A Sunday Party

Party time...

I don't normally do parties, but today I spent three hours in the company of my son's school pals as they all celebrated their friend's 6th Birthday.
The bouncy castle was great fun for the kids, but failing to bring it in doors when it rained meant it was full of water and had to be thoroughly dried before use.

I satisfied myself with some very nice coffee and a vape...

People believe what they want to believe. I know what I know. My writing is a reflection of the way I feel. Whether the words are a result of a mind controlled by anti anxiety & depression medication, that's for others to judge. We are all free to read what we want and believe what we want. We all live in our own little worlds - and some are best left apart.

There's No Need for It

I've always believed in common courtesy. It takes very little effort and makes for a pleasant friendly environment in which we all can live. When in a customer facing environment, courtesy is something that should be automatic. The job calls for it and regardless of whether someone is working in a shop, on a bus or in a health service, common courtesy should always be a prerequisite.
How saddened was I then to be met with one of the most surly and discourteous people I've met, this morning whilst collecting my wife's prescription at Sutton Bridge Medical Centre.
This practise already has a reputation for being unfriendly and generally unhelpful so I wasn't expecting much. Firstly I was left waiting at the collection window for what seemed as long as five minutes whilst the dispensary assistant stared aimlessly at a computer, in full view of me. A simple acknowledgement would have been enough to satisfy me, but this was obviously too much to expect. When she did finally drag herself to the window she made me feel as if I was a burden to her, as if I had dragged her from doing something more interesting.
I was presented with a slip which I had to complete with a tick to denote my wife's eligibility for free prescriptions then sign and date. I inadvertently ticked the exemption box and was immediately rebuked for having done so being told my wife doesn't have a serious enough illness. I responded by reminding the assistant that she does in fact suffer with asthma, serious enough in my view to justify exemption from the ridiculous charges levied upon patients in England. Instead, my wife has a card which entitles her to free prescriptions based on our income, which I showed to the assistant who then told me to cross out the tick I had made and put another in the correct box.
I did feel like saying something to her about her attitude and general lack of customer service skill, but I refrained from doing so. Instead, I told her to 'have a nice day' and left, muttering under my breath. How different my experience could have been if she had acknowledged me and at least smiled. I am left in no doubt that Sutton Bridge Medical Centre is lacking the very basic in customer service and common courtesy. They have clearly forgotten that it is they who are providing a service. People are there, for the most part, not through choice but because they are unwell. They are in need of care, respect and at the very least, should be made to feel welcome. There is no excuse for rudeness and discourtesy, and for this reason Sutton Bridge Medical Centre win my award for 'Most Unfriendly Health Practise of the Year' award.

Why Make Things So Difficult...?

I visited my mum in hospital yesterday where she is recovering after being assaulted in Spalding on Monday. She is at Boston's Pilgrim Hospital, a fair drive from where I live. I was pleasantly surprised by the car parking as this is normally notoriously difficult and stressful at any hospital. Instead, I was able to get parked quite close to the entrance without having to hunt for a vacant space.
The hospital is huge. It was my first time there, quite a feat given the number of years I have lived in Lincolnshire. It all seemed quite modern and organised.
However, what did strike me as very odd was the lifts and the extraordinary arrangement in place for calling a lift for a designated floor.

Instead of the traditional method of pressing an up or down button, you have to enter your required floor number on a panel. The panel then tells you which of the four lifts you should go and wait at. This actually resulted in huge queues whilst people waited for a lift for their designated floor. It should be noted that the lift will only stop at the floor requested and no other, as I found out when entering the first available lift.

Once inside the lift, there is no way of selecting the floor you need as it has been pre-programmed to stop at a specific floor from the panel in the foyer. As I had simply entered the lift assuming it would operate in the established fashion, I had to exit again to enter my floor selection and await my designated lift.
How utterly ridiculous! Surely this wins the award for the most pointless and complicated procedure? If I had difficulty understanding how it worked then anyone of elder years stands absolutely no chance. The numbers of people who have travelled up and down only to see the floor they want shoot past, must be in the hundreds if not thousands.
Why make something that should be simple and straightforward to use so unnecessarily complicated? Who's brilliant idea was this and has it won them a bonus or hospital management award? Just exactly what was the rationale for making the process of using a lift so difficult? We'll probably never know, but the lifts at Boston's Pilgrim Hospital most certainly win my 'Most Stupid Idea of the Year' Award.

