Here we go again!

It’s New Year’s Day and time for looking back and looking forward, (hence Janus above!) and the dreaded resolutions! Usually I decide on something really ordinary. Lose weight, get more exercise, save money, that sort of thing. Actually for 2012  I resolved to use my WiiFit machine regularly. And, blow me down, I am still using it! In fact I had great fun this morning boxing! Not a pretty sight, but very effective. This year I was probably going to do more of the same. I certainly need to lose a little weight. My cholesterol is not going to go down (genetic not life-style) and I can’t take statins (nasty reactions) so my specialist has told me to stop worrying about it but just reduce other dangers. I don’t smoke, so that is one plus, and he told me that a glass of wine a day is a positive advantage! I do like that man! So weight is the main problem. Plus exercise of course. So losing weight and perhaps playing a little more golf this year (weather permitting!) is on the list. But these are aspirations rather than resolutions. I should be doing it anyway.

So what am I going to do? Well, it stems from one of my Christmas presents. Paul gave me a copy of Clare Balding’s book My Animals and Other Family. An absolutely cracking read, and one I can wholeheartedly recommend.

(Well, my pictures have decided to place themselves this time. Can’t be bothered to get in a tizz about it. See the rest of this blog!)

In one of the chapters she writes about a teacher who had a profound effect on her, her poetry teacher. She calls her ‘so detached, so self-contained. She made things happen. She read extensively to arrive at an informed opinion so that she could be governed by what she thought of the world, not what others thought about her.’ Clare goes on to say that she wanted to be like that. ‘..to be the subject of the sentence of my life, not the object.’ I like that sentiment. To be in control of what goes on, and not dependent on what other people think of you. My life tends to be pretty well compartmented. I have family, golfing friends, museum friends, classical/OU friends, and rarely do they meet. My actions tend to be geared to the company I am in at any given time. Sometimes I will keep my mouth shut because of the person I am with. For example, I won’t tell my golfing friends I am reading a book about Augustus, but, equally, I may not admit to my classical friends that sometimes my bedtime reading is Georgette Heyer, or a very trashy crime novel! Both are me, just different facets. Reading has two purposes, to inform and educate, and to relax. I like both, but not necessarily at the same time! So this year I have resolved to be me, just me. Not necessarily the person the friend I am with is expecting. That also means that I am not going to get into a tizz about things like techie problems. Not my forte, so don’t worry about it! I always have #2 son to fall back on don’t I Nik?

Talking of Nik, I took him and my two youngest grandchildren to see The Mouse and His Child yesterday. It was as good as it’s reviews, which were brilliant. The RST is very good at children’s productions at Christmas which are a huge improvement on the traditional pantomime. I’ve been taking my grandchildren for years and haven’t come across a turkey yet.

And this morning, on a beautiful sunny day to welcome the 2013, the Crome and West Warwickshire Hunt met in Alcester for the first time in 10 years. Hunting is viewed as  elitist , and only for the landed gentry. Okay the two eldest children of the Marquis of Hertford were in the field, but so were several farmers, the cousin of the local barber, many people who work 9-5 and come out at weekends, and so on. My cousin is the Master, so it can’t be elitist can it! The streets were full of the local population waving and cheering, and our Court Leet were there in force.

A very happy New Year to you all. And may 2013 be all you want it to be. As for me, I am just going to be me, for better or for worse!

P.S.

It has been pointed out to me that, in my lost offering, I failed to say when the episode of Countryfile is being shown. Sunday 23rd December, not sure of the time.. And Ragley is the subject of the entire programme.

Christmas is near!

 

I’ve just been to my first Christmas party of the year! Well, it was Paul’s party not mine. He’s been working this year as a guide at the local ‘big house’ Ragley Hall. The reason it was so early is that the BBC programme ‘Countryfile’ had been filming there all week, culminating in the staff Christmas party in the Great Hall. All the presenters were there, including John Craven, who sang ‘Deck the Halls’ with the Alcester Male Voice Choir. He sang the second verse solo!

Matt Baker and Julia Bradbury were very adept at handing around the canapés! Nice ones, they were too.

But the point of this is that all the indications are that Christmas is looming. Back to the writing of cards, trying to think who I actually want to send one to, who I really have to send one to. And the presents…. and the food……and the visits? For what is supposed to be a holiday it all amounts to a huge amount of stress. I seem to remember writing about this last year. So this year I have made some adjustments. The card list is being culled for a start. Not least because of the hike in the cost of postage! Presents are going to be ‘reasonable’. And as for food, Paul and I are booked for lunch at a local hostelry Arrow Mill. We’ve been there several times, and it is always good value.

