2012 in a Nutshell

I’ve looked at the stats. As a blogging year goes, it appears my figures did not light up the firmament. There were no blinding flashes as my brilliance/scorching wit/profuse postings landed in the inboxes of my millions of eagerly awaiting followers. In fact – this was not a year of jam-packed catchy or philosophical dispatches. From the evidence of WordPress stats ‘monkeys’ it appears that I’ve only been awake for a very small part of this year. I have been too idle to comment on happenings in the wider world. The Olympics seem to have left me cold. The paralypics have gone by unobserved. And Rory McIlroys’ truimph (Where was that again??) was only golf. Not worth getting out of bed to watch. The figures portray me as a misanthrope.

And yet….and yet…

I have actually been active at different times over the course of the year. Not that you are all that interested. Buuuutttt – and this is the beauty of blogging – I could have pulled at your heart strings, made you thrill at my exploits, made you shudder at my misadventures. I could have had some followers!!!! I could have raised my blogging profile. I could have been a blogging star of 2012!!!!

Instead – I devolved all of this responsibility onto that other, very deserving very radiant blogging virtuouso – Speccy at Me, Mine and Other Bits.

Well. Now I’m going to state my one and only New Year Resolution. I’m going to do better next year!!Watch out, blogging awards 2013!

Preparations….Underway….

Well it’s fairly final, if not yet confirmed. All of our sock shopping has been done for this trip. Who would ever have thought that a few days away in Cambodia would occasion such specialized shopping opportunities?? Energy bars (probably enough to have fed Hannibal’s troops in their long trek through those snow capped mountains). Socks (chosen with the precision you’d expect of an Olympian rhythmic gymnastics training regime.) First aid kit to supply a small continent. Sun tan lotion/after sun lotion/mossi spray/mossie net/mossie plug-ins (the optimist always sees a need for electrical devices!). Apart from the common, everyday toiletries, hair products, shower goods. Walking poles. Walking boots.

Still to get the extra camera battery. Phone battery? (Do they sell these separately? Should I perhaps have been considering these earlier??)

Choose clothes. Wash clothes. Whittle down clothes choice. Take new luggage out of bag it arrived in (online is sooo wonderful!!).

Gather gear all around. Pack!!! Aaawwww – are there enough energy bars?? They probably won’t sell them over there!

OMG – I feel exhausted already! And still another two days worrying about whether I’ll be able to shift all this gear once it’s finally, (probably irrevocably!) squeezed into this super-duper lightweight (!) wheelable transport system. Well – the description online just about stopped itself short of that term! Anyway – a transport system is clearly what I need to transport what is starting to look alarmingly like all my worldly possessions!

Perhaps it would have just been easier to hire a winnebago for the few days??

Musings on Stage Two

We don’t know what lies ahead. Perhaps that’s for the best. Whatever happens will be vagrant, will come as epiphany. Or an earthquake. In our own universe.

We shake. We tremble. We look around for the familiar signposts, those intimate markers of our accustomed routines. And we remember that they are dislocated, ever so slightly. Nothing remarkable to those on the outside. Presaging metamorphosis – decline – to soul-mates and confidantes. Preceding anxiety, night watches, furtive monitoring. Thinking the worst, planning for the best. It’s not how it should be.

No. We should be taking our time, not jumping to conclusions. We should not be planning to restrict but rather to push the boundaries, to confound the forecasts. To think positively. To act normally. To play to the abilities rather than the limitations.

For this is the start of a long path. A long journey is ahead and only the first, very tiny step has been taken. A blindfold has been removed  – a eureka moment has occurred. I’ve been given a by-ball until now. I’m wracked with guilt about what I should have been doing, what I ought to do, what I need to do, what I can do. Whatever way the earth settles, the die has been cast. And things change from here.

Stage Two

Life has moved on from yesterday. There has been a slight tilt to my world and previous, precious, perspectives are askew. Change, which has been creeping slowly, undemandingly, unacknowledged, has screamed from across the realm, shaking me into the present, the future. Swallowing up and spitting out the nonchalence of my cosy, self indulgent cosmos. 

Nothing bizarre has happened. There were no births marriages or deaths within my family circle. Nothing occurred which would be unfamiliar to many fellow bloggers. Some of whom have had to travel much further along the path upon which my family has just embarked.

Last night I was confronted with clear, undeniable, evidence of the deterioration of a loved one’s health. Although we have made some superficial allowances for minor frailty over the past year, the impact on lifestyle has been downplayed. My universe has not been inconvenienced. The implications of the aging process have been purely academic. I don’t have to witness the daily adjustments.

But yesterday my mother disclosed that my father had had a ‘wee turn’. His words were jumbled. His movements were uncontrolled. It was 10.30 in the evening. They were alone. He was frightened. She was frightened. He had his first TIA. Since it, he has been very shaky, unsteady on his feet. Uncertain of himself, feeling loss of confidence. He foresees his future – dependant, housebound, ill. He’s distressed and anxious lest the next time damage is more profound.

