Busy Bee

I've a lot on at the moment, which is good in one way as it keeps me healthy and has a positive effect on my well-being. At the moment, I am busy writing a funding application for the support group I help run. Each year, a pot of money is made available for groups that promote mental health and support people who suffer with mental illness. Last year, we were awarded a significant amount of money which paid for arts, crafts and computer based projects. This year, we have decided to focus on outdoor activities and an a new Open Space Garden project at our base in Spalding. The project will provide a working garden and greenhouse enabling our members to grow their own herbs, fruit and vegetables. At the same time, they can learn about raising produce from seed and the the health benefits of eating fruit and vegetables. It is a project likely to go down well with our funders and I'm hoping also that funds will be made available for us to provide a comfortable, welcoming space in which our members can relax and enjoy the garden they have created for themselves. We won't know if we have been successful until September/October, but the application has to be submitted by the end of this month. We have made a start on the project in the hope that we will secure further funding. With the weather so good (at the moment), we're keen to get out there and make a start.
I'm pleased to say that I'm on course for having everything ready for submission on Friday by the 5pm deadline. We (the committee) had a very good meeting yesterday and agreed everything I have done so far. I just need a few lines written about one of the projects we're proposing and for someone to get back to me with one or two prices. Our costs are already over £9,000 and I still need to sort out the insurance for the bus which will cover public liability and when it's on the road and in storage. There's quite a bit yet to do, but I'm quite used to doing these applications now and I have a routine that seems to work for me so that's all good.

Another school half term break is upon us. I really can't remember having this many breaks when I was at school - in fact all I can remember is the long summer holiday. My son will be spending a lot of time with me this coming week and when I'm busy with group, he'll be with his mum at work or with his nanny and granddad.

I normally have to moan about something nowadays. I'm sure it's part of growing older and my wife would happily tell you I've turned it into something of a hobby... At the moment I'm moaning about the lack of service we are receiving from our telephone provider. Since Thursday we have been without a working land line phone. I'm sure it has something to do with the storms we had on Thursday, though although the phone doesn't work, we still have working broadband on the same line. It's all pretty odd. It's now the third day and our service provider has done nothing. It's only when I complain on Facebook or Twitter do I get a response. They don't like it as they don't want the rest of the world to know how bad they are, but should we really have to revert to shaming them? Is that how to get value for money and the service we pay for nowadays? It would seem so. It's certainly the only way to get them to respond and I'm sure they have people whose job it is to monitor social media, for a response can often appear in seconds. If only they could learn to value their customers, now that really would be something... Moan over.

Harvest (in a tin)

We've just received the latest newsletter from my son's school which, among things, gives details of the annual 'harvest festival'. Now, when I was at school, a harvest festival was, as its name suggests, all about the harvest, i.e. fresh vegetables and things that people had grown. I can still see the school stage festooned in carrots, cabbages, lettuce, giant marrows and potatoes.
How ridiculous, it seems to me, is the instruction to all parents that NO fresh produce is to be donated and that food items must be either tinned or in packets, and to assist, the school have provided a list of 'acceptable' food items;

Why on Earth aren't they contacting the local supermarkets who routinely dispose of anything dented or past its sell-by date? Surely this would be be a better idea rather than expecting those who can barely afford to feed themselves to empty their larders. Is it any wonder our children have no idea where our food comes from...?

Sunshine and Remembering the Shoah

How nice it is to wake to sunshine. OK, it's not anywhere near Summer weather but it is a huge difference compared to the arctic weather we have had over the last few weeks. It feels good sitting here in my office typing this as the sun shines through my glazed doors warming my back and neck.
As I take a cursory glance over this morning's news stories, I am reminded that it is Holocaust Memorial Day here in the UK. My thoughts turn to the horrors of the concentration camps and the fear and terror of those millions of persecuted human beings who were inflicted the most evil of crimes during the Second World War. The effects of the sunshine this morning soon pale into nothing as I try to imagine the overwhelming sense of fear and terror felt by so many of all ages herded into ghettos and sent on cattle trains to spend their final days in such places we today know as Treblinka, Buchenwald and Auschwitz.
A good few years ago, I decided to discover for myself all I could about the atrocities committed during the Second World War. I hadn't been taught very much at school about the period and the little I did know had come from films I had seen in the form of Schindler's List and the odd documentary. Although the Internet was evolving, I did manage to find out about the Shoah Foundation and the amazing work they were doing in recording and preserving the testimonies of those who had lived through the period and witnessed the horrors committed by the Nazi's against Jewish people and those of different faiths, backgrounds and ideologies.

