work again in the evening, but have arranged for the evening off, as I have so much to do before I go to Cornwall on Saturday - food shopping, packing, collecting my new glasses and of course, completing the village newsletter, the prit deadline for which is Friday. I have to get that done before I go away, as otherwise it will be a week late, which I don't think the villagers would appreciate, not to mention our printer. For the moment though, it is off to bed. I have an early start tomorrow and need my beauty sleep.

It had better be worth it!

2010-09-20T11:55:00.003+01:00

This morning we have been sitting and waiting for what seems like eternity for that phone to ring, for someone to put us out of our misery and offer us an appointment at the hospital for the scan that Coran needs to confirm whether or not he has that clot. While we wait everything else also hangs in the balance - whether he can continue to take the female hormones that he has been on for the past 2 1/2 years to femininise the body and balance his emotions and feelings, whether I can go to Cornwall at the weekend, or for that matter, even whether I can go to work tonight. I hate this waiting around and this not knowing, yet I also realise that we are not the only ones, and someone (in fact lots of poeple) somewhere else is also playing that same, the game of waiting and not knowing, and the game of uncertainty.

The trouble is of course, for those affected by this, it is no game, but very serious indeed. This is their lives and our lives. I spoke to one of the residents at work yesterday about what had happened, and she helped to put things in a little more perspective, as she has the exact same condition. She is the youngest resident in the home at just 56 and has a category 2 brain tumour and colonostomy, and as it turns out a blood clot in her leg for which she also has daily injections. This in many ways, despite her own problems, put her in a ideal position to offer the solace that I needed. I am ashamed to say that she brought tears to my eyes, as I realised just how much this has and continues to affect both of us. It is like I say the not knowing and all the waiting around.

Sure we joke about it with friends, but inside, it is a very different matter, both of are very fearful as to what it might mean and how it may affect our lives. This may sound melodramatic, but it is no small thing to be given news such as this. I know it is treatable, but the treatment is intrusive and affects both of us our lives. We have enough stress at the moment, with all the changes that are going on, both emotionally and energetically, and don't need anymore.

I have the added stress at the moment of preparing the October edition of the newsletter for which I have just realised I have no centrespread. This afternoon then I should sit down and write something - probably about my recent trip to Iceland in the absense of anything else, but somehow I do not have the heart. I think I would much rather switch on my phone and go and sit in the sun, but instead we have to the hospital for yet another injection. Perhaps we can go for that cuppa on the way back before I have to head on out again for work.

All I can say is that it bloody well better be worth it, or otherwise when I pass over God will be getting an alimighty kick up the backside!

What a clot - not the best weekend

2010-09-19T20:11:00.004+01:00

When I got home from work on Friday evening, with a bag of chips, I was greeted by a rather concerned Coran complaining of pain and swelling in his left calf and requesting that I take him to hospital to have it checked out. So I rather hastily gobbled down my chips and off we went, both of us wondering what it could be about.

Luckily it wasn't too busy when we got there and we were seen pretty much straight away. It was while Coran spoke to the triage nurse that I realised just how serious things might be, for what he hadn't told me was the fact that for the past two days he had been experiencing what he termed as a 'stitch' in his shoulder muscle and heart palpitations, both of which even with my limited knowledge I knew could be indicators of something far more serious.

Anyway, the nurse evidently agreed, for he ushered us inside where we were seen by an array of Doctors and Nurses. Coran had to endure an ECG, a chest Xray and no less than 4 different blood tests, for which we waited an eternity for results. When they finally came back all was normal except for one blood test which indicated that he may have a blood clot on the lung.

Well, I must admit that this knocked me for six. The thing with Coran is that although he is very much in tune with his body and knows instinctively when something is wrong, very often these are stress reactions. He does have an awful lot of fears about medical procedures in general, and in particular needles and the slightest ache tends to give rise to these fears and make them worse, exaggerating his symptoms. Both of us then thought that this was one of those reactions. When we were told otherwise if felt surreal as if it wasn't happening to us but to someone else.

It seemed to be a mirror of what happened almost exactly two years ago on the night that we went to see Stevie Wonder at the O2 and when we spent the night in Mayday Hospital, Croydon, in that 2 armed Police Officers came in as escorts to a young girl who had taken a drugs overdose. We had to sit and listen through closed curtains while the nurse pumped his girls stomach, and it was not a nice thing to hear. At least this time there were no refugees muttering to themselves in foreign tongues (understand that I am not being racist here, but when you are ill this is not what you want or need to experience).

We were finally discharged just before 1am, with Coran having been given (in the stomach) an injection of blood thinning drugs. We were told that he would have to have these daily until the diagnosis was confirmed following a scan which will hopefully be tomorrow. The department that does these is not open at the weekends and so we will have to wait for them to call us with an appointment tomorrow.

This has really knocked for me six and left me feeling really very low, emotional and tearful. It has brought into sharp focus just how much I do love him and take him for granted as I suppose we all do with our partners. Needless to say I didn't make it to work on Saturday. I made it in today though, despite the tiredness, only to find that I was the only housekeeper on duty (well I suppose Sue was the only one in yesterday due to Corans illness). Somehow though I managed and got most of the work done in time for Coran to meet me (having been given a lift by our neighbour) to go to the hospital, which isn't far from where I work for his injection. They did say that he could do them himself if he wanted, but not surprisingly he didn't feel able to, and I can't say I blame him. We both just hope and pray that he doesn't have a clot and this is a false alarm, but if it does prove to be true, well we will have to cope with it the best we can.

All in all then not the best weekend.

Making sense of the universe

2010-09-09T21:24:00.004+01:00

It has been nearly a month since I last wrote on this blog, not because there has been nothing to write about, but because for some reason, I have not felt the need. This is strange since in many ways, there has been a lot going on. The tiredness that Coran and I feel seems to be intensifying of late, as with so many that I know -everyone seems to be experiencing this to some degree regardless of whether they are on the path or not. The difference is that at least we have some tools with which to deal with it, and understand a little of what is going on. Those who lack this understanding are left floundering with no sense of direction or understanding at all. The frustrations that they feel are directed outwards to the world at large, to their interactions with others, both verbal and otherwise, and also in their driving - I have witnessed some very erratic and irresponsible behaviour on the roads of late - impatience with regard not only to other motorists but also cyclists and most disturbing of all, horse riders, of which there are many in these parts.

As for me - it has been a strange few weeks, but since when is that new? Just as I thought I had decided to stay in my current job along came another opportunity - a full time housekeeping job in a nearby bed and breakfast. I duly applied and was invited along to an interview on Tuesday. It turned out that the job was a little bit more than just housekeeping, but really more a Deputy Manager, as you would be expected to fill in in the Manager's (who lives on site) absence, each time he and hi wife went away, which I was informed was for at least a couple of nights each month. This would have entailed staying over, to make sure that someone was on the premises, and taking responsibility in the case of emergency. It would also have meant cooking breakfast - and inevitably handling meat, as in this flesh obsessed world, guests demand the full English of eggs, bacon and other fatty, greasy flesh. I did not relish the thought of handling this, and made the mistake of saying so, which I guess did not go down too well, as this morning I receieved the standard rejection letter - "we regret to inform you" blah, blah, blah.

I must admit that it knocked me for six, as despite the above, I really did want this job - not least because of the salary (18K) which would have helped secure my future and enabled me to start saving once again. This is almost twice what I earn in my present two jobs, but, it was clearly not to be. I was then in rather a bad mood when I got to work. One of the residents though made me laugh, as only she can, and all was soon forgotten. When all is said and done it isn't too bad a life. I have more than most could hope for - a job that I love and a partner who loves me. I have food on the table, a roof over my head and a computer on which to type this, which places me in the richest 1 percent of the world. All in all then I have little to complain about.

I have a week off at the end of the month and have decided to go down to Cornwall and spend some time visiting the sites. I have joined the Youth Hostels Association to save money on accomodation and all being well, should have a great time. I have chosen a cross section of different places to visit, and will stay in two locations -one south (Boswinger) and one north (Tintagel). The plan is to drive to Boswinger on the Saturday that my week off starts and the following day visit the Lost Gardens of Heligan which are just three miles from the hostel. If there is time I will also visit some of nearby beaches (there is one less than a kilometer from the hostel). On Monday I shall drive across Bodmin Moor to Tintagel via the village of Minions, visiting the Hurlers Stone Circle and other nearby sites en route. The next few days shall be spent visiting the nearby villages and exploring the south west coastal footpath, possibly crossing into neighbouring Devon, before driving back on the Friday.

It has worked out well, since I have been able to exchange some Tesco Clubcard vouchers for YHA ones (£10 worth equals £40 to spend with the YHA). There has been some overtime this past month, and our Tax Credits have come through, so the financial fog should soon begin to lift, making all of this possible. Once again then, I have to concede that I always do get what I need as opposed to what I want.

When I look back on my life, the signs were there from an early age that I would end up in a job like the one I have now. When I did my Queens Guide Award at the age of 15 I did community service in an old people's home and also did my House Orderly Emblem - which involved hostessing, catering and housekeeping, so there you have it. It seems that for the moment at least, this is where I am meant to be. I have then conceded to surrender and accept the situation for what it is, for it is clear that the universe wants me to stay here in this job for reasons which do not need to be clear - since when has the Universe made sense after all? It isn't such a bad world after all.

Bending the elements to suit ourselves

2010-08-19T08:33:00.005+01:00

Yesterday Coran and I went to see a film entitled The Last Airbender. We had been waiting to see this film for quite some time, having heard about it through the grapevine, via friends in the United States. It was an interesting concept that to me at least warrants further discussion.

The film is based on the first season of an animated TV series Avatar: The Last Airbender, and was adpated into a film by M Night Shyamalan, who produced The Sixth Sense and The Village, among others. The Last Airbender is the first of a planned trilogy, and is influenced by Asian Art, (so-called) mythology - for I strongly believe that myths are often rooted in fact, however far back in pre-history they go, and the martial arts, with strong cinematic effects.

The film is baseda around the theory that the Planet that we inhabit, is governed by a complex interweaving of four basic elements - earth, air, fire and water, which must remain in perfect balance. The balance is maintained by The Avatar, who has the ability to bend or manipulate all four of these elements, while ordinary mortals (at least some) can bend just one - the element of the tribe that they were born into. The Last Avatar, who was born into the air element, hence the title of the film, disappeared 100 years ago.

The film begins with a young female water bender named Katara, and her older brother, a warrior named Sokka, who live with with the Southern Water Tribe. One day they are out hunting for seals, when Katara detects a movement under the ice. Proceeding to unfreeze the iceberg, she releases a young boy named Aang, and his flying bison Appa, whom it transpires have been trapped for over 100 years. You can probably guess the identity of Aang.

This attracts the attention of Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation who was exiled by his father until he can find the Avatar, whom the fire nation regard as a threat to their dominance. The rest of the film, without wishing to cut a long story short, details Aang's attempts to restore balance, escape from Zuko's clutches and master the other elements.

Like I say, it was an interesting concept, but one which for me at least was ruined by the American accents. However, as Coran pointed out, in order for people to understand these concepts, they must be couched in a language and a style that people can understand. To me to least (and while I realise this may sound like a generalisation), American is the least evolved spiritually of all nations on Earth, so the film had to shown in a way that would appeal to them, no matter how irritating it was to others, and I found it very much so. The language seemed to be almost child's talk, very basic in the amount of words used and the way they were expressed. I have observed from my own experiences, on both real life and television, that many Americans talk very much like.

Personally I would have liked to have seen much more emphasis on the qualities of the four different elements, which were barely touched upon at all. All that was said was the idea that water is connected to the emotions. This is true, but when you come to think of it there is much more to water than just this - water mirrors the state of not just the Planet but also our own bodies, with three quarters of both being ocmposed of this element.

I felt that this film has strong Atlantean overtones, many of which were echoed in my own work, Genesis of Man (I would urge you to read this book if you ae interested to know more). Atlantis had not four, but seven Royal families representing the four main elements, plus three others - love, spirit and evolution (change), elements which are less well known and less easily defined. In the film each of the elements had a northern and southern kingdom, with their own Royal families who were responsible for maintaining balance and order, just as in Atlantis.

I cannot help wondering if the film harkens back to what took place there, with the Fire element reigning supreme and wishing to be in control. Of course no one can ever be in control, for balance must always be maintained, just as we must express 'moderation in all things'. The balance is delicate but it must be maintained and that I suppose is the danger that we face now all over again.

Maybe that is also a message from nature, for there has certainly been an increase in natural disasters in recent years - the Boxing Day Tsunami (water), various volcanos (fire), earthquakes (earth), and sand storms in the Middle East (air). Earlier this year we saw major disruption to air traffic caused by the Icelandic volcano, which shows us how at least two of these elements are interconnecte. With the rise in volcanic and seismic activity, should the ice caps begin to melt, we will see how all four are connected in a much more dramatic way that could affect us all.

The message for me then of this film is that what we do does very much affect the planet on which we live, and we must learn to respect and work with mother nature as our ancestors once did, and not manipulate for our own sake, simply because we can, as the fire tribe does in the film. For if we persist in this way, the earth will no longer support, nourish and sustain us and that delicate balance will be gone forever, leaving us with no means to support and nourish ourselves. The choice is ours to make.

Moments are all we have

2010-08-09T11:06:00.003+01:00

The reaction from friends to the decision I made regarding my job has I am pleased to say been overwhelmingly positive, with most I am saddened to say stating that although they understand and respect my decision, it is not something they would do themselves. This has left me wondering why? I mean why do so many people have this idea that they are not entitled to enjoy their work, and that it is as one of them said, "all about the money", when it is clear to me that it is not about this at all. We have to be happy with what we do or otherwise, as I know from bitter experience, we just wither away inside, each day giving a little more of ourselves away until in the end, there is nothing left. Nothing left with which to perform our so called duties, nothing left for our families and our loved ones, and most importantly of all, nothing left of ourselves. This to me is what life is truly about - the freedom and the ability to express ourselves for who we are really are - this is our God given right, not just outside of work, but every moment that we spend living inside our bodies on this Planet. It is over all too quickly, as I have seen all too often in my job, and we have to make the most of every moment we have, for the moments are all that we have.

This has left me wondering though, in my making this decision and sharing it with these people, am I giving them permission to do the same, and showing them that there is another way, that they do not have to live like this? I have noticed over the years that I seem to act as a catalyst for change, throwing these things up for others to look at, and it seems to me that this is the case here. I do hope so, but if I can help others as well as myself, I am fulfilling my purpose in more ways than one.

