BITS AND PIECES - A STORIES AND POEMS BLOG
I grew up in a small 1950s mid terrace. Out front a handkerchief law and prissy wee privet. The back garden was much bigger. Narrow, but maybe 12 metres long, split into 2 about two thirds of the way down by a tall wooden fence. Originally the area nearest the house was grass, but early in my childhood the builders came round, stuck a new room on the back and paved over the green. I can't recall what the further end looked like, apart from the permanent presence of a shed.
Always looking for ways to save money, my dad honed his DIY skills over the years. That new build on the back would eventually be fitted out as a dining room, although it took a couple of years to get it all done. Meanwhile the modernisation of the garden meant digging up that lower section and bringing in a pile of paving slabs of various shades, some cement and a sledgehammer. Multi coloured crazy paving was the objective, somewhere to hand out the washing away from the house.
Progress was slow. To be fair he worked shifts, there were always other demands on his time and Edinburgh weather no doubt played a role. But he was also a slow worker. Methodical he'd say, and the results justified the care he was taking. As it gradually emerged it looked pretty interesting, by sixties standards. It got to a point where over a third of the area had been covered and the rotary washing line could be put in place, so at least the area could be used for purpose. But then it all seemed to grind to a halt. Years later that space was part paving, part broken ground, and putting out and taking in the washing always had the thrill of knowing there was a potential ankle-turning moment lying in wait. Many, many years later the fence was taken down and the whole garden landscaped. The crazy paving never did get finished.
Over the last four and a bit decades I have, off and on - far more off than on - had periods of trying to write stories and poems and messing about with bits of fiction in my head. Be it nature or nurture we inherit certain characteristics from our parents. And I seem to have acquired that inability to see things through from my dad. There are notebooks and cardboard folders and files on my hard drive that are testament to that crazy paving. Ideas that never quite made it, poems that fritter out for want of an ending, stories that don't even make it to a middle. I'm rubbish at seeing them through.
Mostly. Along the way a few, a very few, have reach something I could regard as completion. Most are short (surprise, surprise), rarely more than a page or two. Most have sat unread by anyone but me, or perhaps one or two others, for many years. They aren't worth sharing the voices tell me.
But why not? The worst anyone can do is tell me they're awful, and that wouldn't come as a shock. Mostly they will get ignored, and that's fine too. But if even one of them brings out a smile, or an unexpected thought, in some random reader then there will have been a point to doing this. So Bits and Pieces is the repository of those few finished works. Only three to begin with, more to be added over time. Doing so might even motivate me to return to those crazy paving jobs and see if I can smash up a few more slabs, or come up with something new. I'll see what happens.
First up is a poem I wrote a few months ago when I was having one of those spells of trying to write. Nothing was working out so I began a verse about being unable to finish anything off and that was the one I found flowed out easily. Followed by another recent poem, one of those I mentioned before as having stalled. Unfortunately by the time I got around to polishing it up the political subject had already resigned from the post that gave her prominence. But it still feels worth sharing. And finally a very short sort-of story that came from real life.
Here's the links to the three posts :
The poem about being unable to write a poem
The already out of date political doggerel
The short short story
Thursday, 31 October 2019
Sunday, 27 October 2019
Mon the Boks
WHY I'M SUPPORTING THE BOKS ON SATURDAY
Back in the old, old days, before all seater sports stadiums became de rigeur, Murrayfield had a west stand, the other three sides being covered in terraces. The clock tower that now resides between the east stand and the turnstiles used to sit proudly atop the south terrace, long before there were digital displays. Officially the capacity was about eighty thousand, but because you could just turn up and buy a ticket on the day in 1975 the Five Nations tie against Wales was played in front of a sardine like one hundred and four thousand. At least you couldn't get cold. Internationals became all ticket after that...
At international matches the schoolboys (I say 'boys' because I can't recall any girls going, but could be wrong) seating, benches in front of the terracing and not far in from the east touchline. Close to the action. However for one game, in December '69, we were told to sit in the north end of that big stand, as a safety precaution. The opposition was the touring South African side, who were confronted with anti-apartheid protests at every point along their journey, and a few of these demos turned into scuffles, so it was thought best to protect us wee innocents.
Innocent? I was thirteen, so maybe I should have known better. But my parents never discussed politics, the subject wasn't raised at school, and ignorance is my only defence. It shames me now. This would be the last time the Springboks toured these islands until the nineties, although rugby as a sport was more culpable than many in maintaining contacts with their racist counterparts. Not a proud history.
The release of Mandela brought the beginning of an often painful transition that continues to this day. Scars like that take a long time to heal, and anything , however small, that can chivvy that process along, is to be encouraged. And that's why I'll be supporting the men in green next Saturday, as i did this morning.
When your own country's team finds itself on the plane home from a world cup you find yourself free to support whoever you wish, for whatever reasons work for you. With Scotland out early my inner francophile took over and I looked to France as 'my' team. That didn't last long. So when the final four became clear my allegiance switched to the Africans. Not because they play the most entertaining rugby (they certainly don't), not because they were favourites (they still aren't), and not because of any particular player I like (although Faf de Klerk is curiously watchable despite the constant box kicks). But because Siya Kolisi is captain.
