Part 2

From the Archive (post watershed)

For my birthday Justin collected a range of pictures from friends and family which chronicled my advancing years including some scientific blips and fashion fatalities. He then published them in a wonderful bound edition for me. Here, for you, are a selection of some of my previously unpublished early years glamour shots which escaped the censor's knife. Watch this space for the bouffant teen years coming soon!

Sitting with Mum

I was in Leamington between Friday 20th and Tuesday 24th February, visiting mum and dad not knowing how long mum would be with us, but never thinking it would only be 2 days after I left to come back to London that she would die! Whilst I was sitting with Zena I made a few jottings.

Very interesting and very powerful to be sat with Zena when dad came in. To see the strength of their bond and the uncertainty of its physical longevity was extremely moving. Dad sat quietly, I think he might have been praying.

She is very yellow and raspy of breath.

I wonder whether she’d rather we all left her alone?

So much changes in a week, and even yesterday she spoke a little. ‘Hello Gorgeous’ she said to Joe as he entered the room – must have thought it was me:)

She signalled earlier to be moved and asked if she could skip and whether I’d set up her skillet for her. Having no idea what she meant I said that I would.

Everything is so different in a week and what a difference even a day makes.

Mary is like a balm Joe says; soothing everything and soothing all.

Laura may stay over; all of us will be here then.

I thought just I would be here this weekend and we all ended up here, like we are drawn by a star. 5 less than wise men. The star is fading and that is the draw.

Joe decided to come at 12.40 am. When he got here he sat with Zena until 5. The woman who is here during the night between 10 and 7 to sit with Zena, must have wondered why she was there as well as him. She was asleep every time he passed her on the landing.

Zena has a nurse (carer) 3 times a day now, a hospital bed. At every turn there is something new. Everything is happening so quickly. Each time I call or ask Joe for an update there is something new, some new routine, something changed, always something to report.

Chatted with dad about when he was a junior doctor working with the community midwife. He had to ride a bike with all the equipment on the back and the midwife would go so fast, and his bike was so heavy.

Mum’s breathing is very raspy now – stopped for a minute again just now – I thought it was her time.

I’m quite used to looking at her now, so even though she is concentration camp like it seems normal(ish), just asleep.

She is very yellow, her liver, and skinny and emaciated. She can’t get up, although I think she could last weeks.

Someone has stitched up her headscarf as it is now a permo feature. Her wig sits proudly on the other side of the room.

I’m not sure about this vigil, but it may be helping, although I’m sure it’s not helping her much. But if she wakes and wants something then that makes it a useful pastime.

Nan has gone very stressed out – Mary thinks there is a symbiotic link between mother and daughter. It’ll be the first ‘connection’ in a while. Mum hasn’t been able to cope with Nan going a bit ‘old’. I wonder how she thinks we’ll cope with her version.

Luckily at an early age I cemented an agreement with my mother that I’d never have to wipe her bottom.

3 weeks ago we were discussing dad having a sitter for one or 2 afternoons a weeks. Now every night and a nurse 3 times a day. What will it be like next week? Dad is administering the morphine otherwise she’d have to go into a hospice perhaps.

Sitting here with her I feel a little calmer than sitting at home thinking about her or being at work and worrying about her.

I have been so surprised by how sad her illness and potential passing has made me. It has crept up on me and given me a big shock.

Such a strong woman, now so weak. Too feeble to speak, in fact too sedated to speak, so no chance of her being able to moan or be rude. Mary said that she did say thank you to the nurse this morning.

It is strange the two Wards at different ends of the house. Joe wants to open a hospital and put them both in and call it the Ward ward.

The night sitter told Mary last night that Zena had 3 days left!

It’s getting dark. This used to be my room, and before that Joe’s.

Mum asked what time I got off duty. This is not the morphine as she hasn't had any today. She asked whether we had all got to know each other.

I think mum is seeing spirits! – Call Yvette Fielding.

Fabulous at Forty

Well I survived and plenty of fun was had. A really enjoyable evening with a few lovely people, a wonderful day and night away with Justin in Oxford staying at a fantastic hotel called the Old Parsonage, and a new toaster! Don't ask me why but I've fancied a 4 slice chrome Dualit toaster for years, and I thought my fortieth was the ideal time to ask for one, and my siblings came up trumps and did me proud. I received many other wonderful gifts. One of Justin's gifts is a balloon ride over London which I can't wait to go on later in the year. Me scared? - never.

Another gift was the 1963 civil defence handbook 'advising the householder on protection against nuclear attack'. So I must go and fill as many boxes and bags as I can with earth, paint all the windows white and take down a couple of doors. Wish me luck.

Before I go a wonderful quote from one of my birthday cards, attributed to the actor Richard Harris. 'I'm a member of a new group called alcoholics unanimous. If you don't feel like a drink, you ring another member and they come over to persuade you'

On the Turn

I'm sure the last time I looked I was about 28 in years and waist, but no, I am mistaken because the strangest thing is happening - I'm turning 40. I know what you're thinking, and yes I do only look about 17 (stone maybe).