It seems that just as I let go and decide to put the call out to the universe to help me stay in this job, that help arrives, for this morning we have received a letter from the Inland Revenue confirming that we are to receive Tax Credits. Normally I would be loathe to put myself in the system as it were, but and I know for some it might be a big but (as opposed to butt, for the applicaton process was a bit of a pain in the a***), if I am to do a job such as this serving the community in return for low pay, then it seems only right that that same community helps to support me so that I can. The Tax Credit system is there to support people such as us, so why shouldn't I claim? They have also decided that we are owed money from laast year, which comes as a pleasant surprise, and at exactly the right time, for it will enable us to pay off the rent that we owe, which the park owners seem so relucant to claim. It will also enable us to get the house painted.

Of course this does not mean that I will rest on my laurels and make no effort to change my situation by looking for that second part time job during the week, but it does give me some breathing space to make sure that the job that I get is the right one, for I know better than anyone that anything other than that just will not work. Yes I am prepared to make certain compromises to stay at the nursing home, at the weekends if not during the week, but one compromise I am not prepared to make is settling for a second job that I do not enjoy. It has to be right and it has to make my heart sing in the same way that this one does. So, let the search commence !

A lesson learnt

2010-08-06T21:09:00.005+01:00

I have learnt a really valuable lesson today and am glad despite the anguish, that I had the opportunity to find this out in a most difficult way. It was only difficult of course because I made it so, with my failure to listen to my own heart. While I am sure that I could have done the job that I went for this afternoon, and it would in many ways have been an excellent opportunity, it was not until I got in the car to come back home again that it really hit me just how much I love and do not want to leave the job that I have, at least not completely. I just cannot imagine never seeing those old people again and having the chance to interact with them and make such a difference to their lives.

I know the money and the hours are rubbish and that it flies in the face of all logic, but that's how I feel. So strongly in fact that when I got home I burst into tears. Yes one has to be practical, but what is life about, I mean really about? It is not about having material goods and putting on a front at work each day pretenting to be something that you are not simply to make a few extra pounds. Life is about forming relationships with others and finding out who you are, and we can only do that through interacting with others. I have had so many truly awful jobs over the years (where I nevertheless learnt a lot), where I felt that I was not being myself and that I had to wear a mask, but in my current job I have never felt that - I am more myself here in fact than I have ever been before. This is the job I have been waiting for all my life, so I have to find some other compromise that allows me to stay.

After I got home and spoke to Coran about the whole thing, I rang the agency and did my best to explain it all to them. I am not sure if they understood, but in the end it doesn't matter, for this is my life and my decision and I have to do what is right for me. I said to them that if the job was offered, would their client be open to the idea of a job share? That way I could continue my current job at the weekends, and work at this other one during the week, for two, maybe three days. They did not hold out much hope, but said that it may be a possibility and they could only ask - if and when an offer was made. There was no call by the time I left for work just after 4.30pm, and none while I was out, so I can only assume that they decided to offer it to someone else.

That is all fine by me, as I know that something else will turn up that does make this possible. Either one of the other housekeepers will leave, or another opportunity will open up elsewhere. This is quite possibily one of the hardest decisions I have had to make, but ultimately I knew that I had to be true to myself, as in the scheme of things that is all that really matters.

At the end of my days, when I pass over and have my life review, looking back on the things I have seen and accomplished, it is the relationships I have forged which will matter, and not how much money I made or how good I looked in my power suit. None of this is me, and it never will be. All of my life I thought I wanted a straightforward nine to five job which I can settle into and stay in for life, but I know now after today that is not where happiness lies - if I had taken that job I would have been bored as hell within six months and the search for yet another short term job would have started all over again.

It is time to call a halt to the wanderings of the mind, and to be happy with what I have - what I have is a job that I love, that makes a difference to the world in so many ways, that most could not begin to imagine. In this regard, I am truly blessed. It is what lie is all about - I am not there to clean and to do the washing up, important though that is, but to brighten the old peoples days and to make their twilight years and months as happy and comfortable as possible. What a joy and a privilige to be able to share those last precious moments of their lives, holding their hands and stroking their hair while they drift slowly off to the next phase in their evolution, wherever and whatever that may me.

I knew all along in my heart of hearts that this was where I belong, and I intend to stay put for quite a while yet.

The rest is up to her

2010-08-05T22:17:00.003+01:00

When I got in from work tonight, Coran informed me that the local hospital had rung yet again, with regard to my sister, and that I should call them back. Once I had eaten and watched EastEnders I proceeded to do this, to be told that she had been to the Casualty Unit earlier that day complaining of abdominal pains, and not wanting to wait, had discharged herself. They could not then have been that bad.

Up until April, we had heard nothing from her in months, thanks largely to the fact that she had lost our telephone number. Given her illness and history, I have to confess that we were quite glad of this as it meant that we could get some peace. Yee of little hope!

At the beginning of April, a trainee telephone operator within The Police gave her our number once again, despite the fact that it ex directory, and she has been ringing more or less constantly ever since - a total of 117 times in the 3 months until I went to Iceland on 4th July. I think any reasonable person would agree that this is not reasonable at all, especially since many of these calls have been late at night, or in the early hours, and many more still have been abusive in the extreme.

Things came to a head while I was in Iceland, as she kept hassling poor Coran, ringing up to seven times each day asking to speak to me, when she knew full well I was overseas. When she rang at 2am this was for Coran the last straw. He telephoned the hospital back (she was at that time an inmate at the psychiatric ward) and informed the staff that if she rang again he would telephone the Police. An hour later she rang again, and so Coran did what he had to do.

The Police were very good, coming round to the house the following day and spending almost an hour with Coran, noting all the details. The end result was that they advised us to block her number, which very reluctantly we have now done - four numbers in fact, since she has both a mobile and landline and sometimes phones from her so-called boyfriends house, as well as the hospital. The only contact we have had with her since this time has been through her care team.

In time we hope to arrange a meeting between the three different parties explaining our actions and setting down some boundaries for the future. The plan is to use the carrot and the stick, giving her an incentive to change and to treat us with the respect that we deserve. We are not then shutting the door completely, but saying to her that if she wants us in her life then she has to work within our boundaries. If she is prepared to do that and shows that she is willing to change, then maybe just maybe, our relationship can be salvaged. The rest then is up to her.

Life carries no guarantees

2010-08-04T17:21:00.002+01:00

For some time I have been receiving comments on this blog from an anonymous poster, which appear to me at this end in the form of a load of blank boxes which just do not make sense. Unfortunately then I have to reject these comments as they cannot be read. I am not sure what the problem is, whether the poster may be from overseas and be typing in a language that this blog does not recognise, but I post this in the hope that whoever it is reads these comments and understands the reason why his or her posts are not being allowed. If the problem can be solved, then I will be more than happy to post the aforementioned comments.

When Coran and I got home earlier today from shopping in Guildford we found a message on the answerphone from a job agency that I signed on with after my return from Iceland. When I telephoned them back they informed me that they have arranged an interview for me on Friday - the unthinkable then has happened and it seems that my departure from the job I have grown to love so much may come sooner than anticipated. Now that it is real, I am even less sure of how I feel. I understand on a practical level that there are compelling reasons why I should leave, not only financial but also in terms of stability. It would be much better for me to have one full time permanent job with regular hours than it is to have two part time jobs both of which offer irregular and less than social hours, yet at the same time I really do love what I do, as it offers meaning and makes a difference in so many ways, and this job which on the surface sounds so full of promise, will not offer the same level of fulfilment which is so important to me.

I have had many different jobs over the years, some good, some not so good, but up until now, the one thing they all had in common is that they did not really make all that much difference - at least not to me. Sure they made a difference to those that the company served, but not to humanity as a whole, and I really do need to feel that the work that I do does have meaning. This is very, very important to me, perhaps more important than money. Yet at the same time there is this dilemma, the knowledge that meaning does not pay the bills and does not secure my future. While it is true that Coran and I do manage, I want a bit more than that - I want and need to be able to travel and buy nice things, and to know that I can save for my future -the older I get the more important this gets.

I said the other day that I would place it in the hands of the universe and see what happened, and now that I have been offered this opportunity to go and see the company concerned, it seems that this may be the direction I am meant to go in. Why then do I resist? My friend Sarah Jane Grace's horoscopes for the month of August state that I have a desire for change coupled with a desire to cling to the familiar and that I need to figure out why I am reluctant to change. I suppose it is because I have had so much of it and am tired from the constant movement.

Sarah goes on to say that life carries no guarantees and I recognise deep down that this restlessness that I feel within is not going to go away. Cancerians are if nothing else resourceful, and whatever happens I know that there are no mistakes - only learning. The future may not be paved with gold, but this does not mean that it should be paved with caution either. Life is an adventure waiting to happen, and while I would and will (for one day I will have to leave if only when I retire), miss the residents a great deal when I do leave, the next job may be equally fulfilling but in a different way. I should embrace the changes and go with the flow a little more, which I admit is not always easy to do. The truth is that until I see that company and discuss the job in more detail I really do not know. I can only wait once and see.

A difficult choice to make

2010-08-03T13:52:00.004+01:00

Since I got back from Iceland just over 2 weeks ago (it seems like forever) I have been trying to figure out what to do about my job - or to be more precise, whether it is time to move on. There has been a feeling of discontent brewing in the background for a while now, which when I think about it, began in May when the Care Home Manager rostered me to do some extra work without bothering to ask. It was a genuine mistake, and we have spoken about it since, but it still left me feeling very much taken for granted, and only served to highlight the cracks which have begun to appear of late.

This one seemingly small but nevertheless significant incident was for me merely a symptom of a much deeper unease. In the past few months there have a series of little things that have conspired to niggle away, which when put together seem a lot bigger - the fact that we haven't had a pay rise for one, when we all work so hard. This would not be so bad were it not for the fact that the Director who owns the home continually picks holes in the hard work that the four housekeepers do, finding fault and complaining about stupid things like a few specks of dust or some sellotape marks on the wall, things which most ordinary and sensible people would not worry about. He seems to think that this will affect his three star rating, but as my colleague pointed out to me last night, this rating stems purely from the quality of the staff that he employs. The discontent is such at the moment, especially among us housekeepers, that at least three of the four are looking for other jobs. I can safely say that he would have great difficulty finding anyone who is willing to work anywhere near as hard as we do, and put up with the flack that we get from him, for the money that is on offer.

It is not all about money of course, although it does play a part. There are other things as well. The fact that I am always told that they cannot justify paying me to work between 2 and 5pm when I dom split shifts of 8am to 2pm and 5 to 7pm, yet find the money to take on a Deputy Manager whom I will never see. The fact that trays of dirty plates are still being dumped on chairs with the assumption that the housekeeprs will deal with it when it has been mentioned time and time again at staff meetings that this looks bad for visitors. The fact that the housekeepers seem to be continually marginalised in so many things and rarely if ever consulted on matters that affect them - the decision to serve lunch later than usual at certain times, but expecting us to still finish at the same time. The thing that has annoyed me most of all however is the fact that we have been asked to undertake a distance learning course on health and safety which is a mandatory requirement for the job, in our own time, with no remumeration offered. Like I said, it seems like a series of little things of seemingly small signfificance, but them together and it becomes quite a big thing.

Despite my protestations of money not being everything, the fact is I am not being paid nearly enough for the work that I do. When I did my tax return for last year, after taking business losses into account, and despite the fact that I have 2 part time jobs, I earned a grand total of £7700. This is just not enough. It covers the basics but leaves nothing over for a rainy day, and leaves me without the ability to save for my retirement, something which at the age of 45, is increasingly on my mind. In the end it may be this more than anything that forces me to leave, even though in my heart of hearts, I do not wish to do this at all.

The reason I say this is because I have bonded so well with the residents and their families - their faces light up when I walk into the room, and I am able to talk to them in a way that somehow none of the other staff members can. Just the other night I was sitting in the lounge chatting on one of the men, who is in 80's and really quite frail. I asked him how he was and he looked into my eyes when he answered and took my hand. I have never seen him do that with any of the other staff. Then there was the experience with Lulu, who died just before Christmas, and allowed me to share in my dream state, the moment of her passing. This was an experience I shall never forget.

The job to me is so much more than a job - I am not there to clean and to wash up, but to spend time with the residents making their lives better, that to me is what it is really all about - making a difference in my own unique way. I am afraid that if I move to another job I will lose that connection, and so I have this dilemma - do I settle for second rate pay and conditions in return for a job that does make this difference, or I sell my soul for more money? What a difficult choice to make.

I guess a compromise for me would me to continue working here at the weekends and ditch the evening job, replacing this with another part time job two maybe three days a week. That seems a sensible compromise which could work quite well, but jobs like these are hard to find and what type of job would I want to do? It seems so overwhelming at the moment that I am doing the only thing I can do - placing it in the hands of the Universe to see what transpires.

Iceland voted as top destination for 2010 - but can I afford to go back?

2010-07-29T09:04:00.008+01:00

Lonely Planet, the leading travel guide series, recently announced Iceland as the top summer destination for August 2010. They are encouraging travellers to visit the country, known as "the land of fire and ice" as in their own words (and mine) "there has never been a better time to go". This is partly due to favourable exchange rate for both the dollar and pound, which helps to make the country traditionally regarded as expensive, more affordable than ever before, with flights back to normal following the earlier disruption from Eyjafjallajokull.

Iceland was ranked fifth out of ten best value places to visit overall at the end of last year, but the publisher is now saying that that Iceland represents the perfect trip for 2010. I would certainly second that after my own recent visit. The country has something for everyone - whatever your age, interests or pocket. If you are a culture vulture then Reykjavik boasts a fine selection of museums for you to explore - how about a trip to the Culture House to view the ancient manuscripts or to the National Museum where you can follow the genealogical heritage of the modern Icelanders ancestors? If you prefer the beach, you can spend the day on the golden sands of the city's geothermal beach just beyond the city's domestic airport, complete with pipes that keep the sea temperature artificially warm and with bubbling hot pots on the shore. Prefer your swimming indoors - no problem, the city boasts several in and outdoor pools suitable for families of all ages.

If walking is more your thing, then Iceland will be like heaven - for there are miles and miles of trails to explore in all types of terrain - ranging from desert plains of black volcanic sand to lava fields and the greenery of the country's national parks.

Lonely Planet particularly recommends a visit to Landmannalaugar in the country's interior, only accessible during the summer months of mid June to September, which is famous for its multi coloured rhyolite peaks and hot springs, situated just 200 metres from the hut. They also single out the Westman Islands, which this time were on my radar, to see the thousands of puffins that breed there annually.

