The Message behind the Games

One of the advantages of working in a nursing home as I do, is the fact that many of the residents have televisions in their rooms. That and the big screen TV in the downstairs lounge mean that I have been able to watch the Olympics while I work. On several occasions this week I have found loitering on various residents beds while they drink their cups of tea. Most of them have been only too pleased to have my company.

This morning I was passing one of these residents rooms and he happened to have on his radio. The station is not as important as the message that it was broadcasting. A "Christian", and I use the term loosely for it has many meanings, was speaking about what he felt was the message behind the Olympics. He said that he felt it was showing us that our focus and our goal should not be about making money but rather about striving to be the best that we can be. This is a phrase that I have heard quite frequently in the last few weeks, and if you take it at face value as most have, it is all about striving to reach that Olympic goal. It can however be applied to almost any aspect of anyone's life in equal measure.

Whether young or old, that is the sole (or perhaps soul) reason we are here - to strive to be the best that we can in any given moment. Knowing as I do that time is an illusion, that moment stretches on into eternity and reaches out into infinity. To live in the moment is all that we can do, for the moment is all that there is.

The Olympics also show us that is not about winning, but about competing in the spirit of fairness and equality. Those that fail to win medals (and these are the majority) are not failures because of this this, but successes because they tried, and try is all we can do. The journey to coin another well used phrase, is more important than the destination and it is the experience that is the prize for it is that experience that shows us who we are and what we too can be.

The Message is in the Music - Calibans Dream

As the rain tossed above us;

In the garden of the world

But a flame arrives to guide us;

Past the gold between the angles of the stars

Watch you over all the children in the rain;

And the streets where I remember

Where the fire that lights a candle soars again;

A flaring flame,

Hear it call;

Through the darkness,

Hear it call to us all

And start again;

Its beating heart

Comes again

When the light dries all the fields

And the joy drives out our pain

And the nations come to greet us

Waving molten loaves and waves of golden corn

Can you hear us,

Oh, the spirit of the world

May your light be ever near us

Always heal us from the dark that we may fall

Olympic cycling comes to Box Hill

At the end of February 2011, after months of speculation, it was finally confirmed via a big Press Conference, that the Olympic road cycling races for both men and women would be coming through Box Hill. A public meeting rapidly followed the announcement, during which villagers had the opportunity to ask questions and raise concerns - and there were many of them. Then on August 14th 2011, we had the test race. This was a small taste of what was to come.

Coran and I as Assistant Editor and Editor respectively of the village newsletter Box Hill News, were lucky enough to have the opportunity to gain access to the restricted areas for the race, and take roadside pictures of the athletes as they made their way through. This was thrilling enough, but was nothing compared to what took place this past weekend.

As the Olympics approached the negativity throughout the village seemed to increase along with the excitement - all sorts of things were being said - there were too many cyclists, this would "put the village on the map" exposing us to a possible crime wave, there would be problems with litter, but most of they objected to the lengthy road closures, which meant in the words of one particularly vociferous villager "being kettled in". I am pleased to say that all of those fears have been proved to be totally unfounded, as the chaos (and there was much of it) was worth it all for the chance to see these world class athletes right outside our front doors - and all for free.

A week or so before the race, since we had been unable to sell the Box Hill News from within the ticketed zone, or even around the village during the weekend, Coran had the idea to make a video for the village, on behalf of the Box Hill Neighbourhood Council. Once the Council had approved the idea, we arranged to borrow a friends camera to do the filming with. Knowing that the athletes would be coming through for a test run on the Thursday before the race, Coran spent time filming the action while walking through the village all the way up to the ticketed zone. There she got talking to the security guards where she was given permission to film the ticket holders as they came in. En route she also discovered that BBC Radio Surrey were broadcasting live from Box Hill, and she also got permission to come and film them on the race days. Everything seemed to be running so smoothly with things just falling into our laps.

It was also an eventful week for me. News of the Box Hill News debacle made it onto the Internet following coverage in the Dorking and Leatherhead Advertisers. This led to an interview on BBC Radio Surrey and later to Sky Sports News, who interviewed me outside the village shop, having been unable to access the National Trust areas due to road closures. Sadly as we do not subscribe to Sky, I was unable to view the transmission, but various friends informed me that it was broadcast as part of the main evening news and that I came across as "friendly but saddened by the events".