Spalding, Lincolnshire's own Wild West

I've written before of my fear that Lincolnshire is becoming a lawless county. Indeed, my nearest town of Spalding has deteriorated so much that there is a petition by the local newspaper to rid the town of drugs and anti social behaviour. Many would consider my views about Spalding as rather harsh, but my criticism for the town and the people who police it is reinforced by the fact that my own mother was assaulted on Tuesday last. She had been waiting for a bus at Spalding Bus Station with my father after their regular shopping trip. A young woman was also at the stop yelling and swearing at someone on her mobile phone. Her language was foul and others in the queue had noticed and begun to keep their distance. My mother decided to speak to her and asked her to moderate her language as there were young children in the queue. The woman reacted violently and knocked my mother to the ground. Being nearly 70 years of age and quite frail, she stood no chance and fell to the ground breaking her pelvis. Thankfully there were many in the queue who had witnessed the assault and they held the woman until the police arrived. She has been arrested and she has been charged with assault. My mother is now in Boston's Pilgrim Hospital and it will be some time before she is back home and many months before she is able to walk unaided.

There is no doubt my mother had been in the right to confront the woman. No one should have to listen to someone's foul mouthed rants and the presence of children made it all the more appropriate to intervene. What is appalling is that someone would knock an elderly woman to the ground for what was in effect a minor request that frankly any of us would have made.
I'm thankful of all those who willingly provided witness statements and to the police who made my mother as comfortable as possible until the ambulance arrived.
The woman, for whom violence was her first reaction, now faces the prospect of a court appearance and a life labelled with a criminal record. I can only hope that the penalty, though likely to be light, will in some way change this woman's thinking and perhaps encourage her to better control her reactions in the future.

So, has my view of Spalding worsened as a result of my mother's assault? Yes I'm afraid it has. It is a natural reaction to being affected by what I see as a society out of control. Lincolnshire, is and always will be, a lawless county. It is difficult to police at the best of times, given its size and scattered population, but the reduction in government funding and reduced police numbers has allowed for areas such as Spalding to deteriorate to the point of being a 'Wild West' town that people now choose to avoid.
Besides the obvious physical harm caused, there will be more damaging mental harm which will be impossible to completely heal. I've no way of telling if and how my mother will be affected by this, but in some I know, such an experience can cause agoraphobia and paranoia.

It is so sad that Spalding has become the place it is. The warnings have been there for some time, but very little has been done to rid the town of alcohol fuelled violence, theft, drugs and gangs. Those charged with running the town need to wake up and realise the lasting damage that's being done.
Spalding was once the jewel in Lincolnshire's crown. Not any more.

Ups & Downs

I find myself feeling a little odd today. I should be busy but following the last week, I can't help feeling I should be due a rest. The last week has certainly had its ups and downs. The ups are certainly related to my volunteering work and having gained approval for a leaflet I've produced along with a poster for displaying in GP surgeries and waiting rooms. I've also come up with a name for our group, 'Blue Skies'. I didn't really spend very much time researching it, a few minutes on the Internet was all it took. Again, I have approval for this too and the group now feels more official and as having a formal identity.
I hadn't really set out to do all this myself. I have to be in a creative mood and last weekend I felt inspired to start work on a leaflet describing the group with a view to making it sound appealing for anyone interested in joining. I am aware of many groups dotted around the county who have done similar things and having seen their leaflets, I was convinced that we could do the same.
I need to do just a little more work on it before emailing it off to our volunteer services manager for final approval. I am rather hoping he will arrange for them to be printed.
So that's all been rather good. Our volunteer services manager did pay us all a visit on Thursday where he discussed with us funding and getting involved with a project run in Lincoln called ArtLinc. It just so happens that we have been looking at art & craft activities and this fits rather well. Added to this, we have two semi-professional artists within the group who could look after this. I have charged myself with setting up computer classes for anyone interested, and this will be my baby.
The week has certainly had its downs. Once again I have been pushed to the brink of despair by my bank, who knowing my situation have allowed me to pay a reduced contribution towards my mortgage. They called me to let me know that this arrangement had run out and that they were prepared to extend it until the end of November. They also made a point of reminding me of the arrears.
The whole thing just served to plunge me into a deep depressive low. At the time, I could see no way out, a reminder of how I used to feel and the desperation that would take me to some very dark places. Added to this, my accountant chose the worst possible time to remind me that my tax return was soon due meaning more expense as he does this for me. Although it is all zeros as I haven't received a penny all year, I still end up paying about £150 for the privilege of letting HMRC know!
I know that things with the bank look worse than they probably are and that I'll still be sat here typing my blog this time next year. Anxiety and depression make you see the worst of a situation. You worry about the worst possible outcome and despite being told that things will be different, you simply cannot see things that way. It is nothing less than a mind controlling illness, producing irrational fear and dread. For a non-sufferer, it is impossible to understand the mind of someone affected. I spend a lot of time with other people who encounter the illness on a near daily basis. I need not explain to them how I feel when the bank get in touch - they know. In a way, this is a comfort. I am not alone. They cannot help with my situation - the fact still remains that I cannot pay the bank what I owe them, well not right now anyway. Wait a few more years until I'm 55 and they can have every penny with interest, courtesy of my private pension.
It's this constant fear of the unknown that keeps me on this roller coaster of emotions. I cannot now see beyond November and I fear that we will spend Christmas with the prospect of losing our home in the new year. That is unless we are able to sort something out between now and then. There are certain 'rescue schemes' I have read about where the council can buy your home from you and you then pay a reduced rent to continue living in it. This might be an option if the worst comes to the worst.
It's the worry also. It's always there. It's the first thoughts that enter my head when I wake in the morning - the dire situation we're in and the guilt at having created and being responsible for the situation. This is the worst time of the day for me. The realisation that it's not all a dream, it's real.
I'm constantly told to focus on the good things, and to turn negatives into positives. Sometimes it's just easier said than done.