Yes Iceland is indeed a magical place, and with temperatures in Reykjavik reaching 24degrees yesterday, was probably warmer than my own Surrey village. I wish I was still there, but we all harken back to our holidays. Nice as it was, sadly it it is not real life, it is the grind and the graft that I experience now that pays for these trips. Despite the graft, I do for the most part enjoy my work, for it is at least worthwhile and offers meaning, unlike my previous job selling over priced junk to huge egos. I have a dilemma at the moment though, for I am not sure how much longer I can really afford to stay, if I wish to experience more of these kinds of trips - Iceland may be good value for money, but it still costs money - for me around £1200, the bills for which are rapidly coming in. I have the money to cover it, or at least will do once I am paid for those exams I invigilated, but if I continue to work part time this may not the case next year, so I am casting my net around to see what is out there - at the moment it seems like not a lot.

Let sleeping dogs lie

2010-07-21T17:17:00.003+01:00

I had to return once again today, to the store where I used to work, and which 19 months ago (is it really that long) did its damned to get me the sack. Thankfully they failed, but I ended up resigning anyway. It's a long story which you can read in more detail should you have the time to go through the archives of this blog this far back. Personally I can't be bothered myself, which leaves me wondering why each time I have to go back in there, it dredges up such awkward and painful feelings - feelings of hurt and humiliation even though I know I did nothing wrong. Sure I was foolish, idiot even, but they played a part too, and I refuse both then and now to take the blame for something that was as much their fault as my own.

Ordinarily I wouldn't go back to a place where I used to work, but from time to time in this case I have to, as once again, a product that I bought from them was malfunctioning - if I say what is is I will give the game away as to who this company is, so it is best to keep stum. This time the Manager was there, who was also my Manager at the time that I worked there. It was obvious that she was aware of my prescence, since she walked right past me as I stood at the counter, almost brushing my elbow, and looked me right in the eye, but choose to say nothing. There she was again after I left, walking out of the store with one of her staff for a cigarette. Once again she looked right through me, although I know that she must have known that I was there. Why then did I feel so awkward about this when it is so obviously her stuff, and why after all this time do I still find it so hard to forget and move on? When I am not there I don't think about the place at all, but when I hear the company's name mentioned, or think about buying the products that they sell, the feelings come flooding back to haunt me. I know it is natural to feel this way after such an experience as I had, but is it natural to feel this way after all this time, should there not come a time when one begins to move on?

I think that to help that process in the future it would be best if I went to other branches, or dealt with the company over the phone, as it is not the company itself that causes the problems (although there was something inherently wrong with the way that things were run), but that particular branch, as that is where my painful memories lie. In the end I had a wasted journey anyway, as the assistant ascertained that in order to get my item repaired (thankfully it is insured), I would need to send it back in some packaging that would be sent to my home address, something that had I known, could have been done over the phone. C'est le vie - lesson learnt, from now on, keep the past firmly where it is, and stay away from those haunted places that hold such memories - the only way to heal is to stay away and let those sleeping dogs lie.

Back from Iceland

2010-07-20T14:58:00.003+01:00

A funny thing has happened during the last few months, the more time I spent playing Farmville, a virtual farming game that I am ashamed to say I became rather addicted to, the more I lost the ability, or perhaps the impetus, to write. I hope that it proves to the latter rather than the former, but I guess only time will tell. Now that I am back from Iceland, there is certainly much for me to write about.

How do you begin to describe such a life changing experience? I guess at the beginning, although where the beginning is, I am no longer sure.

During the weeks and months leading up to departure, I certainly had a lot on my plate - with problems both at home and at work. With work it was mostly to do with feeling taken for granted - it started when I became aware that my boss had rostered me to do some overtime without asking whether I could. There were other things as well which increased the stress levels, not getting a pay rise, working hard at my second job as an exam invigilator, being asked to undertake a distance learning course for which I wasn't paid, and being asked to attend meetings on my days off, meaning that at one point I worked 13 days in a row. Add to the mix the constant abusive phone calls from my sister at all hours of the day and night, and worries about the forthcoming trip (the first I had undertaken of this kind in 9 years) and the stress levels became almost intolerable. It was not surprising that I was tired and irritable with everyone, and was not sleeping as well as I might.

Iceland did little to solve that problem, with the 24 hour daylight, but once there and once I had recovered from the journey (a series of delays meant that I did not get to my room until 3am British time), and had some rest and recuperation in the hot pools at the famous Reykjavik swimming pool, I began to feel better and more grounded, and litle by little the stress levels dropped away.

My first day after arrival in Reykjavik was spent pottering around the city and getting my bearings, in preperation for the second day where I took the long distance bus to Skaftafell National Park which is in the south eastern corner of the island, via the highland route that goes through Landmannalaugar. Compared to the hikers and back packers on that bus, I felt very middle aged and very out of place, but comparing yourself to others is a useless exercise and once there I enjoyed the freedom of walking the various trails out to Morsdalur where the glacial river crosses the foot of the valley, and around the Skaftafellsheidi loop. This was an unforgettable day spent climbing the summit of a very steep and very winding hill. When I got to the top and finally caught my breath, I looked out over the most magnificient view I have ever seen - a series of low cloud formations hovering over the edge of the glacier, as I heard the ice creek and moan making sounds that I thought as I approached, were distant thunder. Well after an experience like that, and an hour and half walking back down that mountain following the outline of the glacier, I didn't think things could get much better, but they did.

I travelled back to Reykjavik at the end of the second week and the following Monday flew to Heimaey in the Westman Isles in a blaze of sunshine which remained for the length of my stay. Three sun soaked days walking the length and breadth of the island, which reminded me in many ways of Lundy. It was a bitter sweet time spent walking among the graveyard of buried houses from the volcanic eruption in 1973, and walking around the beautiful blue green island, sitting on black volcanic sands and watching and listening to the myriad of birds - the calls of the curlews and the oystercatchers as they fluttered past on the breeze, circling round and round in the air to protect their young from my trampling feet. The climb up the radar mast at the end of the airport runway on the last day was exhilerating, sliding down the scree slope at the end on my backside which sent gravel and rocks flying everywhere. Walks around the volcano to see the remains of the buired houses, which are beginning to be excavated were no less so, but in a different way.

Following my departure from Heimaey at the end of the trip, I spent three days in Reykjavik, a city which I have got to know now very well indeed - time was spent at the geothermal beach, at the city's swimming pools, visiting the various museums and shopping for books and DVD's among other things, to bring back home. I also went to see the famous Geysir and Gulfoss waterfall, and of course Thingvellir National Park - no visit to Iceland would vbe complete without spending at least half a day here. The trip was rounded off by a visit to the Blue Lagoon, whose relaxng waters I cold spend hours in, before heading back to the airport at Keflavik and back home.

It feels strange to think that just 2 days ago I was sitting on that aircraft among a large group of noisy students waiting for take off, and 3 days ago I was on the bus somewhere between Geysir and Skalholt on my way to look at the ancient and very important church.

This holiday represented so many things to me - not only a break from work, but also from Lundy, and the opportuinity to prove to myself that I can still do many of the things that I used to enjoy so much. It was a chance to get that old confidence back, to get out in the open air meeting new people and doing new things, pushing through those barriers of fear and uncertainty, barriers which have now been removed.

The birth pains of a new era

2010-05-10T08:55:00.003+01:00

You would have to have been living on another planet or in some uninhabited territory not to know that last week Britain went to the polls, the result of which was as highly predicted, a Hung Parliament.

There seems to be an enormous amount of fear around regarding the result of this election, but I am sitting and remaining detached from it all. I personally think that it was the best thing that could have happened, for it is forcing our leaders for the first time to be honest with each other and to work together, which is something we should all do. The inner reflects the outer, and so we get the Government that reflects our society. Before we start critisicing the politicians perhaps we should look in the mirror and remember that change starts from within us. If we really want change then we have first to change ourselves and the way in which we act and view the world.

The winner will ultimately be the one who shows the most integrity, and it will become more apparent in the coming months as to where their integrity lies. The results are a reflection of where we are at as a country, that so many could not make up their minds - I would not be surprised to find that in the coming months more irregularities and more corruption come to the surface as the parties are forced to communicate both with each other and with us, forcing the transparency in politics that is so desperately needed, and in the end also forcing change, most of all in the voting system itself. Change which will result in greater fairness and accountability all round. Politicians (especially the main two parties) are notoriously resistant to change, and with good reason, for they think they have an awful lot to lose. Like everything else though, it is all illusion, for none of this is real.

Whichever way it goes it will be the right decision. I say this in the knowledge that there is no such thing as a mistake - only choices, and whether or not we regret the choice we made it is pointless anyway. We have to live with that choice once it is made and run with it. The same is also true of our vote - I cannot understand why anyone would think their vote has been wasted just because the result was not what they wanted - every vote makes a difference, how can it not?

It is easy to think that this is a dreadful state of affairs and to get caught up in the drama of it all, but there is little to be accomplished by this view and it is not how I choose to view the world, living constantly in fear. These are exciitng times, filled with hope and filled with change, we are witnessing history unfolding here and the birth pains of a new way of being. This is not then a dreadful state of affairs as so many have said, but an opportunity to find out who we are both collectivity and as indviduals and to put that into action. It is what we are here to do.

If we truly seek change then that change has to start with us. The trouble is that many may say they want change, but when it comes down to it, they really don't, as the transitional period is too uncomfortable for them. Change doesn't after all happen overnight and the adjustment period can be quite difficult and painful. Yet change is the only constant force in the universe, more powerful even than love. It cannot be stopped or held back, to do so would only hinder the process of evolution. It is far easier to just accept the situation for what it is and take another tip from the Icelandic volcano - go with the flow ! It is ultimately far less painful for all involved.

a memo (and a message) from the boss

2010-05-09T08:02:00.003+01:00

I have been off work for the past few days with a nasty tummy bug that began last Thursday with minor back ache and rapidly worked round to the front, with at times quite severe cramps and constipation. Having seen various doctors at both the local surgery and the nearest Casualty unit, the consensus seems to be that I have picked something up at work - it only takes one incident of forgetting to wash your hands, which when you are busy is very easy to do. From now on though I will be taking much more care. The worst of the cramps seems to be over, and all being well, I should be able to return to work on Tuesday.

As always though, there may be more to this than meets the eye. A few weeks ago, the Director of the home sent a memo round to all the housekeepers stating words to the effect that the standard of cleanliness had dropped, and that since this was the second time he had brought it to our attention, the message had obviously not got through. If things continued in this way, and a third memo was sent, he would take (and this is his exact words) "appropriate action". As a former Director of one of the UK's largest banks, and no doubt enconsed in a large house somewhere in the subburbs with the proceeds of his bonusses, he has very little idea of what it means to be an ordinary working person and is clearly lacking in social graces. As I pointed out to one of my colleagues, he certainly has a way with words.

To be honest though, after the way in which I and the other housekeepers worked, especially during the 10 weeks that my colleague was off sick with a slipped disc (I did at one point more than twice my normal hours), this felt like a kick in the guts - and what do I get ? Stomach cramps that prevent me from working ! Of course, as Coran also pointed out, there may be another second way of looking at this too -the standards of cleanliness in the home itself may not have dropped (not from where I am standing anyway), but the fact that I got this bug means that maybe my own standards with regard to personal cleanliness have. Most bugs of this nature cna be prevented by simple hand washing, which I have to admit I have been a bit lax with of late. From now on I will be making much more of an effort to wash my hands more regularly, especially after cleaning the toilets !

The truth about Iceland

2010-04-28T14:36:00.006+01:00

Ice News reports today that members of the Icelandic travel industry believe that the spate of cancellations and the reluctance of visitors to confirm bookings due to the volcano could be turned to an advantage if the country plays it cards right and keeps the world up to date on what is really going on on the ground.

Fridrik Palsson, owner of a chain of hotels, which incluces Hotel Ranga near the eruption site told RUV’s (the Icelandic National Broadcasting Service) Kastljos current affairs programme that this summer need not be a total disaster if the industry pulls together and makes use of the effective free advertising that the volcano has provided. Many countries after all, would give their eye teeth for this amount of free publicity, and I for one believe that he makes a very valid point. Iceland has a lot to offer the traveller, whether they want to rent a car and stay in five star luxury or as I will be, use public busses and take a sleeping bag. Iceland is one big adventure playground for nature lovers of all ages, with hot springs, bird life and 24 hour daylight in which to enjoy it all.

To this end, the Icelandic government has invested some ISK 350 million (USD 2.7 million) in a global publicity campaign aimed at boosting the travel sector during this crucial year. As Palsson though said, the funds need to be used wisely, to keep the world updated as to truth about how the violcano affects day to day life and what the country is really like, after a frenzy of media attention amd many mistruths. Facebook in particular (I myself am a member of several Icelandic groups and pages) could be an important tool in getting the message across.

Where a volcanic eruption of this nature would spell disaster to some, the Icelanders have picked themselves up and literally dusted themselves down. Headlines such as "Volcanic dust cloud closes air space" may be more attention grabbing than "life as normal", but the latter is closer to the former in truth, and the world needs to know this. As Palsson quite rightly says, people will continue to visit the country if they are aware of the facts, and the facts are that no one has died, shops and other facilities are functioning as normal, and the travel chaos that was reported throughout Europe has for the most part, not affected Iceland itself. Both Icelandair and Iceland Express, the two airlines based in Reykjavik, continue to operate, finding ways around the recent closure of Keflavik airport, by diverting services to Akureyri in the north.

Of course there is no way to predict what the volcano may do next, or for long it may keep erupting, but that in a way is part of the fun - and for me at least makes my own forthcoming visit all the more appealing.

Keflavik airport closed today

2010-04-23T06:36:00.005+01:00

With the lifting of air restrictions late on Wednesday night, things are slowy returning to normal here in Britain, for the first time since the eruption began, Iceland faces the prospect of air space closures of their own. A change in wind riection necessitates the temporary closure of Keflavik International and Reykjavik City airports in the south west of the country.

The volcano, which is situated beneath the Eyjafjallajokull glacier, about 120km south-east of Reykjavik, has been erupting now for eight days. Tremors are continuing, with a thick cloud of ash and smoke pumping out into the surrounding air. The cloud may be lower, but it is still volatile, posing a potential health risk due to large amounts of flouride.

A statement from the Icelandic aviation authority last night said

"With a view to the ash distribution forecast for Friday April 23 it can be expected that the flight zone for Keflavik and Reykjavik Airports will be closed for a certain period of time."