Of course now the races are over, I can see why things happened the way that they did - for if we had been busy selling the magazine then we would not have been free to enjoy the races ourselves, and Coran would not have had the opportunity to create the video that she is now editing. We may not have been able to tell the story in words, to the villagers and spectators, but we can tell it in pictures instead, which will reach a much wider audience and is a more appropriate medium with which to get the message across.

Along with it seems most of the population, we stayed up to watch the opening ceremony and were literally blown away. The intensity of the drumming in the first sequence was one thing, but when the performers came on stage to those pounding drums, emerging from beneath the Holy Thorn on the model of Glastonbury Tor, the intensity was overwhelming. It seemed to us that this scene which was a reenactment of the industrial revolution was a means of clearing so much of the crap that has been caused over the years by our ancestors - the colonisation of distant lands, the abuses by the mill owners and other businesses, the Jarrow marchers (particularly poignant given the current state of our economy), I could go on. It was almost as if Danny Boyle was saying "Yes we fucked it all up, but now we have to apologise for that and move on".

The second sequence was less dramatic but nevertheless also had meaning - for me at least it was about honouring the role that women and children have and will play in the shaping of our society. You see most of the problems were created by men, and the women and children were the innocents to get caught up in their power games. Now the tables are turning as the feminine begins to rise within society and women take a more equal role. As for the third sequence, supposedly a celebration of the digital age, well this was and is about the future, a celebration of all that is to come, including, yes the gifts of both the Internet and mobile phones. It was one big party.

The parade of flags needs no explanation, but the lighting of the cauldron was the best part yet, when the honour was passed over to the young and upcoming generation - for they are indeed the future and it is now over to them to carry the light that will take us through to the new millennium and into the future, away from the shadows and shackles of our past.

When we left the house at 7.30am the following day, crowds were already beginning to mass throughout Box Hill Road, with a group of stewards to greet us at the gates to the park where we live. By the time we got up to the Smith and Western near the Donkey Green it was packed to capacity with fans of all ages. We made our way through to the BBC area where Coran proceeded to film presenter Nick Wallis who at that time was conducting an interview with a woman from Redhill who had taken part in the opening ceremony. Following a chat with Nick's producer Kerry, and a camerawoman from the BBC, we made our way up to ticketed zone where those lovely Air force people allowed us to film and photograph the spectators as they came through.

We stayed at this area as the first lap came through, sitting by the side of the road, literally inches away from the action, gradually making our way down through the village for each proceeding lap. There were nine of them in all. The streets were crammed to capacity with fans of all ages, all having a fantastic time, dressed in all their Union Jack finery. By the end of the day we were dizzy with excitement, running on pure adrenalin. I estimate that there must have been close to 50,000 fans along that part of the route alone.

Sunday was quieter, given the later start from The Mall at 12 noon, and the fact that the women did just 2 laps rather than 9, but in some ways the race itself was more exciting, particularly at the end.

Coran and I were filming at the ticketed zone again when a gentleman walked over to me and asked if I wanted a ticket as one of his friends had not turned up. I thought he was joking, but quickly realised that he was not, and then one of the stewards offered us another one that she had been given to pass on, so rapidly emptying our water bottles we made our way inside.

Coran stayed along the top end of the ZigZag while I made my way down to Straw Belle Slope to await the action and listen to the live commentary. Sadly they would not allow me to scramble down to Butterfly Bend for the next lap, but I had a great view as the riders came up the slope, which was useful as it meant I knew exactly when to start switching on the camera. On both days I kept it in burst mode and just kept shooting - during the 2 days Coran achieved 6 hours of footage while I took over 1000 pictures - that will be one hell of an editing job. It was the icing on the cake to get the women's silver medal, and a huge cheer went up from the crowd who were watching the final on the big screen.

The weather may not have been kind during the second day for the womens race, but this too had meaning. The sun which shone brightly in the days leading up to the opening ceremony and on the first day for the mens race is of course a symbol of masculinity, the fire element in all its glory. Water on the other hand, which rain of course is, is very much feminine, representing the emotions, which the female riders no doubt experienced in abundance, as did the crowds. Water acts to wash everything away, all the debris and all the detriment that we no longer need, replenishing us in both body and soul to start anew, which is of course in this year of 2012, exactly what we are doing.

