International Day of the Midwife: University of Central Lancashire!

The University of Central Lancashire's midwifery department really pushed the boat out the raise funds today for the International Day of the Midwife. The chosen charity is the African Midwives Fund 

Midwifery lecturer, Mercedes Perez-Botella looked every bit the part as she rode around the town rallying potential customers on a very old bike, in true Call the Midwife style!

It was a bit of a rush for me this morning to get to Preston, but after collecting Olivia's home baked ginger biscuits and picking up Anita on route....we arrived heavily laden with cakes and books all ready to go! My daughter Anna is a midwifery lecturer at UCLan and with her colleagues and some student midwives has been planning and working hard to prepare the wares to sell for this important event. Anna's dear friend, the lovely Carys who works as a midwife at Wythenshawe had made chutney, marmalade and jam, all labelled 'made by midwives'. Her mum had knitted some toys, made hearts and other things to sell. A midwife from Preston made some very special handmade cards (I bought six!). I sold signed copies of my book Catching Babies, and the profit went to the charity. We also sold wonderfully crafted recipe books, created by an amazing Scottish midwife, Linda McDonald. I met Linda in Troon, where she explained the MUM's project to me. Basically, Linda has developed three recipe books and the income generated from the sales goes to help develop maternity services in Malawi. Sarah Brown and Davina McCall have written forwards for the books, they are so impressed with Linda's work.

So we had lots to sell, and everyone worked hard to encourage cake buying! £600 was raised on the stall alone in four hours, and there was lots of discussion from the 'customers' about birth and health....thus raising the profile of the role of the midwife. A sponsored walk when the stall was emptied has raised more much needed money, and donations are still being taken! Congratulations to everyone for such a massive effort. Your time and energy will be someone's improved maternity care. You couldn't ask for more.

International Day of the Midwife: King's College London

Every year on the 5^th May many midwives around the world celebrate the International Day of the Midwife (IDM). The initiative was launched formally in 1992 by the International Confederation of Midwives, with an aim to celebrate midwifery and to raise the awareness of the importance of midwives' work to as many people as possible.

Frances Day Stirk the President of the ICM tells us about the IDM for 2012

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NPsqE5IKog

I was lucky enough to be invited to King's College London today to speak to the student midwives at a conference they had organized to celebrate the IDM. I arrived whilst my good friend Denis Walsh was giving one of his renowned inspirational talks, and then Paul and I enjoyed a cuppa with the bright and enthusiastic students who had greeted us so warmly. Mary Stewart, their fabulous midwifery lecturer, watched closely with pride as her student midwife conference organisers (wearing white ribbon sashes) sold deliciously high calorie cakes that they had made to sell, to help raise funds for the White Ribbon Alliance.

As I Tweeted as much as I could, I was delighted not to have missed the talk from Meghan Jackson a young midwife who clearly explained the history and work of the Association of Radical Midwives (hey, she said, I am not a hairy legged hippy!) with great passion. And she described the horrendous plight of the victim/hero Dr. Agnes Gereb. Meghan warned delegates that there could be similar issues for Independent Midwives in the UK if the situation of obtaining indemnity insurance to practise isn’t resolved appropriately.

The highlight of the conference for me was the ‘open slots’ session just before lunch, where students were given 5 minutes to talk about a topic of their choice. I sat in absolute awe as individual midwives-to-be made their way to the front and presented a variety of midwifery related ‘snippets’.

Jo got the ball rolling and gave us an international perspective on maternity care through her personal and interesting insight into life for women in South Sudan, where she had previously worked. It’s always grounding for those of us living and working in developed countries to hear the shocking conditions and levels of maternal and infant mortality in the Third World. Much of content of Jo’s talk reflected the injustice and prejudice against women and their lack of basic human rights. Utterly shocking.

There were some delights to follow. We were entertained by a student’s insightful and highly humorous interpretation of ‘spiritual midwifery’. This student was perhaps the best stand up comedian I have ever heard (really!) and the laughing in the audience almost raised the roof. Beautiful poetry written and read by another talented student gave me goose bumps, a personal story of birth in water from 21 years ago brought tears to my eyes, and there was a moving film to music and a slide show depicting the role of the midwife. Finally, a politically charged account of female inequalities (excellently articulated and so true) made me rear up with female pride.   Such emotions! My talk of positive birth and making change happen will hopefully give the students a few tools for their pockets as they work hard to deliver the change needed.

