Remember, remember the 7th November?

November 7th is the 311th day of the year. There are now less than 50 days left before Christmas. The 7th also brings to a close British Sausage Week and last night we cooked and ate a few as we stood around our fireworks bonfire. This year we had six or seven young children join us, and I was surprised to hear that Guy Fawkes, does not get talked about in Schools anymore and the children had no idea what the ‘Guy’ on top of the fire symbolised. It seems that some of our history is being lost.

One group that does much too preserve our history and in particular our social and medical past is the Welcome Trust. The 7th November this year saw the last 'Nuns, Nurses and Nightingale's' themed tour of artefacts that trace the history of nursing, from informal care of the sick at home by family members, to a religious duty to trained vocational nurse, and ultimately to the autonomous professional we know today. I thought the focus for this event was interesting particularly as many nursing colleagues hold strong and disparaging views about the pharmaceutical industry and drug company sponsorship of training and other organisational events for health care staff.

Whilst I respect the right for others to hold these views, like most things, there are different aspects to every situation. For example, it was Sir Henry Wellcome who founded the Wellcome Trust. Wellcome co-founded a multinational pharmaceutical company. It was this company that developed many of the techniques still in use today to promote, branding and advertise medicines. Although amassing great wealth, Wellcome also funded pioneering medical research, and over the last 70 years the Welcome Trust has spent millions of pounds on research to improve our understanding of disease and to enable the development of treatments.

In January 1995, the Wellcome Trust Trustees sold most of their remaining interest in Wellcome to Glaxo, to form a new company, Glaxo Wellcome. This company merged in 2000 with SmithKlineBeecham creating GlaxoSmithKline (GSK) and its annual spend on research increased to over £650 million a year. It is an inheritance that continues to contribute to the promotion of our health and well being.

I find it somewhat amusing then that Guy Fawkes is remembered (by a certain generation at least) in somewhat fond terms, yet he was a villain and a very unpleasant man. Unhealthy we tend to celebrate the 5th of November (Fireworks night) with fireworks and bonfires, baked potatoes, hotpot and treacle toffee and usually copious amounts of alcohol. Yet Sir Henry Welcome and all that he stood for, and the legacy he left for us all is often seen in such prejudiced terms because of perceptions of the relationship between profit and exploitation. Perhaps philanthropy (Sir Henery) like religion (Guy Fawkes) will always give rise to much misunderstanding.     

Fall Fell

Autumn is just about over. Most of the leaves are down after the heavy rain of the past few days, but I got these shots of a Japanese Maple on one of the properties I manage just before they fell off.Something about that shade of red I like and I try to capture it every November.Took a day to wander over the line in New Hampshire with a friend while there were still some leaves to see. Have always liked this view of Mount Chocorua behind the lake of the same name.The sugar maples hadn't dropped all their yellow leaves yet, as this one displays before a November mist on Kezar Lake back across the line in Maine.There's something about sunlight in November. Can't quite describe it, but it brings similar feelings every year at this time. Here it is coming into my kitchen from the west in late afternoon.This is up on Smart's Hill where my wife and I like to sit as daylight dissipates. The mountains were shrouded as rainclouds broke up after the deluge. It all made for a tranquil blue mood. Seems like the road to winter, but we're not quite there yet.It's not far away though as I see in this early dawn shot of Mount Washington from my back porch.

The Start?

I'm not going into detail, just asking if you could read the following, and leave a comment. Please? Thankyou?

It was dark when i started looking for myself. Ordinarily you wouldnt conduct a search in the dark but, with me, it was the best ( and only ) place to start. Truth be told i had been in the darkness so long that had a light appeared and shone itself directly in my face i would have shyed away from what it might illuminate, and slunk back into the comfortable black i knew so well. I was afraid – i wouldnt have copped to it then, but i can admit to it now. I was afraid – of having to see, of having to know. At least in the dark i could pretend. I could ignore what might really be there, and imagine a whole other, different, BETTER world for myself. Its just that, one day, i realised i was tired of playing pretend. So very, very tired. I couldnt pretend anymore, i couldnt keep up the pretence of “ normal “, i couldnt keep being a “ me “ that wasnt really me at all. So i was tired, that much i knew. The only other thing i knew for sure is that i DIDNT know who i was anymore. I DIDNT know who i was, or where “ I “ might be.  And what do you do when you dont know where something is ? You start looking – just, ordinarily, you don’t start in the dark....

Thoughts?

Find Your Peace

Image from here

I made my way out of the darkness once, fighting through thunder and lightning til i could ride the winds of change all the way to the safety of shore....