It didn't take very long for me to be convinced that the things I had heard were true and watching the heart wrenching testimonials of those who had lost parents, brothers, sisters, wives and husbands, left me in no doubt that as many people should know as much about what had happened as possible.
As a father, I wonder whether it will be left to me to provide my son with the answers to what really went on during this dark period in our 'recent' history. I do hope it isn't simply glossed over by his schooling and that he understands that as well as all the great things we have achieved, humankind can be destructive and evil.
I suspect, and hope, that he will someday mention that he is studying this period at school and I know I will have the confidence to talk to him about the events in our history that so many would rather choose to forget.

Another tragic waste...

Yet again, we see another tragedy involving guns in the United States. This time, 27 innocent lives have been taken in the most horrific way, at an elementary school in Connecticut. Twenty of those killed are children, all aged between 5 and 10 years. My son is nearly 6. As a parent, my heart breaks as I try to imagine the overwhelming sense of grief and loss that the parents must be feeling at the moment. I know with some certainty that if anything happened to my son, I would not be able to live without him and I would shortly follow him.
Again, the gun law policies in the US are under the spotlight. Surely, enough is enough and this latest 'massacre' has to be a turning point. Restrictions simply have to be implemented on who can legally own and use a gun, of any description. There have to be age restrictions and a complete ban on anyone owning a firearm if they have suffered mental health problems. There is speculation that the perpetrator suffered mental illness. Here in the UK, people find an outlet for their illness by self-harming. In the US, a firearm provides an outlet that turns the effects of their illness onto others, in the most lethal of ways.
For as long as the gun laws in the US remain unchallenged and unchanged, we will continue to see incidents such as the one we have witnessed.
Yesterday we all saw a president wipe tears from his eyes. His words were sincere and the words of a parent. But he is in a unique position to prevent this from happening again. I really hope he does.

Not quite feeling it yet...

I'm in a good place at the moment. Things are pretty steady and we can face Christmas without worrying too much about the mortgage. It's a good feeling to know that things are OK but I'm acutely aware of how quickly things can change. I'm always expecting a letter to arrive with a final demand or a bailiff letter threatening all sorts of horrible things. I dread the post as a result and seldom ever open anything just in case. I see how quickly things can change with myself and I see it with others I know. Keeping busy certainly helps and I am heavily involved with running Blue Skies. I also have this blog, my website and the Blue Skies Facebook page, all of which I try to keep updated regularly. Anxiety is something I find more and more difficult to control, as evidenced last Sunday when I caused a lot of damage to my right hand and wrist. I've decided that part of the reason for doing this was the inability for me to use my e-cigarette. It was quite a long journey and I am never without my 'stick' when driving normally. Being in my in-law's car meant that I couldn't use it and this added to my anxiety and feeling of overwhelming frustration. The people I know and support understand perfectly. They've seen the state of my hand. They know. My family do not, and never will. It is only possible to understand acute anxiety by experiencing it.

I don't know if it's just me, but I do feel there is a lot of death at the moment. So many people have died lately, people of note - personalities and people who have made a difference. As I type this, I see that Kenneth Kendal has passed away aged 88. I grew up during the 1970's and 80's when Kenneth was a regular TV news reader. I also remember his appearances on Channel 4's Treasure Hunt.
There is often tragedy at this time of year. Just before Christmas, it isn't unusual for their to be a disaster of some kind and major loss of life. Indeed, as I am typing I hear that there has been a shooting incident in Conneticut, US at an elementary school. There are reports that as many as 27 have been shot and killed. So tragic and a reminder of what guns can do in the wrong hands. It does seem that very little has changed in the US and gun laws remain lax enabling practically anyone to have access to firearms. All the while the law allows this to happen, so we will sadly continue to see events such as this.