South Africa have already won the World Cup twice, and those occasions did help bring the country together a fraction more each time. But this feels different. That world of '69 would be just that little bit further away if next Saturday sees the cup being lifted by the first black captain of his country's rugby team.
Of course my choice of finalists to support is made easier by the other participant. It's hard, culturally, not to subscribe to the The Lincoln Position (good ol' Abe).
Back in the old, old days, before all seater sports stadiums became de rigeur, Murrayfield had a west stand, the other three sides being covered in terraces. The clock tower that now resides between the east stand and the turnstiles used to sit proudly atop the south terrace, long before there were digital displays. Officially the capacity was about eighty thousand, but because you could just turn up and buy a ticket on the day in 1975 the Five Nations tie against Wales was played in front of a sardine like one hundred and four thousand. At least you couldn't get cold. Internationals became all ticket after that...
At international matches the schoolboys (I say 'boys' because I can't recall any girls going, but could be wrong) seating, benches in front of the terracing and not far in from the east touchline. Close to the action. However for one game, in December '69, we were told to sit in the north end of that big stand, as a safety precaution. The opposition was the touring South African side, who were confronted with anti-apartheid protests at every point along their journey, and a few of these demos turned into scuffles, so it was thought best to protect us wee innocents.
Innocent? I was thirteen, so maybe I should have known better. But my parents never discussed politics, the subject wasn't raised at school, and ignorance is my only defence. It shames me now. This would be the last time the Springboks toured these islands until the nineties, although rugby as a sport was more culpable than many in maintaining contacts with their racist counterparts. Not a proud history.
The release of Mandela brought the beginning of an often painful transition that continues to this day. Scars like that take a long time to heal, and anything , however small, that can chivvy that process along, is to be encouraged. And that's why I'll be supporting the men in green next Saturday, as i did this morning.
When your own country's team finds itself on the plane home from a world cup you find yourself free to support whoever you wish, for whatever reasons work for you. With Scotland out early my inner francophile took over and I looked to France as 'my' team. That didn't last long. So when the final four became clear my allegiance switched to the Africans. Not because they play the most entertaining rugby (they certainly don't), not because they were favourites (they still aren't), and not because of any particular player I like (although Faf de Klerk is curiously watchable despite the constant box kicks). But because Siya Kolisi is captain.
South Africa have already won the World Cup twice, and those occasions did help bring the country together a fraction more each time. But this feels different. That world of '69 would be just that little bit further away if next Saturday sees the cup being lifted by the first black captain of his country's rugby team.
Of course my choice of finalists to support is made easier by the other participant. It's hard, culturally, not to subscribe to the The Lincoln Position (good ol' Abe).
Sunday, 15 September 2019
Nae bad for an auld yin
ALL THE THREES
I'd have been annoyed with myself if it had taken over four hours. That was my published target for this year's slightly shortened Kiltwalk 'Big Stroll'. In my head I knew I wanted to break three hours and forty five minutes. I imagined myself doing a 3:42. That would be win for me.
Cue reality. Two practice walks ago, when I last tried a similar distance, it ended discouragingly badly. Partly redeemed by a more successful shorter walk last week. But the memory of that failed longer effort stayed in the back of my mind. So it was a relief/miracle/pleasure/palliative/comfort/bloody big surprise to find myself still making good time after the uphill section with only three miles to go. And a bit of a shock to find myself crossing the finish line three hours and thirty three minutes after leaving the start in Musselburgh. (Which is probably why I feel totally knackered now, as I write this seven hours later.)
It helped that the weather was a bit cooler than it's been this past week, and the wind a lot less obstructive. That I was able to find my own pace soon after the start and stuck with it. That I didn't stop walking the whole time except to get safely across the few roads placed in our path (aided by a fellow walker who held my backpack for a minute so I could take my sweater off without breaking stride, helpful friendly people these Kiltwalkers). Nor did I stop to take photos, so all I've got here is a shot of the crowd ahead of me at the start line.
I think I need my bed...
Meanwhile, if you are still considering donating for my efforts... here's a link to my Kiltwalk donations page.
I'd have been annoyed with myself if it had taken over four hours. That was my published target for this year's slightly shortened Kiltwalk 'Big Stroll'. In my head I knew I wanted to break three hours and forty five minutes. I imagined myself doing a 3:42. That would be win for me.
Cue reality. Two practice walks ago, when I last tried a similar distance, it ended discouragingly badly. Partly redeemed by a more successful shorter walk last week. But the memory of that failed longer effort stayed in the back of my mind. So it was a relief/miracle/pleasure/palliative/comfort/bloody big surprise to find myself still making good time after the uphill section with only three miles to go. And a bit of a shock to find myself crossing the finish line three hours and thirty three minutes after leaving the start in Musselburgh. (Which is probably why I feel totally knackered now, as I write this seven hours later.)
It helped that the weather was a bit cooler than it's been this past week, and the wind a lot less obstructive. That I was able to find my own pace soon after the start and stuck with it. That I didn't stop walking the whole time except to get safely across the few roads placed in our path (aided by a fellow walker who held my backpack for a minute so I could take my sweater off without breaking stride, helpful friendly people these Kiltwalkers). Nor did I stop to take photos, so all I've got here is a shot of the crowd ahead of me at the start line.