They went on to say, "This is for the first time that the flight zone around the two Icelandic international airports has closed since the beginning of the eruption,"

Meterological forecaster was more circumspect, stating "The wind at low levels is an easterly wind and so that is blowing it (ash) across Reykjavik and Keflavik, but the wind at high levels is still westerly". It was the high level winds that spread the ash towards Europe.

Speculation is mounting with regard to the nature of this eruption, which continues to pump its deadly cloud into the atmosphere. Minor tremors have also been reported. Seismologist Bryndis Brandsdottir said these tremors could indicate a build up of lava, or molten rock, within the crater.

She said that if the lava found itt's way out, which eventually of course it will, it would most likely flow down the north side of the mountain, where the floods took place last week. Opinion though seems to be divided, as another seismologist indidated that things seemed to be quietening down. It is as always, pure speculation and no one knows for sure what will happen or when.

Travellers to the region can though breath a huge sigh of relief with the news that the ring road has now re-opened, and although Katla is being monitored, the two volcanoes are not connected, and there is no sign of any activity there.

The latest news releases on the evolving situation can be found here

The website for Keflavik International can be found here

A lesson in sustainability

2010-04-18T18:59:00.003+01:00

It is incredible sometimes to watch my mind and see how it gets caught up in the drama of so many events - my sister and her problems, issues relating to work, and more recently of course, the Icelandic volcano, which seems to be affecting us all in one way or another.

Several of my acquaintances are stranded abroad - some in Portugal and some in Spain. One of my work colleagues husband's is stuck in Madrid, where he works (he spends his time commuting between London and Madrid as some sort of computer boffin for a city bank). She has only recently returned to work after suffering a slipped disc, and is missing him terribly, as I am sure he is her.

I have been racking my brain since this whole thing began as to what it could all be about, and quite what mother nature is trying to show us all. There has to be something with a crisis of this magnitude. One things for sure - whatever or whoever the lesson is for it is clearly not for the Icelanders, as the wind is blowing the cloud away from them, their international airport remains open, and life there, apart from in the immediate vicinity of the volcano, continues as normal.

Knowing that the universe works on an economy of the energy, and the amount of energy that clearly lies behind this blast, it is evidently a lesson of great magnitude for us all.

All sorts of scenarios are coming into play - the possibility of airlines and hotel companies going bankrupt, small business owners who are stuck abroad also going bankrupt, those affected raking up huge bills and getting into debt, food and other goods from overseas upon which we have learnt to depend, being unable to reach us and the suppliers consequently losing out. What this means is difficult to say, but it is clear that many things need to change.

The culture of cheap overseas travel and the way in which the industry has bloomed in the past 20 or so years clearly cannot be sustained environmentally. The idea that we should have access to fruit and veg from overseas outside of its season also cannot be sustained. It may be good (arguably) for the growers as it means more jobs, but would they not be better off growing the food to feed their own populations? I mean, potatoes being grown in the Egyptian desert, asparagus being flown in from Peru - what next?

Maybe we need to start thinking a little more in terms of self sufficiency, growing our own food and providing our own goods, and allow other countries to do the same. The lesson will differ for each individual that is affected by this - perhaps my friends husband needs to rethink his job in Madrid and start to put his wife first, perhaps my friends in Portugal, as they said in an email earlier, need to acknowledge the fact that they should be flying less and trying to reduce their carbon footprint. When I go to Iceland myself in 11 weeks time (and I will be going), it will the first time I have flown since March 2004, when I went to Egypt. The helicopter to Lundy isn't quite the same.

I have to say though that the Icelanders have found a very neat way to alleviate their own financial woes, as interest in the country has mushroomed because of this, and all that foreign currency that will be coming in as a result of this interest will help pay their debts in no time!

Go with flow - it's what volcanoes do

2010-04-15T20:33:00.002+01:00

I have certainly chosen an interesting time to travel to Iceland, with the eruption of the volcano Eyjafjallajokull a few days ago. This was the second eruption in the area within the last month, the first being somewhat less volatile, the effects of which have been confined to Icelandic shores. The second eruption though was different, as the volcano erupted from deep within an ice cap resulting in a huge plume of ash containing minute particules of silica (volcanic glass) which then drifted on north westerly winds towards Britain and the rest of Europe. This has resulted in the closure of airports in 23 European countries, with thousands stranded at both ends. No one knows how long the disruption is likely to last, with the deadline extended half a dozen times already. According to some reports it could last well into next week or even beyond. It is something that is completely beyond our control, as nature always is.

Although I feel desperately sorry for those who are stranded, my own concerns are more long term. I am due to travel to Iceland myself in 11 weeks (4th July), and am unsure whether this will even be possible. I am telling myself to trust that it will be all alright, that the worst is over, as the cloud drifts off towards the continent, but it is not that simple. British air space may be re-opened making it theoretically possible to travel to Iceland, but what will I find when I get there? Will the roads be open enabling me to travel around the country. I have to travel through the affected zone in order to get to Skaftafell National Park, which I had hoped to visit. How will it affect the weather in that part of the country, what will happen if the seismic activity continues or starts up again while I am there? What if it spreards to other nearby volcanos and triggers them? So many questions with no answers.

It has left me somewhat in limbo, uncertain as to whether I should go ahead and book domestic flights and make other internal arrangements prior to my arrival in the country. The advice from the Embassy website is simply to keep up to date with the news, which really doesn't tell me much, as it difficult to get news from within Iceland itself to ascertain how things are there. Villages near the affected zone were said to have experienced prolonged darkness with a thick layer of ash, and there is also some damage to roads. The Icelanders I will imagine, will be keen to get these repaired as quickly as possible to get help to the affected areas in clearing away the debris, and also so that the local people, who were evacuated can return home.

For the moment at least it is really a waiting game - along with everyone else all i can do is wait and see. If the volcano has a message for us at all, it must surely be to go with the flow, for that is exactly what volcanic lava does !

How have things got to this stage?

2010-04-12T08:33:00.003+01:00

When Karen Bishop wrote on the latest Wings post a few days ago, that the recent spate of earthquakes and volcanic activity (first Haiti, then Chile, the eruption in Iceland, and of course yesterday's quake in the Solomon Isles) had stirred up the dark energies giving them the opportunity to rear their ugly heads, she clearly was not joking. During the last week, since The Police made their faux par and gave my sister my telephone number (a number which incidentally is ex directory), I have come to the reluctant conclusion that she represents those dark energies for me, as things have rapidly gone from bad to worse. It leaves me wondering how things have come to this state, that our relationship has degenerated so far that she appears to have such little respect for me and my family life.

Since her first call, which was one week ago today at approximately 11.45pm, there have been 12 more calls from her, at various times throughout the day. On Saturday I got so fed up with it that following Coran's suggestion, I phoned BT to see whether we could get her number barred. We can, but it will cost us around £10 per quarter. Coran then suggested that I phone The Police to see what other remedies they may be able to offer. I did not seriously consider asking them to pay, as the money that they get should go to Policing and not things like this, even if it is their fault. I spoke to a very nice and helpful Police officer who was able to track the call and found that it was clearly their fault, as a trainee operator had given out the number when he or she should not have done. But as he said, the damage has been done and cannot be undone. Even if they were able to cover the cost of having her number barred, which is highly unlikely, the problem with her will always remain. He did come up with one suggestion though. As he pointed out, BT have very firm policies regarding what are termed as nuisance calls, and these clearly fall into this category. However, before they and The Police can take action against such callers, they need evidence. He therefore suggested that I start recording the time of her calls, with a few brief notes as to their content, if and when they are abusive (which they often are). This will take time and patience, but if she is confronted with this from a legal standpoint, is something that even she will take notice of.

Yesterday I had quite a nice conversation with her, and began to have hopes that our relationship may be salvagable after all, but I should have known better to have thought that. Once again just before midnight last night the phone rang. This time it was not her, but the Casualty department at the local hospital, asking me to call them back. Fearing the worst, I naturally did, only to be told that she had been in there and had left without being seen. Of course once my sleep was interupted (again), neither Coran nor I was able to get back to sleep, so that meant another sleepless night - it's just as well that I don't work full time or have to drive for a living or operate machinery, not that she would care.

I rang the hospital back this morning anyway to query why they deemed it necessary to call at this time, when there was really nothing I could do, and they apologised and explained that they had been worried about her and what she might do and wondered if I knew where she may have gone. I hate myself for this, but I have this persistant thought that won't go away. As I am her next of kin this situation with her will not go away either, so maybe I would be better off if she weren't here in my life at all. I can see that this is the only way that this will ever truly end - I will not be free of this until I am free of her.

So, as usual I have two choices, put up with this or take action. The only question that remains is what action to take. Do I bite the bullet and block that number or do I put up with this for however long it takes to report her for making nuisance calls. I suspect that in the end it will mean having that number blocked.

I am sorry sister

2010-04-06T08:05:00.002+01:00

Just in case you blinked, or have been on Nibiru for the past few months, my last post was of course an April fool, originally published in the village newsletter that I edit, and therefore familiar to those around the village. I was hoping that the local paper would publish it last Thursday, as it is not that often that April Fools Day falls on the day in which the paper is published, and I at least, thought it was a brilliant opportunity to inject some humour into what have recently been dark an dismal times. They could have really gone to town and called the paper for one week only, The Porking Advertiser with a pigture of a pig alongside the title, but for reasons best known to themselves, they chose not to use the story that I handed to them on a plate. Maybe it was not PC enough and they were afraid that the Council would not like it ? I will never know, but cannot help feeling that a wonderful opportunity has been lost. I am not the only one around our village who thinks so. Still, it is up to them ...

Unfortunately this morning I have more pressing things on my mind. At 11.45 last night, Coran and I were just drifing off to sleep when the phone rang. The answerphone picked it up and as half expected, and half dreaded, it was my sister. She told us that she ha lost our number, and we had no intention of giving it to her, so I don't know where she got it from, I can only assume that she found it in an old address book or something. Anyway, five minutes later she rang again, annoyingly just as I was drifing off to sleep again, and this time she left a rather long message. The gist of it is basically that she misses us and is desperate to see and/or speak to us - hopefully this evening when she claims she is free (while at the same time informing us that her ex boyfriend is coming round - which hardly makes her free). Given hers and our history, I do not know what to do. I know what I want to do - ignore her and not call, but the guilt is always there gnawing away in the background.

She suffers from scizophrenia and has done for the past 20 odd years. Coran and I both find it incredilbly hard to deal with someone who is so needy and seems oblivious to our needs - ringing at all hours of the day and night, expecting us to drop everything to help her out, sucking up to us one minute and abusing us the next. She says she cannot help it and it is part of her illness, but I think this is rubbish. I am prepared to concede that some it may be that, but she was brought up to know right from wrong and to understand how to treat people to get people on your side, and with us, I am sad to say she is going about it in completely the wrong way. Understand that I have had over 20 years of this, and Coran 13.

My brother has more or less cut off contact with her, and for the past year or so, to all intents and purposes, so have we. It breaks my heart to do this, but I really do not think that we have a choice. Her attitude has driven her away, for all of the reasons stated above and a lot, lot more. I know that this is not all about her though, btu also about me and my inabilty to cope with and accept her situation. I miss the sister I grew up and loved so dearly, before Coran came along, she was the best friend I ever had, but I know that I will never get her back. It may not be fair to punish her for my own inabilty to deal with things, but sometimes it is the only way - something that even Mum realised in the end, for my sister used and abused her too, and my brother. I am sorry then sister, but for the moment at least, I cannot have you in my life, causing disruption and mayhem and giving me grief and stress, I can no longer live like that. She is not despetate to see us anyway, I know her, she is lonely as her other so called friends have tired of her, and so she thinks that she can drain our energy instead of someone else's. There might be some truth in all those vampire stories after all ...

Historic name change for Dorking

2010-04-01T09:16:00.008+01:00

Mole Valley District Council have voted unanimously to change the name of Dorking following an important discovery late last year. This is the first time since the compilation of the Doomsday Book in 1066 that the name of a Surrey town has been changed from its original nomenclature. A spokesperson for the Council said that they were very excited at this move, as it marks as decisive turning point in the town's history. He also said that the change would be relatively easy to implement, with the minimum of inconvenience for residents and businesses alike, since there is only one letter in the town's name to be altered.

The Council came to this decision after a team of archaeologists, headed by Professor Andrew S Winehouse from the University of Surrey, unearthed the remains of a prehistoric civilisation of scrofa domestica (otherwise known as wild boar) on the outskirts of the town. The remains, which were dated to approximately 2000 BCE, include fragments of teeth and jaw bones with several intact skeletons of both male and female animals.

Following this decision, I can exclusively reveal that the Council have also unveiled plans to replace the current sculpture of the cockerel at the roundabout near the Council offices at Pippbrook in honour of the town's earliest inhabitants. The new sculpture is due to be unveiled at the beginning of April. Attached is an artist's impression.

The Council will write to everyone in due course advising them to change the D to a P ...

Another layer of the onion

2010-03-30T08:34:00.005+01:00

Yesterday I had to return to the shop in which I used to work, and which one year and four months ago, tried their very best to get me the sack. They didn't quite succeed, as after a long and very stressful disciplinary and grievance procedure which we each brought against the other, for various things, I decided to resign.

The reason I had to return was because an item I had bought from the shop, a couple of months before I left, had stopped working. I won't say what it was, as it would give the game away as to who the company was, which would not be good form. I didn't reveal their name then, and am not about to do it now.

I was surprised after all this time how angry it made me feel, and how difficult it was for me to return there, especially as the girl who reported me for my so-called misdeeds was standing behind the counter when I walked in. I could sense her discomfort and the way she kept looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I was served by a very nice man whom I did not know, who had just transferred from another nearby branch which had recently closed (I hope they handled it a little better than they did the branch I originally worked in). He told me a few interesting snippets about what has gone on there in recent months - like the fact that the Manager had most of February off for 'personal reasons' and returned to find that four of her staff had suddenly left - including the other one - a young man who purported to be a musician - who had reported me - I wonder why? I also though can't help wondering why I am still interested and think it is any of my business anymore, as I really am so much happier and better off since I left.

The situation there, which was ongoing for months and tied in with the closure of the branch that I previously worked in, which was not handled at all well, gave me the opportunity to work through many layers of work related 'stuff' that I had been holding on to and repeatedly experiencing for almost 20 years. Like a gramophone record that is repeatedly played until it wears out, it was beginning to wear me out, and wear me down. Each time it happened, the feelings grew more intense, until I came to the point where I knew that I no longer had a choice but to see it through and express what I felt, and so with Coran's encouragement and support, I did. The results and the fall out, for both parties were not pretty, but the rewards have been immense.