Just to be on the safe side I have just dug out my birth certificate. Ivy Ollett registrar of births and deaths confirms that i was born in the district of Warwick and Leamington on seventeen April 1969 - so it must be true. Actually I know a bit more detail than that. Going through mum's things recently I came across a whole lot of stuff from the olden days; things we had done at school, mother's day cards we had sent her, a very sweet bidding prayer I wrote at primary school about being nice to disabled people 'the disabled', but also the card they gave her recording my birth details.

So legend would have it that I was born at 9.23 am and weighed in at a middling 7lbs and 3ozs. My blood group is A rh + and I am male. So i think based on that, and the certificate, we can safely say that the day after tomorrow I will be forty!

So what now? Well aren't you supposed to have a mid life crisis? I do have a mini crisis every night trying to choose the next bottle from the cellar - does that count? Or I think you can buy a sports car or run off with a blond girl in a yellow bikini. Now I could manage the sports car at a push but the others - well if you don't mind, I'll pass.

But I think evaluation and thinking through are good, and what with mum passing as well there is plenty of scope for using the time wisely, as we should all do from time to time, to sit down and think. I'm hoping if I think hard enough I'll wake up retired in a big house on the Cornish coast.

I've asked mum to try and send me a Golf for my birthday. We think it was her who made social services up what they are giving towards my Gran's nursing home place, so she's obviously got influence in high places. I bet they have good antiques in heaven. I think I need a car more suited to my age and style, something that will take some furniture in the back, and overtake at excessive speeds.

Actually I'm looking forward to my middle class middle age - I think it will suit me well.

TTFN

WHGG x

Just for the Listening

Don't say I never give you anything! And if you like why not go and give War Child a couple of quid.

http://www.warchild.org.uk/donate/single_donation

Miss Brahms

I don't know about you but Wendy Richards had always got right up my nose. But as always I stand to be corrected. I was shocked when she passed away recently, I suppose she had been through some of the similar stuff to Zena. Anyway this documentary may soften her in your eyes as it did with me.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00jcrz7/Wendy_Richard_To_Tell_You_the_Truth/

Surfing the blogs

Today I have been assigned to lazy duties. It is about all I am fit for at the mo although it did successfully involve buying a new white shirt, buying some nice things for tea from M&S, putting fresh bed linen on, doing a load of washing, picking up my dry cleaning, discussing a shite deli in Dulwich Village with Trading Standards, eating quite a few jelly beans, taking delivery of a nice case of wine from Majestic and eating yet more jelly beans. I am resting in prep for my return to Leamington tomorrow for Zena's funeral on Friday.

Already it seems so strange. I spent a week with Dad up in Leamington, keeping him company, having a bit of a clear out of Zena's rubbish, not her things, just her rubbish, and doing a range of other low level supportive tasks. It was nice to spend such a long time in Leamington and reacquaint myself with the old place. I have suggested to Justin that we move there, as the sainsbury's is about twice the size, and it is easy to park everywhere!

This being a semi orphan though is taking me in many strange ways. Most of the time i feel OK, sad, strange, somewhat out of sorts, but OK, and then at the drop of a hat I am very sad. I am sure things will be like this for sometime, and I am dreading the funeral on Friday where there will be loads of people asking how I am and being very sorry and sad themselves etc. But I am looking forward to hearing lots of interesting stories about Zena and how her path crossed with a whole range of people. We shall see.

But anyway another reason for blogging is because my being lazy day has also involved surfing for the mad and the interesting on the interwap. I have come across a few good sites today which should produce a chuckle at least, and I hope they give you a laugh as they did me.

http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/

http://wonderfulcouponing.blogspot.com/

http://www.lovelylisting.com/

http://www.foundmagazine.com/

I have also added a range of the books I have read recently and can thoroughly recommend them all, so if you are looking for a read have a flick through my shelves for some literary inspiration.

Take care.

TTFN xx

Zena Godwin 8 April 1935 - 27 February 2009

Sadly my wonderful mother Zena died today. She had been living with cancer for some time, but since last Autumn it and her hadn't been getting on terribly well. She was comfortable at the end, at home and with lots of good care, love and attention from family, friends and the health and social care services.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Confessions of a speed junkie

Not only was I very good at stuffing my mouth with sweets whilst trying to act all nonchalant, but apparently I was also a speed and adrenalin junkie.

As some of you may know, England has been turned into a veritable winter wonderland today. No trains, no buses, just lots and lots of people who couldn't get into work throwing snowballs at each other in the street. The snow is about 5 inches deep which is unprecedented in recent times, and certainly the deepest I can remember in London. The table in our garden this morning is reminiscent of an iced cake!

It was whilst visiting the parents over the weekend and as the first snowflakes started to fall that I reminded my father of the sledge we had built (he had built) following the Blue Peter fact sheet. It was chuffing brilliant as I recall. Before global warming when we had good snow, deep and crisp and even, every winter there would be plenty of sledging opportunities across the hillocks of Leamington. Dad assures me that I always wanted to go very fast and over and over again! He then let slip that my addiction followed me through the seasons. Apparently when I was very small and we were 'a plage' I would demand that he walked into the sea with me on his shoulders; wanting to go ever deeper. He says he was often scared, I was never.