It is no accident that London won the bid for these 2012 games, and it is also no accident that the opening sequence for the opening ceremony featured a model of Glastonbury Tor, for Great Britain is the hub from which much of the abuse of the past several hundred years stemmed from, and Glastonbury is the heart chakra of the earth, the heart being a symbol of forgiveness. The combination of the opening sequence and that rain on the second day paves the way for the new era to be ushered in, as we are now swept clean of all this debris that no serves us, and we are free to move gracefully into a new era.

Looking back with hindsight, which is as always a wonderful thing, if someone was to ask me whether the chaos and disruption has been worth it (and it was interesting how often the word chaos was used by the commentators during the opening ceremony - we were definately tuning in on the universal consciounsess there), I would say one hundred percent yes. In the space of a few hours, watching and interacting with the crowds and seeing the spectacle of Olympic class athletes free wheeling past quite literally on the doorstep, all the anger and all the frustration has gone.

The nature of unpredictability

While it is true that Britain has a reputation for unpredictable weather, this year it has been more unpredictable than most. What little summer we have so far had, seems to have been confined in the southeast at least where I live, to a week or so in May and the occasional day (thankfully mostly on my days off) of luke warm sun. We have had rain, hail, and high force winds galore, frequently all at the same time. Even Scilly where I went for my summer holiday in June has been immune, the islands normally having the highest sunshine record in Britain. It is true that the weather there was better than at home, but we had some less than perfect days too, and the weather did for me at least seem unseasonably cool with convertible trousers rather than traditional shorts, the order of the day. On one occasion I was walking along the north coast towards the Bronze Age settlement of Halangy Down when the heaven's opened. Making a dash for the nearest entrance grave (which I realised would have a roof), I was surprised to find a couple already sheltering there, having had the same idea as me - we were rapidly joined by a second couple and proceeded to play a game called "How many live bodies can you fit in a Bronze Age grave". Being slightly vertically challenged at just over 5 feet tall I was the only one who was able to stand up without having to stoop, but that is another story ...

Anyway, I was thinking this morning about the nature of all this strange and unpredictable weather and what it all might mean. Those who are on the spiritual path or have some knowledge of Shamanism will know about the four elements of earth, air, fire and water and what they represent - namely that earth, is well connected to the earth, air (wind) is about communication, fire is about passion and anger and all those things that drive us, and water is about emotion. It seems then to me that with all this water, there is quite literally an excess of emotion that people just do not know how to deal with. It spills over like a river bursting its banks (and we have seen a few of them these past few weeks), often at the most inopportune moment.

At the moment as well, with all the changes going on both on a personal and a global level, people have a lot to feel emotional about - for many, especially those who are higher up the ladder in positions of authority and power, the rug is quite literally being swept from beneath their feet, for with the recent scandals and abuses that have come to light, first with the media and now with banking, ordinary people such as myself (they would be the ones who keep those at the top in their positions in the first place and consume the services that their corporations insist that we need), are demanding change, and that change is beginning to happen. The world is shifting and changing and the balance of power is beginning to shift and change with it, and those at the top are quite literally running scared, for they can sense that the end is nigh, and people are no longer prepared to accept the status quo. But are they?

While there is undoubtedly a great feeling of change in the air, for many there is also a feeling of helplessness and complacency, the thought that they alone are not powerful enough to affect the changes that we can now see that society plainly needs. They are of course wrong, but this too is where the overpowering emotions come from - society is shifting and changing so far and so fast that the majority who do not have the spiritual understanding that most of my readers have, do not understand either what is happening to how to deal with it. Thus it is that like the weather, one day they are up, the next they are down, like the wind, constantly shifting speed and direction.

Only when people are sufficiently angry will things really change and anger being fire energy in this context, can be seen as synonymous with the sun, and the lack of its energy. Maybe as more of these scandals come to light, and the enquiry into the rate fixing scandal begins to take form and more facts are revealed, people will start to feel that anger a little more. I suspect that only then will we start to feel the warmth of the sun.

Back from Scilly

Once again, a month has gone by since I wrote this blog. One month ago I was preparing to go the Isles of  Scilly for my 2 week summer holiday, and here I am a month later, not yet one week back from that holiday and back to work right into the fray.