Today I’m at the start of the process described so scorchingly by many of you. The sweep of repercussions this will have, the claims on time. I’m recognizing, initially,  how blase I have been in responding to existing signs of debility – affording an aging mother little respite from the burden of her current caring role. And the added imperative to offer support sensitively, possibly covertly.

This is a path well trod by those of you living amidst chronic illness. By those of you who have already had to accept the compromises brought by health impairment. For me – it’s the next stage. Pay back time for care selflessly given. Face to face with the reality of aging and the descent into infirmity.

Not Another Countdown….

Well, I’m back to the grindstome today. But – as I mentioned to those around me (and I mean ALL those around!!) in two weeks timeI’ll be heading off to Cambodia~!!!!

Now. As everyone knows, I’m reluctant to start into juvenile behaviour like countdowns. I’m far too sensible, adult, responsible to indulge in such frippery. Besides, it never works out. They are the definition of the harbingers of doom. They challenge plans to explode.

Or am I sounding paranoid? Do such scruples sound more like baited breath?

Just this once, for today only and only in the forum of this blog – I can’t wait!!!  We’ve only the vaguest of plans for the period beyond the scheduled trek – ie – that we’ll be staying for a further week. We sort of figure we’ll head down to catch a glimpse of Pnomn Penn. and perhaps we’ll get around to checking out the Foreign Correspondents club, which others who have visited  that far off land report to be unmissable. Or we may get to the shooting range featured on a Sky travel programme this week, which allowed punters to shoot whatever weapon they could name or afford. (Extemes?? They don’t matter to intrepid travellers like us!)

Or maybe  the trek will propel us into our lifelong mystical, spiritual search and we will spend the following week on a reverential odyssey, a sacred pilgrimage around the ancient temples of that inspirational font of devotion. Shangri-La lies ahead of us.

Maybe we will even just find that the beaches are good, the weather hot, the  markets cheap and the local fire water invigorating!

Whatever. I don’t care. Actually I don’t even care if it rains. (Yes – even if it rains!!!!!. Are you getting a hint of my excitement, anticipation, joy at being on leave from that daily grind???)

And with that in mind – did I tell you I’m going away in two weeks time????

A Good Work Ethic

I’m at home today. Working. Really. I’ve brought the new dongley/crypto card thing so that I can logon and access my work documents. From the comfort of my own home. How wonderful is that??? No long journey in rush hour traffic. No radio news. No road rage/traffic jams/road works. This is clearly the pinnacle of human endeavour – to allow not just those top cats, the organ grinders, but us lowly monkeys, to work from home (using our own heating/lighting/electric, working well into our own time, beyond those 8 daylight hours poorly bought and paid for by my own dear employer). And to gain from us (me) our (my) unconditional gratitude!!!

So.

9.15.  (A little late, but – well, the time will be made up by no morning coffee/lunch/afternoon tea/chat breaks during the day) Here’s the laptop. Retrieved. Turned on.

9.20 . Here are the instructions. (Carefully printed out yesterday. Five A4 sides of them!) Quick read through….Longer read through. Did I print out the English language version of these anywhere??? (Am starting to foresee some difficulties with this endeavour….)

9.40. Here’s the email, forwarded home as added insurance. (Luckily – the elink is needed, not just the instructions!)

9.45. And here are all the passwords/codes/usernames (all of which should surely allow me to send a rocket to the moon!

And – here are all the paper files which need to be electronically updated/completed (a full environmentally friendly, re-useable, hessian Tesco bag of them!!). Clearly working from home speeds everything up – this lot would normally take me ten days of full on, intensive working!!! But today – today is going to be turbo-charged!!! I’m bubbling, sparkling, rarin’ to go! I’m not going to lift my head. (No checking my home emails. No internet shopping. No checking out blogs. Just because I’m home doesn’t mean I’m in fun mode!!)

So – here goes.

9.46. Click the link. Enter username. User password. So far, so good. Crypto password. (Crypto password???? I’m drowning already!!). Oh – here it is -front of dongle. Pincode.  Pincode? Front of dongle box. User pincode. Where’s that?? Back to email. Back of dongle. System number. Now – where on earth... Oh – on the email.  Finally. Every possible code entered.  (All this techno-babble is no challenge to me, a woman of my skill, intellect, etc). Click log on.

10.00. Log on not recognized. Contact IT systems manager. Not Recognized???? After all that??? And – the only number/name/code I don’t have is the IT systems manager????

What am I going to do with all these files now??

But – is it the remote access work system which has its limitations or the remote access worker????? Second thoughts – it’s definitely the system. After all – I followed all the instructions, didn’t I???

Saturday Night Line -Up

Now I’m not just writing this because Speccy has drawn attention to the imminence of the Blog Awards Ireland event and the voting which is now underway. In fact, has been ongoing for a couple of weeks, already (perhaps if I had had a gameplan I could have voted zillions of times for myself and made it look as though I had some followers outside my family!)