I think I need my bed...
Meanwhile, if you are still considering donating for my efforts... here's a link to my Kiltwalk donations page.
Friday, 13 September 2019
Walking, advocacy and kilts 13 (with added cat)
THESE BOOTS (AND KILT) ARE MADE FOR WALKING
As I type this there's little more than forty hours to go until I set off from Musselburgh, aiming to be in Murrayfield in under four hours and, the most important part of the proceedings, raise money for Advocard. If you'd like to donate please click on this link - it all goes to help providing a very valuable service to people who deserve to have their voices heard. While nowadays there's much greater awareness of the impact mental ill health has on people's lives, and wider recognition that it can happen to anyone, many still struggle to cope with the world of bureaucracy they have to negotiate. Dealing with the shambles that is the DWP is bad enough if you're healthy!
In the last couple of weeks I've had a mixed bag of Advocard appointments. A couple where the service user failed to show up (something I know to accept as part of the deal, no matter how frustrating it can be at times.); a home visit to a lovely couple, the woman having serious physical health issues as well as depression, who seemed please with the signposting we were able to provide for them; and a guy who I'll accompany to his PIP assessment next week. Home visits are not something we do often, requiring more time and manpower than an office based appointment, so we always want to be sure that the person really would struggle to get to the office. There was no doubt that this one was fully justified.
I've also been on a 2 day course to learn some suicide intervention skills. Over the years I've had several people opening up to me about having suicidal thoughts, so it's good to have some additional knowledge to help me deal with those situations. PIP assessors frequently ask if claimants have had suicidal thoughts, or made an attempt on their own life, and it's part of my role to prepare them for that line of questioning - never a pleasant bit of the job.
But back to my Kiltwalk preparations. Since my last post I've had two final training walks. The first of those, last week, was, I admit, discouraging. I walked along seafront from Musselburgh to Cramond, then inland to Craigleith. Fourteen miles, so a bit less than I'll be faced with on Sunday. And the worst struggle I think I've had since I began! I kept going for three and three quarter hours, but by the last 2 or 3 miles that's all it was - keeping going. My legs felt like they didn't want to be there, I almost gave up a couple of times (those buses looked so tempting...), and I got slower and slower. About the only encouragement was the fact I did keep going and resisted the temptation of several inviting looking benches. In my defence I was walking into a strong headwind for much of the way (the kilt is not the most aerodynamic of garments), and hadn't slept well. I need my excuses!
The final walk, two days ago, was shorter, about eight and half miles, and left me feeling a lot more positive again. A route I've done before, managed to knock off five minutes from my previous best despite kilt-unfriendly breezes, and feeling more than strong enough to carry on at the end. More the sort of encouragement I was looking for... Like Nancy Sinatra almost sang, these boots and kilt and made for walking.
There are four of us strolling out for Advocard on Sunday, in a team called The Devil's Advocates (sorry, best we could come up with). The others are doing the five mile walk from Gypsy Brae, so I'm hoping they will be forming a reception committee when I cross the line. If you happen to see any of the Kiltwalkers on Sunday look out for tee shirts with these logos front and back, do give them (us) a shout of encouragement.
The heading photo above was shot as a daft way to set up to my pathetic Nancy joke. It took a few goes to get it right. Someone else thought they should be in shot....
Zoe will not be taking part in Kiltwalk. She can't find a kilt to fit.
Oh, and here's that donations link again. Zoe wants you to give Advocard your money.
As I type this there's little more than forty hours to go until I set off from Musselburgh, aiming to be in Murrayfield in under four hours and, the most important part of the proceedings, raise money for Advocard. If you'd like to donate please click on this link - it all goes to help providing a very valuable service to people who deserve to have their voices heard. While nowadays there's much greater awareness of the impact mental ill health has on people's lives, and wider recognition that it can happen to anyone, many still struggle to cope with the world of bureaucracy they have to negotiate. Dealing with the shambles that is the DWP is bad enough if you're healthy!
In the last couple of weeks I've had a mixed bag of Advocard appointments. A couple where the service user failed to show up (something I know to accept as part of the deal, no matter how frustrating it can be at times.); a home visit to a lovely couple, the woman having serious physical health issues as well as depression, who seemed please with the signposting we were able to provide for them; and a guy who I'll accompany to his PIP assessment next week. Home visits are not something we do often, requiring more time and manpower than an office based appointment, so we always want to be sure that the person really would struggle to get to the office. There was no doubt that this one was fully justified.
I've also been on a 2 day course to learn some suicide intervention skills. Over the years I've had several people opening up to me about having suicidal thoughts, so it's good to have some additional knowledge to help me deal with those situations. PIP assessors frequently ask if claimants have had suicidal thoughts, or made an attempt on their own life, and it's part of my role to prepare them for that line of questioning - never a pleasant bit of the job.
But back to my Kiltwalk preparations. Since my last post I've had two final training walks. The first of those, last week, was, I admit, discouraging. I walked along seafront from Musselburgh to Cramond, then inland to Craigleith. Fourteen miles, so a bit less than I'll be faced with on Sunday. And the worst struggle I think I've had since I began! I kept going for three and three quarter hours, but by the last 2 or 3 miles that's all it was - keeping going. My legs felt like they didn't want to be there, I almost gave up a couple of times (those buses looked so tempting...), and I got slower and slower. About the only encouragement was the fact I did keep going and resisted the temptation of several inviting looking benches. In my defence I was walking into a strong headwind for much of the way (the kilt is not the most aerodynamic of garments), and hadn't slept well. I need my excuses!
