Last time I added anything to my blog I was moaning about feeling depressed, and generally fed up. Then as if some divine all seeing all knowing entity had taking pity on me by intervening to give me back some purpose in my life, I got worse..much worse
Problems with Achilles tendons and knees as well as other ligaments and muscle groups that we tend to use for the purpose of standing and walking, all combined to mean that I have spent the majority of the last two weeks taking high doses of pain relief as well as anti inflammatories.
“Serves ye right ya big moainin bugger” I hear you cry, and yes it does.
Two things of note though came out of this time of enforced stillness. The first is something that I have noticed before but never given much thought too. At times when I am physically unwell, or preoccupied with some physical problem I am not depressed!
Why this is I do not know, it may be that whilst a physical problem is in progress I have something real to focus on, a goal or target to achieve i.e. getting back some mobility as well as problem solving how to achieve simple things like getting out of bed. It might also be that I am actually worrying less or perhaps being less stressed by things that matter a lot less than my mind likes to make them out to be.
The Second thing that happened is that we, yep the royal we as in Claire and I have been called for an interview with a housing association in relation to a particular development that is just about to come on stream.
Our house is not particularly wheelchair friendly, in fact it downright unfriendly. It’s lay out has narrow corridors and tight turns with doorways that are awkwardly placed for manoeuvring a wheelchair. It also has a totally useless space that has the nerve to be called a kitchen but as those that have seen it will readily agree it is more akin to a walk in pantry with a cooker in. This space is too small for my wheelchair to turn in as well as having no more room for one person in at a time.
The house in ramped but as I am unable (increasingly so) to propel my wheelchair up and down the road to shops, or the pub, or even to the nearest bus stop, it means that whilst I am severely restricted physically I depend on Claire for everything inside and outside the house. This is unfair on us both but mainly on her, being chief cook, dog walker, cleaner, gofor, for both of us is bad enough. Adding to that the roles of driver, personal assistant, main bread winner, all add layers of complexity to her life and a source of frustration as well as dependency on to mine.
So a barrier free house will help both of us, my main gain will be the ability to look after more of the personal chores that Claire ends up doing for me. Also the proposed development is close too shops and pubs with the added bonus that it is more or less a flat run to get to them and back again. For Claire some of the benefits should include not having to be my main transport provider irrespective of my physical state, this will mainly be achieved by the purchase out of the funds of from selling this house, of a electric wheelchair, or what will be quickly dubbed the “Prof Pat Pending bus buster.” Those of you who are cartoon buffs or are of a certain age will have pleasure filled memories of Lady Penelope, The Anthill Mob, and the irrepressible Dick Dastardly and Muttly as well as the rest of the wacky racers including Prof Pat Pending. His machine was fitted with all sorts of gadgets and things that allowed it to overcome most obstacles. My machine will be specially bought for it’s rugged good off road performance, and if I have anything to say about it, it will also have a rocket pack, underwater capabilities, built in coffee maker, as well as ejector seat and a device for keeping me sitting up right after consuming several pints.
As you will imagine this invitation to a interview was eagerly accepted and did a lot to help raise our spirits. I will keep you appraised of our progress.
Monday, 1 October 2007
Saturday, 15 September 2007
THIS LAST WEEK I HAVE BEEN...........
I am forcing myself to write this week as I feel pretty much like I want to give up, not just the blog but on life generally. I do not mean that I am contemplating giving up literally, I may be a control freak and a exhibitionist but hanging myself on Bebo, or youtube is not my style. Actually after some reflection a few years ago I decided that suicide is not my style. It is an act of extreme selfishness and causes long term pain and emotional damage to those, (especially the poor sod who finds the corpse) who are left
I guess a better way to start this entry would have been to tell you that I am feeling crap, I have had a crap week, I have years of crap to look foreword to, I know crap all, I have crap to offer, and so on and so forth. Now apart from the over use of the word crap, I would also acknowledge that for some reason my mental health state is borderline between depressed and fed up, and that would explain the piles of crap.
You will know that I am a depression sufferer any way, and sometimes the meds that I take for it either seem not to help at all, or remove me from who I "feel" I truly am. The important part in that sentence is the word "sometimes" because as others will know the meds are not the answer, much more important is the attitude of the depressed person. The meds I take are only meant to take the worst excesses of the mood swings away, the swings still happen but they are meant to be less dramatic, well that's the theory at least.
This week though the meds have hit a solid wall of indifference from within the user. It is true that for the majority of the week I have had some kind of physical thing to contend with, again as some of you will know there is nothing like a bit of pain or just feeling yuck to increase anxiety as well as to generally bring life and plans to a grinding halt. The obvious knock on effect on the mental health needs no further illustration just think bad day got worse. However the added weight of uncertainty about our possible move of house, plus what the hell did I give up my job for?, who the heck is Lambo any way?, why is he such a moany bastard?, and last but not least the traditional but ever popular what am I supposed to do with my life now?, all combining makes for a storm of depression that would equal the highest level of hurricane threat. Not much wonder that the meds go in but like Custer at the little Big Horn meet overwhelming forces.
When these issues all combine together with physical stuff, plus the ever present dissatisfaction with my body, I just would like the world to disappear up it's own backside and leave me alone. Caring about stuff, any stuff is difficult. Communication is probably as monosyllabic as your average teenage boy, and the constant thought in my head is that I am just a waste. I have the mental image of a sponge (Bath not cake) that might be of some use to those who want to know how I am affected. So like the sponge as my mood, or capacity to relate to others goes down, I soak up stuff. Things that Claire tells me or things that I see or hear, then I get to saturation point and nothing else can get in. I see and hear, I walk (Well shuffle or wheel actually) and talk, listen and appear alive, the reality is that I am disconnected and apart from the rest of the world. Yes I care about stuff and no it is not like feeling like no one understands me. I do not cut myself off from others I just find it difficult to connect with others. Emotionally impaired for a temporary period.
"So not a good week eh?" Erm no!
N.B.
Malkie P asked me once if writing this blog was cathartic. I have to say that although I have found doing this entry has lifted me a little, I did not start the blog for this reason. I am not sure that "writing as therapy" is where the answer for me lies. Cognatel behavioural therapy has been recommended for me and that seems like a good way to go as it focuses on how I think about crap.
I guess a better way to start this entry would have been to tell you that I am feeling crap, I have had a crap week, I have years of crap to look foreword to, I know crap all, I have crap to offer, and so on and so forth. Now apart from the over use of the word crap, I would also acknowledge that for some reason my mental health state is borderline between depressed and fed up, and that would explain the piles of crap.
You will know that I am a depression sufferer any way, and sometimes the meds that I take for it either seem not to help at all, or remove me from who I "feel" I truly am. The important part in that sentence is the word "sometimes" because as others will know the meds are not the answer, much more important is the attitude of the depressed person. The meds I take are only meant to take the worst excesses of the mood swings away, the swings still happen but they are meant to be less dramatic, well that's the theory at least.
This week though the meds have hit a solid wall of indifference from within the user. It is true that for the majority of the week I have had some kind of physical thing to contend with, again as some of you will know there is nothing like a bit of pain or just feeling yuck to increase anxiety as well as to generally bring life and plans to a grinding halt. The obvious knock on effect on the mental health needs no further illustration just think bad day got worse. However the added weight of uncertainty about our possible move of house, plus what the hell did I give up my job for?, who the heck is Lambo any way?, why is he such a moany bastard?, and last but not least the traditional but ever popular what am I supposed to do with my life now?, all combining makes for a storm of depression that would equal the highest level of hurricane threat. Not much wonder that the meds go in but like Custer at the little Big Horn meet overwhelming forces.
When these issues all combine together with physical stuff, plus the ever present dissatisfaction with my body, I just would like the world to disappear up it's own backside and leave me alone. Caring about stuff, any stuff is difficult. Communication is probably as monosyllabic as your average teenage boy, and the constant thought in my head is that I am just a waste. I have the mental image of a sponge (Bath not cake) that might be of some use to those who want to know how I am affected. So like the sponge as my mood, or capacity to relate to others goes down, I soak up stuff. Things that Claire tells me or things that I see or hear, then I get to saturation point and nothing else can get in. I see and hear, I walk (Well shuffle or wheel actually) and talk, listen and appear alive, the reality is that I am disconnected and apart from the rest of the world. Yes I care about stuff and no it is not like feeling like no one understands me. I do not cut myself off from others I just find it difficult to connect with others. Emotionally impaired for a temporary period.
"So not a good week eh?" Erm no!
N.B.
Malkie P asked me once if writing this blog was cathartic. I have to say that although I have found doing this entry has lifted me a little, I did not start the blog for this reason. I am not sure that "writing as therapy" is where the answer for me lies. Cognatel behavioural therapy has been recommended for me and that seems like a good way to go as it focuses on how I think about crap.
Monday, 3 September 2007
LAMBO'S WANDERING CORROSPONDENT.
Good news everyone we have been joined by our very own international affairs reporter!
Rachel Alquorn lately a spinster of this parish has kindly removed herself to Bangalore in India. We offered to pay her council tax but she insisted that the poor and deprived of Bangalore were crying out for her help. We wait to see what amazing acts will be performed by the poor of India after Rachel gets through teaching them Gaelic, we are sure though that the world as we know it will be transformed. Personally and since it is Mela time in Edinburgh I already love Scottish and Indian fusion. Haggis samosa, Bangra and Celtic music fusion, corner shops were you can buy pakora and tattie scones, as well as the Sunday Post and the latest Bollywood DVD all make Scotland the place it is.
If we are lucky Rachel will drop us some thoughts and impressions of her travels, I am told she has already been in search of the Himalayan Yeti, (Very tempted to do a joke that involves her coming back with out the yeti but with something that sounds similar starting with the letter "L".) if she can forgive me for that bad taste joke we may get some regular feedback about her thoughts and impressions of life, culture, and anything else she fancies turning her journalistic eye on.