We wander in when we feel like it, have lunch (9 courses!) at our leisure, then wander out and leave the clearing up to someone else. Bliss! The best thing is there is only one sitting, so no rushing to make room for the next lot. Here’s hoping the weather is decent though. I remember a couple of years ago driving up in thick snow. We parked okay, but had to be towed out of the snow bound car park by mine host’s Land Rover! Finger’s crossed but the forecast isn’t too bright.

The next Christmas party is at the Alcester Roman Museum on Saturday. Saturnalia!

Well, not quite, that’s too much to hope for. But it is a nod in the right direction I suppose. The Museum seems to have had a pretty good year, including several evening talks, the last one being Dr Alison Cooley of Warwick University on the subject of Pompeii. This was quite a coup because she is an acknowledged expert, having written books about the town. It is certainly worth celebrating at the end of the year.

I may come across as a bit cynical about Christmas. To be honest I suppose I am. As a religious festival it’s fine. But that isn’t what it is any more. It’s an excuse for over indulgence, and a trading frenzy. Today is, apparently, the biggest day for on-line sales of the year. Millions are being spent as I type this. Why? However, what I don’t mind is the idea of reconnecting with family once a year. My only brother and his wife are driving down from Yorkshire on Sunday to exchange presents and have a meal together. We don’t see each other enough during the year. Perhaps the incentive of Christmas does have some purpose after all!

Democracy?

I believe in democracy. Really I do. I believe that everyone should have a say in how things are done. At least I thought I did. In a couple of weeks’ time we are supposed to turn out to vote for a Police Commissioner. That means the man (I say man, but of course it could be woman, it’s just easier!)  in charge of crime in my area will be there, not because he knows anything about crime, but because, probably with the help of one of the political parties, he has managed to convince the majority of people that he will ‘do something’ about whatever is the latest popular cause. Come re-election time his priority will be to get re-elected again, not look to the long-term safety of the area. After all, if he loses he is out of a job. There is no incentive to look to the long term. If he does lose, any problems are the province of whoever had the temerity to beat him. If he wins he will have plenty of time before the next election to put in place ‘populist’ measures. The electorate has such a short collective memory after all.

Democracy is relatively easy in a small, static, population.  Everyone knows everyone else, or at least knows who everybody is. Personally, not through ‘the media’. This makes choosing between candidates so much easier. Of course it also makes bribery easier too! But at least a voter is more likely to vote for the man, rather than the Party, resulting in a representative who is more interested in doing what is best for his local electorate rather than pleasing his party bosses. When the population rises, and becomes much more mobile, this local connection is lost. Party becomes the reason for most people to cast their vote, and the candidates become connected instead to the party machine. The party then becomes obsessed with winning the next election, and the priority is the ‘short term’ popular fix, not the long term good. Politics becomes a career path (how many MP’s actually had a ‘proper job’ outside politics?) rather than a calling to represent the electorate who put them in their very lucrative job. You only have to remember the recent expenses scandals to understand quite how lucrative. In the modern era it is more important to look good on TV rather than actually have any great degree of knowledge or true talent.

I am not sure how the problems of Parliament can be addressed, I am not clever enough. But I can take issue with the idea of elected Police Commissioners. It was not all that long ago that the electorate dismissed out of hand the idea of directly elected mayors. That must have sent a message to the Government because there was no referendum on Police Commissioners. Perhaps they knew they would lose? I have seen a lot of letters in newspapers from people who disagree with the idea so much they do not intend to vote. This is a mistake. The turnout will probably be dismal anyway and this will reduce the figures even more. What I intend to do is turn up at the polling station and write ‘none of the above’ on my voting slip. I still do believe in democracy, just not for everything. If an MP is really bad at his job there are enough of them to counteract his mistakes. A Police Commissioner is on his own, in a job where his credentials are political rather than related to police work, and his decisions, taken politically, can have dire effects. No thanks.

What would you give up?

 

Someone, under circumstances I won’t repeat, said to me ‘I wish I was 20 years younger.’ While heartily agreeing with these sentiments in the spirit in which they were expressed, one real drawback struck me.  Which 20 years would be ditched? For to be 20 years younger would, of necessity, mean 20 years of experiences would have to be lost. Not necessarily 20 consecutive years, but considerably more than the odd ‘bad day’ here and there.