Time for a Rethink

The deaths yesterday of two unarmed British police officers in Greater Manchester has rekindled the debate over the arming of our police. British policing policy does not permit the routine arming of police and in such cases where firearms are required, then specially trained officers are called upon to assist. There will be debate in the coming weeks as to the events surrounding yesterday's tragedy, and now is certainly not the time to be doing this. Our thoughts and prayers should go to the family, friends, relatives and colleagues who will be suffering at this time.

I do think we have all had a stark reminder of how policing carries with it an enormous risk and to enter a situation where there are so many unknowns can leave police unprepared and ill equipped. 

The days of the friendly village 'bobby' have gone and we now, sadly, live in a very different age. Some would argue that the age we live in is more violent. The statistics certainly show that we do and one only has to look at the cases of knife crime and violent assault, especially amongst the young.

I do feel that serious thought needs to be given to policing and the ability of officers to tackle the threats we now see on our streets. This does mean looking again at arming police - not necessarily with deadly firearms, but perhaps with some type of stun gun or Taser. The technology is there, and has been for some time. 

For a long time, we have been proud in this country of our policy not to arm our police officers. But times have changed. Violent crime is increasing and it could be argued, in some parts of the country, that it is verging on being out of control. We only have to look at last year's riots and the ineffectual policing that allowed for so much damage and wilful destruction to occur. It really is time for a rethink and to face some difficult truths.

Is CBT the Answer...?

I've begun to understand what CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) is all about. The penny has dropped, as it were. I had my latest session yesterday. It had been three weeks since my last one and I had hoped that my therapist would have forgotten all she had asked me to do. There is a lot of homework with CBT, you are expected to record so much about how you are feeling and what you are doing. When you suffer with anxiety and depression it is often the last thing you want to do. It is just another thing to worry about.

I do wonder if CBT can be a solution. I've been asked to record things I worry about together with my thoughts and actions to better understand why I begin to worry in the first place and to look at the actions I need to take to reduce the worry. The whole thing sort of makes sense. I can see how worrying about the same things - specifically in my case, money and diabetes - often end up in a spiral starting with worry and anxiety and ending up in a depressive low. CBT teaches you to break the cycle, but is it that easy?

If I take yesterday, I received a text from the bank, a text I had been expecting and dreading, ironically whilst I was waiting for my CBT session. The text asked me to call them and I knew it was about the payment arrangement I have for the mortgage. The arrangement has come to the end of its agreed three month period. The anxiety and worry set in immediately, and I was able to use my CBT session to focus on this.  The solution apparently is to analyse why I worry and become anxious and how these reactions will affect the outcome. It's obvious that getting worried isn't going to solve anything and avoiding things will only lead to a worst outcome. I recognise all this. But I find it impossible not to worry. I owe money to the bank, which I don't have at the moment.