I just heard on the way home from the Capital that the efforts of these passionate smiling student midwives resulted in a donation of £226.20 to the White Ribbon Alliance…..now don’t you think that’s the best thing ever?

Congratulations to you all, and thank you very much indeed for sharing your day with me.

PS tomorrow I am helping my lovely daughter Anna and the midwifery students and lecturers at UCLan in Preston, in their efforts to raise money for the African Midwifery Fund. This organisation helps to improve maternity care in Africa, as part of the IDM celebrations. My wonderful niece Cathy helped me to make lots of biscuits yesterday at White Wickets, in her luxurious kitchen. Watch this space for day two.

Brighton: the English version

My work as a midwife has brought us once more to the lovely English seaside resort of Brighton. I was here in September last year to give a talk to the midwifery students at Brighton University, and from that was invited to do a workshop on promoting normal birth for the maternity services at Brighton and Sussex University Hospitals.

Paul and I have happy memories of another Brighton, the one on the East Coast of Australia. It was there that we reunited with our lovely son Tom and his very lovely girlfriend Claire when we visited the Antipodes last September. Tom and Claire were working there and we were thrilled to see them looking so well and happy!

So this Brighton gave us the opportunity to reunite with another special person. Laura is our beautiful fun loving (and nut cracker thigh-ed!) friend, and she lives here with her outdoor active handsome boyfriend, Gerome. I first met Laura when she was a teenager and she was at the same dance school as Anna. Not only that, Laura was very talented (as Anna was) and we would watch her grace and strength with awe as she worked her magic through movement. Laura works in the dance world still, and does amazing things to engage potentially talented youngsters with the arts, through dance. We were also lucky enough to have Laura as our babysitter, and she was just as talented with our young ones. Laura proudly showed us the best places to go in Brighton, and as we sipped pink tinged wine, ate tapas, and listened to live music we chatted for hours about many things. Great stuff.

So now we make our way to Cathy and Rob’s White Wickets and we say goodbye to Brighton. As we pass through the East Sussex countryside through patchwork fields brightened by the yellow rapeseed blossom contrasting yet complementing the cornflower blue skies, we can’t help thinking about Simon and Caroline at Five. Five is a wonderful contemporary family run hotel that serves guests with a scrumptious organic breakfast at the start of the day. We had a comfortable room with a sea view, and Caroline kindly helped us to store and access our push bikes….

See you soon Brighton! 

Oxytocin, childbirth and Troon

For the past three days I have been at the MAMA conference in Troon, Scotland surrounded by women (and a few men) who are totally dedicated to making birth better, for many reasons. Some of the comments and activity were shared via Twitter

The atmosphere in the Marine Hotel’s conference rooms felt like a full and busy bee hive, buzzing and happy! The positivity and energy was palpable. I attend many conferences on childbirth, and this one was exceptional.

I met so many people I immediately connected with, I learned lots, and I laughed and cried. The emotion at times was overwhelming as I listened to how childbirth was being marginalized, even though I knew it already. One of the wonderful doulas I met, the lovely Mars Lord (she helped me deliver a Twitter lesson!) has written a fabulous reflective blog of the event, and has summarised it beautifully.

During the two day event the most profound words for me came from Michel Odent and Kerstin Uvnas Moberg 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pcEmuUrdMGU&feature=related

They really made me think.

Since time began women (and mammals) have relied on the efficient release of natural oxytocin to give birth and to breast feed their babies. Oxytocin is also released by men (and women) during sex and is described by Michel as the ‘hormone of love’.  Both Michel and Kerstin have studied the positive effects of oxytocin and it’s crucial role in our existence. Kerstin states that oxytocin can reduce pain, lower blood pressure and reduce stress. They clearly raise concern that as birth is increasingly disturbed by intervention in labour, pharmacological drugs and unnecessary Caesarean section  the production of natural oxytocin is weakened.  One of the consequences of this Michel says is that women are becoming less able to birth their babies. He warns that globally we are at the ‘bottom of the abyss’, in other words we are as bad as we can get. The authors also claim that as oxytocin is necessary for bonding and attachment of mother and infant, this is affected too.