The weeks leading up to that trip seemed to have passed in a whirl of work related stress and other issues and my time away seems to have passed as always, far too quickly, yet I know that how I felt then and how I feel now pay very little resemblance. Despite being back at work, back to the same old problems of an unappreciative boss (for that read Director, for my immediate Manager is the opposite, and I guess that is what really counts), and being generally overworked and underpaid, I feel much more relaxed and refreshed than I did then. It normally takes around a month for the holiday feeling to really wear off, so I guess I have another three weeks to go ...

On the day of departure, on the train to Penzance, I felt slightly nervous knowing that it had been many years since I made a long train journey such as this. Once we got past Reading however, where I connected with the First Great Western service from Paddington, I began to relax, especially once the man sitting next to me, who did seem to realise that a quiet carriage meant no mobile phones had been put straight! The journey itself, which initially seemed to drag, soon went by, as I found myself staring out of the windows watching the ever changing scenery intermittenly reading my Kindle. Every so often I got up for a walk to the toilets or to the buffet car for a cup of tea, wishing as with other transport providers of this kind, that gluten free was more readily available and I had not been forced to bring my own, adding to the bulk of my wheelie bag.

On arrival in Penzance, I decided to walk to the YMCA where I had booked myself in for the night. It was quite a long walk, maybe a mile or so, most of it uphill, so by the time I got there I was short of breath, hot and sweaty. However, once I had checked into my room and claimed by bunk, I soon regained my composure before going back into town for a proper look around. One cannot really get a feel of the place when staying for a few short hours overnight, but from what I did see of Penzance it is a pleasant enough place, and one that I would be quite comfortable spending more time in. The hostel itself was comfortable enough, even though the common room was taken over by the local youth club which meant I was unable to watch television, but I didn't lose too much sleep over that.

The following day I walked back into town via Archie Browns healthfood store and cafe for a a delicious breakfast, before heading back to the railway station to catch the shuttle bus for my flight to the islands from Lands End. The weather was overcast, but the wind managed to stay away, and the flight itself was over quickly. We landed just after 12.30pm, and I was then bussed back to the flay, courtesy of Skybus, where I quickly changed, before going into town for a look around and to visit the Coop.

Each day after that was a new adventure, as the islands gradually unfolded for me to explore - a different one each day, each with their own character. Each seemed reminiscent of a different aspect of Lundy - Bryher like the rugged north end, St Martins like the lush and sheltered east coast and St Agnes like the west, while Tresco was a little of each. Samson of course, is a law unto itself, being given over now to nature and a large colony of black backed gulls, and of course terns.

Many happy days were spent exploring the islands, from north to south and east to west, sitting on beautiful white deserted beaches, exploring rock pools and large granite formations, walking labyrinths (known on the islands as mazes) and eating local delicacies and morsals - Troy Town ice cream (rose and geranium, delicious and unusual), and locally caught prawns) with Scilly's famous cream teas. One of the best days was spent walking around the coast of St Mary's, the largest island on which I stayed - 12 miles in total. It was one of those sunny yet windy days, when the wind whips your hair around your face, stinging your cheeks and bringing tears to the eyes. By the time I got to Old Town, the sign saying cafe was most welcome, and I walked inside for a delicious cup of tea with home made gluten free brownie.

Nights were spent soaking in the bath, walking around the Garison and nearby Halangy Down and watching television. As ever, the 2 weeks went far too fast, and now I am home, it seems a lifetime away.

One of the things I appreciated the most about the flat that I rented was the radio that came with it, and I soon got into a routine of waking each day and switching it on, listening in bed while I ate breakfast and prepared for the day. I was tempted to make a booking for the same flat for next year, but my heart tells me that it would be nice to explore other places as otherwise it may turn into another Lundy.

While I was away, the Editorship of the village newsletter that I recently left behind seems to have been thrown back into the air, as my replacement has been abruptly sacked due to a dispute over their ideas for the future of the newsletter and their treatment of contributors. I have no intentions of taking it back, although it looks as if Coran might, on a temporary basis at least. As for the Olympics, well that it now less than one month away, and the machine continues to grind on. We attended an open meeting in the Village Hall yesterday and did not learn anything new. It was however a chance to vent our spleen, not that it achieved anything, other than making us feel better.

Now all I have to do it enjoy the rest of the summer and plan the next holiday!

More Fool Them!