I understand what CBT does. I also understand that it isn't a cure, rather it helps to explain why I react in certain ways and to therefore reduce the impact of an event or something that causes distress. I have to ask if I think it is doing me any good. Probably not. I came home from my CBT session worrying that I had to call the bank. The response by the bank to my dilemma was not as good as I had hoped for. Specifically they are prepared to extend my payment arrangement until December after which I'm required to pay the full amount of £950 a month. I've managed to buy a little more time but having to plead with them yesterday took all my strength. Did CBT help me? The answer is definitely no, as I'm now worrying about the next phone call in December.

An Acceptable Risk...?

During the last visit to my diabetic clinic, I was asked to consider a new medication known as 'Victoza'. It is administered using an injection pen, once daily and it is known to work very well at lowering blood sugar levels and is also helpful in controlling weight.
I had for a long time been against any form of regular injection to help control my diabetes, viewing it as failure on my part. Having read the booklet I was given, it wasn't long before I was accepting the need for something more effective and seeing as I would need to inject just once a day, the idea began to gain favour with me.
As with all medication, I do like to do some research on the Internet to find out more about the tablets I take. I am particularly interested in finding out about how medicines are used in other countries and whether any adverse health risks resulting from taking them have been identified.

I have researched Victoza or Liraglutide as it is more commonly known and I have found a lot of information from various sources about its effectiveness in controlling blood sugar levels in Type 2 diabetics. This is good, but I have also found an alarming amount relating to the risk associated with thyroid cancer. It turns out that during tests on animals, an increase in the instances of thyroid cancers was detected. As a result, the medication in the US carries a 'Black Box' warning of the possible risk to humans of developing thyroid cancer. It is pointed out that the risk to humans has not been proved as no testing has been carried out and the medication hasn't been in use long enough for the results to be known. The FDA have however demanded that a 15 year study is undertaken amongst users of Victoza to detect any recorded increase in thyroid cancers.

Now, I worry about the slightest things, so you can imagine how this has me feeling at the moment. My relief at having been recommended a new medication to control my increasing blood sugar levels has now been replaced with a fear that, if the diabetes doesn't get me then thyroid cancer will. I know it sounds ridiculous but how much faith should I place in something that hasn't been properly tested? Should I take the medication knowing the risk, as the benefits outweigh the probability? It's very likely that should I develop thyroid cancers later on in life, no link would be made to my use of Victoza, and those that prescribed it would be long gone anyway, absolving themselves of any responsibility or blame.
I'm rather worried that when I visit my GP, he will claim to have no knowledge of the reported risks, and will look at me blankly when I raise it with him. He has done this before and it frustrates me immensely that I seem to be the only one prepared to do any research and to find out all I can about the tablets I put in me. I fear that the information I have discovered will again be dismissed as just rumour and speculation, but I am determined this time to press the point that a risk has been identified and that takers of Victoza are in effect live guinea pigs.
If I do consent to take the medication then I will insist that I am regularly tested for any abnormalities. I believe this is mandatory practise in other countries where Victoza has been approved, so it should be here in the UK.
Am I worrying needlessly? Most probably, but whilst there is sufficient concern, enough to warrant a FDA warning in the US then I can't help but be concerned.

A Marriage of Technologies

I stumbled upon this in the Daily Mail Sunday magazine. It's a USB typewriter and essentially allows you to use a normal typewriter to interact with a computer. I actually think it's a very clever idea, particularly as the functionality is there for the typewriter to be used normally if needed.

I've probably written before about my love for typewriters. As a child, I had several typewriters and pretty much taught myself how to spell and write by copying large amounts from books. I would look up words if I didn't know their meaning and soon became very adept at writing letters.
Whilst reading the article, my son glanced at the picture and asked me what it was. I explained it was a typewriter and that it printed letters onto paper by pressing the keys. I could tell he was instantly fascinated and enquired of my parents as to whether they still had the old Underwood typewriter I remember using as a child. It turns out they have and it is safe somewhere in their garage. I will one day let my son see it. He's a bit too young at the moment, as it is an original and quite delicate. I would though very much like for him to have his own typewriter. I am convinced the experience helped me with my use of words and I'm sure it would do the same for him.

Fully Inducted

Yesterday I attended my Induction Course with the NHS in Sleaford. As a volunteer, it is mandatory for anyone working within the NHS to attend an Induction session to formerly introduce them to the organisation and to make them aware of various policies, procedures and regulations.
I was asked if I would provide a lift for another volunteer who lives in Spalding and this provided me some company on my journey.
I had become quite anxious before the course, similar to the anxiety attacks I would suffer before leaving for work at my previous job. I was more worried about not getting there on time or getting lost, as I have been known to do so in the past. My companion would have been of little use as it was her first visit. I really needn't have worried as we arrived with ten minutes to spare only to find that the course was almost twenty minutes late starting.
There were fifteen of us on the course, each of us working in various parts of the Trust as volunteers, our duties varied. The training was very informal and with plenty of coffee breaks, and a nice cold buffet was provided at lunch time.
The agenda for the day was quite lengthy and covered various topics such as life support, safeguarding and infection control. Not everything would apply to everyone, but it was all very interesting.