I'm not really feeling that festive at the moment. We do have one or two Group events such as Secret Santa and our Christmas meal next week. I have received a number of cards and a couple of presents have appeared under the tree. I've even played a few of my Christmas records. Maybe next week, I'll start to feel it but today has been much like a typical October day with rain and strong winds having taken over from days of freezing fog and ice.

Our volunteer services manager visited our group on Thursday. He was there to discuss our relationship with the NHS Trust. It seems the NHS are trying to do away with groups such as ours and also end the practice of referring new members. It should be noted that our membership is by referral only so quite how things will work in the future I don't know. It may be that we do end up breaking away, especially if we procure funding but it's important we retain our connections with the NHS. There certainly appears to be an element within the NHS hierarchy that doesn't favor support groups such as ours. It's a shame as we're here to stay and our membership of the Shine Network carries much clout within the mental health circles in Lincolnshire. Added to this, I have called upon our local NHS Governor who I'm hoping will visit one of our group meetings soon. Their support should bolster our cause and ensure we continue to provide a much needed bridge between psychiatric services and the community.

Mr Purkiss

I read yesterday that my first school headmaster, Mr Purkiss passed away this week. He was in his 80's.
Mr Purkiss was headmaster of Raglan Road School during the early-mid 1980's when I attended as a pupil. Despite my age, I do still have vivid memories of my time there and recall clearly how Mr Purkiss would arrive each morning in his tiny blue Fiat camper van, driving through the school gates and negotiating his way across the playground to the staff car park. I remember the smell in the corridor as I approached the school office. It was a mix of instant coffee and cigarette smoke. Mr Purkiss was known to be a heavy smoker. I'm pretty sure he enjoyed the odd drink too and he would often take morning assembly with a deep red face and smelling of cigarettes and alcohol. Often he would play a us a record on a portable record player and he'd sit next to it on the stage as we all listened intently to a piece of classical music he had chosen. Other times, he would read to us. He had a gentle voice and he was always very kind and friendly. I understand he he was still headmaster for many years after.
I would have liked to have met him again, mainly to say 'thank you'. I never appreciated my time at Raglan Road. It's only now that I appreciate it and reminisce with fondness.
Mr Purkiss wrote a book upon the Centenary of Raglan Schools in 1989. I'd really like to track down a copy...
Rest in peace Mr Purkiss and Thank You from an appreciative former pupil.

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 Tearful Appreciation & A Commons Grilling

I have just returned from my son's school leavers & awards assembly, and very emotional it was too. What struck me straight away was how well attended it was by parents. The largest room at the school was full with the children squashed onto the floor in front of the parents.
Awards were given by the head teacher for performance and for reading skill. In addition, there was an attendance certificate which my son was chuffed to receive for zero absence. He also received a rather nice reading medal.
I've attended a couple of these events as a parent and I've been struck each time by the level of dedication shown by the teachers and how much they are affected when the time comes for their pupils to move on. I suppose it should come as no surprise really given that most of their time is spent with them, preparing them for the journey of life and finding their way in society as we know it. I am always so respectful of teaching staff. The amount of work, care and attention that goes into their work cannot be underestimated. A great many, like carers and nurses will describe their jobs as a vocation. This is easy to understand.
So there were certainly tears, from pupils, parents and teachers. But there was also a feeling of tremendous pride for all the children had achieved and an appreciation for the teachers we trust our children to.