Rachel Alquorn lately a spinster of this parish has kindly removed herself to Bangalore in India. We offered to pay her council tax but she insisted that the poor and deprived of Bangalore were crying out for her help. We wait to see what amazing acts will be performed by the poor of India after Rachel gets through teaching them Gaelic, we are sure though that the world as we know it will be transformed. Personally and since it is Mela time in Edinburgh I already love Scottish and Indian fusion. Haggis samosa, Bangra and Celtic music fusion, corner shops were you can buy pakora and tattie scones, as well as the Sunday Post and the latest Bollywood DVD all make Scotland the place it is.
If we are lucky Rachel will drop us some thoughts and impressions of her travels, I am told she has already been in search of the Himalayan Yeti, (Very tempted to do a joke that involves her coming back with out the yeti but with something that sounds similar starting with the letter "L".) if she can forgive me for that bad taste joke we may get some regular feedback about her thoughts and impressions of life, culture, and anything else she fancies turning her journalistic eye on.
Tuesday, 28 August 2007
HERE IS ONE FOR YOU:
You are a superhero who cannot die (That is your only superhero power.) travelling in a plane that will crash, there are only enough parachutes for half of the number of passengers on board to survive, so choices have to be madE you are given the task of deciding who lives. How would you choose who lived?
Tricky eh, you could use a random number thing like all those with odd or even dates of birth, or those with a certain letter of the alphabet starting their surname. Then again you could go with looks and or personality. Or if you had the time you could ask people to justify being a survivor, if they have important jobs, or responsibilities like children or that they have just discovered the cure for cancer. Then again you could just declare a free for all and let them fight it out letting the ones with the strongest will to live do so.
The only thing that you can be sure of is that 99% of the passengers will want to be a parachute winner. I say 99% as someone might think that they are too old, they to have lived their life and it’s time for them to go. Or some one says that they have a terminal illness so why bother surviving only to die in a few months. That’s both fair and generous; however it is also rooted in self-interest.
One issue bothers you though, the losers die that’s a given and after all they had their chance. What about the survivors though? How did they turn out? What if despite the huge piece of fortune they either live to be unhappy, failed marriages or an addiction of some kind. Or they never make proper use of their chance by taking things or people for granted etc. Or worse still go on to hurt somebody or be a criminal, or a traffic warden, or someone who exploits others. Some part of the responsibility for those peoples misery and either the misery they cause to yet more people, has to come back and rest squarely at your door.
Then there is the anger and the envy that you create and have to be responsible for. The anger of those who died plus their families and loved ones, not just for who or what they lost but maybe for the things that they will never have. Envy from both the relatives of the dead and from within the group of survivors is almost inevitable. They may never have a nice house, or a full stomach. They may never know security and freedom or fulfilment, and you contributed to that.
Perhaps your starting to think you should have never have got on the plane in the first place and not just because your carbon footprint will kill off another few mortals. Life after all is unfair and winners and losers have always been. You may be a superhero but you are not god, any way you did what you thought was right and since somebody would have decided then it was harmless. You are not responsible for what happens because you were doing the right thing.
Obviously this is a “hypothetical” question, but what if today or yesterday you did something very simple, an ordinary every day thing that you and millions of others do. You make winners and losers; you bring lasting happiness to one or two. However you also bring misery and death to hundreds more, all in the simple act of buying a lottery ticket.
Tricky eh, you could use a random number thing like all those with odd or even dates of birth, or those with a certain letter of the alphabet starting their surname. Then again you could go with looks and or personality. Or if you had the time you could ask people to justify being a survivor, if they have important jobs, or responsibilities like children or that they have just discovered the cure for cancer. Then again you could just declare a free for all and let them fight it out letting the ones with the strongest will to live do so.
The only thing that you can be sure of is that 99% of the passengers will want to be a parachute winner. I say 99% as someone might think that they are too old, they to have lived their life and it’s time for them to go. Or some one says that they have a terminal illness so why bother surviving only to die in a few months. That’s both fair and generous; however it is also rooted in self-interest.
One issue bothers you though, the losers die that’s a given and after all they had their chance. What about the survivors though? How did they turn out? What if despite the huge piece of fortune they either live to be unhappy, failed marriages or an addiction of some kind. Or they never make proper use of their chance by taking things or people for granted etc. Or worse still go on to hurt somebody or be a criminal, or a traffic warden, or someone who exploits others. Some part of the responsibility for those peoples misery and either the misery they cause to yet more people, has to come back and rest squarely at your door.
Then there is the anger and the envy that you create and have to be responsible for. The anger of those who died plus their families and loved ones, not just for who or what they lost but maybe for the things that they will never have. Envy from both the relatives of the dead and from within the group of survivors is almost inevitable. They may never have a nice house, or a full stomach. They may never know security and freedom or fulfilment, and you contributed to that.
Perhaps your starting to think you should have never have got on the plane in the first place and not just because your carbon footprint will kill off another few mortals. Life after all is unfair and winners and losers have always been. You may be a superhero but you are not god, any way you did what you thought was right and since somebody would have decided then it was harmless. You are not responsible for what happens because you were doing the right thing.
Obviously this is a “hypothetical” question, but what if today or yesterday you did something very simple, an ordinary every day thing that you and millions of others do. You make winners and losers; you bring lasting happiness to one or two. However you also bring misery and death to hundreds more, all in the simple act of buying a lottery ticket.
In my first Blog I said I would give a proper introduction to some of the supporting cast members in this musical fantasy that is my life. I do so as a homage to them as they are all a huge influence on me and all deserve to be named and shamed.
No order exits to the list and I include those with minor walk on parts as well as those with larger more significant roles, those that do not get a mention either should feel that they received a lucky escape or that buying a round might help.
CLAIRE.
Claire and I have been married for 20 years and until the day comes that she sees the lawyer or I pop my clogs she will remain the light and heart of my life. We support and look after each other with her doing the majority of the hospital visiting.
If most good men have a good woman behind them, I have to say that a good man somewhere has been searching for their lost woman for over 20 years.
She works part time as an occupational therapist, choosing to look after elderly and delinquent dogs when not doing the same for humans. Recently she has had a run in with irritable bowel syndrome, she is generally better but takes “not complaining” to an art form. Then again she seems to be very similar to other women that I both love and admire in terms of being strong and self contained.
Malkie P
I have known Malkie P for a huge number of years almost an embarrassingly long time. We remain friends probably because at our age any thought of moving on to make new friends seems like more trouble than it’s worth, we are knocking on so we don’t know if time enough exists to start training a new friend.
Malkie was the posh kid who had a “dinning room” as opposed to a kitchen table, he lived in a proper house not a maisonette or a flat, and best of all he had a computer that by today’s standards would hardly power a wrist watch but kept me captivated for hours. If all this sounds like envy then your right I was. However we spent lots of time talking about ourselves and each other, hopes dreams, football, politics, and life. For 2 disabled kids I think some of this was a help in shaping our world view. Sharing laughs and experiences that we still refer to, there is nobody that can talk shite like we do.
Malkie is also one of my heroes for he trail blazed a path despite his physical impairment through further and higher education. This path I was able to use in terms of “seeing” myself do the same as him, and not be confined either by my physical limitations or my own imposed limitations.
I still envy him in some ways, in particular the energy and enthusiasm he puts in to his life. I know though that he envies things that I have in my life so the balance if not even is at least another reason we have to be friends.
Alan W.
I first met Alan W when we both were volunteers at Gorgie Dalry Citizens Advice bureau back in the early 90’s
We share lots of interests, sci fi, music, history, science, computer games, single malt whiskey from Islay, and people. As with the others on this list Alan and I have found ways to support each other through some tricky times, probably by doing no more than just listening or asking questions that need reflection in order to respond to. Honest and with out a political bone in his black jumper Alan and I will be sitting in pubs till time is called for us still debating and laughing being friends.
KORS A.
People often talk about opposites attracting in terms of their life partners in a way this is also true of Kors and I. Like Alan I met Kors through the C.A.B and also like Alan Kors and I have found ourselves at various periods in time offering support and friendship to each other. The support though is often about being a “touchstone” someone who we trust both to listen and empathise, but also to challenge and question in order to fully explore what we are thinking and saying.
I am privileged to know both M and A who make up the rest of Kors’s immediate family, both are Kors’s heart and soul as Claire is with me. He and I share with each other our joy at having these people in our lives as well as the responsibilities that they place upon us. We also share our wonderment and often bewilderment of local, national, and international political events.
Rachel
Rachel and I met whilst we were both engaged in academic research, unfortunately we were the subjects of the research rather than either performing or analysing the experiments.
Possibly as a result of being the two people out of a group of 15 that were on the outer fringes of the “mainstream” we spent the three days of the research chatting and laughing between ourselves and the rest of the group. One of the things that we discovered is our mutual interest in football, this was used against her by me as I quickly got her involved in a literacy project that used football as a focus.
Just thinking about all the different things that she has been involved in that in some way Claire and myself have been part of is quite astounding.
o Trips to Sky
o Seeing her graduate
o The whole punk band thing.
o Photography/eBay/relationships/moving 3 times/ supporting her even when we knew she was wrong (Selling Mars bars was just never going to work)/car sales/ and many more schemes and escapades.
This will be the Rachel who has moved to India, although any expectation that I and Claire can look forward to some peace and quiet will I am certain be misplaced. Or at least we both very much hope so, she has only been gone a week and we are missing her already.
No order exits to the list and I include those with minor walk on parts as well as those with larger more significant roles, those that do not get a mention either should feel that they received a lucky escape or that buying a round might help.
CLAIRE.
Claire and I have been married for 20 years and until the day comes that she sees the lawyer or I pop my clogs she will remain the light and heart of my life. We support and look after each other with her doing the majority of the hospital visiting.
If most good men have a good woman behind them, I have to say that a good man somewhere has been searching for their lost woman for over 20 years.
She works part time as an occupational therapist, choosing to look after elderly and delinquent dogs when not doing the same for humans. Recently she has had a run in with irritable bowel syndrome, she is generally better but takes “not complaining” to an art form. Then again she seems to be very similar to other women that I both love and admire in terms of being strong and self contained.
Malkie P
I have known Malkie P for a huge number of years almost an embarrassingly long time. We remain friends probably because at our age any thought of moving on to make new friends seems like more trouble than it’s worth, we are knocking on so we don’t know if time enough exists to start training a new friend.