I particularly enjoyed the life support session. This involved the traditional use of a dummy to simulate the procedure for resuscitating someone who has stopped breathing.  It's surprised me just how tiring it can be to give thirty chest compressions and the weight needed to sufficiently depress the chest.
The safeguarding session was a reminder to us all of how much work goes on in the community to support and protect vulnerable children and adults. We were told of some recent cases where the safeguarding team have been involved and of the immense amount of work and attention paid to each individual. A lot of this work goes unseen and it was comforting to know that services such as this exist in the community.

Another enjoyable session was on infection control. We were shown how germs can remain on our hands despite vigorous washing and the effects that poor hygiene can have in a hospital environment. To demonstrate, we were asked to apply a soap to our hands and ensure we rubbed it in, especially between our fingers. We were then asked to place our hands into a box that shone a special light on our hands to indicate where germs were still present. The results were very interesting and showed that despite our attempts, our hands were still not completely free from germs.

The final session was to do with management of violence and aggression. We were told that on hospital wards, it is not uncommon for patients to lash out or become aggressive toward staff. On dementia wards, this is more common due to the mental state of the patient. Specialist training is now provided to all staff and volunteers as a result and this was a very enjoyable end to the days proceedings. I chose (wisely) not to take part in the physical part of the tuition, opting to sit and watch the demonstrations. It was quite a lot of fun, though we did all learn some simple manoeuvres to repel a would be attacker.

The whole day was very enjoyable. It was nice to meet others who give their time generously to help others. Most if not all have had first hand experience of mental health issues and they, like me had decided to give something back in the form of volunteer work within the Trust.

The Right Decision

I'm surprised to hear that disabled access ramps, though in use heavily during the Olympic and Paralympic Games, are not mandatory at all stations. Surely in 2012, we shouldn't even be questioning whether it is possible for someone using a wheelchair to board or alight from a train.

I accept the fact that platform heights vary across the network but this should in no way prohibit anyone from travelling by train regardless of their physical ability. I know of situations where train travel is not possible as there is no way of getting from one platform to another. At many stations, lifts a are not installed and where they are, they are for goods use only or cannot be operated due to a lack of trained staff. Added to this, most trains on the high speed trunk routes are not equipped to accept wheelchairs and in the few cases where it is possible, the user is confined to the vestibule area of the coach for the duration of their journey. Surely this has to be wrong. It is time for the right decisions to be made. We have the know how and we have the technology. There should be no more excuses.

More Able...

There has been some talk in the past few days as to whether we now view disabled people differently as a result of the Paralympic Games and the extensive media coverage. Personally, I would say that this Paralympic Games has done more for disabled awareness than ever before. It would be wrong to suggest that there has been an increase in sympathy - and most disabled people would not wish for this - but there has been an enormous increase in understanding and a realisation that disability should not confine people to their homes. The people we have seen competing in the last couple of weeks have shown us all that disability should not be a barrier and that much can be achieved with determination and hard work.

I also think that young children are more aware, than any other generation before them, of how disability can affect people but more importantly how such disability can be overcome to achieve great things. An example is how my son has sat glued to much of the Paralympics TV coverage and questioned the things he has seen, taking huge interest in those competing and their physical differences. As a result, I am confident he has learnt more in the last two weeks than he would in all his years at school. The experience of the last two weeks has been to educate, raise awareness and instill a profound respect for all those taking part. We often refer to the athletes of the Paralympic Games as being 'disabled', but are they? Would you call a double amputee who wins a 1400 meter race disabled? I wouldn't - they are more able than anyone...

The Vicious Circle

Yesterday I attended a diabetic clinic appointment. I had been dreading it for some time having missed my previous appointment. They are getting quite heavy on diabetes now and they send out reminders straight away. If you fail to contact them to arrange an appointment, it is made for you.
I knew I hadn't been managing my diabetes very well. I find the more I think about it, the more depressed I get. For me, it's just another reminder of where I have failed. To be honest, I have been eating pretty much according to my mood. I find that eating often raises my mood, particularly if the things I eat are the things I like. Of course, these are bad for me and it has resulted in my blood sugar levels increasing.
I hadn't really noticed any ill effects apart from a couple of days where I couldn't stop drinking. Like a fool, I didn't connect this to my diabetes but it was a sign that my sugar level was too high.