It certainly makes sense to me. Fear and loss of control were the main reasons women came to me during my time working as a consultant midwife, and I hear it constantly from the young women I talk to.    Sadly, our society increasingly believes that childbirth is laden with risk, and as a hospital procedure. This is a worrying trend, and the reasons are complex and too many to write here. I will say though that I am not alone in being convinced that TV programmes such as One Born Every Minute aired in the UK and USA are contributing to the situation. For anyone interested, there is a Facebook page dedicated to the highlighting the issues.

This is a great pity.

I certainly will be taking the oxytocin message with me when I talk to midwives, doulas and doctors, for the sake of love, of positive childbirth, of parenting and of basic human existence. And I need to pursue the opportunity to increase awareness among the women and men I communicate with. We can’t stay at the bottom of the abyss.

Oh, and I met the midwife who influenced my career from the early 1980s, Ina May Gaskin. Ina May is a one off, and it was an honour to be in her company for several meals and chat to her and her husband Steve. Ina May is a world class midwifery leader, and her predicted inspirational talk at the end of the conference provided further confirmation that birth really matters, and there is much to be done. As a real 'groupie' of Ina May and the proud owner of her first book Spiritual Midwifery (and perhaps the first edition!), I was blown away when she turned to me on the last day and quietly said 'can I have a signed copy of your book Catching Babies?' Wow. What do you think about that? #neverthoughtitwouldhappen

Photgraph courtesy of Severns Jones Photography

The Boxer

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzUEL7vw60U] Dear Maura,

I thought about you this morning. I met you when I was 14, and life was quite mundane.

When you came in my Mum’s bakers shop on St Hubert’s Rd in Great Harwood and told Mum that you were willing to teach me how to play the guitar, it was the beginning of significant change in my life. At that time I didn’t have much confidence, and apart from swimming I hadn't many interests outside school. I was needed to help with the business, which I wasn't something I particularly enjoyed. Some of my friends (Judith and Lesley) went to ballet lessons at the Conservative Club down the road on Glebe St, and I would go every single week and sit on the benches round the side and watch them. I loved it. I studied the lively pointed feet and graced arms of the dancers longingly, and at home at night I tied long strands of wool together and pinned them to the back of my head (as I had short hair) and danced around my lino floored bedroom. Barbara my older cousin offered to pay for me to have lessons when she learnt of my plight (who from?), but Mum said it would still be too expensive. I often wonder if I would’ve been good.  Anyway, the thought of learning to play the guitar filled me with delightful anticipation. My big sister Susan’s guitar was to be my instrument, as it was being stored in one of our bedroom cupboards whilst Susan was away teaching in Bermuda.

I loved my lessons. I think you taught me four cords only, and many songs. We’d strum along together and I wrote the songs in a special book I had and put the Because of your Irish heritage I learnt some Celtic tunes that I didn’t know, and when I went home to practice and played and sang ‘Love is pleasin’ my Dad shrieked that this was indeed one of the songs his mother used to sing to him as a child. It was significant as that was in Ireland in 1917 and Dad’s mum died when he was a small boy.

It turned out I was OK at playing and singing, and Dad used to get me a few ‘gigs’ in local pubs. Think Mary Hopkins….it was in those times! I can still strum a few tunes, but I am very rusty.

So this morning as we set off for Troon in Scotland, S&G’s The Boxer came on the radio, do you remember teaching me that one? It was one of our popular songs, and I thought of you Maura and wondered where you are.

Allegations: Who reports on the reporters? A dilema

Last month I discovered that a friend's daughter was about to have a case of misconduct heard at the Nursing and Midwifery Council. It came to my attention when the facts of the case, that is the allegations, where printed clearly in the local press alongside the nurses name and details.  The girl and her family were distraught, and from that moment received snubs from neighbours and hate mail.  When allegations are reported in newspapers, the majority of the public reading them will believe them to be true. Without any doubt. There is always the reliance on 'no smoke without fire'.

But sadly that's not the case.