So, why I continue to feel so angry about the whole situation remains a mystery. I really felt that I had come to terms with it all, and moved on with my life, but each time I have to go back to that store, up the feelings come all over again. We wear our feelings like layers, and each time we work through a layer it is like shedding a skin, so I suppose yesterday was all about shedding another layer of that proverbial onion - like an onion, many tears have been shed along the way.

The end result though was good, as I got the replacement product that I needed - thanks to the insurance that I had the foresight to take out. The guarantee had expired, so otherwise I would have been stuffed. I now then have a shiny new toy with play with, and yet more feelings to toy with and ponder on. For the moment though, I am off to the gym ... Just like the treadmill at the gym it seems like I spend my life going round and round the same old stuff - one of these days I will see it coming in the distance and run towards it rather than away ...

A controversial issue

2010-03-24T16:40:00.004Z

A strange thing happened at work this week, which I am not sure I should even write about, as it is quite a sensitive issue. Nevertheless, it is one that has really got me thinking.

About a month ago, a new Kitchen Manager was appointed, whom I and most other staff, get on very well with. However, for some reason one of the care workers, who is from West Africa, does not seem to get on with her at all. I suspect this is because this particular girl has a habit of taking things from the fridge for her own consumption which she is not entitled to. The Kitchen Manager has pulled her up on this a number of times, but she continues to do it, sometimes under her very nose, hoping it will go unnoticed. It may seem petty to pull her up on this, but the thing is that all departments, the kitchen included, have a budget that they need to stick to. If that is regularly or even occasionally over used, then the money has to come from some other budget - and more often than not this is the wages bill, meaning that there is less money in the pot for overtime, bonuses and wage increases. This then is something that affects us all.

Anyway, a few days ago this girl was caught red handed, and the Kitchen Manager once again pointed out that she was not entitled to consume this particular product - that it was meant for residents and not staff. The Manager went on to say that since she had already poured it (fruit juice) into her mug, she might as well consume it, upon which the girl went over to the sink and poured it down the drain. The Kitchen Manager was understandably very unhappy at her actions and further words were exchanged, upon which the girl stormed from the kitchen muttering words to the effect that the Kitchen Manager 'had a thing about black people'.

This shocked and upset me, for it is a serious allegation to make, and since the Kitchen Manager had left the room by then, I felt obliged to inform her. She in turn felt she had no option but to discuss the matter with the Care Home Manager, whom once she had calmed down, went and spoke to the girl who had made this allegation. Thankfully she did not wish to make an official complaint, but had she done so, I made it clear that I would have backed the Kitchen Manager up, for the comments that she made had nothing to do with the girls appearance or race, but were merely pointing out the fact that she was in effect, stealing, taking as I said previously, something that she was not entitled to.

The whole episode left a rather nasty taste in the mouth and has made me re-assess the way that I relate to this girl, in that I have seen a side to her that I do not much like. It seems to me (and I realise that this may sound controversial) that many black skinned people are far too quick to use the race card when they are caught out for doing things that they should not - when I worked in retail, it was not unusual for black shoplifters to use the race card and insinuate that they had been banned or removed from the store because of their skin colour, rather than because they had been caught shop lifting or up to no good. I mean, I have never heard of white person using the race card and stating that someone dislikes them because they are white, so why are black people so quick to use this?

I recognise that as a race, blacks have been greatly abused and mistreated by our society and that racism continues to be a cause for concern, but in this situation, the girl was clearly seeing things that just were not there. I don't know either what her history is and whether she has been subject to racist taunts in other areas of her life that cause her to feel this way, but if this is so, then she needs to get help and not take her problems out on other innocent people. It is just not the way to go. I mean we all have issues (I know that I certainly do), but we need to take a step back and learn to channel our anger in a positive, non damaging way that does not affect others.

My ticket to Iceland is booked

2010-02-23T09:47:00.006Z

After weeks of waiting for my boss to get back to me, due to the fact that we both work such different hours, and also that one of my colleagues wanted the same dates as I did, I have finally confirmed my holiday dates for Iceland - as far as my boss is concerned, 5th to 18th July. I will in fact be flying a day earlier than that, on Sunday 4th, but as I finish work at 2pm and the flight is not until 7.45pm I did not need to take this day off. It would have been better perhaps to have travelled on the Monday instead, as the flight times are a little more reasonable being during the day time, and it will be a bit of a rush, leaving for the airport just 2 or so hours after finishing work, but the prices were so vastly different (£230 to fly on the Monday, as opposed to £67 for Sunday) that I really had very little choice. I do not have that high an income, and it is important that I keep the costs down as much as I can.

So, now I have booked the ticket, the rest can be done in dribs and drabs over the next few months. The first thing I will have to decide is where to stay - probably youth hostels. I will then need to become a member, as members receive a hefty discount. There are 2 hostels in Reykjavik to choose from - one which is 2 kms out of town, and a new one which opened last year and is right in the centre of downtown. This is smaller with more beds per room, and quite bit more expensive, but it seems to have the same facilities as its larger counterpart across the town, in a much more convenient location, right near the harbour, so I may plump for this one. In the smaller communities that I hope to visit, there is no choice - the Westman Islands has just one hostel, and in Skaftafell it is choice between camping or sleeping bag accommodation in the local farmhouse. I guess then I shall be taking a sleeping bag (without the tent).

Once the accommodation is booked I can then worry about buses and domestic flights. Day tours can be booked on arrival (the travel agency that has a desk in both Reykjavik hostels offers a discount, so it is in my interests to wait). I would rather though book buses to the different places in which I hope to stay though than turn up on spec and hope. I just prefer it that way, it gives me peace of mind. So, I hope to visit both the Westman Islands and Skaftafell National Park. The Westman Islands I have been to before, twice in fact, but I have not been to Skaftafell, I have passed through en route to other towns further along the coast. The Park which is Iceland's biggest, is situated in the south eastern corner fringed by the Sandur, a large expanse of black and desolate volcanic sands from the nearby volcanoes, and boasts some of Iceland's finest scenery with hours of walking.

In the past when I have visited I have tended to do a lot of guided bus tours and so on, but this time, after so many years of visiting Lundy and doing my own thing, I feel that I really need my own space and the freedom to set my own pace. So, when I realised that I had a choice between Skaftafell and Myvatn in the north, which is also renowned for its beauty and bird life, but nevertheless a tourist trap in the height of summer, and Skaftafell where I can walk by myself for hours at a time, it had to be Skaftafell. I hope to spend three days there, two for walking by myself and exploring the different trails and paths (I will have to buy a good map) and one for visiting the Laki craters. I will travel one way by coastal bus and the other way by mountain bus via Landmannalaugar for a soak in the famous hot springs. I did toy with the idea of staying overnight at Landmannalaugar, but you have to know your own limitations, and so I reluctantly decided against this - maybe some other time.

I am sure this will be the sixth of many more visits to come.

A change is as good as a rest

2010-02-16T09:06:00.005Z

It has been a month since I wrote this blog, and the time seems to have passed in a haze - a haze of work, snow and more work. Since my recovery from the bug that swept through the home in which I work, it has been pretty much non stop. One of my colleagues has slipped a disc, she supposedly bent over at home to pick something up and her back just went - I suppose that can happen, so for the past three weeks it has been all hands on deck, and I have been doing more than twice my normal hours. My colleague has been signed off for another four weeks - starting as from Monday just gone (I have this week off, thank goodness), and I am not sure what I will do after next week, as this clashes with the exams that I have been booked to invigilate. I suppose I will have to be ruthless and work out who pays the most - I suspect that will be the nursing home (the hourly rate may be less, but they can offer me more and regular hours instead of an hour here and an hour there with large gaps in between). As long as I get reasonable time off in between that is all that matters.

I had been hoping to have been able to book my air ticket to Iceland during this week, but I will have to wait until I am back at work on Monday, as one of the other housekeepers wants the same dates that I do. We work different hours - she during the day and I mostly in the evenings, but I may be needed (provided again there are no exams) to cover her hours, so I shall have to discuss it with the boss. There will be still be tickets left, but I just wanted to get it out of the way, as it won't seem real until I have booked that ticket. I will book the rest - accommodation in the various places I plan to visit, buses, domestic air travel and so on in dribs and drabs so as to spread the cost. Most of the timetables are now available online, and the Internet makes it easy to book and plan such things. There will be one phone call I need to make - to a farmhouse where I hope to stay in Skaftafell National Park - it is in fact the only accommodation available for those without cars, apart from a tent that it, and I don't fancy camping. Been there, done that.

So, it has been a nice rest from work for a week, catching up with all those things that have been neglected - sorting out bank accounts, business accounts, cleaning the house and going to the gym. Coran and I are off to Stone Henge in a little while to stay overnight at the Travelodge. We hope to go to Avebury tomorrow, which is quite close by, apparently the National Trust have a very good vegetarian restaurant there - their only own, so that will be a treat (I just hope it isn't full of wheat and cheese). In typical style it is peeing down with rain, but we have waterproofs and walking boots and are intrepid souls, who won't let a bit of water put us off. Hopefully it will put off the coachloads of tourists, and it will be blissfully quiet. It is a shame it is just for the one night, but sometimes that is all you need. I am sure it will be a nice relaxing break, and you know what they say - a change is a good as a rest.

Bloody snow !

2010-01-13T17:06:00.005Z

I am beginning to get really fed up now with all this snow, it seems that as soon as it goes the white stuff comes right back again. The village where I live, being higher up than the surrounding land, always gets the worst of the weather, which people from surrounding towns rejoice in, as they come here to sledge and in the most extreme weather which we have had these past two weeks, to ski. Yes you did read that right, snow skiing in south-eastern England.

For two weeks now I have been trying to get into Guildford (or any branch of Lush) to buy various items which I am beginning to get perilously low on. Lush always have a sale at this time of year, where you get items produced last year free of charge if you spend more than a certain amount of money, or once they have run out of these, other items free. This is a good offer which enables me to stock up for several months, and if I can't manage to get there before Sunday when the offer ends I will be seriously peed off. Not only have I lost money through being ill and of work (and today I have woken up with a throat infection so may soon be off work again), I can't get to take advantage of the sales either. It's not fair that once again those who had 2 weeks off over Christmas get to do all the things that I can't, when my job is so much more worthwhile than theirs. It seems that those who make the greatest contribution to society get the rawest deal. This is probably just me whinging though and going back into victim mode. We all need to do that once in a while ...

I have tried to see the positive in this snow, the idea that it brings families and communities together through being forced to help each other, but I have not seen that. One lady I know fell over outside the village shop (I did not see it) and told me that three cars went past before anyone stopped to help. Community spirit, what community spirit ?

I am probably just feeling fed up because I still feel unwell, and will no doubt get over it in due course. In the scheme of things I am really quite lucky, in that I have a cupboard fell stocked with food, hot water, heat and the company of the man I love. The fact that I am going stir crazy not being able to get out of the house and worried about how the hell I am going to work tomorrow night driving on a 3 inch layer of snow, with more expected tonight, is neither here not there. I will cross that bridge when I get to it - and pack an overnight bag in case !

A blessed relief - in more ways than one ...

2010-01-11T15:53:00.004Z

It was back to work for me then yesterday, much against my better judgement. It is never easy going back after a few days off, but this time seemed even more difficult than usual. While I was off I seemed to observe this little monkey on my shoulder, whittling away with all the negative thoughts about my life, and about my job. How it was menial and unfulfilling (not true at all), how I needed more hours and money (this bit is true), and how I am not appreciated by my colleagues (definitely not true). I don't know what it was, or where it came from, but the longer I stayed at home, it felt almost like I was sliding into a form of depression. I am glad then that I did go back to work, as getting out of the house and doing something active rather than just sitting around, made me feel a hell of a lot better.

The first hour was really hard, as I felt so tired, but as I began to work, the cloud and the tiredness seemed to lift, until by the end of my shift, I was almost back to normal (apart from the gnawing pain in my stomach due to hunger). My appetite is still not quite back to normal, but this is no bad thing, since I eat far too much anyway. In fact this bug has shown me just how much I do eat, and that I can in fact survive on much less than I think - I may have a manual job, but it doesn't burn that many calories ! From now on then, having also got rid of all that post Christmas bloat, I will making much more of an effort to watch what I eat.

While I was away, another death occured - this time for a lady who lived upstairs and rarely left her room. She was the longest standing resident after Louie, who died just before Christmas, and had a very advanced form of dementia. On the few occassions that she did leave her room, I can only describe the look on this woman's face as fear. Her death is then in many ways a blessed relief, as of course it usually is, for those who actually go anyway ...

Be careful of what you wish for ...

2010-01-08T18:58:00.004Z

The New Year for me at least has got off to a flying start, as for the last three days I have been laid low with a particularly virulent strain of what I strongly suspect to be Norovirus. It has been doing the rounds at work since about three days after Christmas, gradually working its way around the staff and residents alike, and the symptoms have not been nice. In my case, watery diarrhoea, stomach cramps, nausea and a distinct loss of appetite. What with that and the seven inches of snow that fell on Tuesday night, things could not be much worse.

This is a lesson for me in many ways to be very careful of what I wish for, since all over Christmas I kept saying that I needed a rest and to have more than one day off work, resentful of those that got two weeks while I had to work on Christmas Day. Then what happens, bam, I am unable to work at all, for four whole days it will be by the time I go back on Sunday. You have to wait you see until you have been free of symptoms for 48 hours. I have to be particularly careful in my job, working with the elderly and handling food.

If I feel like this, I can just imagine though how someone twice my age, who is not as fit as I am, must feel. The virus has left me quite literally on the floor, with very little energy to do anything at all. The aches and pains may have gone, but it will be a while before my body completely recovers. Worst of all has been the loss of appetite, where I just don't feel able to eat at all. For the last three days just about all I have eaten is some yogurt and a few fish cakes. I suppose it's one way to lose weight, but I rather do it through proper diet and exercise.

After three days of being cooped up in the house, I am then feeling decidedly claustrophobic. There is though nothing I can do, and I just have to let this thing run its course. In future I will be more careful though of what I wish for, as I might just get it !