I had expected a 'telling off' and I got one. I was warned of all the bad things that can happen to me and that I was heading for a stroke at a very young age. To be honest, I have mentally prepared myself against some of the worst effects of diabetes. I know it isn't going to get better and it has already caused my thyroid to stop working. Blindness is something I have thought about, as there is a risk of my eyesight being damaged as the years progress. I've tried to imagine how I would cope and provided my surroundings remained pretty much the same then I think I would just about manage, with one or two modifications here and there. I know it sounds odd, but I am quite resigned to things deteriorating.

Trying to battle diabetes whilst trying to live with anxiety and depression is not easy. I try not to think about my diabetes and whether I am managing it or not as it just adds to my anxiety. Yesterday really brought it all home to me and I was depressed for the rest of the day. I'm not much better today. All this plays into the hands of my wife who despite the fact she has lived with my bouts of anxiety and depression, still fails to understand it. It's not simply something that can be turned on or off. There is often a trigger, and my trigger was my appointment with my diabetic nurse. It's always a vicious circle.
As with all bouts of depression, this one will pass and I will be back to 'normal', or whatever normal is. I was cheered up slightly this morning seeing my mum. I hadn't seen her all week and she could immediately see that things weren't right. She made me some breakfast and I took her to Long Sutton for her regular Saturday morning shop. As a treat, she took me in 'Possessions'. It's a large second hand store full of all sorts of things gathered from house clearances mainly. I love rummaging through things and often find a bargain. My wife calls it junk and 'crap', but for me it is the ultimate shopping experience. I'm not normally allowed anywhere near shops like this which made this morning all the more mood-lifting. There's nothing like sifting through a box of oddments only to find something rare, or to flick through a stack of records to find a long lost favourite. I always find something of interest and often end up hankering for the old days, when I had money and the freedom to buy whatever I wanted. For instance on this visit there was a wonderful Sony music system with double cassette deck and built in turntable for just £30. For its age, it was in remarkable condition and I would dearly have loved to have given it a home. Also, there was a rather nice colour laser printer with its own heavy duty desk and spare toner cartridges for £48. The desk alone was worth at least £50 and had clearly come from an office somewhere. The fact that there were several spare toners in unopened boxes would have guaranteed its operation for at least a couple of years, and the printer would have provided me a nice little project to keep myself busy with. But sadly I had to leave them there, giving them a last glance as I left with my ABBA boxed set of LP's and VHS video on the subject of Lincolnshire - all for just £1!

I will shortly head over to my friends place. I was debating whether I should, given my low mood, but I've decided it's probably the tonic I need to prevent me sinking further into a full depressive low. If I sit here all afternoon, it's bound to happen as I dredge up all the bad things about my life and my past failings. That's why writing this blog helps me enormously. It helps me to get things out instead of them building up inside and making me sink. I will be able to tell my friends about my appointment yesterday. They are both diabetic and know all too well the struggle of having to live with it as well as other illnesses. I know I will get a sympathetic ear there, particularly as they have seen me at my worst and know how easy it is for the depression to set in and take over. They also know that their home is a kind of refuge and way of escape for me whenever things get too much. I know it's wrong to run away from things or situations we don't like, but it's human nature to do so and as far as I'm concerned, if it makes me feel better then it's a good thing.

Well, that's made me feel a bit better, for now at least.

ATOS... This has to STOP

The people I support have had experience of ATOS. I have had experience of ATOS. We are all agreed that the treatment we received has been humiliating and demeaning, failing to take into consideration our mental condition or the professional opinions of doctors and psychiatrists.

I do find myself worrying for them. I am out of it thankfully. I was assessed a couple of years ago following my breakdown and I was deemed by ATOS to have nothing wrong with me and fit for work. I currently do not work. I also do not claim any benefits as I am not entitled to any as my wife works part time. I have had no money for the last 3 years, but I manage.

I fear that the policies of this government and the actions of ATOS will drive many already ill and disabled people to the brink of despair and beyond. I am already beginning to research the number of deaths that can be directly attributed to ATOS assessments and I am deeply concerned by what I am finding. 

Something has to give and this situation simply cannot be allowed to continue. 

A couple of images published today on Facebook, though extreme do describe the current situation very well...