Malkie was the posh kid who had a “dinning room” as opposed to a kitchen table, he lived in a proper house not a maisonette or a flat, and best of all he had a computer that by today’s standards would hardly power a wrist watch but kept me captivated for hours. If all this sounds like envy then your right I was. However we spent lots of time talking about ourselves and each other, hopes dreams, football, politics, and life. For 2 disabled kids I think some of this was a help in shaping our world view. Sharing laughs and experiences that we still refer to, there is nobody that can talk shite like we do.
Malkie is also one of my heroes for he trail blazed a path despite his physical impairment through further and higher education. This path I was able to use in terms of “seeing” myself do the same as him, and not be confined either by my physical limitations or my own imposed limitations.
I still envy him in some ways, in particular the energy and enthusiasm he puts in to his life. I know though that he envies things that I have in my life so the balance if not even is at least another reason we have to be friends.
Alan W.
I first met Alan W when we both were volunteers at Gorgie Dalry Citizens Advice bureau back in the early 90’s
We share lots of interests, sci fi, music, history, science, computer games, single malt whiskey from Islay, and people. As with the others on this list Alan and I have found ways to support each other through some tricky times, probably by doing no more than just listening or asking questions that need reflection in order to respond to. Honest and with out a political bone in his black jumper Alan and I will be sitting in pubs till time is called for us still debating and laughing being friends.
KORS A.
People often talk about opposites attracting in terms of their life partners in a way this is also true of Kors and I. Like Alan I met Kors through the C.A.B and also like Alan Kors and I have found ourselves at various periods in time offering support and friendship to each other. The support though is often about being a “touchstone” someone who we trust both to listen and empathise, but also to challenge and question in order to fully explore what we are thinking and saying.
I am privileged to know both M and A who make up the rest of Kors’s immediate family, both are Kors’s heart and soul as Claire is with me. He and I share with each other our joy at having these people in our lives as well as the responsibilities that they place upon us. We also share our wonderment and often bewilderment of local, national, and international political events.
Rachel
Rachel and I met whilst we were both engaged in academic research, unfortunately we were the subjects of the research rather than either performing or analysing the experiments.
Possibly as a result of being the two people out of a group of 15 that were on the outer fringes of the “mainstream” we spent the three days of the research chatting and laughing between ourselves and the rest of the group. One of the things that we discovered is our mutual interest in football, this was used against her by me as I quickly got her involved in a literacy project that used football as a focus.
Just thinking about all the different things that she has been involved in that in some way Claire and myself have been part of is quite astounding.
o Trips to Sky
o Seeing her graduate
o The whole punk band thing.
o Photography/eBay/relationships/moving 3 times/ supporting her even when we knew she was wrong (Selling Mars bars was just never going to work)/car sales/ and many more schemes and escapades.
This will be the Rachel who has moved to India, although any expectation that I and Claire can look forward to some peace and quiet will I am certain be misplaced. Or at least we both very much hope so, she has only been gone a week and we are missing her already.
Hazel
Matt
Alison
Should all feel relieved that I have run out of time and energy for this task, but perhaps retain a certain nervousness that I might yet get round to them at a later date.
Monday, 20 August 2007
Hello again.
So here I am again, you miss me? No I thought not.
I did though miss writing my blog and it came as a wee bit of a surprise I must admit. Although I think I am jumping the gun a bit here as what I should say right off is that I think of this blog as partly conversational and partly as a means to an end.
Lets take the conversational aspect first, well it seems only fair as it was first on the page as it were. As most folk I know will tell you I love talking. Sometimes in order to hear my own voice admittedly, but mostly to exchange ideas, news, views, and most importantly for entertainment. This then is the kind of conversation that this blog will be, I hope that like most conversations it is a two way conversation and more folk will leave messages like Malcy did. "Cheers mate I will get the check in the post"
The other aspect of conversation that is important for myself and you to realise is that there will be pauses, and silences. I wanted to say that, as I have discovered over the last few days yet another way to beat myself up, and believe me for someone who has a physical disability combined with mental health problems, I was convinced that I had more than enough problems and faults to keep me bringing myself down. But no Lambo has to go and invent another one, this time it is guilt for not blogging.
Can you believe it, I have only been at it for less than a week and suddenly I am on a self enforced guilt trip for not sitting here every day hammering away at my keyboard, jeezo I should get out more! Hang on though this rather neatly takes me to explaining why I was "quiet" for a few days.
If we think of cause and effect we could summon up the simple process of pain. We know an awful lot about the causes of pain for example leaving your fingers in the way of a door, or spilling hot liquid on to yourself, or hitting your head off a wall, as most Scotland football and Rugby supporters end up doing. The cause then would be the meeting of two objects like door and hand, or head and wall that do not belong together. The effect is pain!
Now this simple lesson is roughly what caused a wee break for me, I was busy, I overdid things and then I got pain. The pain brought me down emotionally, I was unable to feel good about myself so I did not have the physical and mental energy to blog. How then this translates in to giving myself another reason to reduce my already low self esteem and feelings of worth, is a miracle only explainable by slicing open my brain and having a good poke around inside. As someone who avoids autopsies on the basis that you need to be dead for it not to hurt, yet another cause and effect equation combined with logic skills there. I am for the moment saying to myself and you the great blog public that sitting here looking at this blog every day is not necessary. Coming back is the important part but that can be once or twice a week, that is the kind of commitment I am ready to make and (hopefully) keep.
I wanted to be a blog writer every day but I realise now that just like other things it is the quality not the quantity, and that the discipline of writing needs to be balanced with real world events.
After those stirring words I find I have run out of space and time to talk about the "means to an end" aspect, I will get round to it but now I have given myself permission I may put it off for a few days.
I did though miss writing my blog and it came as a wee bit of a surprise I must admit. Although I think I am jumping the gun a bit here as what I should say right off is that I think of this blog as partly conversational and partly as a means to an end.
Lets take the conversational aspect first, well it seems only fair as it was first on the page as it were. As most folk I know will tell you I love talking. Sometimes in order to hear my own voice admittedly, but mostly to exchange ideas, news, views, and most importantly for entertainment. This then is the kind of conversation that this blog will be, I hope that like most conversations it is a two way conversation and more folk will leave messages like Malcy did. "Cheers mate I will get the check in the post"
The other aspect of conversation that is important for myself and you to realise is that there will be pauses, and silences. I wanted to say that, as I have discovered over the last few days yet another way to beat myself up, and believe me for someone who has a physical disability combined with mental health problems, I was convinced that I had more than enough problems and faults to keep me bringing myself down. But no Lambo has to go and invent another one, this time it is guilt for not blogging.
Can you believe it, I have only been at it for less than a week and suddenly I am on a self enforced guilt trip for not sitting here every day hammering away at my keyboard, jeezo I should get out more! Hang on though this rather neatly takes me to explaining why I was "quiet" for a few days.
If we think of cause and effect we could summon up the simple process of pain. We know an awful lot about the causes of pain for example leaving your fingers in the way of a door, or spilling hot liquid on to yourself, or hitting your head off a wall, as most Scotland football and Rugby supporters end up doing. The cause then would be the meeting of two objects like door and hand, or head and wall that do not belong together. The effect is pain!
Now this simple lesson is roughly what caused a wee break for me, I was busy, I overdid things and then I got pain. The pain brought me down emotionally, I was unable to feel good about myself so I did not have the physical and mental energy to blog. How then this translates in to giving myself another reason to reduce my already low self esteem and feelings of worth, is a miracle only explainable by slicing open my brain and having a good poke around inside. As someone who avoids autopsies on the basis that you need to be dead for it not to hurt, yet another cause and effect equation combined with logic skills there. I am for the moment saying to myself and you the great blog public that sitting here looking at this blog every day is not necessary. Coming back is the important part but that can be once or twice a week, that is the kind of commitment I am ready to make and (hopefully) keep.
I wanted to be a blog writer every day but I realise now that just like other things it is the quality not the quantity, and that the discipline of writing needs to be balanced with real world events.
After those stirring words I find I have run out of space and time to talk about the "means to an end" aspect, I will get round to it but now I have given myself permission I may put it off for a few days.
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
Yesterday was a bit of a down day so I felt unwilling / able to post or blog I am yet not sure of the terminology.
As you will see though I have made up for it by putting on a couple of wee stories. More to follow although by later in the week I hope I will have something of interest to tell you all!
As you will see though I have made up for it by putting on a couple of wee stories. More to follow although by later in the week I hope I will have something of interest to tell you all!
"Pint of beer packet of nuts, and a ambulance please"
I have adapted this short story from an email I sent to a web forum. It is the every day tale of the type of treatment that disabled people face as they go about their life. I hope it is of some interest.
What I have for you is a true story, an incident that was in no way inspired by any single cogent thought, far less a desire to put right wrongs and to stand up for myself. But let me say very clearly that most of the time when confronted by situations that we find make us feel awkward we make a judgement call on our response. This judgement call may lead to several different outcomes most of which we would never have imagined, none of which though will be the perfect solution to dealing with the situation that we are trying to deal with.
Scene: My local bar, a dingy backwater place, which specialises in catering for the poorer drinkers from the large and notorious housing scheme that is just up the road from me. By cater I mean you can have what drink you like as long as it is of the cheapest and most mass produced variety, the decor match the choice in drinks, kids are banned but find gainful employment as bookies runners. Despite the lack of money they still feel the need to do specials in order to induce the punters to buy more of the cheap stuff, which they are only to happy so to do.
Jukebox blaring out some noise that I can’t hear properly due to the volume being way too high. Whilst on the big screen commentary of a live football game, again with the volume turned way up. Probably in order to drown out the jukebox, not the type of place to expect either one to be turned off in order to facilitate the enjoyment of the remaining media of entertainment. Anyone who would dare to suggest it would be lynched by one half of the bar, whilst the other half egged them on as a show of solidarity.
The lounge in which I am sitting has around 15 to 20 folk either in small groups or like me on their own. It is about 8.30 I have just got there after visiting a friends house. I have had about a third of the first pint that I have bought. I am sitting idly people watching and keeping track of the footie. From the bar in walk two of the regulars and a new guy.