The End of the Noughties

2010-01-01T11:31:00.006Z

Last night saw not only the end of the year, but also the decade; it marked the end of an era which will go down in history as the noughties. This is an interesting analogy for me, for in many ways, spiritually at least, it marked the beginnings of a new stream of thought - the beginnings of a move away from the old me, me, me attitude that marked the eighties and the nineties towards the acknowledgment that we must now work together as never before and are a part of one integrated whole. The teens then will see this new way of life and new way of thinking begin to integrate more fully and mature, in the way that teenagers do. I expect there will be some tantrums along the way, as the world goes through its own form of puberty, but the world will emerge as a much better place, where feeling supersedes thought, and where being takes the place of doing. It is after all, all a matter of intent.

The noughties though were a decade of contrasts - they saw the completion of the Human Genome project, the discovery of water on the Mars, and the real possibility of extra terrestrial life, and also the sequencing of the Neanderthal Genome, which seemingly proved that modern Humans and Neanderthals were and are not related in any form. It was the decade of Harry Potter and the Twilight Saga, which saw an enormous interest in Wicca and the occult, but also the decade of The God Delusion, which saw much debate about the role that religion plays in our society, where for the first time in America it became safe and almost accepted to "come out" as an atheist. It was also decade that marked a rise in fundamentalism, with the destruction of the twin towers (the one news story that for me at least, will always go down in history), the Afghan war, and the London, Bali and Madrid bombings. The London bombing came I seem to recall in the same week that we won the bid for the 2012 Olympic Games.

It was the decade of the tsunami and the great outpouring of grief that followed, the decade of capitalism, of the growth of China and the integration of Eastern Europe. It was also the decade that saw the impeachment of Bill Clinton, and the election of the first mixed race US President, and closer to home, the expenses scandal. It was an incredible ten years.

From my own point of view, it has been one hell of a ride. It has been a decade of pain but also incredible joy, of exhilarating highs and crashing lows. The decade started with the death of my mother, which for me changed everything. The money that she left enabled me to give up work and write my book. It was for me, the decade of crystal therapy, of writing and learning and growth. It was also the decade when I discovered than none of this actually matters. It was for me, the decade of finding out who I was. I wrote last night that 2009 was the year when I finally discovered my path and realised that it does not matter what you do for a living, or how others perceive you, all that matters is that you are happy and content and strive to be the best that you can. We are not here to learn or to do anything, but simply to be - to be the best that we can in all things while showing compassion for our fellow man. Charity begins at home, and home is the planet on which we live with its wealth of humanity and other forms of life. Nothing else matters and nothing else is.

On that note, happy New Year to all !

The year of opportunity

2009-12-31T21:44:00.002Z

2009 was for me a year of challenges and a year of change, but most of all, a year of opportunity. I for one am grateful for every moment. If I hadn't experienced the pain and joy, in equal measure, then I would not be here today smiling and holding my head up high. 2009 was the year that I finally discovered my path and realised that it doesn't matter what you do, all that matters is to celebrate who you are and to be happy. That in the end is all that counts.

A Tribute to a Lady

2009-12-25T21:06:00.011Z

Last Christmas in the midst of crisis and pain, Coran and I did not have the heart to even put up our tree - we had other things on our minds. This year fortunately was the opposite, and to me at least, brought nothing but joy. I cannot of course speak for Coran, as he needs to speak for himself.

The days leading up to Christmas were sadly marred by the deaths of two residents at work - one an 84 year old man with dementia on Thursday 17th and the other a dearly loved lady, aged 99. She was our longest standing resident, having been in the home, so I was told, for 13 years. I feel privileged to have shared the last seven months of her long and no doubt eventful life with her. I cannot begin to imagine the changes she lived through and witnessed; two world wars, countless smaller ones, a marriage and widowhood, the births of children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, the beginnings of communism, the death of communism, several monarchs and US presidents, the sixties, the list is potentially endless. It was sad that she didn't make it for another Christmas (it would have been terrible though had she died on Christmas Day), and even sadder that she did not live to see 100 - she was six months short.

Her slide seemed to be quite rapid in that two weeks ago she was sitting in her wheelchair, happy as Larry, watching us all at work. When I met Lulu I began to understand the meaning of the term "second childhood". Her happiness and her zest for life were infectious, even though she was old and not always well, she was a joy to watch and to spend time with. Watching her eat her lunch was like watching a baby; a big grin would spread across her face as she picked up the food with anything that she had to hand - her cutlery, her napkin and more often than not, her own fingers. More food would end up on her than it did in her mouth, but she enjoyed herself immensely, and we enjoyed watching her. Somehow nobody minded the mess.

I have so many happy memories of this very special lady - I remember how she used to sit in her chair for hours babbling away in a babyish little voice while cuddling her dollies, how she used to talk in more lucid moments about her life with her husband and her own mother, and how much she loved them both. I remember the card from her daughter addressed to "My darling mother"; that was how we all thought of her, as our own darling Lulu (her real name was Louisa, but we called her Lulu or Louie for short). Most of all I remember how when I used to be hoovering in the lounge, her eyes would follow me around the room, and she would look at me and open up her arms, and point to her heart to ask for a kiss and a cuddle and to let us know in her own sweet way that she loved us as much as we all loved her. This wonderful lady has left a huge hole that will be very, very difficult to fill, and although Christmas at the home was good, it somehow wasn't quite the same without her.

I think I knew that she going to die when I went into her room three nights before and found her lying on her side, with her eyes open staring at something invisible. I reached out to touch her arm and offer her some comfort and she turned to look at me and said in her croaky little voice, "I'm tired". I knew that it wasn't physical tiredness she was feeling, but a tiredness for living, that her time was coming to an end. The night that she died I went to see her again, and sat there for a few moments stroking her arm and her hair, talking to her, sometimes out loud and sometimes in my head, and saying to her that if she wished to go, then she should go, and she should not wait around on our behalf. I did the same for my own mother when she passed ten years ago.

In the early hours of Christmas Eve I was in the space between sleep and wakefulness when I had the strangest experience. It was as if I had left my own body and was hovering around her room, watching her sleep. I saw one of the night staff enter her room and press the alarm button, and as I continued to watch, I saw Lulu herself rise out of her body, which lay lifeless on the bed, surrounded in a ball of light, as the silver cord that anchored her soul into the physical form began to separate. Her face appeared in this ball of light, which as I watched began to smile and gradually grew younger and younger until she was back restored to her full health and vigour, surrounded by those that she loved. It was a very touching and privileged experience, so when I went to work later that day and found that her room door was shut, I was not surprised to find that she had passed during the night.

The mood that night was understandably subdued, with most of the staff deeply affected, and many tears were shed, not least of all by myself. There must have been some powerful connection though between the two of us for her to feel that she could show me that and allow me to share the moment of her passing. I would love to have known more about her life, but I don't suppose now that I ever will.

Christmas Day itself was reasonably uneventful, but very busy. It was the first time that I have ever had to work on the day itself and I must admit that a part of me was slightly resentful, especially when one reads of so many who get two weeks off. Christmas is though a time for families, and in many ways, the old folk who I have come to care for so deeply, are now as much a part of my family as my own flesh and blood, whom I see little of.

There was a steady stream of visitors throughout the morning, and I don't think the doorbell stopped ringing. Some stayed for a short while, bringing gifts and Christmas wishes for their loved ones, some stayed for the whole day, including a three course Christmas lunch, which I was told was delicious. It was lovely to walk into one lady's room and find three generations all together, her daughter and son in law, with her granddaughter and her new husband. It was also nice to share a cuddle with one of their son's, such a lovely man, and to finally meet another lady's son, who she has told me so much about. He travels a lot with his work and can't get to see her that often, and I know she misses him.

Despite the extra work, somehow it did all get done, and I managed to finish just after 2pm, as usual and get home for my own celebrations. It was nice to spend time with Coran watching telly and cooking a simple dinner together. There was another cause for celebration too, as I found that two of the soft pigs that I collect had had babies during the night (bought from the National Trust centre a few days ago). Our main meal will be at lunch time today - I will be cooking a root vegetable roast with fruity Cumberland sauce, which we will have with roast potatoes, roasted red onions, carrots, peas, and cauliflower cheese, with Christmas pudding and custard for afters.

Later on, we hope to go and see Avatar, and we are both fans of James Cameron's work, and then it will be back to work as usual tomorrow, before it all starts again.

The shortest day of the year

2009-12-21T09:52:00.007Z

Today is the winter solstice, tradtionally regarded as the shortest day of the year, after which the light gradually starts to return. Many people, myself included will breath a deep sigh of relief with this knowledge.

The light may be returning in nature, but this time last year, it felt as if the light in my life had well and truly gone out, for I had been literally frogmarched from the store in which I worked having been suspended pending investigations of certain aspects of my behaviour to which the company had taken a dislike. Actually the feeling was mutual, but they did not realise just how much until several weeks later when I finally had the chance to let them know.

That though is water under the bridge, and I try not to dwell on the past. Still, it has been on my mind of late, as have other things from my past. This time of year is littered with anniversaries - the ending of that job, and the death of my mother to name just two. Today though is the 88th birthday of one of the female residents at work, whom I am particularly close to, and who reminds me in many ways of Mum. It is ironic that we have also just passed my mothers birthday - had she still been alive she would have been 89 on Saturday - which makes her one year and two days older than my friend at work. I will not be there to wish her happy birthday until later on this afternoon, but they will fill her room with balloons and have a special birthday cake with their afternoon tea, and I hope too that if they can, at least one of her four sons will visit.

At this time of year, the number of deaths seems to increase, it is almost as if, like the animals, the old folk wish to hibernate, only with them it is of course permanent. The latest one to leave his body was on Thursday, which I was saddened as always to hear about, especially as I found out purely by chance, when the chef remarked that she was surprised to see his widow there at the residents Christmas party which was held on Saturday. I was shocked and upset that no one had seen fit to tell me properly, and it left me wondering just how much part of the team I really am. It is true that a sign was put up on the wall next to his room, but it was postcard sized and I do not believe it is reasonable to rely on staff who were not there at the time to see this - the nurse in charge should make sure that everyone is informed.

It was in many ways a relief for this poor man, who suffered from a form of dementia that affected his swallowing reflex, and it is true that I did not know him well, for he could hardly speak, but I know that his last few years were made as comfortable as possible, and he was surrounded by love from his wife, who came to visit every day. I shall miss her perhaps more than I will miss him, for we used to have some nice chats about different things, but life moves on, and it is part of the grand cycle. His room shall be cleared out, spring cleaned and re-let no doubt in the New Year - there is a considerable waiting list for a three star home such as ours.

For the moment though, snow is cascading past the window, and once Coran has dried his hair, we are off to the gym via the National Trust Centre and the Post Office to look for pigs and to finally get some stamps.

As 2009 comes to an end

2009-12-16T09:05:00.006Z

As we approach the end of the year, and indeed the decade (a whole other post), it seems fitting to look back on the year and see what challenges and surprises it has brought.

The year for me started off on a low note, when I had to face a disciplinary meeting at work - I was charged with writing about the company on my blog and disclosing 'company secrets'. They were expecting me to bow down and admit defeat without fighting back, and got the shock of their lives when I turned up with a army of friends in support. I really knocked them for six when I read my opening statement and defence that stated it was as much their fault as my own, since it was their lack of communication that had led me to find other ways to let off steam. They must have taken it to heart, since to my utter surprise, rather than sacking me I was given a final written warning.

That of course knocked me for six, as it meant that I had to face the prospect of going back to a job that had made me ill. Understand that I had not been fighting to save that job, but for a principal - to let them know that their behaviour was unacceptable and that there were repercussions. I did go back, but didn't manage more than half a day before I broke down in floods of tears and had to phone Coran to come and collect me. The Manager of the branch I had been sent to (I couldn't go back to my original one) was fantastic and did all that he could to listen and support with judgment (I suspect that he had seen it all before many times). In the end though I realised that I had to resign, which I did that same afternoon. I instantly felt a huge sense of relief.

Of course then the fears started to creep in - have I done the right thing, should I have stayed and sorted this out, what will I do if I can't get another job, will the fact that I have this warning put potential employers off? I knew though that I had to walk away, as I no longer (if I ever did) belong in that industry, it represented everything that I despise about our modern consumer society and the me, me, me attitude that seems to prevail amongst so many of the under 35's.

Then came the clearing - terrible shakes and sweats as I began to work through the different layers of emotion - thankfully those symptoms only lasted a day, but the thoughts and the doubts remained right up until I began my current job, at the beginning of May.

Before that I decided to apply for a job on Lundy, the island in the Bristol Channel that I have been visiting for the past 14 years. That brought its own set of challenges, not least of all telling the entire village so that they could advertise for a new Editor. Even now almost a year later, despite the fact that I published an open letter in the newsletter informing people that I would not be going, some of them still ask when I will be moving. I politely inform them to refer to the letter which was printed in the April edition !

Finally in May I started my new job - as a housekeeper in a nursing home. Good things can come from bad, since if I hadn't been to Lundy and experienced doing this type of work there, I would never have considered applying for such a job. When funds were really tight I cleaned some of my neighbours houses, so I suppose I may have considered it. Anyway, seven months on, and having also taken on the role of evening kitchen assistant in the same home, I love the job and am enjoying getting to know the residents and their families. I could do with the extra money that would come from a more full time job, but haven't got the heart to leave. I am putting out to the universe though that I would like more hours in the home on a more permanent basis. For the moment I just about manage, with overtime and occasional exam invigilating work, plus a bit of Internet based market research and the odd royalty check from my publisher. Even so, I have had to face the fact that my days of being able to afford three visits a year to Lundy are well and truly over.

This is difficult since the craving remains, despite the veneer regarding island life being shattered (for that you will have to read my earlier posts from March onwards). I hope to visit Iceland next year but at the moment cannot see how or where the money will come from - I try to have faith that the universe (or more likely, the tax man) will provide.

Other challenges of a more personal nature have included dealing with my sisters illness and my relationship with her, and not allowing the past to affect the present. I have to constantly remind myself when I overhear the girls at work discussing their work related problems that that is their experience and it doesn't have to be mine. No one is perfect and we all make mistakes, but I have learnt from mine this year and done a lot of growing. I have a new found confidence that wasn't there at the beginning of the year and am no longer afraid to communicate with bosses or to be myself - people have to accept me for who I am, and most of them I am glad to say, have. As for the others, well that is for them to work through.

The year for me then has been about dealing with issues from my past and moving very firmly into the future - to be more precise, it has been about learning to live in the present, for this is the only moment we have. As my bumper sticker says, "today is a gift, that's why they call it the present".