It looks as if I will not be able to go to the funeral tomorrow, and although I was initially upset at this, as the days have gone by, I no longer mind. I think I realised in the end that I wanted to go for the wrong reasons - to find out a little more perhaps about her life and what had led her down that road, when it should have been about paying my respects. I do not need to attend a funeral in order to do that, for I did that for her while she was alive, perhaps during the most critical phase of her life - right at the very end. In the end there is no greater honour than to do that for another person.

I have been thinking of her these past few days and know that she is still around, and acknowledging the role that I played during those final weeks, and that in the end is what counts. She would understand that my lack of presence does not mean a lack of respect.

On another note, last Friday I finally said a farewell to the Box Hill News when my final issue was delivered to our printer. It was a strange feeling as the handing over was delayed for a day due to some issues with our printer, and also because the Church vestry where the BHN printer is located has been taken over as a temporary storage area while the adjoining Church hall has some building work done - namely, a new kitchen. When the printer finally did come to collect it was a strange feeling to know that this was the last time I would ever do this, and see him in this capacity. Still, in a village this size, I am sure I will continue to see the rest of the team around the Hill and we will I am sure remain in touch. I cannot though say that I am sorry after the the fiasco that has become the Olympics, to let it go.

The tickets for the Road Cycling Races went on sale this morning, and in typical LOCOG stance, I received an email from the Friends of Box Hill, who were involved in the consultation process, undertaking surveys with LOCOG re the environmental impact of the games, to say that even they would not receive complimentary tickets. Mind you, from the limited information I have been able to dig out of them, access for villagers will not be easy, as according to the official website, the entry zones for ticket holders are via Dorking mainline or Box Hill railway stations, both of which due to road closures, will for residents require a 7 mile walk to get to, followed by 3 more miles to walk back up the hill. All that for a journey that should take no more than half an hour. What a shambles!

Our piece in Cycling Weekly came out last week and although it was short and sweet, it said it like it was, as does my outgoing piece detailing the reasons for the cancellation of the Olympic special in BHN. One thing's for sure, it will certainly give all those gossips something new to talk about - apart from April Fools that is - all I can say is, more fool them!

Four deaths (and maybe a rebirth), again ....

May is shaping up for both Coran and I to be one hell of a month - marred by what seems like one problem after another and chronic tiredness for both of us. The weather does not help, and I am quite certain that if I could experience just a little sunshine, it would make one hell of a difference.

It seems like forever since I wrote this blog. It is not for the want of trying on my part. I have thought about it several times, but the words just didn't seem to come. A sign of depression if ever I saw one.
 

When I think back on it, it all started with that note from the boss back at the beginning of April, but the signs were there a long time before that things were not all that they seemed. Truth be told, work although it has not helped, is really just the tip of the iceberg, and just another stresser to add to the pile. The trouble is, several little things, when put together, add up to make one big thing, and everything seems to have just snowballed at once. It all just seems so very overwhelming, and several times I have found myself retiring to the toilet at work to sit and have a bloody good cry. Reiki breaks have also become a lot more frequent in recent weeks. A lot of people I know seem to be going through something similar, and I suppose knowing this should help, but somehow this time it seems not to.

At the end of April Coran and I were forced to cancel the Olympic edition of the village newsletter that we had spent months planning a little under 2 weeks before the copy deadline. It was a combination of many different things, which although seemingly small, added up to make one big thing. Internal politics with the rest of the committee played a part, but the final nail in the coffin was the reaction to my April Fool and the abusive calls I received, which made it abundantly clear that the villagers are not behind the Games and do not want an Olympic issue. Communication problems with LOCOG (Locally Organised Chaos Optimisation Group) did not help either, as they made it impossible for us to sell it anywhere other than the outlets that we already use, seeming to put up barriers everywhere that we looked. In the end, given the lack of response from villagers (I had been asking for articles for months, and received just two in all that time), it became clear that to continue would be counter productive. Something in short had to give before I did, and that something proved to be the Olympic issue. 

To say that I am sad about this is an understatement, as I estimate that between the two of us, Coran and I had spent in excess of 100 hours work on this issue. We had always known that we would be expected to shoulder the bulk of the work, despite assurances from the rest of the team that they would help, so it was no surprise to find that they came up with plenty of ideas but provided nothing to back them up with. We had so many hopes and plans for this issue though, which was to be my last - we managed to talk a professional journalist into helping us, and even got Sebastien Coe to write the foreword, but it was not to be.