As I type this, we are surrounded by storms locally and the power has already had a small blip so I half expect everything to go off as I continue typing. Having said that, our weather is actually set to improve and this is to be the last day of the wet spell we've endured for the last few weeks. It is actually very warm and conditions are set to improve further next week with the promise of sunshine.
The weather lately has certainly taken its toll. Numerous events have been cancelled due to water-logged fields and their have been deaths due to flooding and landslips. The latest event to be cancelled locally was the Sacrewell Farm Bus Rally, which we attend every year.

There is one week to go until the opening ceremony of the 2012 Olympic Games. Despite the assurances that the country is prepared, we have discovered that huge gaps in the security contingent are having to be filled by police officers and army. Stories are also emerging regarding poor training and I read today that our failings have begun to appear in the foreign press with Germany printing a particularly damning article.
I do think there will be further problems to emerge from what is when all is said and done, an enormous event, but I really don't see anything interfering with the actual running of the games themselves. The problems I envisage will be more to do with transportation and the sheer numbers of people expected to attend.
One person wishing he was somewhere else has to be the current target of the country's anger, Nick Buckles - Chief Exec of G4S, the firm contracted to provide security for the numerous events taking place across the country in the coming weeks. It is clear that G4S have failed in their obligation to provide sufficient numbers of security staff and the publicity surrounding the fiasco will have done irreparable damage. Yesterday he faced a Commons Select Committee like a naughty child in front of a row of seething headmasters and the whole spectacle was quite agonising to watch. I see that he's been called to appear before them again in September when the games will be part of British history, so I suspect Nick Buckles will have many sleepless nights ahead of him. I have to confess that part of me does actually feel sorry for him. He has clearly bitten off more than his company can chew and in pursuit to be the best, like so many others, he's come unstuck.

We had a great visit yesterday to our group by Linda O'Hara of Healthy Hub and representing mental health services within the NHS here in Lincolnshire. I had asked her to come and see us to make her aware of the work we do here in South Holland and ways in which we could attract new members to the group and publicise what we are doing. We are the only group in this area to be providing support and Linda was keen for us to be recognised. It was also clear that funding is available for such groups and related initiatives so we will certainly be producing a bid for funds in September. We're not looking for anything as big as a minibus, more materials for drawing, painting and crafts. I would also like for the group to have access to computers so I can provide training and, using Skype, set up meetings online with other groups in the region. My suggestions were I felt very well received and I hope that we will be seen as part of the overall county provision for mental health support and awareness. So that's all good...

I met with my psychiatrist yesterday to check my progress and she was pleased (I think) to find me well and involved in helping others. I did ask about the medication I'm taking as one of the tablets I take, Mirtazapine, though it has a calming sedative effect, often knocks me out so I fall asleep during the evening. I was told sadly that this couldn't be changed for the foreseeable future, so I will have to endure it.
I was also reminded of my weight and the fact that exercise and a healthy diet would further help my condition. I do unfortunately take little advice on this subject. I know I am unhealthy and despite wishing I was more athletic, I simply cannot summon the enthusiasm or motivation. Depression does that. It's a struggle to do things sometimes and today, frankly, I consider it an achievement that I was able to run the vacuum cleaner round. This is of course where psychiatrists and doctors generally lack the understanding of what it is to actually live with the condition, and how it controls how you feel on a near daily basis. I've often mentioned about 'being in the mood' to do things, and this is exactly what it is like. If I'm not in the right mood or frame of mind, I won't do it. It's like writing my blog. If I'm not engaged then the words simply won't come out. Today just happens to be one of those days when I feel in a writing mood, and I expect it shows... I now have to think up an appropriate title - often the most difficult bit!