An Anxious First Day Back

I think I was feeling more anxious than my son. It was his first day back to school today after the long Summer holiday. He told us he didn't want to go, but thankfully we didn't have any tears or tantrums I suspect were occurring in homes all over the country.
I didn't expect I would feel so anxious. I had the same feelings I used to have when I was young, dreading the return to school after a break or weekend. I hated it and the feelings all came flooding back this morning. I even felt myself beginning to sweat in the same way I would before school or before leaving for work. I had to keep reminding myself that I was at home, and would be staying here for the anxiety to dissipate.
To make matters worse, he has a new teacher. He was very fond of his old teacher. She has moved on to teach older children at another local school. He has met the new teacher before, she took a lesson last term so he has had brief experience of her.
This morning, all the children in my son's class were required to bring in a box with some of their favourite things inside. My wife spent most of last evening making sure it was complete and I printed some photos out to put inside.
The house feels empty. My wife has gone to work and my son is at school. I do have the dog, but she goes upstairs to sulk on our bed only venturing downstairs if she thinks she is going to get a treat, or when the postman calls.
It is surprising though just how quickly the hours go by, and it will soon be 3.15 and time to go and collect him. He'll be excited to be coming home and remembering very little of his day at school, volunteering only the most scant details, as is usual.
Things are back to normal today. My wife is at work, I am feeling guilty that she has to, and my son is back at school. I am sat here typing, transferring my thoughts to my blog and updating my website. There's something safe and comfortable about being back to normal, probably something to do with my need for routine. Tomorrow will be just the same.

A Day Trip to York

We finally had our day trip to York. We were determined to do it while our son was on his summer school holiday, after all we'd been unable to take him anywhere else due to the ridiculous inflated cost of doing anything.
A week ago, we had decided to invest in a family railcard. My wife had been told by one of her customers that it would save as much as 50% on standard fares and that in a short time it would pay for itself. The railcard was £28 and it arrived in a couple of days. We booked the tickets on line and using the railcard, we did indeed manage to reduce our fare - two adults and one child, Peterborough to York return - from £145 to £68, a huge saving. We would never had been able to afford the full fare and to be quite honest, even if we had I would have struggled to pay it. So we booked our tickets and arranged for them to be collected from the machine at the station. I had done this before and it's very convenient.
We drove to Peterborough. Being a Sunday, there wasn't a great deal of traffic and in about 40 minutes, we were at the station. There is a large station car park adjacent to the station so we parked in there. They wanted £5.50 for all day parking which I thought to be quite reasonable. Now when I had parked there before, it was possible to exit the car park by a short path that led straight to the station entrance. For some idiotic reason, this had been closed by East Coast and we had to exit the car park by the main road and then walk back down the exit road to the station. Surely this is just a case of sour grapes on the part of East Coast who have their own car park the other end of the station. How utterly petty and ridiculous.

Car park owner Gary McArdle at the pedestrian access point blocked off by East Coast

It's been a while since I've been to Peterborough Station and I was quite shocked to find that it now resembles a flight terminal having received a complete makeover. It now looks clean and slick with barriers and a very attractive customer service desk with smartly dressed staff in attendance. I was very impressed. It looked professional, smart and clean.