When a person's name is printed in the press against allegations, their life is set to change. I know. I was the centre of a huge litigation case (documented in my books Catching Babies and Birth Stories for the Soul ) and my name was blazoned across two local papers to my utter horror.  It made me ill, and affected my family. And when I was exonerated from any blame years later, there was a tiny piece in one of the papers so small it was missed. But the damage was done. For me, peace only came when I wrote an account of the facts for my books and was able to tell it as it was. So that is why I am saddened to see allegations in print, especially when it involves health professionals and before any conclusion has been made.

Newspaper reporters quite rightly tell us that the information is public, and it is their duty to let the public know and is after all their job-their 'bread and butter'.

But when I wrote a letter to the editor to highlight the fact the the accounts printed against this particular nurse recently were allegations and not yet proven, the paper declined to print my views. When I received a voicemail from the health reporter in response to my letter  and I was mortified.

It's erh (name) here, the Health Reporter at the (name of newspaper). Erh I am ringing in response to a letter that you've sent in to the (paper), regarding the case of (name of nurse) which is being heard at present. I understand after reading the letter that you are unhappy with our coverage of this matter, however we won't be running your letter as I'd like to point out that this is a public hearing and we are reporting on it just as we would any other case or any other court proceedings fairly and accurately and of course if (name of nurse) is found to be innocent of these charges then we will report on that as well. I don't believe we've done anything incorrect here, I don't believe we've acted in any way shamefully as you seem to have suggested, erh, and as I say erh we will continue to cover cases as is our job, erh scrutinising local services and making sure that these sort of erh, mistakes erh aren't allowed to happen erh in a publicly funded organisation. Anyway, thank you for your letter and I'll speak to you soon, I am on xxxx if you have any queries or further comments you'd like to make.

I called the particular newspaper to speak to the reporter, and he had left! I explained my annoyance to his replacement, and followed it up with an email asking for my letter to be published. We'll see.

The reporter who left the voicemail started his message calmly and sensibly. But then he let his personal views taint his judgment when he declared 'we will continue to cover cases as is our job, erh scrutinising local services and making sure that these sort of erh, mistakes erh aren't allowed to happen erh in a publicly funded organisation'.

It is not the role of newspapers to scrutinise public services, but to report on news pertaining to them. So what of this reporter's future practise and his morals? Who reports on them? It will have to be me, for this moment.

Keeping fit-no mean feat

This week I started to step up my activity levels and walked twice up the steep side of Pendle Hill. Phew. Gill is just recovering from major surgery, but she was niftier than me by far. It was so hard! The dogs bounded around at top speed and I puffed and blew and felt like I wanted to turn back at almost every step on the endless climb....and this morning I will hopefully do my first bike ride of the season, so lycra, be prepared to be stretched! Well, at least I am trying.

On Friday afternoon I was guest speaker at a brilliant charity event, and was able to talk about my Mum in public. Special.

Ultrasounds scans...good or bad?

This month I attended an Obstetric/Gynaecology/Midwifery conference in Dubai, at the World Trade Centre as a keynote speaker. Impressive venue it certainly was, but as I made my way to the room where the midwifery delegates would attend, I noticed that the majority of exhibitors in the exhibition hall were demonstrating ultrasound scanning machines.

The benefits of ultrasound in pregnancy are undoubtedly useful in supporting a journey resulting in a healthy mother and baby. But we are still unaware of the side effects of the diagnostic intervention, and it is my firm belief that they are used too freely in some instances.

There are documented concerns about the side effects of ultrasound, and these include excessive heat to fetal tissue and high frequency sounds transmitted to the fetus. There are also suggested links to the rise in Autism. But prospective parents are unaware of the potential dangers, and some are now engaging in activities to receive the test for reasons other than diagnostic.

For example, many of the machines on display in Dubai were 4D scanners which provide parents with in utero photographs.  The poor developing baby is prodded and poked to enable a good image to satisfy impatient couples, and some are going one step further and holding fetus parties to show off their newly acquired unborn baby photos!

The CEO of the Royal College of Midwives , Cathy Warwick,recently condemned the activity  and I certainly have to agree with the reasons she gives.