School Years - Memories of PE

I have been prompted to recollect my memories of physical education during my school years in the 1980's. There was an excellent piece on BBC Radio 5 Live this morning inviting people to call in to discuss their memories of being taught PE and how, in some cases, this has affected their outlook on physical exercise and sport in general. For some, it was a wonderful experience but for the majority, the experience was frankly horrific and has literally scarred them for life.
My own experience is one of being forced to do something I didn't want to do. I hated sport. I was always amongst the last to be chosen for teams and though I wasn't in any way overweight, it was my skills with a ball that were obviously lacking. I wasn't part of the 'gang' either so this relegated me to the lower ranks and if I was chosen it was more to do with making up numbers.
PE was a humiliating experience. We invariably ended up running round a freezing cold field or were forced to play football or rugby. I didn't understand how to play either nor did I have any interest in learning. If the ball did happen to pass my way, I would panic and hope that I was kicking it in the right direction. It was important to keep moving though as this was the only way to keep warm.
We would be made to do indoor PE if the weather was particularly bad. More often than not this would involve climbing ropes or jumping over padded boxes. I remember well the green rubber backed mats we would fall onto and the course surface that could easily remove skin. I remember the smell. I can smell it now as I type this. The equipment we used was standard school issue and found in any educational establishment at the time, no doubt descended from an army design. Used properly, they were fine. But make a mistake or land awkwardly and my goodness, they could do serious damage to a teenage body.
The changing room filled me with dread. There was no privacy and the benches were squashed and lacked any comfort. Keeping your clothes together was essential else you could spend the remainder of the day with just one sock or perhaps none at all. You needed your wits about you.
Showering was compulsory. Mr Jennings or Mr Matthews would herd us in one end and after a couple of minutes usher us out the other end. Avoiding the shower was done at your peril. If your hair was dry, you got dragged in. It wasn't very nice.
Staying dry was the main objective though this was made almost impossible by the person next to you dripping all over your clothes. Invariably I would leave the place wet, my school uniform covered in wet patches. But I was free, and that was the most important thing.
Before long, it would become normal to escape PE at any cost. I tried to get out of it every week and when I was diagnosed with an irregular heart beat at around the age of 14, this came as a Godsend. I now had a valid excuse to miss all PE sessions. It was wonderful. I remember well sitting out the period in the hall with a handful of others in this 'special group'. We would pretend to study or swat for tests. This was the norm for a very long time.
Bullying was rife. It always had been. The bullying wasn't just amongst the boys, it was also systemic amongst the teachers. They could be very nasty. One teacher got into trouble for it after a pupil made an official complaint. Another was sent to prison after being reported for paying 'innapropriate' attention to boys at the school. I had witnessed and been a victim of this during my time at school. Yet my parents, then as now, remain ignorant to what had been going on.
I remember a music lesson run by this particular teacher who for some reason insisted on all of stripping to our underwear and one by one walking up to him so he could check the see the label inside our pants. None of us at the time thought one moment to question what was happening or why he was doing this. It's only really now that I look back at the utter madness of the whole thing and wonder why nothing was done.
Did our parents have any idea of what things were like and what went on? No. They either didn't want to know or were completely ignorant, that's my conclusion.
Swimming lessons are another example of where things went badly wrong. I recall that I wasn't as fearful as others and I soon learnt it was better to show as little fear as possible. If you showed fear, you were picked on - by the instructor no less - and thrown into the water. No regard was given to whether or not you were able to swim, you were simply thrown it. I witnessed this and soon decided it was better for me to put my own head under the surface than to provoke the instructor to do it. I hated it, and to an extent it has had a long lasting effect on me and something I always revisit in my mind whenever we go swimming as a family.
Luckily, my PE 'horror' was relatively short lived, thanks to my medical 'excuse' and being signed-off all future sessions. But I did endure enough of it to turn me completely off sport of any kind. If things had been different, then maybe I may have warmed to it a little more. I will always associate sport with my experiences at school during the 1980's, and sadly I will always fear a little for my son. I am hopeful that things are different nowadays and that the mistakes made during my time at school simply cannot be repeated. My memories will never go away. If anything, they become clearer and thanks to this blog, more permanent than ever.