All three have been drinking vodka and coke for the best part of three hours. The two I know are regular blokes, mid 30's, like a laugh, Sun readers, have never given me any particular hassle, but I have heard enough of from them to know that they are not politically correct, or that we would not see eye to eye on very much at all. The third guy though is massive, way over 6ft 5 (I am 5ft 5.) wider than a “B” class road and is perfect for those planning a ram raid but who cant be bothered stealing a JCB. He comes in and his very first action was to point directly at me and make a remark about a guy that they had all known. Big laughs from the three amigos and they sit down. No more than 10 foot away at the next table to me. The remark was not important as it was something to do with an "in" joke so I would not understand the context even if I had heard clearly what they said, which for reasons I have stated I did not.
The intent was clear though and that was it's derogatory nature. A one off, let it pass I'm there for a quite drink, I'm in a good mood and the big fella scares the crap out of me. Big fella though seems to be on a roll, after the three sit down and are distracted by drooling over the girls at the bar, conversation gets back to me. Oh joy! The big fella and one others are sitting opposite me but with their backs towards me, the third is sitting facing me but is hidden by a pillar.
Remarks and comments are traded in loud voices, mostly from the big guy and the one I cannot see. The big guy though is a caring soul who for the benefit of his friends and as a helpful guide to the rest of the bar as to who they are talking about, repeatedly points with his thumb over his shoulder, directly at me. I move so that at least his thumb will be pointing at open space. They drink more I decide to drink less. So what would you do? yep I probably should have done that as well. But I was pissed off. No real reason, ever since I was old enough to understand the spoken word I also had to get used to people saying unpleasant, cruel, and hurtful things about me. Did I say I had a physical disability, well I have and the genes that come with it, thought it would be nice if it was a disability that others could see, just to keep things nice an easy like. I also have mental health problems namely depression somewhat caused by the "extra" hoops that dealing with my disability has put me though.
By now the big fella has been doing his routine for 10 mins pausing only to drink. He has also realised I moved and has moved his chair so that he can start spearing me with his thumb again. Time to act, I decide although in acting I was following my normal pattern of making it up as I go along, rather than following a well rehearsed plan. I go to bar and buy another beer, I then find out what I can about the three all stars, including what they drink. I buy the big man a drink and ask the bar staff to take it to him after I sit down. Why did I do that? Well strange as it may seem I decided that I needed to point out to him that I the butt of his jokes was being a bit selfish and not really enjoying the cabaret. If I had another foot and a half on my height, several pounds lighter and 10 years younger, combined with several years of hard disciplined training in judo I just could of beat the shite out him, reality was though I had to talk to him.
Buying someone a drink has all manner of psychological advantages too many for here, but the one that is most important is that it confuses the hell out of the receiver and makes them uneasy. It worked the drink arrived and he shut up. The three of them went from very loud level to nearly normal conversation level. Instead of the thumb I got strange looks. But he did not come over. O.K. time to create the space for him to approach me in a neutral way. I go to juke box, hay presto he comes over. I love it when a plan comes together! He takes my hand in about three of his fingers and shakes it. He meant this to be a friendly gesture. I may post the pictures of the bruises to the back of my hand. He asked "why the drink?" I said, "You seem as if you think we may have met before" I said this looking at his chest; I looked up in to his eyes and saw that... I was wasting my time.
This guy was way, way, way past being drunk. It would have been more dangerous to even try and explain that what he thought about me, and the things he found funny about me, were absolutely none of my business. Free country, say and think what you like is my view. I would though prefer not to hear it however. so some discretion from him and his mates would be nice, as well as using his thumb lees frequently as I think every one knows they are talking about me by now.
This is what I wanted to say to him. Of course given the opportunity I would have begun to work on changing his views, my disability is actually his social construction of what I am like and can achieve etc. But no point as I have spoken to enough drunks to know a lost cause when I see one, the man could barely slurr never mind reason. Brave huh, or stupid maybe? Standing up for myself, the powerless fronting up to the powerful, and having the guts to lay it on the line. That might sound a bit strong, but their is more to the story.
I had got to the point that I had to say something, I had steeled myself to take action I had got myself to the point of no return, I looked round the two others were sitting there with an empty seat and I though "what the hell" I went over sat straight down and said all that I outlined above no more no less. Took 20 or so seconds, I finished I stood straight back up and went to my seat where I collapsed with fear and nerves. The big guy came back I swallowed half my pint hoping for some pain killing effect. He got up and went to the loo with the guy I could not see. The third guy perhaps the least offensive and certainly the least drunk got up came across and he was very, very, VERY angry. In my face and accusing me of...wait for it listening to his and his friend’s conversation!!
Much worse though and the thing I knew I was really gonna pay for was the bigger crime of showing him up in front of his friends, mates, and people he thought were below him in the food chain. This was the school bully slapping down an upstart; this was the jailer reeking revenge on the prisoner for complaining. This was life: just when you think you have beaten the odds and figured out the hard part the most simple and basic of truths sneaks up and kicks you in the goolies. In this case it was this guys right to look kewl and be thought of as one of the boys, a hard man, a somebody. The way other people saw him was more important to him, than my right to have feelings, or any thoughts that my feelings might be important. They were nothing, I was to accept my silence in silence. He was the king of the jungle and I was fair game.
At this moment I would have put money on getting a sever beating; the guy had thrown off one bar person who was trying to get him to sit and calm down. It was "fkng" this and that, as well as "don't you ever"... kinda stuff, and it was loud, not yelling but I could see folk were looking over at us. I was looking him in the eye an saying over and over again that all he had to do was not let me know he was slagging me off. And then....it was all over. Why, how I do not know. Was it my point of view getting in, or was it the bar manageress coming over, no Idea!
He was apologising for what they said and the fact that I heard it. So on some level my words got in, the ideas hmm not sure on that. Hands were shaken and away he went, I was left feeling sick with fright and also the very real feeling of dismay. I am no activist I do not get in peoples faces I hate confrontation I would not have said a thing if I had worked out that our exchange of feelings would have taken such an ugly turn. That is why I was dismayed, I was also dismayed about my motivation for doing something. I spent time over the past two days telling myself it was the drink, except it wasn’t. Or that it had all gone to plan, but it didn’t mainly as I had no plan.
Best of all I want to believe it did some good, you know the ripples in the pond type thing, planting seeds of ideas etc. Evan if the three amigos never get it I know that there were others there who knew what was going on, perhaps one of the spectators might get it, or at least entertain different ideas on "normality" and inclusion, but again the truth is I will never know. I wait for the "shaft of light" to appear out of the sky and turn all Hearts supporters in to loyal Hibs fans. Or the masses to stop as one in the streets and roads, renounce capitalism and start to give away their excess money, any sign at all that sensible people can take inboard a better way. However these Damascus type conversions are private and take place in peoples heads and hearts long before they act upon them. If I hope for anything it would be that some of the onlookers have started reflecting on their own views about society.
This incident and many others that I have had, show me that we never truly know the full extent of our actions. Making the choice to do or say something may seem to be the positive and "right" thing to do, then again doing the right thing can come with consequences like physical damage. More surprisingly is the possibility that we feel the opposite from how we imagine we will, in other words be prepared for the emotional fall out. It may surprise you that when you think you should be feeling great, master of all you survey. You are actually feeling more frightened and powerless, as well as less sure that you achieved the thing you set out to do.
The upside is that if we knew all the results of all our actions we would live in a dull boorish, sterile life. Worse than that we would choose safety over conviction and dishonesty about ourselves, over being proud of ourselves and who we are. It is a personal thing at the end of the day and I for one would blame no one for doing the opposite of me on that night in the pub.
What I have for you is a true story, an incident that was in no way inspired by any single cogent thought, far less a desire to put right wrongs and to stand up for myself. But let me say very clearly that most of the time when confronted by situations that we find make us feel awkward we make a judgement call on our response. This judgement call may lead to several different outcomes most of which we would never have imagined, none of which though will be the perfect solution to dealing with the situation that we are trying to deal with.
Scene: My local bar, a dingy backwater place, which specialises in catering for the poorer drinkers from the large and notorious housing scheme that is just up the road from me. By cater I mean you can have what drink you like as long as it is of the cheapest and most mass produced variety, the decor match the choice in drinks, kids are banned but find gainful employment as bookies runners. Despite the lack of money they still feel the need to do specials in order to induce the punters to buy more of the cheap stuff, which they are only to happy so to do.
Jukebox blaring out some noise that I can’t hear properly due to the volume being way too high. Whilst on the big screen commentary of a live football game, again with the volume turned way up. Probably in order to drown out the jukebox, not the type of place to expect either one to be turned off in order to facilitate the enjoyment of the remaining media of entertainment. Anyone who would dare to suggest it would be lynched by one half of the bar, whilst the other half egged them on as a show of solidarity.
The lounge in which I am sitting has around 15 to 20 folk either in small groups or like me on their own. It is about 8.30 I have just got there after visiting a friends house. I have had about a third of the first pint that I have bought. I am sitting idly people watching and keeping track of the footie. From the bar in walk two of the regulars and a new guy.
All three have been drinking vodka and coke for the best part of three hours. The two I know are regular blokes, mid 30's, like a laugh, Sun readers, have never given me any particular hassle, but I have heard enough of from them to know that they are not politically correct, or that we would not see eye to eye on very much at all. The third guy though is massive, way over 6ft 5 (I am 5ft 5.) wider than a “B” class road and is perfect for those planning a ram raid but who cant be bothered stealing a JCB. He comes in and his very first action was to point directly at me and make a remark about a guy that they had all known. Big laughs from the three amigos and they sit down. No more than 10 foot away at the next table to me. The remark was not important as it was something to do with an "in" joke so I would not understand the context even if I had heard clearly what they said, which for reasons I have stated I did not.