But the large companies developing and marketing the machines are intent on selling them to make money. And the human race continues to disturb nature without taking a moment to consider the consequences.....

My Dad

Last night I dreamt about my lovely Dad, and today I feel as though I have been with him again. The dream was so very real and vivid; I could see the lines on his face and the twinkle in his eye as he smiled. I was slightly annoyed with him, as he’s had a pint of beer too many (which he often did) and was repeating himself (which he often did), but nonetheless I was absolutely thrilled to see him. Dad died in 1979, so his memory including his facial expressions and personality must be firmly embedded in my mind and being, and I couldn’t help thinking when I woke this morning with a smile that the imprint will be gone forever one day. His actually image that is. Although so many of the children of his five girls look like Jim Murray, if not exactly then they are the owner of his ears, or his deep set Irish eyes. Not morbid, just fact! Oh Dad, you really did miss so much. What you started when you emigrated from Ireland over 70 years ago couldn’t have been dreamed about. I can’t tell you everything here, but you would have laughed more than cried. And do you remember how you used to brag about us all? Well you would’ve have had plenty of that to do, let me tell you. So for today you are a recent memory in my mind and I feel like I was with you last night. Tomorrow will be a different story. Always loved. Always missed.

Am I a feminist? Hmm....

 

It's our second visit to the United Arab Emirates and we are totally enjoying being with our lovely friends Grace and Rob. We were here in October and visited the Grand Mosque with interest, and learnt a little about the culture. One thing for sure, every visit certainly tests my beliefs and values. The message from the Sheikh Khalifa, ruler of the UAE, is one of respect for others, for humanity. I see that, but I am astounded at the ever present class divide and my heart sinks at the gender inequality that stares me in the face. I am never in a position to judge, who am I after all? And I ask myself, am I a feminist? The answer is debatable, but I do know that my mother's words to her five girls gives me the confidence that she would have the same view as me.

Sweeping clean

It doesn't seem that long ago since Anna was 7 and performing a ballet characterisation of Tom joins the Water babies at dance festivals. We loved watching her little feet move carefully and gracefully and always had our hearts in our mouths as she had to negotiate the change from chimney sweep to water baby whilst still dancing! Today I was reminded of those special times when Acorn came to sweep our chimney and the brush popped out of the pot on the roof, towards to sky. With a clean chimney we can now contemplate decorating the room.....

A ladybug and a new bike!

I have said many times how I am intrigued by the fabulous method of transport in Holland, aka fiets! Daphne has bought a second hand 'BAKFIET', and it looks brilliant. It seems all young families use these useful and cool bikes, as when we go to visit we never fail to be mesmerised as a parent and up to four children whiz by. Love it. I can't wait to try to manoeuvre it next time we go to Scheveningen, but that may be a little too tricky! Minnie and Quentin will enjoy I am sure...

And the little ladybug. A Dutch ladybird. James sent me this pic to demonstrate how good his new iPhone's camera is, but I loved the fact that I could see Minnie's little pink Ugg boots in the background. Wish you lived nearer to us M and Q....

England in Spring..time for a fresh start?

I've been contemplating changing from Posterous to Wordpress for some time. So it's March 2012 and the Spring is almost here...what better time to change? Not so sure. Some of the platform features are easier, some more difficult but I will just take my time and work through. I make take up the offer of a kindly Twitter friend @RR_Photo, who has expertise in WP.

Just had a great one to one at the Mac store in the Trafford Centre, Manchester. I can now integrate movies into my Keynote presentation..and may even use my iPhone to control the slides! Lot's to think about.

So back to Wordpress, or should I go to bed.....

Starting over, living life and the colours of India

We have just got back home from seeing a fabulous movie...The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. We laughed and cried and enjoyed the feast of colours that India brings when eyes rest upon it.

For me, the moral of the story was that no matter how old you are, it's never too late to be happy. To start over. To live life. The film is definately worth watching (especially for my age group). As well as relishing the acting skills of the veteran cast, the film made us want to go to India.

My sister Anne and her (and our) good friend Sheila love India, and visit every year to holiday and to help communities in various ways. Anna my daughter went to Ludhiana in India for her elective placement when she was training to be a midwife, and the memories she made are frequently recounted.

