A small success it may be but tomorrow i gain my OCN in woodland Management.
I have learned about sharpening and keeping tools in good order, about the physiology of trees, coppicing, pollarding, processing a fallen tree, hedging, and green wood working skills.
I have many qualifications, even a degree but somehow this very humble course is more important to me than all the others put together.
I am very sad that my family don't recognise this as a great milestone and achievement in my life....it will go unrecognised....a bit like me.
Wednesday, 26 March 2008
Monday, 10 March 2008
Places People Perfection
I used to love Devon. Many a holiday I've spent in my childhood on a boat in any number of harbours in Devon. The swoosh and lap of the sea gently lulling me into a gentle night or morn , seagulls calling and the strong smell of salt and fish permeating the local air.
When a teenager i went with a friend to a small Devon fishing port....one of the worst holidays of my life!
I hate Totnes with considerable passion, followed closely behind by Cullompton.
I've not been to either place and have no intention of doing so. They probably deserve my hatred not one little bit...nevertheless they are forever in my being as evil, vile places.
We often travel to Plymouth to catch the ferry to Roscoff and my heart sinks as we pass the sign for Cullompton first, shortly followed by the Totnes sign.
I saw this weekend past and i had an almost irresistable urge to deface them, wipe them out, delete them from the map of Britain.
I, stoically remiained quiet , biting my tongue, trying desperately hard not to come out with some nasty quip.
In reality however convenient it is to sail from Plymouth, i wish with all my heart to sail from Portsmouth.
Avoiding something you fear is natural, self preservation and all that stuff. Face your fear, do battle and conquer.....if only i could win!
I'm told i've won but somehow i don't think so......I've just delayed the inevitable.
I'm not too keen on Bristol either but perhaps thats just a fancy?
When a teenager i went with a friend to a small Devon fishing port....one of the worst holidays of my life!
I hate Totnes with considerable passion, followed closely behind by Cullompton.
I've not been to either place and have no intention of doing so. They probably deserve my hatred not one little bit...nevertheless they are forever in my being as evil, vile places.
We often travel to Plymouth to catch the ferry to Roscoff and my heart sinks as we pass the sign for Cullompton first, shortly followed by the Totnes sign.
I saw this weekend past and i had an almost irresistable urge to deface them, wipe them out, delete them from the map of Britain.
I, stoically remiained quiet , biting my tongue, trying desperately hard not to come out with some nasty quip.
In reality however convenient it is to sail from Plymouth, i wish with all my heart to sail from Portsmouth.
Avoiding something you fear is natural, self preservation and all that stuff. Face your fear, do battle and conquer.....if only i could win!
I'm told i've won but somehow i don't think so......I've just delayed the inevitable.
I'm not too keen on Bristol either but perhaps thats just a fancy?
Les Trois Marchandes
I love food, especially well presented, excellently cooked delicious food....stirs the senses, comforts the soul and feeds the feel good factor.
We eat out more than we can really afford and hence eat in the every day sort of pubs and restaurants, not the upmarket eateries with known chefs and backers.
We have found a restaurant in a small town of Guemene in Brittany that is well worth a visit.
It is open for lunches, and in the simplest and best of french practices offers a plat du jour for €10.50 including wine.
On Saturday we were delighted with an assiette of smoked herring and cabbage with a tamboule of vegetables and crevatte.
The next course, excellently cooked slices of cold roast beef, beautifully pink in the middle served with mayonnaise, french bread and butter. Simple but oh so delicious!
Duck legs with a potage of flageolet beans, potatoes and carrots to follow.
Finished beautifully with a cinnamon spiced apple crumble and rich cream ice.
I look forward to my next visit...may it be very soon.
We eat out more than we can really afford and hence eat in the every day sort of pubs and restaurants, not the upmarket eateries with known chefs and backers.
We have found a restaurant in a small town of Guemene in Brittany that is well worth a visit.
It is open for lunches, and in the simplest and best of french practices offers a plat du jour for €10.50 including wine.