Every one of us is the person we are as a consequence of our past. Change one bit of it and it has an effect on the outcome. The good parts everyone would opt to keep, but the bad parts are equally important. Random chance plays a huge part in who we are.  I am a ‘war baby’, born because my parents both joined the RAF. There is absolutely no way they would have met in normal circumstances. My father died in the Berlin Airlift because he switched duties with another navigator. If he hadn’t my life would have been hugely different. As a single parent, my mother made a decision to send me, and my brother, to boarding school, paid for by the people of Berlin. She chose one in the wilds of Somerset because my uncle had spent some time in the war on a farm in the area. Pure chance, but as a result I had a wonderful childhood in a happy caring environment. This I would definitely not change. Boarding school, private education in general, has a huge effect on one. Smaller classes, and in my case, a very small school, means you lose a lot of the stress of battling for attention in a huge school. You feel you matter. And the values instilled by the wonderful Miss Burridge and Miss Mary are still with me today.

Before I started school at 8 we visited relations in America. While there my mother was offered a chance to relocate to Pennsylvania. She refused, reluctantly I think, because of my grandfather who had been widowed shortly after my father died. If she had stayed, think how different life would have been. I’d have been an American! Would life have been better? Who knows?  But I would be a very different person.

I met my first husband when he tipped a cup of coffee over me in a coffee bar in Stratford upon Avon. It was the early 60’s so a lot of coffee was drunk in these bars! We were both working in hotels, but different ones on different shifts. That meeting was pure chance. The result was three wonderful children (well, wonderful most of the time!) who I would certainly not switch for an extra 20 years. As an aside, we moved to Yorkshire to live and work and my brother took a job there instead of Bristol because we were there. He has been married to his Yorkshire lass for over 30 years.

Okay, my first marriage ended in divorce, but I wouldn’t rather it hadn’t happened. We had some really good times, and I have some very happy memories. No, even not taking the children into account, I wouldn’t wish it hadn’t happened. I then had 8 years as a single parent, and had a ball! I’d married pretty young the first time, before I’d managed to sow many wild oats (except perhaps for 3 months spent in Berlin on a holiday job, organised by the Stiftung Luftbrukendank !) The 8 years on my own, except for the children, more than made up for it. So that 8 years can’t go.

I spent years involved in local politics – fun – and archery – productive! I met my second (and current) husband at the local archery club and we’ve been married 28 years. That time definitely has to stay. Then there are the 10 + years I’ve spent studying with the Open University. The only regret about that is that I was offered a place in the 70’s but turned it down because it was too expensive at the time. I could have found my passion for ancient history, especially the Romans, early enough to do something with it. But if I had so many other things would have been lost. I might never have come back to  Warwickshire when my marriage broke up, so never met my husband. Who knows, it might have been a hugely successful life, but………?

I would love it if the consequences of age weren’t beginning to make themselves felt. You know the sort of thing. The odd ache and pain, the ‘senior moment’. But  taken all in all, it’s a small price to pay for the experiences that have made me the person I am. Not sure what other people think, but I like who I am.

Age is relative.

I've had a very strange couple of days, agewise. (I hate those -wise words, but I couldn't think of one that was more fitting.) I know that,by virtue of the year of my birth, I am no spring chicken. Whether I actually feel that old depends on so many changeables. Who I am with, what the weather is like, what I am doing at the time, how much sleep I've had, and so on. You get my drift. But most of all it is the reactions of others, and how you relate to them. The worst experience I have had will be familiar to anyone over the age of 50. A visit to the doctor will elicit the deathly phrase, 'It's to do with your age'. I will give you two examples of recent 'agist' experiences.

Last night we went to Malvern Theatre to see Sandi Toksvig. I'd been trying to get tickets for a performance of hers for years, always missing out. So we braved the vagaries of the dreadful parking to go. Now Sandi is about 14 years younger than me, but she was talking about problems of ageing. One of the problems rang a bell with me. She suggested that it is possible to suffer from deja vu and amnesia at the same time. 'I'm sure I've forgotten this before.' Well, yes. Recognise that. Also the splendid story about giving up 'tiny' knickers on her 50th birthday! But come off it Sandi. If you feel like this at your relatively young age how am I expected to feel having 14 more years 'in my dish' as they used to say in the Regency period? But she did redeem herself at the end. There is a wonderful way of cheering yourself up, and she had the entire audience doing it at the end. Play 'Ode to Joy' very loudly, stand up, and conduct with vigour. Splendid! Great physical exercise as well as the lift to the spirits.