The intent was clear though and that was it's derogatory nature. A one off, let it pass I'm there for a quite drink, I'm in a good mood and the big fella scares the crap out of me. Big fella though seems to be on a roll, after the three sit down and are distracted by drooling over the girls at the bar, conversation gets back to me. Oh joy! The big fella and one others are sitting opposite me but with their backs towards me, the third is sitting facing me but is hidden by a pillar.
Remarks and comments are traded in loud voices, mostly from the big guy and the one I cannot see. The big guy though is a caring soul who for the benefit of his friends and as a helpful guide to the rest of the bar as to who they are talking about, repeatedly points with his thumb over his shoulder, directly at me. I move so that at least his thumb will be pointing at open space. They drink more I decide to drink less. So what would you do? yep I probably should have done that as well. But I was pissed off. No real reason, ever since I was old enough to understand the spoken word I also had to get used to people saying unpleasant, cruel, and hurtful things about me. Did I say I had a physical disability, well I have and the genes that come with it, thought it would be nice if it was a disability that others could see, just to keep things nice an easy like. I also have mental health problems namely depression somewhat caused by the "extra" hoops that dealing with my disability has put me though.
By now the big fella has been doing his routine for 10 mins pausing only to drink. He has also realised I moved and has moved his chair so that he can start spearing me with his thumb again. Time to act, I decide although in acting I was following my normal pattern of making it up as I go along, rather than following a well rehearsed plan. I go to bar and buy another beer, I then find out what I can about the three all stars, including what they drink. I buy the big man a drink and ask the bar staff to take it to him after I sit down. Why did I do that? Well strange as it may seem I decided that I needed to point out to him that I the butt of his jokes was being a bit selfish and not really enjoying the cabaret. If I had another foot and a half on my height, several pounds lighter and 10 years younger, combined with several years of hard disciplined training in judo I just could of beat the shite out him, reality was though I had to talk to him.
Buying someone a drink has all manner of psychological advantages too many for here, but the one that is most important is that it confuses the hell out of the receiver and makes them uneasy. It worked the drink arrived and he shut up. The three of them went from very loud level to nearly normal conversation level. Instead of the thumb I got strange looks. But he did not come over. O.K. time to create the space for him to approach me in a neutral way. I go to juke box, hay presto he comes over. I love it when a plan comes together! He takes my hand in about three of his fingers and shakes it. He meant this to be a friendly gesture. I may post the pictures of the bruises to the back of my hand. He asked "why the drink?" I said, "You seem as if you think we may have met before" I said this looking at his chest; I looked up in to his eyes and saw that... I was wasting my time.
This guy was way, way, way past being drunk. It would have been more dangerous to even try and explain that what he thought about me, and the things he found funny about me, were absolutely none of my business. Free country, say and think what you like is my view. I would though prefer not to hear it however. so some discretion from him and his mates would be nice, as well as using his thumb lees frequently as I think every one knows they are talking about me by now.
This is what I wanted to say to him. Of course given the opportunity I would have begun to work on changing his views, my disability is actually his social construction of what I am like and can achieve etc. But no point as I have spoken to enough drunks to know a lost cause when I see one, the man could barely slurr never mind reason. Brave huh, or stupid maybe? Standing up for myself, the powerless fronting up to the powerful, and having the guts to lay it on the line. That might sound a bit strong, but their is more to the story.
I had got to the point that I had to say something, I had steeled myself to take action I had got myself to the point of no return, I looked round the two others were sitting there with an empty seat and I though "what the hell" I went over sat straight down and said all that I outlined above no more no less. Took 20 or so seconds, I finished I stood straight back up and went to my seat where I collapsed with fear and nerves. The big guy came back I swallowed half my pint hoping for some pain killing effect. He got up and went to the loo with the guy I could not see. The third guy perhaps the least offensive and certainly the least drunk got up came across and he was very, very, VERY angry. In my face and accusing me of...wait for it listening to his and his friend’s conversation!!
Much worse though and the thing I knew I was really gonna pay for was the bigger crime of showing him up in front of his friends, mates, and people he thought were below him in the food chain. This was the school bully slapping down an upstart; this was the jailer reeking revenge on the prisoner for complaining. This was life: just when you think you have beaten the odds and figured out the hard part the most simple and basic of truths sneaks up and kicks you in the goolies. In this case it was this guys right to look kewl and be thought of as one of the boys, a hard man, a somebody. The way other people saw him was more important to him, than my right to have feelings, or any thoughts that my feelings might be important. They were nothing, I was to accept my silence in silence. He was the king of the jungle and I was fair game.
At this moment I would have put money on getting a sever beating; the guy had thrown off one bar person who was trying to get him to sit and calm down. It was "fkng" this and that, as well as "don't you ever"... kinda stuff, and it was loud, not yelling but I could see folk were looking over at us. I was looking him in the eye an saying over and over again that all he had to do was not let me know he was slagging me off. And then....it was all over. Why, how I do not know. Was it my point of view getting in, or was it the bar manageress coming over, no Idea!
He was apologising for what they said and the fact that I heard it. So on some level my words got in, the ideas hmm not sure on that. Hands were shaken and away he went, I was left feeling sick with fright and also the very real feeling of dismay. I am no activist I do not get in peoples faces I hate confrontation I would not have said a thing if I had worked out that our exchange of feelings would have taken such an ugly turn. That is why I was dismayed, I was also dismayed about my motivation for doing something. I spent time over the past two days telling myself it was the drink, except it wasn’t. Or that it had all gone to plan, but it didn’t mainly as I had no plan.
Best of all I want to believe it did some good, you know the ripples in the pond type thing, planting seeds of ideas etc. Evan if the three amigos never get it I know that there were others there who knew what was going on, perhaps one of the spectators might get it, or at least entertain different ideas on "normality" and inclusion, but again the truth is I will never know. I wait for the "shaft of light" to appear out of the sky and turn all Hearts supporters in to loyal Hibs fans. Or the masses to stop as one in the streets and roads, renounce capitalism and start to give away their excess money, any sign at all that sensible people can take inboard a better way. However these Damascus type conversions are private and take place in peoples heads and hearts long before they act upon them. If I hope for anything it would be that some of the onlookers have started reflecting on their own views about society.
This incident and many others that I have had, show me that we never truly know the full extent of our actions. Making the choice to do or say something may seem to be the positive and "right" thing to do, then again doing the right thing can come with consequences like physical damage. More surprisingly is the possibility that we feel the opposite from how we imagine we will, in other words be prepared for the emotional fall out. It may surprise you that when you think you should be feeling great, master of all you survey. You are actually feeling more frightened and powerless, as well as less sure that you achieved the thing you set out to do.
The upside is that if we knew all the results of all our actions we would live in a dull boorish, sterile life. Worse than that we would choose safety over conviction and dishonesty about ourselves, over being proud of ourselves and who we are. It is a personal thing at the end of the day and I for one would blame no one for doing the opposite of me on that night in the pub.
The Glider Flight
“The glider flight”
“Ill go last”, “No no, nothing about being nervous at all”.
Or that in the two hours it will take every one else to have their shot, those scattered black clouds over in the west might have either found their resting place directly overhead. Or they may have grown in to a full bloodied storm that Noah would be proud to sail in.
“I’m just not fussed that’s all, and besides go first and you have to hang about for no reason just waiting to go home.” Right!
Aye right!
“Nothing to worry about people go swanning about at 7 thousand feet in aeroplanes all the time”. I am told
Don’t look now but these aeroplanes have a major component missing, the engine.
“What me already gosh how 2 hours can just …er fly.”
I see I sit in the seat nearest the pointy bit at the front; the instructor sits in the seat behind. Strange I say I would have though it would be the other way round.
“Nah” says he
He sits in the back as
“His epileptic fits were frightening to many of his pupils”
He laughed at his own joke. I laughed...no really I did.
Take off he says will be done the old fashioned way as the tow plane will need to be refuelled after 2 hours of taking my fellow students up.
“Ill go last”, “No no, nothing about being nervous at all”.
Or that in the two hours it will take every one else to have their shot, those scattered black clouds over in the west might have either found their resting place directly overhead. Or they may have grown in to a full bloodied storm that Noah would be proud to sail in.
“I’m just not fussed that’s all, and besides go first and you have to hang about for no reason just waiting to go home.” Right!
Aye right!
“Nothing to worry about people go swanning about at 7 thousand feet in aeroplanes all the time”. I am told
Don’t look now but these aeroplanes have a major component missing, the engine.
“What me already gosh how 2 hours can just …er fly.”
I see I sit in the seat nearest the pointy bit at the front; the instructor sits in the seat behind. Strange I say I would have though it would be the other way round.
“Nah” says he
He sits in the back as
“His epileptic fits were frightening to many of his pupils”
He laughed at his own joke. I laughed...no really I did.
Take off he says will be done the old fashioned way as the tow plane will need to be refuelled after 2 hours of taking my fellow students up.
He is explaining that due to the earth’s curvature and the g forces, well what ever he said next was lost on me as the glider suddenly started moving foreword. Slowly then a bit faster and then bloody fast and just as I thought we could go no faster we did not have to.
We were catapulted in to the air; the next ten seconds were taken up with watching the clouds get closer very quickly as well as reassembling all my vital organs in to the correct body cavities from which they had been ejected. There was also the small problem of displacing this elephant that had just sat on my chest.
After that ten seconds though I started to see bits of green and brown and grey enter my field of vision. We were levelling out and the scene was absolutely beautiful. England can have its country gardens and its chocolate box villages. This was rough hewn Scotland with a big craggy hill and lush grass looking as if the man from dulux had just finished painting it. Near distance was the palace at scone. It had a grand but not overbearing presence. I could see for miles and the countryside just seemed to go on and on.
I looked down to my left and saw people on the top of the hill that we were using for our thermal lift. Although this lift seemed to have a random floor selection that would make its choice by either suddenly blasting the glider up another couple of hundred feet, or by an instantaneous drop of about the same distance as we left the thermal. These people were standing about and waving at us as we passed. I waved back, giving the thumbs up sign for good measure. Just then some loon sprang from the group and ran full pelt over the steepest part of the hill. Folk in Fife are strange, I know this to be true from my annual pilgrimage to Burnt Island every summer, however suicide as a spectator sport seemed too abnormal even for Fifers. I need not have worried, as I soon realised he had a parachute on and that he was paragliding using the same thermals as us.