On Saturday we were delighted with an assiette of smoked herring and cabbage with a tamboule of vegetables and crevatte.
The next course, excellently cooked slices of cold roast beef, beautifully pink in the middle served with mayonnaise, french bread and butter. Simple but oh so delicious!
Duck legs with a potage of flageolet beans, potatoes and carrots to follow.
Finished beautifully with a cinnamon spiced apple crumble and rich cream ice.
I look forward to my next visit...may it be very soon.
People Watching
I really try hard not to observe people and fail miserably. Living on a mountain, a mile from any neighbours, and at least 3 miles before the nearest village sort of limits people watching. Trouble starts when we go out for a meal, shopping can be interesting and the last time i caught the bus.....two stops further than i wanted to go just because i became engrossed in some strangers behaviour.
Thank goodness i'm not in the psychology/psychiatric/police sector of work. I know i could get lost in it and become obsessed.
I love the ferry because it is used by such a large spectrum of the population.
My partner will be talking to me, I hear his words but my eyes are drawn to 'uncle Fester' sat in the next seats. It's not just the old scars and bumps and spots on his rippling bald head...he looks around, vacant, expressionless, lips moving. I realise he's talking to us...asking do we know of a taxi for his friend....we're on a ferry, in the middle of the English channel. He asks others and they look as bewildered as us. The cogs whirr slowly and i realise he's concerned for his wee friend, a thin old chap in a big coat and a flat cap who is completely out cold. Uncle Fester is not that concerned, just sort of drawing attention to his friend and his predicament...i get the impression he's a little hard of thinking at the moment due to a huge quantity of alcohol having been drunk.
People behind me, cluck disapprovingly as they sip at their coffees. Then uncle Fester attracts the attention of an older couple. The lady, and for definate thats what she was, sat next to uncle Fester, leaned close and undeterred by vapourous breath, comforted him....hubby looked on with horror as she patted uncles bald head.
I could feel my eyes begin to sparkle and the corners of my mouth twitching in expectation of a smile, a giggle or a full blown laugh.
Couples who have been long together sit slightly apart, barely talking, some are comfortable with that and eachother whilst others cast around, longing whistfully to be with that person they've spyed accross the room.
A lady, with a particularly dour look, grey hair, grey face,eyes slanted down , matching mouth and wrinkles in their unhappy downward droop catches my attention next. I don't think i've ever seen such a miserable grey visage before. Her whole body seemed to droop at the edges in dull penitious misery.
She cast around her, without expectation or even interest.....then suddenly she was joined by a skinny jolly elf whose whole face and demeanour was totally opposite to hers. His face was mobile in it's mischief and i half expected him to jump on the table and dance a jig!
Just as i thought i was hooked, a young mans voice drifted from another table, behind and to my right.....'...been in the nick twice now for drink drinin' Several others at his table started talking about their various spells in prison. I listened, captured in horror and amusement at their conversation.
My partner gave up, he could not compete with this fantastic display of humanity.
.....A lady well past her youth and better days clutched lovingly at an equally seen better days bloke. She stroked his face in expectation, lust or something....and suddenly he no longer able to control himself flung her backwards on the bench and kissed her passionately. They were lost in sight to me but not to the couple opposite who looked on with amusement. She caught my eye and we shared a moment of communal humour...i was not the only people watcher!
My partner moved his seat to get a better view at what i'd found so funny and smiled as the lady dragged the bloke off to have their wicked way.
The next morning as the ferry docked, sipping my coffee, trying to wake up, the voice of a pretty teenager, long blonde silky hair and full of sulky petulance drew my attention. She was haranging her parents, bored, tired not really wanting to have to spend time with the dreaded, dead naff oldies.
They on the other hand had been looking forward to what was probably their last break together as a family.
People watching, fascinating, dangerous and a lot addictive.
Thank goodness i'm not in the psychology/psychiatric/police sector of work. I know i could get lost in it and become obsessed.
I love the ferry because it is used by such a large spectrum of the population.