The aforementioned journalist commented in the aftermath of this that the village people (village idiots more like) do not deserve us, and I believe that he is right. We did an interview (more of a comment piece really) with him last week to be published in the magazine that he works for, and I look forward to seeing a copy when it comes out this or next week.   

At the same time that all of this has been going on, Coran hurt her back. I am not sure how it happened, but one day she was bending down in the shower to pick up the soap, and it just went. She thinks now that it may have been due to the most recent anti tetosterone injection, which may have inadvertently hit a nerve, since the pain seemed to emanate from the exact same region where the injection was administered. Given that it contains a slow release gel, one would expect it to take several weeks to show up, and the pain seemed to develop almost exactly three weeks later.    

Twice though I had to call an ambulance in the middle of the night, and twice I has to take time off work. The staff were of course wonderful and very supportive, but this does not make up for the stress or the lack of sleep. After having been up all night, and finally leaving the hospital at 9am, I remember commenting to Coran that I was surprised  I did not feel more tired. Then it dawned on me, that tired had become my normal state, to the extent that I no longer recognise when I am tired. This really made me stop and think about the effect that my job has on me, and yet I am still loathe to give it up.

Why you may ask yourself is this - the reason is because it makes such a difference to the lives of so many different people, and is the most rewarding thing (in terms of everything except money) that I ever done.  If you want proof of this, one of our residents passed away last weekend, and a week before she died, I sat with her for 10 minutes stroking her hand and talking to her. She turned her head (she was lying in bed) and looked at me, straight in the eye and smiled, and I felt this surge of energy move towards us as both of our hearts opened simultaneously at the same time. We did not need to say anything, as each of us instinctively understood what was taking place, an exchange of pure heart energy, of compassion and unconditonal love.

This particular lady who was only in the home for a short while (about 10 weeks), seems to have had a really deep effect on me, and I still cannot figure out why and what the connection was, for it is clear that there was one. There seemed to be this sense of recognition almost from the first time that I saw her, almost like meeting up with a long lost friend. I don't know whether she was someone from a former life perhaps, but whatever it was, she has really left her mark, for I was very, very upset when she passed away. 

I have never done this before, but I really felt the need to say goodbye to her in person, so I sneaked into her room, where the body still lay, kissed my hand and placed it gently on her brow and whispered some words of goodbye to help send her on her way. It was distressing in some ways to do that, to see her there lying cold and stiff, with yellowed flesh (apprently this is normal with frail and elderly people) and she was both of these, but I am glad that I did it, for I really felt that I needed to do this. As the day wore on, I kept smelling the perfume that she used to wear, and that I believe was also her, acknowledging what I had done for her, and letting me know that she was watching me, and was making that transition to another place, where she was no longer in pain.   

This lady though seems to have a particularly interesting life. She was married at a young age to a Baron no less, and her son through that marriage went on to inherit the title, after many years of being an MP. He now sits in the House of Lords and is also ironically on the Board of LOCOG. I did not get to meet him in person as he always visited when I wasn't there, but I got to know his sister a little, and some of June's friends (she had the same name as myself, even more ironically, or perhaps not). 

I do not know if I will ever understand what the connection was that she and I shared, but she does seem to have effected me greatly during the short time that she was there. What surprised me more than anything was the fact that her family seemed so upper class and posh compared to myself and those that I know, yet June herself did not seem like this. She seemed very down to earth, and despite her ill health and fraility, very, very lucid. She knew exactly what was going on around her, and she also knew exactly who I was. She gave us a few scares, and at one time the family even called a Priest to adminster the last rites, but she always seemed to bounce back. I remember saying to her that she and I were the same, both fighters, and she looked right at me, smiled and nodded her head. She knew then who I was and why I was there, even if I did not, and in the end perhaps it does not matter. If the opportunity does arise, I would though like to attend the funeral to say a final farewell and also to find more out about her life. If I am meant to go, then the opporutnity will be there.

This was in fact the first of several deaths this week - we have since had two more, both on the same day. Neither affected me nearly as much as this first one, since I did not really know the other two ladies, one had been with us for a week, and had terminal cancer. Three deaths in as many days does though affect the energy of the home, when most are already under stress. I just hope that the weather improves  before my trip to the Isles of Scilly in three weeks, as right now, this is about the only thing that is keeping me going.