Even with the regular seesaw action I was in my element; watching birds fly bye at eye level was terrific. Going in and out of clouds some were of which were the soft fluffy white variety others were dark and sinister, all however filled me full of both awe and respect for nature and the power of nature. One other thing both entranced and captivated me, the absolute lack of sound. Having no engine meant you could hear the birds as they flew past. The soft swish as the glider entered and left larger clouds, this was an auditory experience that I had never even expected.
The instructor then broke my wonderment by saying
“Right your turn now!”
So here it was the moment of truth could I fly a glider. I said
“what do I do?”
After making sure that I understood my left from my right and that if we were looking at the big blue thing then that was up, whilst conversely the big splodge of green was down, he then said that I was as trained as I needed to be.
I remember nothing about my 10 minuets of actual flying. Apart that is from trying to recreate some moments from my favourite war film such as the “Dam Busters and “The battle of Britain”. I remember nothing of what it was like to fly the thing. I am only assuming of course that I never did bomb the forth road bridge and that all passing German aircraft made it safely to there destination. Although I am sure I might have noticed if I had been involved in either type of incident.
And so that just left the landing. Any instructions I asked my pilot.
“Nope he said.
“So how do we land?”
“Ever here of Isaac Newton” he said.
“Yesss”
“Well that’s basically your answer”
“You mean we fall out of the sky?”
”We do not fall any where laddie we GLIDE”
And that’s what happened; we left the thermal and descended in ever decreasing circles until we were above the landing field where we just ran out of space between the air and the ground.
We were catapulted in to the air; the next ten seconds were taken up with watching the clouds get closer very quickly as well as reassembling all my vital organs in to the correct body cavities from which they had been ejected. There was also the small problem of displacing this elephant that had just sat on my chest.
After that ten seconds though I started to see bits of green and brown and grey enter my field of vision. We were levelling out and the scene was absolutely beautiful. England can have its country gardens and its chocolate box villages. This was rough hewn Scotland with a big craggy hill and lush grass looking as if the man from dulux had just finished painting it. Near distance was the palace at scone. It had a grand but not overbearing presence. I could see for miles and the countryside just seemed to go on and on.
I looked down to my left and saw people on the top of the hill that we were using for our thermal lift. Although this lift seemed to have a random floor selection that would make its choice by either suddenly blasting the glider up another couple of hundred feet, or by an instantaneous drop of about the same distance as we left the thermal. These people were standing about and waving at us as we passed. I waved back, giving the thumbs up sign for good measure. Just then some loon sprang from the group and ran full pelt over the steepest part of the hill. Folk in Fife are strange, I know this to be true from my annual pilgrimage to Burnt Island every summer, however suicide as a spectator sport seemed too abnormal even for Fifers. I need not have worried, as I soon realised he had a parachute on and that he was paragliding using the same thermals as us.
Even with the regular seesaw action I was in my element; watching birds fly bye at eye level was terrific. Going in and out of clouds some were of which were the soft fluffy white variety others were dark and sinister, all however filled me full of both awe and respect for nature and the power of nature. One other thing both entranced and captivated me, the absolute lack of sound. Having no engine meant you could hear the birds as they flew past. The soft swish as the glider entered and left larger clouds, this was an auditory experience that I had never even expected.
The instructor then broke my wonderment by saying
“Right your turn now!”
So here it was the moment of truth could I fly a glider. I said
“what do I do?”
After making sure that I understood my left from my right and that if we were looking at the big blue thing then that was up, whilst conversely the big splodge of green was down, he then said that I was as trained as I needed to be.
I remember nothing about my 10 minuets of actual flying. Apart that is from trying to recreate some moments from my favourite war film such as the “Dam Busters and “The battle of Britain”. I remember nothing of what it was like to fly the thing. I am only assuming of course that I never did bomb the forth road bridge and that all passing German aircraft made it safely to there destination. Although I am sure I might have noticed if I had been involved in either type of incident.
And so that just left the landing. Any instructions I asked my pilot.
“Nope he said.
“So how do we land?”
“Ever here of Isaac Newton” he said.
“Yesss”
“Well that’s basically your answer”
“You mean we fall out of the sky?”
”We do not fall any where laddie we GLIDE”
And that’s what happened; we left the thermal and descended in ever decreasing circles until we were above the landing field where we just ran out of space between the air and the ground.
Sunday, 12 August 2007
Not as planned.
Yesterday was a busy and exciting day, but definitely "not as planned"! However that is a good thing as all experiences are positive even though they might hurt or leave you worse off than before they happened initially.
Kors phoned first thing to cancel as he was not feeling 100%, I make these phone calls to him all the time so whilst disappointed that we were not to meet up, I was fully behind his decision to give me the body swerve and go back to bed.
Arranged to pick Matt up and that's when change of plan number two kicked in. Instead of doing the same old Ocean Terminal coffee routine Matt guided the way to a new venue on me, the Drill Hall. As you will see from the website: http://www.outoftheblue.org.uk/webpages/drill_hall.htm
The space it's self is very open and disabled friendly, unfortunately getting in to the venue is less easy as just at the moment the outside of the building is covered in scaffolding that reduced the routes of access to just one. This one route involved cobblestones and a reverse angle slope that meant my front wheels got stuck. When the scaffolding goes it should be better. The disabled toilet was okay nothing great.
It is a very interesting venue run by "Out of The Blue" a local arts and education charitable group who I hope people will support, as they do some good innovative stuff with communities and to support local artists. The Drill Hall is situated in leith and is a listed building, take a look at the plans for it available on the web sight, or better yet go and have yourself a bowl of extremely good home made soup, or the fab free trade hot chocolate. Matt and I had a good long chinwag which ended up with me feeling more energised and more positive, we will be meeting up again after his return from a short European tour to continue our plotting and planning.
We made it back in plenty of time to watch the Scotland V Ireland rugby game on the telly, change of plan number three unfolded it's self in the form of Scotland winning and despite going to sleep in the second half giving the Irish a sniff at a come back, winning in a fairly impressive way.
Not withstanding the transaction that finally saw Rachel's Ford focus depart for Inverness taking place during the game, I thoroughly enjoyed the match as we seem to have a squad at long last that can do more than look good in muddy shorts, providing us with some hope that we will not be totally embarrassed at the upcoming world cup.
The alert amongst you will have spotted that Rachel's car has finally left our attentive care. We shed a tear and waved a fond farewell, before we burts in to a quick chorus of "You take the high road and I'll take the low road", whilst charging back through the house to shout more abuse at the Scots rugby team, happy that we had done our duty.
Well lastly to the events of last night, and the last of the unforeseen changes to the plan. I am somewhat ashamed to say that we let the side down folks, me and Claire arrived a wee bit early and sat nicely with a drink apiece and behaved ourselves. This behaviour continued and I have to report that I was unable to cause any trouble at all mainly as a result of the venue being part of the Sheraton complex but not actually in the Sheraton it's self. The access was good and more than enough circulation room was available so not too bad for wheelchair users. The only fault with the venue was that the disabled toilet whilst being large enough for a wheelchair user and a care giver to be in at the same time, still had the loo right next to the wall and so would have made transferring with assistance problematical. For those reading this can I say that these odd toilet based discussion will be a feature of my blog as I have as a wheelchair user become rather transfixed by the provision of accessible loos.
Looking for ideas on my wee corner plot here, if folks would like to make suggestions then feel free.
Kors phoned first thing to cancel as he was not feeling 100%, I make these phone calls to him all the time so whilst disappointed that we were not to meet up, I was fully behind his decision to give me the body swerve and go back to bed.
Arranged to pick Matt up and that's when change of plan number two kicked in. Instead of doing the same old Ocean Terminal coffee routine Matt guided the way to a new venue on me, the Drill Hall. As you will see from the website: http://www.outoftheblue.org.uk/webpages/drill_hall.htm
The space it's self is very open and disabled friendly, unfortunately getting in to the venue is less easy as just at the moment the outside of the building is covered in scaffolding that reduced the routes of access to just one. This one route involved cobblestones and a reverse angle slope that meant my front wheels got stuck. When the scaffolding goes it should be better. The disabled toilet was okay nothing great.
It is a very interesting venue run by "Out of The Blue" a local arts and education charitable group who I hope people will support, as they do some good innovative stuff with communities and to support local artists. The Drill Hall is situated in leith and is a listed building, take a look at the plans for it available on the web sight, or better yet go and have yourself a bowl of extremely good home made soup, or the fab free trade hot chocolate. Matt and I had a good long chinwag which ended up with me feeling more energised and more positive, we will be meeting up again after his return from a short European tour to continue our plotting and planning.
We made it back in plenty of time to watch the Scotland V Ireland rugby game on the telly, change of plan number three unfolded it's self in the form of Scotland winning and despite going to sleep in the second half giving the Irish a sniff at a come back, winning in a fairly impressive way.
Not withstanding the transaction that finally saw Rachel's Ford focus depart for Inverness taking place during the game, I thoroughly enjoyed the match as we seem to have a squad at long last that can do more than look good in muddy shorts, providing us with some hope that we will not be totally embarrassed at the upcoming world cup.
The alert amongst you will have spotted that Rachel's car has finally left our attentive care. We shed a tear and waved a fond farewell, before we burts in to a quick chorus of "You take the high road and I'll take the low road", whilst charging back through the house to shout more abuse at the Scots rugby team, happy that we had done our duty.
Well lastly to the events of last night, and the last of the unforeseen changes to the plan. I am somewhat ashamed to say that we let the side down folks, me and Claire arrived a wee bit early and sat nicely with a drink apiece and behaved ourselves. This behaviour continued and I have to report that I was unable to cause any trouble at all mainly as a result of the venue being part of the Sheraton complex but not actually in the Sheraton it's self. The access was good and more than enough circulation room was available so not too bad for wheelchair users. The only fault with the venue was that the disabled toilet whilst being large enough for a wheelchair user and a care giver to be in at the same time, still had the loo right next to the wall and so would have made transferring with assistance problematical. For those reading this can I say that these odd toilet based discussion will be a feature of my blog as I have as a wheelchair user become rather transfixed by the provision of accessible loos.