My partner will be talking to me, I hear his words but my eyes are drawn to 'uncle Fester' sat in the next seats. It's not just the old scars and bumps and spots on his rippling bald head...he looks around, vacant, expressionless, lips moving. I realise he's talking to us...asking do we know of a taxi for his friend....we're on a ferry, in the middle of the English channel. He asks others and they look as bewildered as us. The cogs whirr slowly and i realise he's concerned for his wee friend, a thin old chap in a big coat and a flat cap who is completely out cold. Uncle Fester is not that concerned, just sort of drawing attention to his friend and his predicament...i get the impression he's a little hard of thinking at the moment due to a huge quantity of alcohol having been drunk.
People behind me, cluck disapprovingly as they sip at their coffees. Then uncle Fester attracts the attention of an older couple. The lady, and for definate thats what she was, sat next to uncle Fester, leaned close and undeterred by vapourous breath, comforted him....hubby looked on with horror as she patted uncles bald head.
I could feel my eyes begin to sparkle and the corners of my mouth twitching in expectation of a smile, a giggle or a full blown laugh.
Couples who have been long together sit slightly apart, barely talking, some are comfortable with that and eachother whilst others cast around, longing whistfully to be with that person they've spyed accross the room.
A lady, with a particularly dour look, grey hair, grey face,eyes slanted down , matching mouth and wrinkles in their unhappy downward droop catches my attention next. I don't think i've ever seen such a miserable grey visage before. Her whole body seemed to droop at the edges in dull penitious misery.
She cast around her, without expectation or even interest.....then suddenly she was joined by a skinny jolly elf whose whole face and demeanour was totally opposite to hers. His face was mobile in it's mischief and i half expected him to jump on the table and dance a jig!
Just as i thought i was hooked, a young mans voice drifted from another table, behind and to my right.....'...been in the nick twice now for drink drinin' Several others at his table started talking about their various spells in prison. I listened, captured in horror and amusement at their conversation.
My partner gave up, he could not compete with this fantastic display of humanity.
.....A lady well past her youth and better days clutched lovingly at an equally seen better days bloke. She stroked his face in expectation, lust or something....and suddenly he no longer able to control himself flung her backwards on the bench and kissed her passionately. They were lost in sight to me but not to the couple opposite who looked on with amusement. She caught my eye and we shared a moment of communal humour...i was not the only people watcher!
My partner moved his seat to get a better view at what i'd found so funny and smiled as the lady dragged the bloke off to have their wicked way.
The next morning as the ferry docked, sipping my coffee, trying to wake up, the voice of a pretty teenager, long blonde silky hair and full of sulky petulance drew my attention. She was haranging her parents, bored, tired not really wanting to have to spend time with the dreaded, dead naff oldies.
They on the other hand had been looking forward to what was probably their last break together as a family.
People watching, fascinating, dangerous and a lot addictive.
Sunday, 9 March 2008
Parents, Disability and Choices
I am a member of a British online group for foster carers, discussing issues, seeking advice and disseminating information.
It's a fantastic group who support each other through bad times with empathy, sympathy and practical advice and share their good times with humour and delight.
An exceptionally good carer, who looks after, on a daily basis a child with profound difficulties has had parts of their blog taken out of context and used by others, including the media to make points against the birth mother of the child and in particular her decision to give up her child for someone else to look after.
In fact they are two women who passionately care about the child and work together in friendship to do the best for the child.
I sincerely hope that others views will not poison this situation.
I also am close in friendship with the mother of a young person we have in our family. Together, despite the miles that are between our homes, we plan and work to enable the child to have the best of all worlds and to ensure he achieves the potential that is so clearly his to take.
This is not an exceptional situation but it is not necessarily the norm either.
The authority responsible for the child finds this state of affaires uncomfortable.
Perhaps they are uncomfortable because they are used to taking children into care and out of neglect and abuse and defacto see parents in a negative way, somehow lacking and semi-bad.