Mirrors are two way

2009-12-07T21:14:00.005Z

I have been in my current job for just over seven months now, and most of the time I love it. There isn't anyone there that I don't get on with, but there have been one or two problems with one of the other housekeepers. For some reason she seems to continually look for holes in my work and pull me up on certain things. They are mostly what I would consider to be quite silly things - like for example the other week when she came and found me to ask me to empty the bin in the laundry as she claimed that it was full. I knew that I had emptied it once already that day, but she seemed to think that it was full and needed emptying again. I don't know why she couldn't do it herself, but that is par for the course. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I went and had a look and found that it was not actually full at all, rather, someone had placed some cardboard in there that made it look full.

Officially I am employed as a housekeeper at the home, but really and truly I consider that I am there to help the residents in any way that I can, including talking to them. There is one lady in particular that I have become quite close too, she often tells me little things about how her family and her past and we chatter together like old friends. Several times in the morning I have gone into her room to collect her breakfast tray and found her in distress - she suffers from depression and is not a morning person. So I stayed with her for a while to try and cheer her up. My colleague came and found me and really was quite upset that I was spending as she put it "too much time talking". My job she said was to work in the kitchen and not talk to the residents - that was for the nurses !

Well, that knocked me for six. I mean, it is not as if I don't do my job - I am always finished on time, usually early in fact, as is she. In fact the other day I saw her sneaking off 20 minutes early, and I don't think she started early that day ! I also found the iron placed on the floor with its flex trailing all over the place dangerously when she hadn't put it away properly, so I don't think she should be lecturing me.

Her words though had been playing on my mind, particularly this weekend when she told me off again. I am aware that conflicts like this occur it is usually reflecting to you the fact that you may behave in this way, so I have been racking my brain to think how this could be true. Then it occurred to me that a mirror is two way - could it then be that I am acting as a mirror for her and in some way pressing her buttons in the way that I work and get on with everyone, staff and residents alike so well that it shows her where she herself is lacking? This is not meant to sound as if I am blowing my own trumpet, but the fact is that I do work hard - everyone there says so, and the residents all sing my praises too. You only have to read the notes from the monthly residents meetings to know this.

So, now that I have realised this, I have resolved not to let her worry me. I intend to carry on doing exactly what I do best - to do the job to the best of my ability. I do not want to make this woman uncomfortable though, so I will also endeavour to befriend her and get her on my side that way. The Christmas party next weekend should certainly help.

The final analysis (not for this blog)

2009-11-30T08:18:00.006Z

I find that I begin to think of my Mum at this time of year - I don't often at other times, although I never stop missing her. Today though is different, as it is ten years since since she died. The build up this time has been much more intense, possibly because of everything that has happened this year, but also I am sure, because I now work with the elderly and understand so much better how she must have felt and the things that went through her mind.

It is hard to believe that ten years ago, Coran and I were at the hospital with my sister Linda, and her then boyfriend, waiting for my brother to arrive. A lot has happened in those short - but seemingly very long, years. A few months after that, my sister's boyfriend's Dad also died, and Paul a recovering alcoholic feeling unable to cope, jumped off the roof of a nearby shopping centre. When he woke up he found himself in intensive care with a broken pelvis and other multiple injuries, including severe head trauma - it was more than three years until he was finally able to live on his own, and he still needs help. My sister still sees him from time to time, but their relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend, which was always rocky, did not survive.

In the meantime, within a few years my brother also split from his wife. He met someone else quickly, rather too quickly for his wife's taste, whom I think regretted the fact that she hadn't tried to patch things up (my brother from what I understand, begged her to go for counselling). She eventaully remarried, but it didn't last. In the meantime, my brother has been with his partner for about eight years now, and they are engaged to be married. His eldest son is also engaged and in May, will become a Dad, making me a Great Aunt and my brother a grandfather. How things move on.

I am sure that if she could see all this, Mum would be incredibly proud. She would proud too of the things that I have accomplished - writing and publishing my book, helping Coran with his issues, travelling around the world on my own, and of course, being brave enough to face my demons. I am not sure if this something she ever managed to do herself, since she never really talked about these things, and I know she had a lot of them, but I would like to think that wherever she is now, maybe looking down on us, she is happy and free of pain. In the final analysis, that is really all that matters.

The anniversary waltz

2009-11-23T15:34:00.007Z

It is hard to believe that it is almost a year since it all kicked off with my ex employer - how things have changed. When I look back to where I was and how I was feeling back then, how relieved I am that I no longer have to put that mask on each morning and pretend to be something that I am not. The strain that I was put under was incredible, and I am not surprised that I reacted in the way that I did, for when people feel forced into a corner, drastic action is needed in order to extricate themselves from that corner. It was the best that I ever did to leave that place.

The other anniversary that is coming up quite soon is the anniversary of my Mum's death, which will be ten years at the end of this month (30th). I always start to think about her at this time of year for this reason. It seems extra poignant this year, for a reason that I cannot quite put my finger on - I suppose that working with the elderly as I now do, has made me more aware of what things are like for them, and many of the things that my Mum must have been feeling. I hope that she is happy wherever she is.

I have never been lucky enough to have 2 weeks off at Christmas which many spoilt and pampered office workers seem to take for granted. In fact in most of the jobs I have had, I have been lucky to get more than 2 days. Shops have to open on Boxing Day after all, so that the aforementioned office workers have something to spend their money on. This year for the first time I have to work on the day itself, and actually I am surprised to find that I don't mind - I am actually looking forward to it in fact. It should be good fun, and a great atmosphere, with all the residents dressed up and the staff in silly hats having a laugh together, with a steady stream of visitors all day. Normally I work on Saturdays and Sundays, but as Boxing Day is on a Saturday and I am working the day before, they have agreed to let me have the day off. It seems only fair after all, that staff are not expected to work all over the holiday, everyone is entitled to some time off.

Making a difference

2009-11-09T11:08:00.004Z

I don't think I have ever had a job that fulfils me in the way that this one does. The faces of many of the residents in the care home that I work in light up when I walk through the door, and we laugh and joke together like old friends. In many ways they are becoming my substitute family, for the grandparents that I never knew. All bar one of my real grandparents were dead before I was even born, and the one that remained (my Dad's Mum) was a bit dotty to say the least. I remember how she used to pinch my Dad's favourite chair and sit and watch the wrestling, which she called boxing, and how she used to enjoy playing my fuzzy felt ! Those were the days.

It is ten years at the end of this month since my own Mum died - I can't believe where the time has gone. It feels like yesterday. It makes it all the more difficult when one of the residents at work dies, or when something happens to one of them, and there have been a few incidents this past weekend. One lady, who has only been in the home for 2 months, passed away on Friday morning, another man fell out of bed and bumped his head (he refused to let them use the guard rail), and one lady who I am quite close to, had an accident and pooed all over her carpet - guess who had the job of shampooing (no pun) it up. Lovely ! There are some aspects of this job that I really do not enjoy at all.

I still think though, all things considered that I am in the right place, doing exactly the right thing, and from the smiles on their faces when I walk through the door, the residents evidently feel the same.

The right place at the right time

2009-10-26T08:13:00.005Z

I go back to work this afternoon after six days off, days which were very badly needed. Half the time was spent at home, with three days in Glastonbury from Tuesday to Friday last week. We enjoyed our time there, despite persistent rain, and in between the showers managed the usual round of shopping, sitting in the Chalice Well gardens (we have been members for years, and stayed at the Retreat House) and the climb up the Tor. To be out and about in the fresh air did me the power of good, and blew away all those persistent thoughts. Now though it is back to normality and the thoughts are coming back (it doesn't take long).

I have had a lot to think about of late with regard to my work. I have been in the job for almost six months and enjoy it more each time that I go. When I am not there I find that I miss the old people and the banter with different members of staff - the hustle and bustle of working in a busy kitchen. The only thing that I don't like is when one of the residents dies.

There have been three deaths since I started there in May, the most recent of which was two weeks ago yesterday. The lady concerned had been ill for some time, so it was not unexpected, but she was deeply loved by all the staff, and it affected most of us quite badly. Don't believe all those stories about nurses not being affected by death.

A few days after that, I was clearing the tables after lunch and talking to the residents like I do, when one of the carers said that I was wasted in my job, and should be a carer myself. I was slightly taken aback and not sure how to react. If I am honest though, the thought had occurred to me that it might be something I was interested in. The thought of all that responsibility though scares me, and there are also practical matters to be considered - am I fit and strong enough for all that lifting, I struggle to move wheelchairs as it is, so how would I manage to get them in and out of the bath? How would I also cope with the smells and the more unpleasant aspects of the job - and do I have the patience? If I was affected so badly by the last lady's death as a simple housekeeper, how would it be if I was her carer and more closely involved? Do I really want all of that?

On the other hand, this could be a new career for me (albeit with continuous training and heavy regulation). There is no denying that the extra money and hours would be useful and do much to improve my life - my boss tells me I am not the same person who started there six months ago. I mentioned the idea to her and she said that if I do decide that this is what I want, she will support me to achieve this, which I am naturally pleased about, but when I think about the practicalities I am not convinced that it is for me. I haven't really been there long enough to know. Once I have been there for a year then I may re-assess, but for the moment I believe that I am in exactly the right place. This way I can remain detached, while still making a difference - and I know from what my colleague said that I do.

Missing Lundy

2009-10-09T14:23:00.003+01:00

I am really missing the island of Lundy at the moment, which until recently, I escaped to two to three times a year. I am not sure if it is the island itself that I miss, or the idea of it, and am no longer certain as to whether I even know the difference.

This is the time of year when I normally start to think about going again to set me up for the winter months, so it is natural in some ways for me to feel this way. The island after all, has been a part of my life for a long time. My whole lifestyle has been built around it - and I even have a separate Lundy wardrobe.

I find I am craving the idea of fresh air, silence and solitude - something that despite living here surrounded by beautiful countryside, I miss. There is something about the island and its way of life that magnifies its beauty - everything is there in equal balance - the elements of earth, air, fire and water, reflected in the island's and my own, bountiful spirit.

I know though that no matter how intense the craving gets, it is not one I can afford to indulge if I wish to go to Iceland next year. At the moment I am hard pushed to afford even the three nights in Glastonbury we have booked later on this month - we both though need the break.

The weirdest dream - but what does it mean

2009-10-08T07:51:00.008+01:00

Last night I had the weirdest and most disturbing dream about my sister - I dreamt that she died and I attended her funeral. I can't remember who was with me, but I guess it is not important anyway, the important bit is how I felt about the whole experience, while I was in that experience.

A dream like this can have several meanings, and I can only guess based on the relationship I have with my sister as to what it may mean. Most websites I have looked at state that a dream about death does not necessarily mean physical death - I think I had already worked that bit out. It means the death or the ending of a certain phase in your life, or perhaps that the way in which you have been relating to the person concerned has or needs to change. All of this could be true in my sister's case, for I have been having much more compassionate thoughts about her of late, despite the letters that she has been sending (there have been none for about a week now). However, it can also symbolise a part of yourself that you have buried and wish to deny - we all have plenty of these. I also been aware of late in many ways just how similar my sister and I are - I do not of course have schizophrenia, but there are plenty of shared, perhaps inherited, family traits and mannerisms.

This one particular website states that the dreamer may feel resentment towards the person being buried, who symbolises this repressed part of their self. The dreamer may alternatively be worrying about their health or feel that they wish to bury the past (actually I thought I already had). If any of this applies, then the dreamer needs to examine the emotions and bring them to the surface to look at. I have been re-examining and evaluating my relationship with a lot of things these past few months, since leaving my old job. Jobs have a way of making you do that. Of course in my new job, in a nursing home, I am surrounded by death - it is almost an occupational hazard that sooner or later the residents will die - two of them have already in the five months since I began work there, and another one isn't doing too well. I think though she will hang on for a while, and the dream clearly was not about her.

Personally I feel that this dream is about the separation of the different dimensions, which Karen Bishop has written about for the past year or so. Around the time of the autumn equinox, those of us who were sufficiently spiritually evolved made a choice as to whether to move into the next fourth dimension or to stay in the old third dimensional world. Coran has been ready for this for a long time, while I hesitated because of guilt at leaving my sister behind (there is no way that she would be ready for such a leap as this). There is something about this dream that makes me feel that it marked the turning point for me, at which I made the choice to leap into the abyss and finally make my choice. The funeral then to me, since the overwhelming emotion was grief, represented that final etheric separation that took place between my sister and I.

This was the kind of dream that I will not easily forget, but will I suspect stay with me for a few days, while I acclimatise to this new space. I should have known that something was coming, since I have been feeling ungrounded and emotional for days. I put it down to hormones, but now I think it may have been something else. This was why it was important for me to write about the experience as soon as I arose, and I am glad that I did, for in the months to come, I can look back on this and use it as a gauge to see how far our relationship has moved, not just with my sister, but also with myself.

Ethical Farmville

2009-10-05T07:53:00.007+01:00

I have been playing Farmvile, which is a very addictive farming type game on Facebook for about a month now and am enjoying it very much. It occurs to me though that this is more than just a game, for it could be used as model for good practises in world farming - showing the real farmers how it can and perhaps should be done.

What if everyone were to plant crops and trees that were native only to their own country? This might be a problem for Europeans since most of the crops are designed to grow in an American climate, which is as varied as the country herself, but with a little thought I am sure it could be done. The same with trees - we could refuse or immediately sell, all non native trees that we are gifted and harvest just the native ones, such as apple and apricot. The animals, apart from the baby elephants which harvest ridiculous circus peanuts, are of course farmed in the real world almost everywhere (ivory is farmed in some parts of south-east Asia), so there is no problem there, and as for the orphaned animals, well these could be used as a lesson for children in bullying, which again has been in the news of late. Petting your animals on a regular basis will ensure that they feel loved and appreciated, resulting in a higher yield of better quality.

I admit that I do not follow most of the practises mentioned above, but my partner is endeavouring to, and his farm is thriving, even though he only has five neighbours (I now have twenty five). I may not buy exclusively European crops, but I do like to practise the art of crop rotation - that is, planting different crops each time I sew something, or at least planting them in different areas around the farm. At the moment I have a mixture of water melons, artichokes, squash and egg plants (aubergine to us). The squash and egg plants should be ready later this afternoon, while the water melons and artichokes will take another three days. Of course what I should also do is try and sew seasonal crops - which at the moment I suppose should be root vegetables. I have not got to the necessary level to buy a lot of these as yet, although squash could be considered to be seasonal since it does appear in the supermarkets in the autumn.