Some people arent as lucky. I recieved news yesterday that a school friend has taken his own life, after a struggle with depression stemming from a relationship break up. He's left behind two small children and, presumably, a broken hearted family. This boy(man ) was always so confident at school and, truth be told, i had a little crush on him. We werent great mates and we didnt share any classes, but he was the cute-but-naughty boy that all the girls thought was a bit of a hottie.Even though we were never close friends, it really hits home how lucky i am that i found the strength and courage to fight through my depression and break free of it.

I wish he could have done the same. He is the third classmate of mine to commit suicide. Three young men, all dead at their own hand, in 10 years. As far as i'm concerned, thats three too many over the course of a lifetime, let alone three missing before we've even had a chance to have a high school reunion. And what for? What struggles were they fighting against? What support was lacking? Its too late now to answer these questions but i cant help but wonder.... if they had the support i had, the family to rally around, to understand the mental health issues or emotional battles, would they still be here?

If i am able, i will attend his funeral next week. Like i said, we werent close friends and i wouldnt know his family if i tripped over them, but i feel its the right way to pay tribute to the fun, cheeky, bright spirit i remember from school and put to rest the broken spirit that has hopefully, in death, found some peace....



Dublin's Fair City

All my ancestors come from Ireland, but that doesn’t make me Irish. I’m thoroughly American, but my ancestry has influenced me in many ways. I’ve traveled there twice with my wife to see the farms two of my ancestors left from in County Donegal and County Mayo. Along the way, I’ve had interesting discussions around history and politics at pubs and B&Bs. My wife, though, is apolitical. She’d wait politely for a short while before sending me signals that she wanted us to be on our way. After several such episodes, she said, “Why don’t you come back by yourself sometime when you can talk with whomever you want for as long as you want about whatever you want?”
Well, that time has come. Last spring, an offer came up: ‘round trip airfare and hotel for four nights in Dublin for $500. With taxes and fees, it came to more than advertised, but I booked it anyway. I’d spent a day in Dublin on our first trip and I wanted to go back. My plan was to figure out what pubs political types frequented, then drop by and see what developed. In August, however, I was fortunate enough to meet two political science professors from the University of Notre Dame on their way to their Office of International Studies facility in Dublin. They suggested I visit there when I was in town and told me of three pubs where I should find conversation. I won’t, however, fill my time with only academics and government types. If they’re anything like they are over here, they’ll be somewhat out of touch, so I’ll visit blue-collar pubs as well.Ireland has gone from rags to riches to rags again over just the last twenty-five or thirty years. Their economy was hurting badly when we visited with my elderly mother and uncle in the spring of 2009. Everywhere I looked there were unfinished building projects growing weeds and President Obama had just been inaugurated. Just as in America, many Irish pinned their hopes on him. Eating in pubs from Kerry to Mayo, locals noticed we were Americans and asked if our new president was going to straighten out the economy. Uncle Joe is a retired economics professor and a liberal who reads The Boston Globe every day and believes it. He assured them that Obama would make things right while I shook my head. The Irish hoped a rejuvenated US economy would pull them up but, as we all know, that recovery hasn’t materialized. Now Ireland is in danger of default. Things are very bad there, as they are in Italy, Spain, Portugal, and Greece. The EU and the Euro are declining fast while the dollar drags too.

There have been other changes in Ireland as well. The country could be called “post-Catholic” or soon to become so. As Tom Hundley writes in the Chicago Tribune: “As recently as the 1970s, 90 percent of the Irish identified themselves as Catholic and almost the same number went to mass at least once a week; now the figure for mass attendance is closer to 25 percent.” That’s a profound change in a very short time and there are several reasons for it. The Irish church offended people much the way the American church did. As homosexual priests preyed on boys, bishops covered up and transferred them, just as they did in Boston and in other American cities. One Irish priest fathered children and paid hush money to their mother with church funds. Some say their brief affluence steered the Irish away from religious faith as well. Whatever the reasons, shortly after his appointment, Dublin’s Archbishop Diarmuid Martin asked, “Will Ireland be Christian in 2030?”Europe itself is called “post-Christian” as churches are sold to burgeoning Muslim immigrant populations and converted to mosques. Its great cathedrals are virtually empty. Percentage-wise, there are fewer Muslim immigrants in Ireland than in the UK and the rest of Europe, but their numbers are increasing rapidly. Islam is now the third-largest faith in Ireland.

Meanwhile, our State Department has issued warnings to Americans traveling in Europe: “[Radical Muslim] terrorists may elect to use a variety of means and weapons . . . to attack public transportation systems and other tourist infrastructure. U.S. citizens should take every precaution to be aware of their surroundings and to adopt appropriate safety measures to protect themselves when traveling,” they say.

Hmm.