Looking for ideas on my wee corner plot here, if folks would like to make suggestions then feel free.
Friday, 10 August 2007
Happy Go Lucky
Well coming up for the weekend and I am looking forward to meeting Kors and his adorable daughter Annie for a coffee or two on Saturday. Matt might also be coming along, perhaps with his equally adorable daughter who's name has just jumped in a taxi and is heading for the airport as I type. It will come back to me, probably as they both walk up to me, which will lead to the embarrassing thing of calling Matt by his daughters name and vice a versa. But that's OK as I am a crip and blame just about everything on that so no problem.
Saturday is a big day as we are waving goodbye to Rachel's car, it's new owners will be driving it to Inverness as soon as they sign the paper work. The how's and who's, as well as the whys of selling Rachel's car are a 4 hour blog in it's self, so it is probably better not to ask and just go with the flow readers.
I will get round to telling you all about these folks shortly so you just need to keep coming back.
"What a little tease I am"
Then to cap it all me and Claire are going out as the poor end of the family to show up the posh end of the family, again! This time though they have decided that if show them up is what we do, then we should have the best settings in town to do it in. So we are going to the Sheraton hotel just of Lothian road. I am sure Fiona and John know what they are doing, or perhaps they are working to a cunning plan that sees me and get huckled out the restaurant whilst they three slip off with out paying. I guess from Fiona's point of view having a mouthy crip brother in law has to pay off at some point.
I am not saying I will be looking to cause trouble, but for a starter I am dressing casual as most of my clothes rub against my wheelchair, (Cos I am too fat since you ask!) so I can see us getting stopped as I am "Not properly dressed". My plan A: is to offer to get naked and say that they cannot complain as I am not dressed at all now so nothing improper about my dress. Or at an attempt at an even older joke I will ask them if I can borrow a little black number. (Black number = dress - I will be DRESSed get it. Suit yourselves)
If we get in and the seating or the place is not chair friendly I cannot imagine I will be able to not say anything, I will chuck around acronyms like the D.D.A. and the D.R.C, B.B.C, M.M.O, and lastly TTFN. Having confused everyone including myself I will then go and inspect the disabled toilet. Now this is the Sheraton so if the disabled loo does not have it's own attendant who will buff my nails whilst I pee I am going to be hacked off. If the loo is not big enough to hold a rugby 7's game in I am going to be hacked off. It better not have the toilet either too close to a wall or too close to the hand drier, or I will be hacked off. And that's before we even get to the food.
What I really want though is for one of the waiters to be carrying a tray of drinks and then for his foot to catch one of my footplates that I will probably need to remove in order to get close to the table.
"Cleaning bills and free drinks all round landlord"
Actually that sounds like so much fun I might have to make sure we get in....."Any one got a black tie I can borrow?"
Saturday is a big day as we are waving goodbye to Rachel's car, it's new owners will be driving it to Inverness as soon as they sign the paper work. The how's and who's, as well as the whys of selling Rachel's car are a 4 hour blog in it's self, so it is probably better not to ask and just go with the flow readers.
I will get round to telling you all about these folks shortly so you just need to keep coming back.
"What a little tease I am"
Then to cap it all me and Claire are going out as the poor end of the family to show up the posh end of the family, again! This time though they have decided that if show them up is what we do, then we should have the best settings in town to do it in. So we are going to the Sheraton hotel just of Lothian road. I am sure Fiona and John know what they are doing, or perhaps they are working to a cunning plan that sees me and get huckled out the restaurant whilst they three slip off with out paying. I guess from Fiona's point of view having a mouthy crip brother in law has to pay off at some point.
I am not saying I will be looking to cause trouble, but for a starter I am dressing casual as most of my clothes rub against my wheelchair, (Cos I am too fat since you ask!) so I can see us getting stopped as I am "Not properly dressed". My plan A: is to offer to get naked and say that they cannot complain as I am not dressed at all now so nothing improper about my dress. Or at an attempt at an even older joke I will ask them if I can borrow a little black number. (Black number = dress - I will be DRESSed get it. Suit yourselves)
If we get in and the seating or the place is not chair friendly I cannot imagine I will be able to not say anything, I will chuck around acronyms like the D.D.A. and the D.R.C, B.B.C, M.M.O, and lastly TTFN. Having confused everyone including myself I will then go and inspect the disabled toilet. Now this is the Sheraton so if the disabled loo does not have it's own attendant who will buff my nails whilst I pee I am going to be hacked off. If the loo is not big enough to hold a rugby 7's game in I am going to be hacked off. It better not have the toilet either too close to a wall or too close to the hand drier, or I will be hacked off. And that's before we even get to the food.
What I really want though is for one of the waiters to be carrying a tray of drinks and then for his foot to catch one of my footplates that I will probably need to remove in order to get close to the table.
"Cleaning bills and free drinks all round landlord"
Actually that sounds like so much fun I might have to make sure we get in....."Any one got a black tie I can borrow?"
"A ship named dignity"
I have a friend lets call him Jim, since that is what everyone else calls him. Jim has over the past few years been a constant source of inspiration to me and a few others as well. I know he has had this effect on others as I find myself talking about Jim with other friends of us both almost every time we chat.
He is an older person who mainly speaks quietly and sometimes has a tendency to ramble on what could be called obscure points. He holds views some of which I cannot pretend to share, and some that I won't lie and say that I understand. He is passionate about his views and eloquent in expressing them. He never though gets on a soapbox in order to convert people to his own view, nor does he argue to win. He respects my right to differ and allows me to do so politely and with Patience. He has a good sense of humour and attempts to take life as something to be enjoyed.
Now we all know folk like Jim right? People that remind us of the qualities and virtues that we so desperately wish we possessed in stronger measure ourselves. I see in many of my friends qualities that I wish I could display, unlike some others my friends are folk who I have either collected on my journey, or who have collected me. I have only one friend who goes way back to my childhood days, I think this is significant as I have a notion that somehow the term friends has become misunderstood.
For me friends are people who in some way add or give something to our experience of our own life, and we do the same for them. A commitment to spend time, to share ideas and thoughts, to be honest to the point of inflicting pain with each other are part of the "friends" package. The knowledge that these people can make us happy if we are sad, or help guide us through the our problems and fears in a bid to understand our unhappiness is also a strong indication of what friends mean to each other. Notions of trust and respect are never spoken of because they have been built up over time, and are implicit in our understanding of each other.
That is my way of telling the difference between friends and mates, or fellow gang members, or drinking buddies etc. In my view being there for some one, or people that you "hang with" might as well be other terms for strangers. One last thing however is on my list of attributes of a friend, and once again I turn to Jim to help me explain it.
Jim has a disability, he needs personal care, he needs social and mental interaction. He needs a companion and a carer. Up until recently he had all that, the physical act of caring and the emotional and intellectual support provided by the one person. This person had a full life of there own but it was seldom that Jim would go anywhere or do anything with out his companion. The cliche that they were inseparable fits, but in this context the notion that both shared their experiences freely and with no thought of personal gain is true. They shared in each others lives for more than 10 years.
Last Christmas Jim and his companion were involved in a car crash that killed his companion and left Jim severely injured. Jim spoke up as soon as he could and said that he was probably to blame for the accident.
Just take a second to look back at the last paragraph and asses for yourself exactly what the impact on Jim has been.
Jim survived his injuries although no one ever fully recovers from such an accident. He has fought to get a level of personal care put in place, he has got back behind the wheel of a car, he has begun to put his life back together. Yet even that is not what I am drawing attention to in this article. I am sure mostly every one can say that they know people who have had some very rough times and that they admire those who come through such times.
Jim has given me and all those that know him the gift of seeing someone trying to get to grips with his emotional loss and his personal struggle. Others and I unashamedly say that I would be one of them, would have been unable to cope and chosen to die rather than make the attempt to come to terms with the changes in my life. I am just not strong enough to withstand that kind of emotional and physical pain, and I doubt if I would be able to think about the organisational nightmare of getting a care package. I am not saying he has done this on his own he has had support from others, but he is the one who on a daily basis gets out of bed having made the decision that life goes on.
Nor can I tell you that I would have the ability to do what I have witnessed Jim do, confront past memories and current raw emotions by deliberately subjecting himself to them. He goes to the places and does the things that remind him of his past, he sits in shopping malls crying, or in mid sentence he will start to weep, he forces himself out of the house to deliberately confront his past and his future. Not one bit of this is about self pity although I would forgive Jim that, instead it is about self healing and finding ways to come to peace. It is also done with dignity, difficult to imagine someone in a wheelchair crying in a busy shopping mall with dignity, but then Jim does not do exhibitionism. If a stranger did see and were to approach he would not push them away, but neither would he be looking to unload his feelings on someone who did not have the time or the interest in really talking to him. Jim through his pursuit of his dignity, not just in his physical care but also in an attempt to restore his self respect and self esteem manages to instill in me the knowledge that the soul and the heart can be healed if you want it to be. Jim we your friends love you and care for you, and I thank you!
He is an older person who mainly speaks quietly and sometimes has a tendency to ramble on what could be called obscure points. He holds views some of which I cannot pretend to share, and some that I won't lie and say that I understand. He is passionate about his views and eloquent in expressing them. He never though gets on a soapbox in order to convert people to his own view, nor does he argue to win. He respects my right to differ and allows me to do so politely and with Patience. He has a good sense of humour and attempts to take life as something to be enjoyed.
Now we all know folk like Jim right? People that remind us of the qualities and virtues that we so desperately wish we possessed in stronger measure ourselves. I see in many of my friends qualities that I wish I could display, unlike some others my friends are folk who I have either collected on my journey, or who have collected me. I have only one friend who goes way back to my childhood days, I think this is significant as I have a notion that somehow the term friends has become misunderstood.