No, I’m writing because tonight is Saturday night. X-Factor is on TV. I’d really rather count the slugs in the garden than watch the antics of judges and hopefuls alike. But it’s dark now and the slugs are blending too well with their surroundings to be counted. (OMG – it sounds sooooo miserable to be confessing here that I am planning to be sitting in on Bank Holiday Saturday night!!)  I saw some of the ‘highlights’ of last weeks’ show and realized again that car crash TV taints the viewer as much as the participant. (OMG again – there I was – home early enough to be watching TV last Saturday night as well!! Note to self – GET A LIFE!!!)

This is not to suggest that I’m against shows which can nurture talent or offer support to those willing to follow their dreams. But it does seem that this show lays heavy emphasis on exploiting disappointment, delusion, human deficiency, for their ratings value, for their entertainment value. As I say – car crash TV.

At times it can certainly be compulsive viewing. Squirm making, but hard to turn away from. But there comes a time in one’s life when one has to say – “Louie/Gary – you are talent show judges – not presidents of autonomous fiefdoms. Don’t be so breathtakingly pretentious and patronizing to everyone!!!” And while you’re changing that habit of a lifetime – show us more/longer clips from the good competitors – they deserve it.

One law for Jordanians….

So. The king of Jordan has bailed out sexual predators/paedophiles visiting Northern Ireland as paralympians from his country. And Northern Ireland justice has been trampled into the dust in order to avoid further embarrassment to this mighty ruler.

Children in Antrim have been subjected to sexual abuse from three male Jordanians yet we, in Northern Ireland have allowed them to think their pain is inconsequential in comparison to the inconvenience which may be caused to paralympian schedules or competition.

Such behaviour may be commonplace in Jordan. Jordanian men may well be excused any type of sexually abusive behaviour – I am unversed in the practices or mores of that particular country – what I do know is that we, in Northern Ireland, expect our police service to treat such offenders with the full rigour of the law. To ensure that, once apprehended, they are brought before a Court of Law from whence they can be appropriately detained for the protection of all Northern Ireland citizens.

So the King of jordan has posted £5000 bail. Perhaps I am an irretrievable cynic. But it occures to me that the King of Jordan could well afford to lose £15000. And – will Northern Ireland have the nerve to hold the head of state to account should these men default?

And equally importantly - how robust will reporting conditions be for these men? 

These men have violated the hospitality this country has afforded their team. They have thumbed their noses at the laws of this land. They have disgraced both their country and the paralympic movement. It would be utterly scandalous – and an insult to their victims –  if they were permitted to compete alongside committed athletes. 

The Future

Ok, I get it. Yesterdays’ post was a rant. nobody wanted to read it. An object lesson for one in competition for NI blogger of the year. Not that I expect to be within shouting distance of that – but it makes one feel bad to think that ones’ choice of subject matter can. as Mr WB Yeats would say, ‘maim us from the start’.

So today I’m taking a different approach. I’m going for the feelgood factor. So. Guess what? We are welcoming another new born baby into the family today. (Well, at this point, actually, it was yesterday!) Relative to the mother of said child, our new relation is of giant proportions. Nine pounds thirteen ounces. Big in anyone’s book, he’s approaching the total weight of his two older brothers.

Now, this is a baby which was expected two weeks ago. So – what does that tell us? That he’s an individual? That he’s not going to be rushed? That he will not conform to expectations?

Whatever his agenda, we’re all thrilled. He looks good, healthy, half grown and ready for his first barbers’ appointment! For those of you who may be interested, his mother is recovering from the shock of giving birth to a child which is almost half her body weight! And we’re all looking forward to welcoming him to the Big Big Booksale (with Cakes)  – (those of you accessing Facebook will know we have organized this for Sat 26th May 2012 in aid of Marie Curie Cancer Care at the Black Box in Hill Street. Have to plug it wherever I can!!!)

So. Now you know. This is grandchild number five for us. All boys. (Probably just as well, at this stage – so much handier for recycling of clothes!)

Child Protection is everyone’s business. A rant.

So I’ve read, marked, learned and inwardly digested (as the boss used to intone in school assembly prayers). And still some of the news reports from yesterday are totally bewildering. Not because of the intellectual content (although some of that was pretty challenging). Rather for the evidence of the sheer callousness one person can show against another. The utter detachment from emotion. The rupture between the self and society. The manifestation of depravity. The revelation of casuistry.

Yes, I’ve looked again at the reports of the child trafficking/grooming, the cruelty of one mother against her children, the sophistry of Cardinal Sean Brady.

And I see anew why children must always be listened to when they report their hurt. I fear how easily indifferent people could dismiss their pleas. I can imagine the motives lurking beneath the submergence of uncomfortable information. And yesterdays’ news of aggregated malevolence only hinted at  the whirlwind, life-changing destruction to so many children of well meaning people passing by.