They see themselves as good and using their power to help.
Parents can sometimes fight hard and dirty for the care of their children, often feeling that their only option is to threaten. This all acts in a way which emphasises the good /bad discourse which often spill into actions.
The mother of the young child in our care has always worked quietly with the services for herself and her child. She is intelligent and articulate and with help has managed to find advocates when her voice was frail and weak. She has managed, with smiles and a quiet voice to hold firmly to the remnants of her bond with her child and stoically travel, weekly, the many miles put in her way with the purpose of deterring her.
It is easy to villify others in pursuit of personal ideals and beliefs than to way up the difficult descisions that others have been forced to make and understand compassionately the emotional complexity and roller coaster associated with making those descisions.
In a previous existence i have worked with adults who have learning difficulties providing community care and respite.
I have seen parents battle on well into old age with their offspring needing constant care, love and attention. Often they have done this with very little support and advice. They have put their lives and work into the twilight zone of limbo and poverty. Family relationships often flounder when the odds are so drastically stacked against them. Anger, desperation and tiredness take their toll.
New advances in medicine, a better understanding of the difficulties posed for these young people and a greater tolerance within society should have made it better for these parents and their offspring..... I guess it is a little too late for this particular group and they are often left feeling critisized and undervalued. They are often misunderstood by the very people who have born children with difficulties today.
Sometimes, doing the best for your child involves giving their care to another.
That someone, however much they come to love the child will always be one very tiny step distant and that, often is all it takes to enable effective help to be given.
Should we villify one mother and worship another.......?
It's a fantastic group who support each other through bad times with empathy, sympathy and practical advice and share their good times with humour and delight.
An exceptionally good carer, who looks after, on a daily basis a child with profound difficulties has had parts of their blog taken out of context and used by others, including the media to make points against the birth mother of the child and in particular her decision to give up her child for someone else to look after.
In fact they are two women who passionately care about the child and work together in friendship to do the best for the child.
I sincerely hope that others views will not poison this situation.
I also am close in friendship with the mother of a young person we have in our family. Together, despite the miles that are between our homes, we plan and work to enable the child to have the best of all worlds and to ensure he achieves the potential that is so clearly his to take.
This is not an exceptional situation but it is not necessarily the norm either.
The authority responsible for the child finds this state of affaires uncomfortable.
Perhaps they are uncomfortable because they are used to taking children into care and out of neglect and abuse and defacto see parents in a negative way, somehow lacking and semi-bad.
They see themselves as good and using their power to help.
Parents can sometimes fight hard and dirty for the care of their children, often feeling that their only option is to threaten. This all acts in a way which emphasises the good /bad discourse which often spill into actions.
The mother of the young child in our care has always worked quietly with the services for herself and her child. She is intelligent and articulate and with help has managed to find advocates when her voice was frail and weak. She has managed, with smiles and a quiet voice to hold firmly to the remnants of her bond with her child and stoically travel, weekly, the many miles put in her way with the purpose of deterring her.
It is easy to villify others in pursuit of personal ideals and beliefs than to way up the difficult descisions that others have been forced to make and understand compassionately the emotional complexity and roller coaster associated with making those descisions.
In a previous existence i have worked with adults who have learning difficulties providing community care and respite.
I have seen parents battle on well into old age with their offspring needing constant care, love and attention. Often they have done this with very little support and advice. They have put their lives and work into the twilight zone of limbo and poverty. Family relationships often flounder when the odds are so drastically stacked against them. Anger, desperation and tiredness take their toll.
New advances in medicine, a better understanding of the difficulties posed for these young people and a greater tolerance within society should have made it better for these parents and their offspring..... I guess it is a little too late for this particular group and they are often left feeling critisized and undervalued. They are often misunderstood by the very people who have born children with difficulties today.
Sometimes, doing the best for your child involves giving their care to another.
That someone, however much they come to love the child will always be one very tiny step distant and that, often is all it takes to enable effective help to be given.
Should we villify one mother and worship another.......?
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