For me friends are people who in some way add or give something to our experience of our own life, and we do the same for them. A commitment to spend time, to share ideas and thoughts, to be honest to the point of inflicting pain with each other are part of the "friends" package. The knowledge that these people can make us happy if we are sad, or help guide us through the our problems and fears in a bid to understand our unhappiness is also a strong indication of what friends mean to each other. Notions of trust and respect are never spoken of because they have been built up over time, and are implicit in our understanding of each other.
That is my way of telling the difference between friends and mates, or fellow gang members, or drinking buddies etc. In my view being there for some one, or people that you "hang with" might as well be other terms for strangers. One last thing however is on my list of attributes of a friend, and once again I turn to Jim to help me explain it.
Jim has a disability, he needs personal care, he needs social and mental interaction. He needs a companion and a carer. Up until recently he had all that, the physical act of caring and the emotional and intellectual support provided by the one person. This person had a full life of there own but it was seldom that Jim would go anywhere or do anything with out his companion. The cliche that they were inseparable fits, but in this context the notion that both shared their experiences freely and with no thought of personal gain is true. They shared in each others lives for more than 10 years.
Last Christmas Jim and his companion were involved in a car crash that killed his companion and left Jim severely injured. Jim spoke up as soon as he could and said that he was probably to blame for the accident.
Just take a second to look back at the last paragraph and asses for yourself exactly what the impact on Jim has been.
Jim survived his injuries although no one ever fully recovers from such an accident. He has fought to get a level of personal care put in place, he has got back behind the wheel of a car, he has begun to put his life back together. Yet even that is not what I am drawing attention to in this article. I am sure mostly every one can say that they know people who have had some very rough times and that they admire those who come through such times.
Jim has given me and all those that know him the gift of seeing someone trying to get to grips with his emotional loss and his personal struggle. Others and I unashamedly say that I would be one of them, would have been unable to cope and chosen to die rather than make the attempt to come to terms with the changes in my life. I am just not strong enough to withstand that kind of emotional and physical pain, and I doubt if I would be able to think about the organisational nightmare of getting a care package. I am not saying he has done this on his own he has had support from others, but he is the one who on a daily basis gets out of bed having made the decision that life goes on.
Nor can I tell you that I would have the ability to do what I have witnessed Jim do, confront past memories and current raw emotions by deliberately subjecting himself to them. He goes to the places and does the things that remind him of his past, he sits in shopping malls crying, or in mid sentence he will start to weep, he forces himself out of the house to deliberately confront his past and his future. Not one bit of this is about self pity although I would forgive Jim that, instead it is about self healing and finding ways to come to peace. It is also done with dignity, difficult to imagine someone in a wheelchair crying in a busy shopping mall with dignity, but then Jim does not do exhibitionism. If a stranger did see and were to approach he would not push them away, but neither would he be looking to unload his feelings on someone who did not have the time or the interest in really talking to him. Jim through his pursuit of his dignity, not just in his physical care but also in an attempt to restore his self respect and self esteem manages to instill in me the knowledge that the soul and the heart can be healed if you want it to be. Jim we your friends love you and care for you, and I thank you!
Thursday, 9 August 2007
Courage
I am inspired by courage, by people who quietly go about their day to day lives in a straightforward and dignified manner, or do some brave thing and then wish only for life to return to normal. A good example would be the guys who helped out during the Glasgow airport attack. They themselves did not seek to make anything of their actions nor did they look for any kind of reward or benefit from doing what they did. It was the media who once having identified them, pushed the guys further and further in to the limelight, it seems that our media need not just a bad guy to demonise but also a good guy, preferably two or more to turn in to heroes and examples of what us Brits are supposed to do in the face of attack by Johnny foreigner. Even though the same media tell us time and again how "scared" people are of going out at night, and talking to strangers lest we be attacked and robbed or worse.
Courage also seems to be something that you can loose or have withdrawn from you by a process of trial by media. The McCann family live in a perpetual state of either being the most courageous and dedicated of parents, to being thought of as those responsible directly or indirectly for Maddies loss. For the McCanns this constant judging by others must be as big a strain as trying to find their daughter. Never knowing if people are looking at you with respect, pity, scorn, or worse of all hatred. I cannot help but notice the similar attitude that the media and society generally have to any person who is seen as different. Race, sexuality, disability, gender, perhaps most pointedly those with mental health issues find themselves judged either to be a courageous person fighting against impossible odds, or damned as the impossible odds won.
Or the notion that people like the disabled have to be grateful for charity and must be seen as courageous because they "overcome" or look cute on sticks. However when the truth is put forward by disabled people, that it is the lack of willingness of society in general to see and acknowledge it's complicity in creating of disabled people, that's when attitudes seem to change. The cute 9 year old girl in pigtails and leg braces, who is a "child of courage" because she has found that moaning about her pain does not help her, will just as swiftly be tomorrows benefit scrounging, workshy, single mother in a council house, tabloid headline believed by enough of the rest of society to make it the truth.
I suffer from anxiety, I sometimes have panic attacks during which I try sometimes successfully to control my anxiety in order to finish what I am doing. One technique I have developed is to ask myself what I would feel like if I was in a truly scary place, instead of in a meeting, or talking to someone in a coffee shop. The scene that I place myself in most often, is in a trench in France on the morning of the first of June 1916, somewhere near the Somme river about 9.30 in the morning.
Since 7.30 wave after wave of men have gone over the top and been mown down. Thousands lie dead and dying only yards in front of the trench. All around me men are gathering for their turn to go over the top, hardly any one thinks twice about what they are about to do. They know that escaping with a "blighty" wound will be the best that they can hope for, and yet they line up, smile, tell ghoulish jokes, and promise to see their mates on the other side. If I were there would I be so calm? In this way I calm myself with shame I have to acknowledge that those men had the right to be scared, probably were but did what they had to do any way. Me all I have to worry about is some newspaper editor deciding if I deserve to be a hero or a villain, I know if I was ever subject to that changeable wind of fortune that I would still regard the trench option as being much more scary.
Courage also seems to be something that you can loose or have withdrawn from you by a process of trial by media. The McCann family live in a perpetual state of either being the most courageous and dedicated of parents, to being thought of as those responsible directly or indirectly for Maddies loss. For the McCanns this constant judging by others must be as big a strain as trying to find their daughter. Never knowing if people are looking at you with respect, pity, scorn, or worse of all hatred. I cannot help but notice the similar attitude that the media and society generally have to any person who is seen as different. Race, sexuality, disability, gender, perhaps most pointedly those with mental health issues find themselves judged either to be a courageous person fighting against impossible odds, or damned as the impossible odds won.
Or the notion that people like the disabled have to be grateful for charity and must be seen as courageous because they "overcome" or look cute on sticks. However when the truth is put forward by disabled people, that it is the lack of willingness of society in general to see and acknowledge it's complicity in creating of disabled people, that's when attitudes seem to change. The cute 9 year old girl in pigtails and leg braces, who is a "child of courage" because she has found that moaning about her pain does not help her, will just as swiftly be tomorrows benefit scrounging, workshy, single mother in a council house, tabloid headline believed by enough of the rest of society to make it the truth.
I suffer from anxiety, I sometimes have panic attacks during which I try sometimes successfully to control my anxiety in order to finish what I am doing. One technique I have developed is to ask myself what I would feel like if I was in a truly scary place, instead of in a meeting, or talking to someone in a coffee shop. The scene that I place myself in most often, is in a trench in France on the morning of the first of June 1916, somewhere near the Somme river about 9.30 in the morning.
Since 7.30 wave after wave of men have gone over the top and been mown down. Thousands lie dead and dying only yards in front of the trench. All around me men are gathering for their turn to go over the top, hardly any one thinks twice about what they are about to do. They know that escaping with a "blighty" wound will be the best that they can hope for, and yet they line up, smile, tell ghoulish jokes, and promise to see their mates on the other side. If I were there would I be so calm? In this way I calm myself with shame I have to acknowledge that those men had the right to be scared, probably were but did what they had to do any way. Me all I have to worry about is some newspaper editor deciding if I deserve to be a hero or a villain, I know if I was ever subject to that changeable wind of fortune that I would still regard the trench option as being much more scary.
Wednesday, 8 August 2007
Things that save you time.
- Washing machines
- Telephones
- Having an article printed in Today's Scotsman newspaper that tells you dear reader as much of my background as you need to know.http://thescotsman.scotsman.com/education.cfm?id=1240462007
It has saved me a huge amount of time, dead handy things these journalists!
Tuesday, 7 August 2007
Baa, Baa, Blah
The first entry on a brand new blog, it occurs to me that this is a very auspicious occasion similar to a wedding perhaps. The first post is like the wedding night in the sense that you get a good idea what the future will hold by the success or lack of it, of those first few hours in a newly forged identity.
Well this is a new identity for me and these first few moments of my new life are full of nerves and anxiety, more so than on my own wedding night but I guess I am stone cold sober on this occasion. The reason I am nervous, apart from the lack of strong drink is that I am very aware that with the millions of blogs to be found on this here interweb, I have nothing to say or no way of saying what little I have to say, that is either new, or different, or any more insightful than any of the other blogger.
"So why bother"
"Good question, bad answer"
"Because I can and want to and I have the time"
So why should you return to this blog?
I hope in the lifetime of this blog, those who look in will find something of interest, or amusement, or something that makes their blood pump faster and either through rage or excitement join in discussion with me here, or in their "real" world lives.
My interests are varied and so are my thoughts and how deeply I express them.
I am political with both sizes of P, but in general think that Political parties take the pee. I am a democratic fan of people doing what they are told. I believe in free will and self determination, but think the free market economy has turned us all in to selfish drones.
Mainly though I am writing it for both the challenge and the people that I hope to meet on the journey. Speaking of people I am aware that I have said little about myself in terms of personal details, you will find out all you need to know and probably loads that you feel should be kept private as topics and moods take me.
I will try and master the techno gibberish to add links and stuff but I draw the line at photos and videos, however don't let me stop you if you have stuff that you think fits the blog.
The large cast of characters who play parts large and small in the musical that makes up my life will be introduced to you again as and when I get round to them.
Yep I kinda knew this was gonna turn out long and dense, stick with me though as I learn to blog and write shorter pieces. Or better yet come back and tell me things that I already know but from your point of view.
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