Hello everyone. I hope you are all ok. I thought I had nothing to say to you this week but when I think about it, a few things have happened - some better than others but there you are. First of all, thank you for your kind comments about Aged Parent. I have not been near the blog, I'm afraid, not so much because I'm prostrated with grief but because there is so much to do. I'm probably not going to go on about it all. It has been a long time coming and, if I believe what I say I believe, then she is happier now than she has ever been. The one mental adjustment I am struggling to make is the mental check-in. I think we all do it. If I have a quiet moment when we pull back or relax, I think of all the people I am closest to and ask myself if they are ok. Partner, children, parents. etc. Then, if I know they are safe and ok, I carry on. It's kind of like the principle that says I am only ever as happy as my unhappiest child. Beryl has been on my mental checklist for 50 years and, even though she is no longer here, it will take a while for her to fall off it.
Head of House has not helped my week by going sea swimming when it was rough and getting knocked off his feet by a wave and hurting his back on the side of the slipway. He has a gash on his back to show for it - and he will show you it, at the slightest provocation. Do you know how difficult it is to get an ambulance now? Anyway, I have promised him that we shall speak no more about it. This is not a promise I have any intention of keeping and I may need to go on the Cos website and buy a little something to get over the trauma.
I was on the local telly this week, (see above) appealing for more volunteer drivers for work. Now that's something that's much more difficult than it looks. Trying to think of cogent answers to simple questions and not let the entire side down by appearing to be deranged. At least I managed to get my framed Gary Neville photo in the frame. And, apparently more important, quite a few people have come forward so that is good.
Messy Church this week was about making a biscuit for your Mum on Mother's Day. (Good job I'm not the sensitive sort). Maybe, just to clarify, Messy Church wasn't "about" making a celebratory snack for your mum. It was about God in the still small voice to Elijah after the earthquake, wind, fire etc. had passed by. Probably, someone had sensibly decided that this would be too difficult to represent in the form of a biscuit. Everything seemed to go well. I ended up with chocolate spread all over my cardigan but, as Head of House had pointed out - "No change there."
I am noticing already that Messy Church children are on a wide spectrum. Some, usually called Guinevere or Santiago, come with parents who insist they write their own names on their name stickers - if possible in Latin. Then there are children from not so salubrious backgrounds. I was writing a name on a sticker for a girl with a little green candle making its way from her nose and, when she smiled, I noticed that lots of her little teeth were bad. When I was a little girl, every six months, we were dragged along to the school dentist, who kept an eye on our teeth and, if we were unlucky would make an appointment for us to see another dentist who would use techniques which would not look out of place in the movie "Saw" to fill or remove any offending teeth. Although this was not fun, it was completely free because it was part of the National Health and the fact that people in one of the richest economies in the world cannot take their children to the dentist is just another reason why no-one should ever trust this government when it says it wants to look after the most vulnerable in our society.
While I am ranting, if I could put my two pennyworth in on Gary Lineker. It's not that I disagree with his Tweet. It seemed to be factually correct to me. I do think it was badly worded. Because, if you say anything that invokes the Holocaust, you always have to put a caveat alongside it saying that obviously, this is not the Holocaust because that event is an indelible stain on the world. If you don't add the caveat, it gives low-lives the opportunity to dismiss valid criticism by saying things like "Well of course this is not the same as that - what a terrible and upsetting comparison" and sail easily past the actual point of the Tweet. I do think that this whole thing is classic dead cattery by the government. This is the principle that, whatever you are talking about, if someone throws a dead cat onto the table, all eyes will be immediately drawn to that and all other concerns will be forgotten.
So while there is a cost of living crisis, people unwilling to put their heat on while it is actually SNOWING, ex-Prime Ministers putting their fathers (who hospitalised their mother many times she said) up for knighthoods, reports due on Pandemic scandals of various hues etc. etc. We are all talking about whether a football presenter is allowed to have an opinion. AND the Coroner's report on the mass shooting in Plymouth came in last week. It was highly critical of the police and the systems for gun licencing and it didn't even make the National News because of all this. Grrr.
So because I am a lightweight, I have spent the week avoiding important things and seeking solace in my favourite programmes. I love the Great Pottery Throwdown so much. Everyone is so lovely. People are crying with sheer joy all the time and there are fantastic comedic moments. Worthy winner as well. I also watched all the Crufts I could find. I am aware that there is lots of controversy around Crufts - partly because they are about breeding rather than rescue, when there are not enough homes for the dogs that we already have. Still, I just watch for the dogs. We do spend a bit of time shouting at the TV because Jack Russells never win anything. Also, there is a game where lots of dogs are running backwards and forwards, throwing themselves at walls at high speed, then having to be restrained. I've no idea what's going on there. Then there is something where people dress up and sort of dance with their dogs. I had to make my eyes go blurry when that was on. Sorry. Still, I did particularly enjoy seeing Chris Amoo from the Real Thing, running around the arena with an Irish Wolfhound, only slightly shorter than him. We don't deserve dogs.
Enjoy your week and keep out of the sea!
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