A Few More Words

A pretty uneventful week. We creep nearer and nearer to Christmas and the pressure is on to buy the gifts that everyone want. I had an appointment with my specialist earlier int he week and he got the impression that my optimism is very low. He recommended I attend a session each Tuesday where a group gathers for counselling. I've agreed in the hope that this may help. I'll find out on Tuesday. It's only a couple of hours so I'll give it a go.
I did make a DVD for Mum as a gift for Christmas. It's a compilation of all the videos I have of years gone by. They feature loved ones who have long since passed and feature my sister and I when we were youngsters. I suspect it's been forgotten that I was almost constantly attached to my video camera. It's a good job I was as little did I know then just how valuable those films would become.
I've stumbled across a vacancy again at a local(ish) school for IT Systems Manager. The money isn't that great and it's quite a distance to drive each day but beggars can't be choosers so I've decided to apply. It's one of those Lincolnshire Council forms and they don't want to see your CV. I'm about half way through it and need to get the application in by the 5th of December. Worth a try I suppose, but I suspect it'll be a 'thanks but no thanks' like all the others have been.

I nearly acquired an electric organ yesterday. I discovered it on my way to collect my wife from work. It was sitting outside a property with a sign saying 'free'. It did look very well looked after, but also very heavy. If I'd had my Chrysler Voyager I would have taken it there and then without a second thought. But as I only have my wife's little Fiesta, there was no chance. I don't think my wife was as enthusiastic as me though. She's always the cautious one and the voice of reason in our relationship. So I suspect it's either still there getting damp or someone has given it a new home.

It's wonderful to see the excitement on my Son's face whenever Christmas is mentioned. We're going to help him to write his letter to Santa soon listing all the presents he would like. He will be 5 on the 27th of December so he receives two sets of gifts. We're also giving him a party on the 18th where he has invited his school friends. It's at the local Fun Farm so everything is taken care of and the children have a great time climbing about and sliding into the ball pit. I'm really keen for him to have the best Christmas yet. It's really important for me that he enjoys himself and gets the things he wants. It will be a struggle this year and the pressure is once again on my wife to provide, but we'll scrape through with the support of family and friends - to whom I will be eternally grateful.

Earlier today we helped him to decorate a plastic tub which we've been asked to fill with sweets for his school tombola this Christmas. I resisted the urge to design it and left it to him while I helped with the glue. Apparently his school has a pantomime and Christingle event which I'm looking forward to. I'm hoping too that they will have a carol service. It always makes Christmas more complete I think.
It's always the little things that make Christmas what it is. Of course, it's different for everyone. This year, it will be all about my Son and his unstinting belief in Santa and the magic that gets his presents from Lapland, down our chimney and arranged into piles on the lounge floor each Christmas morning. Long may he carry on believing...

49 Years, Harvest & A New Libya

An extraordinary day. Colonel Gaddafi has finally been hunted down and killed. Of course this is good and one can only hope that Libya can find lasting freedom and democracy. Today this is big news and the Internet is full of gruesome images and video capturing the tyrant's death. I do find it all slightly disturbing but without showing these images, there will be doubt as to whether he has finally gone. For the countless victims, there must be a sense of relief that his reign is now over. The task now is to ensure that no one is able to take his place.

Back to home and it is my parent's wedding anniversary today, their 49th no less. It would seem their wedding anniversary can be linked with major world events. So what was the world like exactly 49 years ago...? Around this date in 1962, the world came dangerously close to the brink of a third world war sparked by the Cuban Missile Crisis. I find it very difficult to understand how normal life could have continued at this time. I am fascinated by this period in time. A part of me suspects that people probably rushed to get things done before perhaps the unthinkable happened. What is known of this period is that the threat posed by two superpowers hell bent on nuclear brinkmanship was very real and terrifying. Life couldn't have been normal and there must have been real questions asked as to whether there would be another tomorrow.

Today was also my son's school harvest service. My wife had to work so, as parents could attend, I followed the coach to church and attended the service at Holbeach St Mark's. The church soon filled with school children and parents. The children occupied the front of the church and their classes took turns to turn facing the congregation and and sang songs with a harvest theme. It was great to be in the audience and see my son looking longingly through the throng of proud parents and finally spotting me with a huge grin on his face. It filled me with pride to be there and I'll cherish the moment forever.