The final walk, two days ago, was shorter, about eight and half miles, and left me feeling a lot more positive again. A route I've done before, managed to knock off five minutes from my previous best despite kilt-unfriendly breezes, and feeling more than strong enough to carry on at the end. More the sort of encouragement I was looking for... Like Nancy Sinatra almost sang, these boots and kilt and made for walking.
There are four of us strolling out for Advocard on Sunday, in a team called The Devil's Advocates (sorry, best we could come up with). The others are doing the five mile walk from Gypsy Brae, so I'm hoping they will be forming a reception committee when I cross the line. If you happen to see any of the Kiltwalkers on Sunday look out for tee shirts with these logos front and back, do give them (us) a shout of encouragement.
The heading photo above was shot as a daft way to set up to my pathetic Nancy joke. It took a few goes to get it right. Someone else thought they should be in shot....
Zoe will not be taking part in Kiltwalk. She can't find a kilt to fit.
Oh, and here's that donations link again. Zoe wants you to give Advocard your money.
Friday, 30 August 2019
Walking, advocacy and kilts 12
PUTTING IN THE MILES AND MINUTES
In the two weeks since my last update I've done another couple of practice walks and have, post-Fringe, started to get back into more advocacy work again. Only just a bit more than two weeks until the walk itself, and the emails from the Kiltwalk organisers are getting more frequent. Today's confirmed this will be the biggest event they've held in Edinburgh to date, with well over five thousand walkers taking part (that's a lot of tartan). And the entertainment at the finish line will be provided by The Red Hot Chilli Pipers. Another incentive, for me at least, to get over the line as soon as I can.
The first of those two walks was also the furthest distance i've attempted. Starting at the Fountainbridge Basin I walked along the Union Canal (I mean along the pathway alongside, I'm not the messiah) to Winchburgh, a little short of sixteen miles or around twenty five and half kilometres. Four hours and eleven minutes. Easy because it's all flat of course, and I felt fine afterwards. Nice route to walk with ever changing scenery, human and bird activity on the canal, and a sense (for a city boy) of being in the middle of nowhere.
This week I sought out the start point for the walk proper out in Musselburgh, down on a windy and cloudy seafront, and followed much of the route I'll be doing then, stopping at Silverknowes. About ten and a half miles, seventeen kilometres, in two and threequarter hours. Which bodes well for being able to do the full distance in under four hours. Walking into a high wind towards Gypsy Brae did threaten to expose more of me than the public might be ready for - yes, I was kilted, and will be for the remaining practice walks and, of course, the real thing on the fifteenth. Not sure if anyone on a Kiltwalk has been charged with indecent exposure yet?
The number of advocacy appointments I've managed to do recently has been hindered by no shows. An appointment is made, you turn up at the office and wait. And wait. And someone calls the person and gets no response or finds out they have forgotten and that leaves me to have a chat with whoever is around and then head back home. Occupational hazard. We often work with people who live very chaotic lives, who aren't able to remember things easily, who sometimes get confused. It's nobody's fault, but can be very frustrating. Less so for myself, who only lives a ten minute walk away from the office, but much more so for volunteers who've travelled half way across the city for that one appointment. C'est la vie.
Of those I did see the most interesting was another PIP assessment, another unnecessarily stressful experience for someone whose life is already a bit shit. The man I was with has suffered chronic depression for over twenty years. It's manageable with drugs, but he has very little quality of life. So it's not much help when the nurse doing the assessment is clearly well versed in physical health matters, and far less so when it comes to mental health. He got his point across eventually, but it was far harder than it should have been. The welfare system remains very poor at recognising just how debilitating mental illness can be.
It must be even worse for people who have to go through that experience without having anyone along to back them up, give them support. Which is why, once again, I'm asking, if you managed to read this far, to donate something to my fundraising efforts please. Advocard makes a difference.
You can click on this link to find my donations page.
In the two weeks since my last update I've done another couple of practice walks and have, post-Fringe, started to get back into more advocacy work again. Only just a bit more than two weeks until the walk itself, and the emails from the Kiltwalk organisers are getting more frequent. Today's confirmed this will be the biggest event they've held in Edinburgh to date, with well over five thousand walkers taking part (that's a lot of tartan). And the entertainment at the finish line will be provided by The Red Hot Chilli Pipers. Another incentive, for me at least, to get over the line as soon as I can.
The first of those two walks was also the furthest distance i've attempted. Starting at the Fountainbridge Basin I walked along the Union Canal (I mean along the pathway alongside, I'm not the messiah) to Winchburgh, a little short of sixteen miles or around twenty five and half kilometres. Four hours and eleven minutes. Easy because it's all flat of course, and I felt fine afterwards. Nice route to walk with ever changing scenery, human and bird activity on the canal, and a sense (for a city boy) of being in the middle of nowhere.