We will ever get there? I hope so. 

Photo courtesy of Copyright © 2008 India-4U.com

Champagne breakfast and rooftop fiz

We went off to Edinburgh for the weekend to see Colette and Peter, and we knew we'd be in for a treat as soon as we collected Andrena and Bill from their home in Waddington as morning broke on Friday. Andrena had made a feast, a REAL feast for breakfast...and the train had hardly left the station before the first bottle of fiz was popped open! And it was only 8.30 in the morning. Oh dear. Three empty bottles by the time we reached Waverely St Station.

The next 3 days were great fun, diamonds were checked out (not by me I might add), we dined at Le Monde on George St, relaxed at the Sheraton Hotel Spa (luxury of a different kind), danced until dawn with Colette's wonderful friends, and finished with an exclusive Sunday lunch in Harvey Nicks rooftop restaurant, overlooking Edinburgh Castle. 

As the train left the station for home, I wished I was staying a little longer in this magical, historic city.

Colette and Peter, what wonderful hosts you are!

Real nappies, washing lines and Henry V111

With Anna and Garry's baby due at the beginning of July, Olivia washed the 'real' nappies we bought her in preparation. This fabulous photo was taken as they dried on her washing line, and she whatsapped it to me. I had a great big smile when I saw it.

I remember as though it were yesterday soaking (in Napisan) nappies in a bucket after removing the soiled liner, and washing the white terry squares on a boil wash before proudly hanging them on the line, whatever the weather! I actually loved it. Even when I had two children in them, I enjoyed the process of making them clean again, folding them in different (and innovative) ways and snuggling them next to my little one's skin. What pleasure!

I remember Mum giving me the impression that using disposable nappies was a sign of a 'bad mother', but not sure if she really meant that? In any case, I succumbed to disposables when Olivia my fourth child was born, and although it was easier, I didn't get the same satisfaction at nappy change time.

And we know that real nappies are much better for the environment. Apparently, if King Henry V111 had had disposable nappies, they would still be around 'rotting' today.

And that is appalling.  

A springer spaniel weekend

My daughter's two dogs needed to be cared for this weekend, and I was in charge. Pip and Charlie are springer spaniels and I have to say they are too cute. It may seem normal to be raving about hounds, but those who really know me well are either laughing or in shock. You see I have never been a 'doggy' person, until I fell in love with these two.

So, I have walked them for miles and miles, through goarse and swamp land, round resevoirs and over the beautiful Pendle Hill with Yvonne and Rosie, and Gill and Meg. These energetic puppies are just so full of energy and affection, and we have enjoyed every minute of our time together. So strange for me, I now even talk to them.

Oh, and what a delicious meal we had last evening. The best Chinese meal ever at Yu and You. No wonder they won Gordan Ramsey's 'Best Chinese Restaurant' award 2010. Wonderfully delicious.

All in a week: a visitor from Scotland, Ben's Playtime, a spa in the city and the Calendar Girls.....

It seems so long ago that fabulous Colette arrived to spend a night with us, but it's only a week. Colette drove from Edinburgh and we immediatley slipped into the country to sip champagne. We went to Eaves Hall  to be disappointed as the venue is now open for weddings only! So off to Mitton Hall we went and we happily settled by the roaring fire. Not ususal for a weekday night, but what a fabulous evening, chatting and eating. Being a great positive thinker, Colette gave us lots to ponder on and she brightened our week in so many ways. Hilary invited us once more to Ben's Playtime on Thursday night at Benedicts in Whalley. A great opportunity to catch up with Frank and Lynne, but we partied a little too heavily and it took it's toll. What a great night though. I met a woman who lived near me as a child and we shared lots of memories. We danced and laughed and staggered home at 12.30-although the event finished at 9pm! F and L have an interesting story to tell about the way home.....

On Friday we set of to Kirkby Lonsdale, to enjoy a weekend with Gill and Mark. We had a blast. On Monday I was up and out of the house to catch the 07.46 train to Manchester, to meet with my lovely friend Debbie for a spa day at the MacDonalds hotel. Luxurious surroundings and much needed treatments were enjoyed by us both while we caught up on news and planned a new venture. On Tuesday I caught my breath.