We collected our tickets from a very modern looking terminal with a large touch screen interface and were greeted as we passed through the barrier onto the platform. The station and platforms still retain much of their original architecture which was comforting. Not everything had been given a smart clean modern look, but the platforms were nonetheless tidy and free from litter and cigarette butts.
Our train was on time, the 1015 Kings Cross - Edinburgh service calling at Retford and Doncaster before reaching York at 1133. The train was on time and like all trains on the East Coast mainline, it was busy. Luckily we'd had the foresight to reserve our seats which we found very easily in coach C. My wife and son sat together and had a table whereas I was a seat behind on the other side of the coach. They were joined by a grandfather and his granddaughter who were travelling north of Newcastle. The granddaughter was gorgeous, a little younger than my son and they soon became best friends exchanging names, pictures and the sort of information known only to children of that age. In the seats opposite were a party of four Chinese students and they were enthralled by the young girl. They very kindly offered sweets and one of them drew a very nice caricature for the girl and gave it to her as a gift. How nice it was to be on a train with such nice friendly people. So the whole journey was very pleasant. I could see my son and his companion from my seat and my wife was able to glance over to me. I was seated next to a father. His son and daughter sat in the seats opposite me and they were clearly wealthy and very much in tune with current technology. The daughter appeared to be of similar age to my son and she spent the journey glued to her iPad wearing Bose headphones and watching a film. Her brother sat playing a game and flicking through apps on his iPhone. Their father meanwhile played a game on his Nintendo DS whilst trying to rest his head using an inflatable cushion he had brought for the journey. I began to wish I had brought my Kindle along for the journey and I felt a little out of place simply leafing my way through my copy of the Sunday Express. I was struck by the amount of technology around about me. The welcome message via the speaker system from the 'train manager' was warm and inviting and even refered to power points being available at every seat for portable devices and laptops, and even free WIFI available throughout the train. How things have changed.
We soon reached York and saying our farewells to our temporary companions, we stayed on the platform to wave to them as the train departed to continue its journey north. I could see that my son was already overwhelmed. York is one of the largest stations in the country and he was struggling to take in all that was happening all around him.
We exited the station and decided to take the sightseeing bus for a trip around York. It was mild and sunny so the perfect weather to sit on the top deck. My son very excited and really enjoyed the experience. An audio commentary explained about what we were seeing and the bus made its way in and out of the historic wall, past the York castle and museum and onto the Terry's chocolate factory, closed for many years and now awaiting transformation into a shopping complex and hotel.
In just under an hour, we were back at the station and we decided to walk the short distance to the Railway Museum, for me the highlight of our visit. I have been a few times in the past, and on each visit, the museum has looked different. The latest changes have resulted in a large reference area and library and the addition of an outside area where train rides are provided and a family area has been created. It has certainly made the place more family-friendly which is a good thing. The ability to step outside and sit in a quiet grassed area was very welcome, particularly as it was a very warm humid sort of day. We had some lunch outside and my son and I enjoyed a ride on a miniature train and a short ride hauled by Stephenson's Rocket, one of the first steam locomotives ever built.

The Railway Museum is a place I can spend many hours in. There is so much to see and do. The workshop contained two of the country's most famous and most loved locomotives - Mallard and Flying Scotsman - both of which were being repainted. I tried explaining to my son the significance of these two beautiful engines but I think it was rather lost on him as he detoured to the next interactive exhibit. Maybe in a few years...

Being accompanied by my son and wife meant that I couldn't spend as long as I wanted at each exhibit. I held them up each time and felt compelled to keep up with them. The museum was certainly bigger and better than ever and I felt sure that I would return again.
On our way to the museum, my son had spotted the road train, a service run by the museum to York Minster. It was waiting to leave when we left the museum so we hopped on for the short trip to the magnificent cathedral. The bells were in full peel as we approached and tourists filled the area, eagerly photographing the architecture of the Minster as it towered above us glowing in the bright sunshine.

We had a short walk through the ancient streets with their quaint shops and street artists. Sweet enticing aromas drifted from the shop entrances as we passed and served to remind me that we were in a special place surrounded by many hundreds of years of history.

We decided a take another open top bus trip as our ticket entitled us to unlimited travel. This time we had a tour guide who sat at the front with a microphone providing an excellent narration as we twisted our way through the narrow roads and past the ancient buildings and monuments. It struck me as we made our way how much lower the old buildings are to the rest of the city. This we were told is due to the many years of demolishing and rebuilding resulting in most of the modern city sitting several feet higher than the old. Another feature of York are the black cats, many of which can be found in different positions on many of the buildings. No one knows the origin of these black cats and why they are there, but I soon found myself scanning each building to find them.

The bus stopped at the station and we checked the times for the trains back to Peterborough. The platform was busy, many people with cases or backpacks full to bursting. The display board showed there was a train due and another half an hour later. When the train did arrive, we could see it was very full and many of those boarding would have to stand, so we decided to wait for the next one. We weren't in a hurry after all, and I do enjoy sitting on platforms watching the trains come and go and the variety of different people. The next train arrived, but was running a little late. A problem with water meant it had to wait for a delivery to arrive and this train too was very full. We also discovered it wasn't stopping on its way to Kings Cross so we waited for the next one. As we had an open return ticket, we couldn't reserve our seats so when we boarded our train back to Peterborough, all the seats we found to be reserved so we had to perch in the vestibule at the end of the coach. After a while my legs began to tire so I sat on the floor for a while. Most uncomfortable. In hindsight, we should have reserved seats but this would have meant making sure we were at the station for a particular train. It's something we'll certainly do in future, as I know these trains are normally very full at the best of times.
We were back in Peterborough for about 6.30pm and stopped for something to eat on the way home.