This week I sought out the start point for the walk proper out in Musselburgh, down on a windy and cloudy seafront, and followed much of the route I'll be doing then, stopping at Silverknowes. About ten and a half miles, seventeen kilometres, in two and threequarter hours. Which bodes well for being able to do the full distance in under four hours. Walking into a high wind towards Gypsy Brae did threaten to expose more of me than the public might be ready for - yes, I was kilted, and will be for the remaining practice walks and, of course, the real thing on the fifteenth. Not sure if anyone on a Kiltwalk has been charged with indecent exposure yet?
The number of advocacy appointments I've managed to do recently has been hindered by no shows. An appointment is made, you turn up at the office and wait. And wait. And someone calls the person and gets no response or finds out they have forgotten and that leaves me to have a chat with whoever is around and then head back home. Occupational hazard. We often work with people who live very chaotic lives, who aren't able to remember things easily, who sometimes get confused. It's nobody's fault, but can be very frustrating. Less so for myself, who only lives a ten minute walk away from the office, but much more so for volunteers who've travelled half way across the city for that one appointment. C'est la vie.
Of those I did see the most interesting was another PIP assessment, another unnecessarily stressful experience for someone whose life is already a bit shit. The man I was with has suffered chronic depression for over twenty years. It's manageable with drugs, but he has very little quality of life. So it's not much help when the nurse doing the assessment is clearly well versed in physical health matters, and far less so when it comes to mental health. He got his point across eventually, but it was far harder than it should have been. The welfare system remains very poor at recognising just how debilitating mental illness can be.
It must be even worse for people who have to go through that experience without having anyone along to back them up, give them support. Which is why, once again, I'm asking, if you managed to read this far, to donate something to my fundraising efforts please. Advocard makes a difference.
You can click on this link to find my donations page.
Wednesday, 14 August 2019
Walking, advocacy and kilts 11 (with added tartan)
REAL KILTWALKING
I haven't written one of these posts for a while, mostly because they were getting to be boringly repetitive. In the intervening weeks I've had four more walks, a couple of interesting advocacy appointments (fewer than usual with the Fringe being in town this month!) and an email from Kiltwalk that has meant a slight rethink to my planned target. Plus my training regime is getting help from mechanical failure...
Three of the walks took the same route I've done before, from home to the tram stop at Murrayfield Stadium, and that seems to have become my default 'short route'. It's good as it's mostly away from roads, follows the second part of the actual route I'll be doing on the day, and has a lengthy slope to climb. Each time I've managed to improve my time by a minute. Today, as the photo above suggests, I finally got the kilt out and wore that for the walk. No unexpected chafing, and it was good to feel the breeze round my nethers.
Last week's walk took the Water of Leith path again, from Balerno to Leith. And showed an improvement of ten minutes over my previous effort. Three hours and thirteen minutes to cover about twelve and a quarter miles. Last year the same walk usually got close to the four hour mark, so maybe I am a bit fitter this year?
That ties in with the news from Kiltwalk. They've moved the starting point forward, deeper into Musselburgh, so the total distance is now only fourteen and half miles. That makes a lot of sense. Last year the start line was only a hundred metres from a busy road to be crossed, then went into a single file section that caused a big bottleneck. This time the start is on a wider expanse, allowing people to find their own pace more quickly. But it does mean that my stated aim to complete the course in four and quarter hours is now meaningless. However that slight reduction in the distance to be covered, and the time I managed down the river last week, has me wondering if completing the walk in under four hours will be possible? So now my target - wind, rain, hail, snow and injuries permitting - is to beat four hours. Who'll give me extra money for the cause if I do it?
Speaking of which....
With little more than a month to go it's about time I started pestering people for cash. Who's going to be first to donate? Click on this sentence for the link to the donations page.
By way of incentive here's a bit about one of my recent experiences doing advocacy work. I was asked to accompany a woman to her Universal Credit assessment. She came from one a war torn country in Africa, and, although she spoke very good English, she was clearly very worried about the process. We met a few days before, and I took her through the kinds of information she might be asked to provide. It's an awkward situation, having to ask someone you've never met before for extremely personal information, and it never ceases to amaze me that people are willing to do so despite only meeting me ten minutes before. I always like to ensure I've asked someone all the worst questions they might face. Better to be prepared in this less stressful situation than to have it sprung on them during an interview that will do much to determine the quality of their lives.
But, for once, the assessment process itself proved less difficult than usual, largely down to a sympathetic and intelligent assessor. He concentrated on asking all about her physical disabilities (severe back pain meant she walked with crutches, and chronic incontinence is a constant worry for her), reckoning they were more than enough to demonstrate to the DWP that she was incapable of working. That spared her having to discuss her mental health issues, and we were out in about thirty minutes (most assessments seem to go on for more than an hour). So all credit to this particular assessor. I wish they were all like that.
As we left she still thanked me profusely, despite my having had very little to do during the assessment. I think it's just having someone there who's on your side that seems to make a big difference to people, especially those who have difficulties expressing themselves or react badly to stressful situations. Advocacy works. So give us your money!
PS I mentioned mechanical failure had proved to be a help to my walking preparations. We live on the fifth floor. The lift has been out of action for about three weeks now, and they can't get the necessary brake part. It looks like we may need a new lift, but we'll be lucky to have it by Xmas. Doing all those stairs a few times each day must be having some fitness benefits, eh? Even it is very slow progress. (This news may make anyone considering visiting us want to reconsider for a while!)