Today, a week after Colette arrived, I was lucky enough to attend a charity dinner back at Mitton Hall, for MacMillan cancer support. Two of the Calendar Girls (Ros and Angela) gave an absolutely inspirational talk about their unique venture and my sisters Eileen and Anne and I were spellbound. We loved them. And I was lucky enough to be sat next to Jennie from Downham who coincidentally knows Emma Lee-Potter -in fact she lives in Emma's old house. It was so good that we could chat about our mutual appreciation of Emma's interesting blog...The House with No Name. What a small world.

And now I am in bed exhausted, but not too tired to watch the Calendar Girls movie...I only hope my eyes will stay open.

Kirkby Lonsdale and special people

It was literally by the skin of our teeth that we managed to book Rye Meadows for a weekend away with Gill and Mark. It was a belated silver wedding celebration, and how fabulously lucky we were. Gill is a teacher and wanted to go away at half term, so as we frantically tried to find vacancies our spirits took a dive; everyone else seemed to want this weekend too!

And then we stumbled accross a gem of a place just outside Kirkby Lonsdale. The apartment was everything and more that we could have possibly hoped for. It was modern, light, and perfectly kitted out with everything from chocolates, wine, fluffy pillows and spectaculor views of the Lune Valley. We couldn't believe it! And a perfect two nights and two days was to follow.....sheer bliss. Gill and Mark are special people. Mark is Paul's younger brother and Gill my extraordinary SiL (Sister-in-Law), and I couldn't have chosen a better one!! We walked and talked and ate and drank....saw the wonders of the sunny Yorkshire countryside from our temporary dwelling and whilst rambling over the hills from Settle to Long Preston on the way home. The walk into the historic market town of Kirkby Lonsdale was worth it; we bought a cheese board and new boots, and enjoyed (not) the company of Alan in the famous Royal Hotel. Oh dear! The quiz is still not complete! We made lots of memories didn't we? And we most certainly will be back!

A cat and Karl Marx

Liz and Wad and Paul and I spent our last morning together at Highgate Cemetry (East). The famous burial ground is not far from Julie and Chris's house, so we walked there and back before setting off for home. After a little fuss from PB about the entrance fee, we entered the Victorian graveyard that received it's first body (that of a 16 year old baker's daughter) in 1860. During the year I studied as a PhD student I was instructed on the teachings of Karl Marx, also buried here. Being a history teacher, Wad offered his account of Marx's life, which was far more animated and interesting than my philosophy class! He told us...

Karl Marx was a German 'thinker' and was influenced by Russian peasants and their rough deal in life. He believed that religion was used by the wealthy and elite to control the poor. He challenged capitalism and encouraged the manual workers of the world to participate in violent uprisings to change things. Marx had to leave his native land and he came to England. After visitng Salford he wrote 'Das Kapital'. He was interred at Highgate with his wife and grandchildren, alongside so many other famous individuals. Marx could never have predicted the longevity of his mark on our world.
I always find graveyards interesting. Not because I have a warped or morbid interest in death, but because I like to think that life is utterly meaningful and that each unique person's contribution should be remembered. We all pondered on various epitaphs, names, sculptures, photographs and messages. How fragile we all are. It was very cold in the graveyard, icy underfoot from the remains of the snow. We noticed a smart dark-haired distinguished looking gentleman walking down the main path with a Harrods bag and a bunch of flowers. He was on his way to tend to a grave, we could sense that, and the grave we were to discover was his son's. As we passed by we caught his eye and I bid him good morning. The grave he was lovingly caring for was full of flowers and plants, and there was an impressive red rose heart shaped flower arrangment in the middle of the grave with a sash saying 'Happy Birthday Son'. I commented that the flowers were beautiful. The man looked at me with sad brown eyes and said, 'well they are for my beautiful son, he deserves them'. I couldn't hold back the tears as I walked away. The grip of grief was evident in so many ways. The black and white cat stayed close by all the way round. We noticed him about a half way and although he wouldn't respond to my attempts to stroke him, he walked when we walked and stopped and rested as we took in some of the more interesting engravings. Obviously well cared for, I imagine this little animal has a lot of visitors....maybe some of a different world?