I then recalled making an entrance to one of my parents' ' Zena and Stan at Home' parties, by coming down the stairs on a tray. I remember the exhilaration of this great feat, and dad remembered that I could have killed myself. I further remembered that it took everyone's attention away from the curious rice salad my mother had prepared and their stranger drunken friends.

Oh sweet memories.

Keep warm.

Death In Leamington Spa

Bacon and Ethics

It is strange that after all these years of being a vegetarian (26) I still get asked, on a fairly regular basis, why. It's not done along the lines of -

'My mother made me a vegetarian'

'if I give her the wool, will she make me one?'

But it is surprising because I thought vegetarianism was so run of the mill and common place these days. Even the most ordinary restaurants will offer one veggie dish on their menu. Although saying that, some very good restaurants do seem to find it a bit of a challenge to provide even one mediocre offering, whilst their meat eating patrons are spoilt for choice with an extensive range of inventive and flavoursome culinary delights.

However I'll leave my 'how to easily provide wonderful vegetarian options and what vegetarians really want to eat' seminar until another day. In fact if you want my short and concise fact sheet on the subject just send a S.A.E to the usual address.

Back to the question - 'So why are you a vegetarian?' It often comes with intense interest as if I have just come out as being Jedi, or am in fact the first, and only, vegetarian in the village. I usually trot out the same sort of thing, about welfare and the abundance of other foodstuffs and my unwillingness for anything to be reared simply to be killed for my plate.

But every now and then something hits me between the eyes as the perfect answer to the age old question. Something so crystal clear that I would never be able to offer such simple clarity to the enquiring questioner.

So today, my meat eating chums, I would like to offer, in answer to the question, an excellent article by Jon Henley from today's Guardian. I do hope that you read it - and I'd be very interested to have your thoughts.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2009/jan/06/animal-welfare-food-bacon

Happy Eating!

In the bleak mid winter

What is it with workmen? Why do they have to leave the front door open, just because they are going to their van from time to time? Is it that hard to operate a Yale latch system? Maybe they are more the Harvard types, but that’s enough of my ludicrously sharp wit.

I shouldn’t really be being funny as it’s actually too cold. Surveys have shown that exuding an unnecessary torrent of continual high quality intelligent banter can, in the wrong circumstances, lower the body’s temperature by up to 3°.

So why am I so cold? Well firstly it is winter and the sun hasn’t come out yet, and secondly because my very ancient and never knowingly efficient central heating is in the process of being upgraded to a modern, state of the art, A rated, fully programmable, microprocessor included, thoroughly flushed heating super system! (Do you think I should copyright that?)

New boiler, new pipe work, new radiators, new thermostats, new wireless controls, all very modern. But what an effing ada of a palaver.

It all seemed so simple to start with, British Gas came round to give me my bench mark quote, and when I had managed to pick myself off the floor, and make my way to the chair, had two sherries and a cold compress, I got someone else to come and do it for a lot less money.

Yes of course it will fit in the toilet, not a problem, yes there is plenty of room, yes a perfect choice, suits you sir! Let me just write this up and I’ll send the paperwork through to head office. You want the work done on 20th and 21st of October, our pleasure sir, a very quick job indeed; they’ll be in and out.

The various bits of paper I have been sent since, talk about dust sheets, tool boxes with rubber bottoms, engineers bringing their own flasks of tea so you don’t have to worry about that etc etc etc. So really I could have left them the key and they’d have just got on with it.

Not likely. Firstly it wouldn’t fit in the loo, so now it is in an alcove in the bedroom, which I think will be good, but I didn't want it there. The key issue was to have it moved from a very handy cupboard in the bedroom to make way for further storage space. They are now on day four of their two day job. Tuesday, day two, was peppered with some stern words to 'customer service' which resulted in an extra engineer coming yesterday ‘to ensure the job got completed’. Much action did take place yesterday, but it is still not finished. But I’m hopeful about having the place warm by Christmas. The problem is they are contracted from Ipswich, and don’t get here until 11.00 and leave at 3.00, with 3 hours driving either side. Today is their last day or I’ll poo in their van!

The electrician is here at the moment. He is very dedicated to his job but when I foolishly asked him what bonding the earth meant (not just randomly, he had told me he was about to ensure the earth was bonded), I got 12 minutes on the history of electrical regulations for homes. Apparently edition 15 of the Institute of Electrical Engineers Wiring Regulations was very different to edition 17 published this September. Now back in the fifties you could put a live wire by a warming kettle, but in ’74 they decided that before you could use a hairdryer it was necessary for everyone in the room to stand behind a rubberised fire grate. And so he went on. It was at this point that I realised that he probably didn’t have a girlfriend. ‘How interesting’ I announced. ‘It’s like the DoH and their guidance on red wine, always changing!’ (institute of wine drinkers miss your limits regulations 1969 – 2008).

I better crack on. Dumb and Dumber will be here soon to flush my system and make good my walls. I’m starting to worry that they’ll have to come every day forever and I’ll never be warm, and everything that should be in the bedroom will be in a big pile in the middle of the sitting room, and that I will forever be breathing in brick dust and boiling pans of water on t’hob.