I haven't written one of these posts for a while, mostly because they were getting to be boringly repetitive. In the intervening weeks I've had four more walks, a couple of interesting advocacy appointments (fewer than usual with the Fringe being in town this month!) and an email from Kiltwalk that has meant a slight rethink to my planned target. Plus my training regime is getting help from mechanical failure...
Three of the walks took the same route I've done before, from home to the tram stop at Murrayfield Stadium, and that seems to have become my default 'short route'. It's good as it's mostly away from roads, follows the second part of the actual route I'll be doing on the day, and has a lengthy slope to climb. Each time I've managed to improve my time by a minute. Today, as the photo above suggests, I finally got the kilt out and wore that for the walk. No unexpected chafing, and it was good to feel the breeze round my nethers.
Last week's walk took the Water of Leith path again, from Balerno to Leith. And showed an improvement of ten minutes over my previous effort. Three hours and thirteen minutes to cover about twelve and a quarter miles. Last year the same walk usually got close to the four hour mark, so maybe I am a bit fitter this year?
That ties in with the news from Kiltwalk. They've moved the starting point forward, deeper into Musselburgh, so the total distance is now only fourteen and half miles. That makes a lot of sense. Last year the start line was only a hundred metres from a busy road to be crossed, then went into a single file section that caused a big bottleneck. This time the start is on a wider expanse, allowing people to find their own pace more quickly. But it does mean that my stated aim to complete the course in four and quarter hours is now meaningless. However that slight reduction in the distance to be covered, and the time I managed down the river last week, has me wondering if completing the walk in under four hours will be possible? So now my target - wind, rain, hail, snow and injuries permitting - is to beat four hours. Who'll give me extra money for the cause if I do it?
Speaking of which....
With little more than a month to go it's about time I started pestering people for cash. Who's going to be first to donate? Click on this sentence for the link to the donations page.
By way of incentive here's a bit about one of my recent experiences doing advocacy work. I was asked to accompany a woman to her Universal Credit assessment. She came from one a war torn country in Africa, and, although she spoke very good English, she was clearly very worried about the process. We met a few days before, and I took her through the kinds of information she might be asked to provide. It's an awkward situation, having to ask someone you've never met before for extremely personal information, and it never ceases to amaze me that people are willing to do so despite only meeting me ten minutes before. I always like to ensure I've asked someone all the worst questions they might face. Better to be prepared in this less stressful situation than to have it sprung on them during an interview that will do much to determine the quality of their lives.
But, for once, the assessment process itself proved less difficult than usual, largely down to a sympathetic and intelligent assessor. He concentrated on asking all about her physical disabilities (severe back pain meant she walked with crutches, and chronic incontinence is a constant worry for her), reckoning they were more than enough to demonstrate to the DWP that she was incapable of working. That spared her having to discuss her mental health issues, and we were out in about thirty minutes (most assessments seem to go on for more than an hour). So all credit to this particular assessor. I wish they were all like that.
As we left she still thanked me profusely, despite my having had very little to do during the assessment. I think it's just having someone there who's on your side that seems to make a big difference to people, especially those who have difficulties expressing themselves or react badly to stressful situations. Advocacy works. So give us your money!
PS I mentioned mechanical failure had proved to be a help to my walking preparations. We live on the fifth floor. The lift has been out of action for about three weeks now, and they can't get the necessary brake part. It looks like we may need a new lift, but we'll be lucky to have it by Xmas. Doing all those stairs a few times each day must be having some fitness benefits, eh? Even it is very slow progress. (This news may make anyone considering visiting us want to reconsider for a while!)
Friday, 19 July 2019
Pectus Excavatum
THAT'S ME!
I missed watching The Last Leg last night, the final episode of this series having gone out the previous Friday. One of the few programmes we have at the moment that's both extremely funny and delivers some much needed topical political satire (notably on brexshit). There will be a new series in the Autumn.
On the penultimate show of the recent series one of the presenters, Josh Widdecombe, was absent. He'd been taken into hospital to have his appendix removed. So, on his return, he jokingly claimed he was now as disabled as his co-hosts, Adam Hills and Alex Brooker. And I recalled that a series or so ago I'd had a look to see if Widdecombe did have any disabilities. The answer's no. But his Wikipedia entry mentions he has 'pectus excavatum'. Curious, I clicked on the link and up came a photograph of a male torso.
Hang on... that's me. Well, almost. My own indentation is nowhere near as severe as the one portrayed. But I've had this thing for 63 years and never knew it had a posh name. Many decades ago a doctor suggested I could undergo an op to have my chest bone moved in some way, but it seemed rather an extreme 'cure' for something that I hadn't really ever thought of as a problem.
It did get me laughed at at school, and I was sometimes called 'Biafra' in the changing rooms (you have to be a certain age to get that reference...). I was never much of a runner because my lung capacity is a bit reduced compared to normal (but it's not going to stop me from walking). And I was rushed into hospital once because my GP thought an x-ray showed my heart was enlarged - turns out it's just a bit squashed due to my peculiar shape.
So it's not a problem, not a worry, but now I know it's got a Latin name. Thanks Josh.