A gentleman?

Two days ago I had one of 'those' phonecalls. You know the sort of thing. A complete stranger trying to 'help' you claim for missold PPI, or trying to get you a better mortgage, or......! Always the same foreign female voice under a different name, and a script to follow regardless. These I just hang up on, though I am tempted to just put the phone down and walk away, leaving the line open so they can't use theirs! This one, however, was different. It was an extremely cheery chap, on a clear line, (he said London and I am inclined to believe him) trying to sell me 'carbon off-sets'. After a very friendly conversation I explained that, good as his offer was, my husband and I were both pensioners and hadn't any money to spare. His instant reply to this was 'Gosh, you don't sound old enough to be a pensioner!' That lad will go far! Whether it was just a line or not, it did wonders for my morale. And that's what it's all about.

This reminds me. A friend asked what was the definition of a gentleman. I have two. The first would apply to the gentleman on the telephone. It's a man who makes the lady he is with feel like a lady. It has nothing to do with morals, and everything to do with morale boosting.  I know very few who fit that criteria, a handful perhaps. One actually ended up in prison, twice, but I still think of him fondly because of the huge boost to my morale when he was around. This picture is good because I met the gentleman when he was playing cricket. The other definition is a bit more raunchy. A gentleman is a man who has callouses on his elbows!

But back to ageing. There has been a lot of publicity recently about the desirability of everyone over the age of 50 taking statins as a matter of course. I have taken every statin available. Each and every one has produced the most debilitating side effects (what the gentleman suggesting everyone takes them describes as 'minor') which resulted in an inability almost to put one foot in front of another. My specialist now agrees with me, I am much better without them. So I stopped taking them, and feel about 20+ years younger.

Ageing is so much more than years. It's a state of mind. Sandi Toksvig did remind me of my years, but in such a way as to make it a laughing matter, something to joke about. As we get older many of the things that seemed so necessary in our youth fade into insignificance. Comfort is, to a degree, more important than fashion, hence the 'big knickers'. We know who we are, and are content with that. More power to our elbows I say.

Nostalgia

Ki Bo Bae

One way or another it has been a time of nostalgia.

Aida Roman

Mariana Avitia

For the past few days I've had a real blast from the past. In the dim and distant past I was a pretty competent (no better than that!) archer. In fact it was due to archery I met my husband, though I have to admit I can't remember the first time I met him, he was just around! So, thanks to the wonderful technology from the BBC, I have been watching the cream of the crop. Yesterday was the last few rounds in the women's competition. Expected to be a clean sweep for the Koreans, two brilliant Mexicans decided to spoil the party! The winner was Korean, Ki Bo Bae. She beat Aida Roman into silver medal position by virtue of a 'sudden death' closest to the middle single arrow. Mariana Avitia took the bronze.Well done to all of them. But especially for their sheer nerve at the crunch moments. I just hope the men can do half as well today. Congratulations too to whoever decided to use Lords as a venue. It seems to have been a huge success.

I actually went past Lords in a Green Line bus on Monday. For some peculiar reason it had been decided that a planned visit to the British Museum to see the Shakespeare Exhibition should take place on the first Monday of the Olympics. The result was an amazingly easy bus journey, and an almost deserted British Museum. As for the exhibition, highly recommended. Especially for the First Folio, and the Robin Island Shakespeare signed by Nelson Mandela. Do go and see it if at all possible.

Coming away from there we decided to visit the Bomber Command Memorial at Hyde Park. This was an eyeopener. The inscription is from Pericles, and is so apt for the men who are being remembered. My father was not Bomber Command but he was aircrew during the war. He flew as navigator and bomb aimer in a Mosquito with his friend and pilot, a Canadian called Ken. The plane itself was very fragile, and they made most of their flights by night. Much courage was needed. But they did have lucky charms! Mosquitos were twin engined, and each engine was called after the wives, Marjorie, my mother, and Millie, Ken's wife. It must have worked because both men came through the war without a single scratch. This one is in the Mosquito Museum, a place that is full of Foggy Dewhurst type enthusiasts.

Glad to see I appear to be getting better at the technicalities of this blogging lark! The pictures are the ones I wanted, and in the places I wanted them! Thats a decided improvement on the frustrations of earlier posts - though I have to admit to seeming to lose this at one point and almost have an apoplexy. Great joy all around when I found it.