It is also good to let your land lie fallow for a while in between crops and not be too eager to make profit - it is after all only a game, and land like people, needs to rest now and then so that it can recover its fertility (shouldn't be a problem with all those animals I have!). My farmer needs to rest too, so I have provided her with a picnic bench and a rest tent so that she can sit back and enjoy eating (and drinking) the rewards of all her hard work. Another reason to sew a varied harvest of crops is of course so that she can enjoy a varied diet, thus maintaining her health and providing her with more energy with which to farm (what was that about it only being a game?!). I have decided that my own farm is organic which will help provide even more nutrients. My animals are also of course free range.

It seems then to me that Farmville is an opportunity to practise what you preach and put all these ethical things into practise. It could be if you like, a model for how we would like our food to be produced, and if the current situation with soil depletion and falling water levels continues in some regions of the world, may be forced to go back to.

Monday morning blues

2009-09-28T07:55:00.003+01:00

I seem to have a sense of melancholy on Monday mornings, caused not by the return to work (for my longest days are at the weekends), but rather, by lack of it. I know that to a lot of people this does not make sense, for they would give their eye teeth to be in my position, but I can't help feeling bored and restless at times like this. I have the whole week ahead of me, and nothing to fill it with.

Actually this is not true -there are lots of things I can do. I can go to the gym, I can go food shopping, I can tidy the house (a bit too much like work perhaps - I work as a housekeeper), I can read, I can blog, I can write some more of my book, I can play Farmville, I can watch television, I can sit in the garden; there are lots of things I can do to fill the time, and later on, I can go to work ...

A week of contrasts

2009-09-27T20:49:00.005+01:00

It has been a week of contrasts for me, with 3 letters from my sister, each following in quick succession and each getting progressively more demanding and aggressive than the last. Some time ago, my brother made the mistake of agreeing to look after some money on my sister's behalf. It wasn't a great deal, but now that her inheritance is gone and she has to live on benefits alone (she should try working for a living if she thinks that's tough), she says that she needs this money, to no doubt squander on cigarettes ...

I have done my best to contact my brother and get him to send her the money (she has lost his contact details and he has asked me not to let her have them), but to no avail, and she keeps hassling me. I wish she would get it through her thick head that any problems she has with my brother are nothing to do with me, and I cannot get involved, but she doesn't seem to get it.

In her last letter she said that while she realises I have to work, it would be nice if Coran and I put her first for a change. Does the time that Coran spent the night with her in casualty count for nothing? Or what about the time that I called an ambulance and dashed to her house after she attemped suicide (it turned out to be a false alarm)? Or the time that she fractured her neck in a car accident and I visited her every night, the time that her fiance attempted suicide, or the time that she set fire (by accident) to her flat. I could go on, for this is just the tip of the iceberg, but it all falls on deaf ears. I am beginning to regret allowing her back into my life if this is the thanks I get ...

On a happier note, I had an email over the weekend from Shirley Henderson, the Vicar of Hartland, Welcombe and Lundy, to ask whether she could use some words from this blog at a service at the island's church conducted yesterday to mark the 40th anniversary of Landmark taking over the island's administration. Naturally I said yes, and considered it a real honour to be asked. I wish I could have been there.

Despite my decision not to return to the island for a while, with the beautiful weather we have been having (temperatures of around 20 degrees with wall to wall sunshine), I have found myself thinking about the island a lot. I get these thoughts from time to time, so know it will pass, and don't dwell on it too much. This is the time of year when I would normally be booking for the winter months as the boats season comes to an end. I have a week off soon, and a few nights booked at the Chalice Well in Glastonbury to look forward to, but other than that have no more concrete plans.

I hope to go to Iceland next summer, and trust that the funds will be there. After a few weeks of basic hours, the overtime is starting to come back, as my colleagues take their holidays, and the exam season will soon be once again in full swing with mocks and re-takes to invigilate.

What with my sister and the Church service on the island yesterday, it has then been a week of contrasts. But you know that they say, they can't be light without darkness, and personally I wouldn't have it any other way.

Down on the farm

2009-09-20T20:41:00.004+01:00

Can it really be over a week since I posted on this blog? Where has the time gone? I can't even remember much of what I did last week. I can remember what I was doing a year ago though, I was signed off from work as sick due to stress, following a Stevie Wonder concert and a very traumatic night in hospital in Croydon after my partner had a suspected heart attack. Thankfully it turned out to be a panic attack, but it proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back as far as the job that I was in at that time was concerned. All water under the bridge, and I can look back on those times and smile to see how far I have changed and moved on since those times. Anthony who runs the Inner Journey group that we attend each Wednesday commented the other night about the changes that he has seen in me since the start of this year when it all kicked off, and he is right, I feel and behave like a different person, and for the first time in a very long time I actually like what I see.

So, where has the past week gone? I am ashamed to say that I have spent an extraordinary amount of time on Facebook playing what has been a very addictive game called Farmville. I made the fatal mistake of joining (both Facebook and Farmville) following an invite from a friend, whom I am now wondering is a true friend at all ... Joking aside, it was my choice to join and it will be my choice to stop playing if I so choose, but actually I find it quite good fun, and a very good time to waste a ridiculous amount of time. I used to criticise people who were addicted to games (such as X-Box and so on), but am beginning to see that there is really little difference between what I do and what they also do. Well, on the surface anyway.

Actually there is a world of difference - many of the games which are played on these consoles are filled with violence and other forms of anti social behaviour, but Farmville is a peaceful game where no one gets hurt - a harmless bit of fantasy. The aim is basically to make as much money as you can - not real money unfortunately. The key is to have as many neighbours as possible, as your neighbours send you free gifts which can either be traded in for cash, or can be added to your orchard or zoo and harvested every few days. You can also earn points by visiting your neighbours farms and helping to remove weeds, scare away crows etc, and can get bonuses every time one of your neighbours moves up a notch to the next level of the game. The money that you earn can be used to buy more crops, trees and animals for your farm, which in turn can be harvested when ready for cash, or to buy buildings and other farm equipment. I have earned nearly 47,000 coins in a week and am already on level 10!

Of course playing Farmville is the perfect excuse not to knuckle down to writing that children's book that has been in the back of my head for the last few years, and also the perfect excuse not to wash up ...

Do staff have the right for extra pay on Sundays?

2009-09-10T07:52:00.006+01:00

It cannot have escaped people's notice (unless you live on Nibiru, and even then not) that rail operator London Midland has been forced to continue paying their workers double time on Sundays in order to avoid the cancellation of Sunday services operating to Liverpool and the West Midlands.

Last Sunday the operator was forced to cancel the majority of these services when staff refused to work following the ending of a temporary agreement to pay double time on Sundays which ended on August 30th. The company has since announced that it has come to an agreement with staff to continue with these payments for an "extended period".

Not surprisingly this led to a flurry of protests and comments from both passengers and the media, most of whom seemed to be against the action taken by London Midland employees. Having weighed up all the facts, I am surprised to find that I agree with this view. After all, it is not as if it were a permanent agreement, the staff knew that this would soon be coming to an end, and they also know that their employers wealth is not limitless. Yes, they have got used to these extra payments, but they do not appear to be a contractual right, and they knew that they would only continue until the end of August, so I do not see what the fuss is about.

Contrary to popular opinion, workers do not have the right to extra pay for working unsocial hours. Whether they should is not a matter for me to debate, but for them to debate with their employers. I have to work Sundays in my job, as do millions of other workers in many different industries, and I do not get double time, but time and a quarter, which I am more than happy with. The one right that Sunday workers do have however is the right to opt out, and also the right not to be discriminated against because of their religious beliefs (if they refuse to work on Sundays for example because they are Christian).

In fact, the right to opt out of Sunday working only applies to retail and betting shop workers - other industries such as nursing, security and yes, transport are not covered, as those in these jobs have always had to accept that they will be a certain amount of Sunday work - it goes with the territory. If you are not prepared to do this, then don't apply for this type of work (unless you are a Christian). The other thing with regard to Sunday working if you are a a retail or betting shop employee, is that rather than opting out, you have to opt in. When I think about it, I never did do this with my previous employer, it was just taken for granted that I didn't object. I obviously didn't, as I turned up for work (without I add extra pay - although we were paid for a 8 hour day when we only worked for 6).

If you are a retail or betting shop worker, and object to working on Sundays, you must give your employer three months written notice of this (some employers only require one months notice, so check your handbook carefully). If you choose to opt in, it is up to you to agree with your employer exactly what work you are prepared to do on a Sunday, and its frequency. You have the right to opt out at a later date after you have opted in should you so choose, as long as you give the required notice, and cannot be discriminated against (passed over for promotion etc) because of this.

The regulations do not apply in Scotland or to those who are contracted to work on Sundays only.

I cannot help feeling that London Midland are making a big mistake with this in giving in to their staff and their demands, but at the same time, can see that they have been placed in a very awkward situation. The only alternative they appear to have is to sack their entire staff and replace them with other workers - but the strike would have to continue for a long time before they could justify this, and not just one day. Is wasn't a strike anyway, since Sunday working has always been voluntary, and you cannot sack someone for failing to volunteer. Even if they could sack them all, in a skilled job like this it is not that simple. They need trained staff to operate these trains and these do not come out of thin air. You cannot just walk in off the street and drive a train like you can operate a till.

What then is the solution - for the union and the employer to negotiate - it is the only solution that there is - I just hope that the union this time is sensible and does not make unreasonable demands that cannot be met.

Men, especially when they want to be women !

2009-09-09T11:58:00.004+01:00

Coran and I seem to be getting very frustrated of late, not just with life, but also with each other, which is I suspect, a symptom of other frustrations anyway. Life is less than perfect for both of us, but as always, we do not see what we have, only what we have not.

There seems to be this sense of restlessness which is in part linked to the change in seasons, but runs much deeper than that. I am frustrated about many things, but the main problem is boredom - there is just not enough happening in my life right now to keep me occupied. What this is really about is lack of work. The lack of work also means lack of funds to do the things I want - and the hours I do (5 to 7pm four nights a week, plus 8am to 2pm on Saturdays and Sundays) also means that it is difficult to arrange days out, without an awful lot of pre-planning, which Coran and I have never been good at. Yes I pre-plan holidays, but days out are different, these are done on the spur of the moment, and to get home in order for me to go to work means leaving early, which needs pre-planning, nice as it is to be spontaneous.

Of course Coran being the one I love, and being close to hand, working from home, bears the brunt of these frustrations, which I know is unfair, but I am not sure what to do about. It is obvious that I need to find other interests in which to fill my time, and perhaps another source of income - but what and how? Most part time jobs are five days a week, which would leave me in the position of having no days off at all, and those that are less than this are not the type of jobs that would interest me - working in a supermarket for example or market research, knocking on people's doors (I have a fear of dogs). What then to do? It is true that I have the school job as an exam invigilator, but there are no exams scheduled (as far as I know) until November. As for overtime in my existing job, there has been some this month, but there is unlikely to be more until the end of October when my colleagues take their holidays.

Following a quarrel this morning, I have returned from a routine Doctors appointment to find that the furniture in Coran's room (and our carpet) has borne the brunt of his own frustrations. The man himself is meanwhile nowhere to be found. He can't have gone far, as his car is in the garage for it's annual service. It is a waste of time though trying to telephone, as his mobile phone is rarely used, so I guess I shall have to sit it out at home and wait for his return. If it doesn't come by a certain time, I suppose I shall be cooking lunch for one ... Men, especially when they want to be women !

The mysteries of the supermarket trolley

2009-09-07T11:24:00.007+01:00

I worked as a cashier for a major supermarket for 2 years from 2003-2005, and since then have been fascinated by the food that other people buy and eat. I find it hard to understand why people moan about the size of their food bill when they insist on buying so much expensive junk - it seems to me that there are three (four in fact) things that make food bills expensive - meat, alcohol, ready meals and buying branded goods. Since we do not eat meat and very rarely drink, that takes care of the first two. Being wheat free takes care of the third one, since most ready meals are swimming in the stuff, and as for the branded goods - apart from Green and Blacks chocolate, the cheaper stuff is in my opinion just as good.

People tell me that the reason they buy ready meals is convenience and because they don't have time to cook. More often it is because they don't know how to cook. When you have unusual dietary needs as Coran and I do, you are forced to cook for yourself from scratch, as there are no or very little convenience foods that are suitable, apart from the odd curry, most of which I find too hot anyway. As for the frozen roast potatoes and the like which some people like to buy - that's just being lazy! These things cost a fortune, so being lazy and not bothering to learn how to cook is an expensive habit. It's not one that I could afford, for the sake of my health or my bank balance, but each to their own.

People are so used to relying on wheat and convenience foods that they cannot imagine what people in our position live on - the answer is really quite simple - everything except meat and wheat! Tesco and Sainsburys (I prefer Tesco, as there isn't a large Sainsbury's close enough to home, and I am used to their store layouts), do an excellent range of wheat free foods, including delicious cakes and puddings, and occasionally we like to treat ourselves. We rarely buy wheat free bread, except when travelling, as it extremely expensive and mostly white without the goodness of wholemeal, so we tend to buy things like rice cakes and Ryvitas instead, which are cheaper and more nourishing. We have these for lunch with cheese, hummus or some other vegetarian pate with salad or in the winter when it gets cold, with a nice bowl of soup (Baxters do a very good range of wheat free, vegetarian soups, but the Tesco own label fresh ones are not too bad).

For our main meal, which during the week we eat at lunch time, we rely heavily on rice and pasta with occasional eggs and jacket spuds. On Sundays we have the traditional roast with veggie burgers or sausages, both of which are delicious, with all trimmings. Some of our favourite dishes include stuffed courgettes with cherry tomatoes, goats cheese and black olives, coconut rice and stir fries with either soy sauce or sweet and sour (occasionally as a treat with Pesto).

On an average week we spend between £40 and £45, around two thirds of what most of our couple friends spend, who do eat meat and wheat. This diet and lifestyle are then definitely cheaper.

Last week I bought:

Plum tomato soup, vegetable soup, 3 cartons of rice milk, oat cereal, porridge oats, washing powder, cheese and chive crisps, 2 packs of fish cakes, sweet and sour sauce, asparagus, broccoli, a fresh stir fry, organic eggs, multi grain Ryvitas, TV guide, Daily Mail, a bag of mixed salad, carrots, cheddar cheese, Quorn ham, pasta sauce with garlic and roasted vegetables, tomato and basil hummus, coleslaw, potato salad, apples, cherries, a pack of 3 pens, cherry tomatoes, baking potatoes, Ibuprofen, baked beans, Basmati rice, soya desserts, red onions and new potatoes.

In the freezer we have frozen chips, veggie sausages and frozen peas. See if you can guess what we ate? Bet you can't !