I missed watching The Last Leg last night, the final episode of this series having gone out the previous Friday. One of the few programmes we have at the moment that's both extremely funny and delivers some much needed topical political satire (notably on brexshit). There will be a new series in the Autumn.
On the penultimate show of the recent series one of the presenters, Josh Widdecombe, was absent. He'd been taken into hospital to have his appendix removed. So, on his return, he jokingly claimed he was now as disabled as his co-hosts, Adam Hills and Alex Brooker. And I recalled that a series or so ago I'd had a look to see if Widdecombe did have any disabilities. The answer's no. But his Wikipedia entry mentions he has 'pectus excavatum'. Curious, I clicked on the link and up came a photograph of a male torso.
Hang on... that's me. Well, almost. My own indentation is nowhere near as severe as the one portrayed. But I've had this thing for 63 years and never knew it had a posh name. Many decades ago a doctor suggested I could undergo an op to have my chest bone moved in some way, but it seemed rather an extreme 'cure' for something that I hadn't really ever thought of as a problem.
It did get me laughed at at school, and I was sometimes called 'Biafra' in the changing rooms (you have to be a certain age to get that reference...). I was never much of a runner because my lung capacity is a bit reduced compared to normal (but it's not going to stop me from walking). And I was rushed into hospital once because my GP thought an x-ray showed my heart was enlarged - turns out it's just a bit squashed due to my peculiar shape.
So it's not a problem, not a worry, but now I know it's got a Latin name. Thanks Josh.
Walking, advocacy and kilts 10
BEATING THE RAIN
As I type this I'm glad I got out reasonably early (by my standards) to do today's walk in the morning. It's chucking it down now.
Back to the route I took on walk 2 and walk 3, an easy eight and bit miles, but some gentle climbing involved. I knocked a few minutes of my previous time and felt I was still walking strongly at the end of it - as I should when the 'real' distance is going to be nearly double what I did today. I'm going to try to walk more frequently in the coming weeks - although once the Fringe starts...
When I got home there was a workman in giving us a quote, we got chatting about what I'd been doing and why, and he kindly offered to sponsor me. Which is what this is all about, raising money for an organisation that can be a positive benefit in the lives of people who have got used to being ignored. I haven't had any appointments this week (the volunteer coordinator is on leave, which gives you an idea of how under resourced Advocard is), but that won't stop me asking you to consider contributing something, anything, to the funds I'm trying to raise. You could even be the first to do so this year (at time of writing!).
Click on this link if you'd like to give.
As I type this I'm glad I got out reasonably early (by my standards) to do today's walk in the morning. It's chucking it down now.
Back to the route I took on walk 2 and walk 3, an easy eight and bit miles, but some gentle climbing involved. I knocked a few minutes of my previous time and felt I was still walking strongly at the end of it - as I should when the 'real' distance is going to be nearly double what I did today. I'm going to try to walk more frequently in the coming weeks - although once the Fringe starts...
When I got home there was a workman in giving us a quote, we got chatting about what I'd been doing and why, and he kindly offered to sponsor me. Which is what this is all about, raising money for an organisation that can be a positive benefit in the lives of people who have got used to being ignored. I haven't had any appointments this week (the volunteer coordinator is on leave, which gives you an idea of how under resourced Advocard is), but that won't stop me asking you to consider contributing something, anything, to the funds I'm trying to raise. You could even be the first to do so this year (at time of writing!).
Click on this link if you'd like to give.
Sunday, 14 July 2019
Walking, advocacy and kilts 9
AND STILL NO KILT?
Almost two weeks since my last walk, one that felt like I didn't want to be there. So it's a relief to be enjoying the experience again, as well as a sense that I'm improving. There are no photos from today's walk because there was no stopping, other than a brief comfort break. Today felt like a proper walking day.
I was back on the Water of Leith Walkway, from Balerno to Victoria Bridge, a bit over twelve miles. Within half a mile I knew today was very different from the last time, and this was going to be enjoyable. When I did this walk a few weeks ago it took a bit over three and half hours, at an average of 3.4mph. This time I knocked a further eleven minutes of that figure, now at 3.6mph - which is very close to what I need to do on the day. Albeit there'll another three and a bit miles to plod on through.
Best of all the clouds stayed overhead for most of the walk, so it never got too hot (by Edinburgh standards...). Sub-taps aff conditions. But still warm for kilt wearing. I'll have to get around to wearing it soon, to be used to it again. But some cooler weather would be nice. Please.
My only advocacy experience last week was accompanying a man to his dental appointment. he felt the dentist hadn't been listening about his dentures problems, but she happily gave him what he wanted on the day. One thing I really liked about this dental practice, and not something I've come across in any of the ones I've been a patient at - when he was laid back in the chair she put a big pair of dark glasses on him to stop the light being too bright for his eyes. Smart idea, as it can often be dazzling. Anyone else come across such a thing?
Almost two weeks since my last walk, one that felt like I didn't want to be there. So it's a relief to be enjoying the experience again, as well as a sense that I'm improving. There are no photos from today's walk because there was no stopping, other than a brief comfort break. Today felt like a proper walking day.