“Adopt appropriate safety measures to protect themselves.” That’s funny. I won’t have any weapons, of course - not even my little pocket knife. Guess I could give them dirty looks. If that doesn’t work, I could bite them or hit them with my camera.

Assuming I arrive safely, I’m going to feel the country of my ancestors again, and try to get an idea about where people there think the world is going. It’s good to get out of my own country once in a while and look back at it through other eyes.

The Big 4-0-0

Hello and welcome to this, the 400th post here at New Adventures In Dreamworld. I'm your host Amy, and here is what on tonights agenda:
* An explanation
* A smile
*And a thankyou.

The explanation - you may have noticed that my regular weekly weigh in is missing tonight. It is partly because today is my special 400th post, but also because i didnt weigh or measure myself today. Shock!Horror! I wont lie - i was really bloody disheartened with last weeks result and then Mick tells me today that he's lost 3kgs...and he's not even trying. It all just seems really unfair - granted i havent been overly strict but i HAVE been trying, purposely eating less and exercising that little bit more. And i'm just not going anywhere. Its not like i'm completely disgusted by my body, and nor am i morbidly obese, i'd just really, really, REALLY like to lose at least those 8kgs i mentioned before. And its just not happening. I may have to investigate Tony Ferguson or some other weight loss aid type of thing. What do you think? Had anybody had any succes with those?
The smile - Gawd i love my baby! Since we've come back from Tresillian its like he's a completely new child. Yea, he's a champion sleeper now but he's also much more smiley and snuggly, and less clingy and sooky. I've completely fallen in love with him all over again - its beautiful to watch him playing and learning and then see him look up and crack this big, huge smile as if to say " Look at me Mum! Look what i can do! ". Its gorgeous. With only 2 months til his 1st birthday, i'm relishing these last days of his " babyhood ". Everyday seems to bring with it a new trick, and a new smile...
The thankyou -  to you reader people! Ok, so only one of you made a suggestion of what you'd like to see more of ( thanks Hayley! ) and no-one suggested a topic for this post, but you guys are here most other times and, most importantly, here when i really need you. It might be selfish to say but without the comments and support from my followers i dont think i'd love blogging as much - i enjoy the writing aspect ( i always have ) but its the sense of community that keeps me coming back. So thanks guys - hope you stick around to help me reach the big 5-0-0!

Traffic Jams, Birthday Cake, and Quails Eggs Protests

It feels like I have driven up and down the M6 motorway too many times this week. The M6 is one of the longest motorways in the UK at 232.2 miles long. It took some 50 years to build, and at times if feels like you might have been travelling on it for as long. In my experience the Manchester to Birmingham section often resembles a slow moving car park for long periods of the day. This is precisely what the M6 was like on Thursday this week. Foolishly, I had decided to drive to Stafford University rather than take the train as I was due to attend a meeting later on that same evening at Holmes Chapel, some 25 miles apart and thought this would be the easiest way to get to both venues. In the end it took three hours to make a journey that should normally take at the most just 90mins. I was not impressed.

I was going to Stafford University as an External Examiner on a PhD Viva. I am always happy to be involved in these events, particularly when they involve hearing about the research of nurses or midwives. Less than 10% of nurses in the UK have a PhD, so I was very pleased that on this occasion the candidate defended their thesis well, and we were able to recommend the award was made. It was also great that he was a mental health nurse who had drawn upon my work in constructing his thesis.

Back on the M6 and the journey back to Holmes Chapel was a tortuous affair. The slow moving traffic, that in the morning had been overwhelming going southbound, seemed to have transferred to the northbound carriageways. It was a slow, frustrating and tiring journey back.

So it was with some trepidation that I started my journey yesterday morning down to Cardiff. For much of the journey one has to use the M6. I was on my way to celebrate my Fathers birthday, 30 guests were due to attend and most of the food was in the back of the car. Thankfully, the road was completely clear, the sun shone, and the autumnal colours were magnificent. The party was a success and a good time was had by all. The guests were family and friends. Among the group there was a teacher, midwife, financial regulator, falconer (complete with a miniature Peruvian Owl), a trainee policeman, house wives and house husbands, plumber, and lots of grandchildren. The conversations were often rich with description and difference.

One of my brothers told of how the social unrest in his part of Surrey (Kingston-upon-Thames) had reached new heights of unacceptability. It appears that the local youth make their protest known by throwing quails eggs at people’s property. He was deadly serious. I couldn’t quite imagine however, young people being so disaffected that they took themselves off to the local Waitrose store to purchase a dozen quails eggs to throw at peoples windows. Social protest is slightly different up here in the North.

The journey back from Cardiff along the M6 took just over three hours and was uneventful, and in a strange way calming. Happy Birthday Dad!