I was back on the Water of Leith Walkway, from Balerno to Victoria Bridge, a bit over twelve miles. Within half a mile I knew today was very different from the last time, and this was going to be enjoyable. When I did this walk a few weeks ago it took a bit over three and half hours, at an average of 3.4mph. This time I knocked a further eleven minutes of that figure, now at 3.6mph - which is very close to what I need to do on the day. Albeit there'll another three and a bit miles to plod on through.
Best of all the clouds stayed overhead for most of the walk, so it never got too hot (by Edinburgh standards...). Sub-taps aff conditions. But still warm for kilt wearing. I'll have to get around to wearing it soon, to be used to it again. But some cooler weather would be nice. Please.
My only advocacy experience last week was accompanying a man to his dental appointment. he felt the dentist hadn't been listening about his dentures problems, but she happily gave him what he wanted on the day. One thing I really liked about this dental practice, and not something I've come across in any of the ones I've been a patient at - when he was laid back in the chair she put a big pair of dark glasses on him to stop the light being too bright for his eyes. Smart idea, as it can often be dazzling. Anyone else come across such a thing?
Tuesday, 2 July 2019
Walking, advocacy and kilts 8
ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER
I've enjoyed my practice walks so far (with the obvious exception of last week!), and have felt comfortable with the distances I've walked. To the extent that, although I'm committed to the 15 mile distance this year, there's a part of my brain wondering if in 2020 I should attempt the longer distance of 25 miles, before I start to get too old to have a go. And then there are days like today, when the idea comes up and my brain just goes "Naaaawww".
Although my injuries from the fall last week were minor, there was a pain in my ribs stopped me from doing much exercise. Add in a mild summer cold and I wan't feeling my best. Ho hum, there will be days like that, and I'm pleased I still did the distance I was aiming for, albeit a lot more slowly than usual. I'd been to the Mail depot near Portobello to pick up a parcel, so I started the walk from there, along Seafield and the dock road to the river, then up the water of Leith Walkway to Murrayfield Stadium. With the odd detour along the way it was just a bit under ten miles. In a painfully slow three hours. At least I know I can do better. At least I did it.
The most exciting moment of the journey was having a wee Leith woman shout abuse at me. She and her pal were busy gabbing, left me little room on a narrow path, and out arms slightly bumped together. From her reaction you'd have thought I'd gone the full Mark Field! I walked on, leaving the swans to cope with the 'interesting' language.
More variety in my voluntary duties last week, with a guy who needs a referral to a psychologist, but feels he's being blocked. I made a phone call which may help. And there was another PIP assessment, rarely a cheerful assignment as the service user is so stressed by the proceedings. But, as is often the case, he felt he couldn't have got through it if he hadn't had someone along. It's nice to feel necessary sometimes.
Now I've made my commitment, and registered on the Kiltwalk site to do what they call The Big Stroll, which is the fifteen and half mile walk. A team has been set up called "The Devil's Advocates" and I'm hoping half a dozen colleagues will be joining me in it. We'll even have Advocard tee shirts made up - preferably in a colour that won't clash with my kilt!
This means, inevitably, that I'm going to have to start nagging people for money. Plenty of time for that yet, with well over two months into the day, but that does mean two months of nagging from me....
Here's a link to my page, and a few wee photos from yesterday's plod.
I've enjoyed my practice walks so far (with the obvious exception of last week!), and have felt comfortable with the distances I've walked. To the extent that, although I'm committed to the 15 mile distance this year, there's a part of my brain wondering if in 2020 I should attempt the longer distance of 25 miles, before I start to get too old to have a go. And then there are days like today, when the idea comes up and my brain just goes "Naaaawww".
Although my injuries from the fall last week were minor, there was a pain in my ribs stopped me from doing much exercise. Add in a mild summer cold and I wan't feeling my best. Ho hum, there will be days like that, and I'm pleased I still did the distance I was aiming for, albeit a lot more slowly than usual. I'd been to the Mail depot near Portobello to pick up a parcel, so I started the walk from there, along Seafield and the dock road to the river, then up the water of Leith Walkway to Murrayfield Stadium. With the odd detour along the way it was just a bit under ten miles. In a painfully slow three hours. At least I know I can do better. At least I did it.
The most exciting moment of the journey was having a wee Leith woman shout abuse at me. She and her pal were busy gabbing, left me little room on a narrow path, and out arms slightly bumped together. From her reaction you'd have thought I'd gone the full Mark Field! I walked on, leaving the swans to cope with the 'interesting' language.
More variety in my voluntary duties last week, with a guy who needs a referral to a psychologist, but feels he's being blocked. I made a phone call which may help. And there was another PIP assessment, rarely a cheerful assignment as the service user is so stressed by the proceedings. But, as is often the case, he felt he couldn't have got through it if he hadn't had someone along. It's nice to feel necessary sometimes.
Now I've made my commitment, and registered on the Kiltwalk site to do what they call The Big Stroll, which is the fifteen and half mile walk. A team has been set up called "The Devil's Advocates" and I'm hoping half a dozen colleagues will be joining me in it. We'll even have Advocard tee shirts made up - preferably in a colour that won't clash with my kilt!
This means, inevitably, that I'm going to have to start nagging people for money. Plenty of time for that yet, with well over two months into the day, but that does mean two months of nagging from me....
Here's a link to my page, and a few wee photos from yesterday's plod.
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