As anyone who knows me in person would probably verify, I am quite a patient man.
But you know, even I'm only human; and I'm getting seriously fed-up with Disclosure Scotland!
Having waited for word since last November, I rang their HR department in Glasgow to find out what the hold-up was and, as I expected, it was the ongoing lack of disclosure paperwork. There had been a slight query about my drving licence number, but they took the information over the phone, relayed it to Disclosure Scotland - who promised they'd phone me at the end of the week if there was any further news. To my amazement, they did precisely that, a week past Friday now, assuring me I'd have my disclosure "by the middle of the week".
I'm still waiting.
I mean - what exactly is it with those people? As far as I can work out, they just take as long as they take - because they can. Never mind my ongoing lack of occupation or life structure - or even the fact that the longer this goes on, the more likely I am to get depressed and not be able to do the job I've worked hard to get! And what about the employers? Surely it is a disincentive to them, to employ people who do not possess previous disclosure documentation (the existence of which makes a new application much quicker, as they only dig back to the date on the previous form)...
And you know the worst part of it? People keep asking if you're working yet - and you feel so stupid to tell them, no, you're still waiting for your disclosure to come through! I'm sure half of them must think I'm some master criminal with a dozen aliases - and most probably no job!!
Apparently, it takes longer if you've moved around a bit. People on the course who applied the same time as I did, who have only ever lived in Scotland, receieved theirs weeks ago. Alas, I am suffering because I lived in England for 25 years. It is after all only another part of the UK, which uses the same language, currency and communication systems - so you'd have thought they might have managed to speak to each other by now!
And spare a thought for John, who was also on my course. John used to be in the army, and has visited umpteen countries in consequence - and he's been told to expect to wait at least 3 months... I mean, hello - army - that's an official government entity with its own pretty robust security screening arrangements - why exactly do you need to mistrust their investigations - I don't think John was ever at Deepcut...
I wouldn't mind, but by the time I've done Enable's induction training, and am therefore available to start actually working, it'll be at least six months after the end of the last course - by which time I shall have forgotten half of that through lack of any opportunity to practically apply the theory - and that's a complete waste of other people's time and resources too.
Oh well... Rant over - for now!
Monday, 4 February 2008
Sunday, 3 February 2008
On the discovery trail
As I was free all day yesterday, and as the weather forecast suggested it might be mainly cold and dry with a bit of snow on the hills, the wee boy in me made an appearance, and demanded to be taken out in search of some of this white stuff!
I therefore got the first bus of the day from Edinburgh to Stirling, where I stopped for an hour's window shopping; and then a number 11 to Balfron, on which I was fortunate enough to get the front upstairs seat with its nice view ahead and tons of legroom! This is one of several interconnecting routes I'd wanted to do for many years - at one time they were all variations of Striling-Glasgow routes via balfron and various other combinations of places; but now most of them run between Stirling or Glasgow and Balfron only, where they connect with each other to permit through travel...
Stirling is a remarkably compact city, the western side of the castle being literally out in the country, and soon we were running along the A811, parallel to the former Forth & Clyde railway - the remains of which is clearly visible on the right-hand side. (Former railway spotting has long been a pastime of mine, as I am interested in railway history). The first deviation was in and out of Gargunnock - a village that an uncle of mine spends a great deal of time in (something to do with it being home of the girlfriend I think). But I could see why he likes it there, the village and its surroundings not being entirely dissimilar to Almondbank, where he himself grew up and lived until not too many years ago. There were also many potential walks in evidence - that's another of his passions. Not much is left of Gargunnock's railway station - on the right of the main road a few hundred yards before you turn left into the village proper; though as the foilage was at its annual lowest, it was possible to see mounds where platforms and loading bays may once have existed - it is over 40 years since the track was finally lifted, after all.
The next station - also to the right but a little further away astride what now seems to be a sawmill - seemed a little more complete and even sported what looked like a former signalbox! This might be a place to return in good weather for a bit of exploration on foot, I thought to myself. The village it served - Kippen, did not disappoint either. Slightly further off the road than Gargunnock - and up a rather steep hill (it is easy to see why motor buses managed to syphon passenger traffic away from the railway as early as 1933, when the passenger service ceased), Kippen is more substantial. Not so long ago it probably had several shops, more than one church and maybe even a secondary modern, as well as a primary school. With lots of attractive cottages and lofty hillside views, this is definitely somewhere to alight from the bus on a warmer day - and maybe catch the next one onwards.
Until now, the road is very flat, but as it begins to rise, a valley drops away to the right as you head west - and here road and former railway part company for a while. Passing Arnprior - one of those typically Scottish road junctions with a few houses and a redundant kirk that for some reason still gets called a village, and then Buchlyvie - a really rather attractive roadside village with a pharmacy occupying a former church building; the top of the hill is just reached when the bus turns left and, having negotiated some pretty steep, sharp bends that must make for some interesting driving on clear winter mornings, enters the large village (or is it a small town) of Balfron.
It's funny how you picture places you've never been in your mind. Knowing that it has a roughly triangular shape on the map and that it was slightly larger than most of the surrounding villages, a bus-interchange point and some considerable distance from its former railway station; I always imagined Balfron to be a pretty, chocolate-box concoction of single storey cottages opening onto a wide, flat main street, with the junctions of the two other roads forming the triangle round the village both visible from the bus terminus. I imagined a few discreet gift or maybe even tea shops occupying some of the roadside cottages in the vicinity...
Now don't get me wrong, Balfron is quite a pretty place - but isn't even vaguely as I imagined! Apart from a 1950s 'scheme' (that's council estate for those of you from south of the border) at the top of the village - which the bus enters briefly, the lengthy main street is on a steep gradient; and most of the buildings are two-storey - and not a few gaps are partially filled with light-industrial and other premises set back from the road! As I expected, there is evidence of various public services such as a library, health centre, council office and public toilets - much of which is in my expected pink-marled 1930s style; but quite a few more modern furnishings and illuminated signs also exist, sadly.
The bus interchange predictably consists of a shelter either side of the road at the top of the hill - but all seems to work remarkably well! No sooner had we arrived but two other double-deck buses (a somewhat generous provision for the intending number of passengers) appeared - one for Balloch and the other for Glasgow! (At certain times in the day, it is also possible to connect for Aberfoyle, or even a direct service to Drymen - not going via Killearn first!) Leaving my nice warm and comfortable front upstairs seat I was pleased to get the same seat on the Glasgow bus, even though it was somewhat harder and in a decidedly cold and damp vehicle! And soon we were off - followed, to my surprise, by the Balloch bus, all the way to Killearn - the next fairly subtantial but somewhat prettier (than Balfron) village.
Before we'd even descended the hill, the main A81 road and the former Aberfoyle railway trackbed could be seen in the valley below. This was not part of the Forth & Clyde Junction railway - which itself ran between Stirling and Balloch and, in common with many railways, was primarily intended to transport coal - in this case between Fife and the heavy industries of the north Clyde; though it did connect with it at Buchlyvie Junction - which like most of the other stations on these lines, was some distance from the village of the same name and no doubt, this oversight would have contributed to the later debates about the lines' viability. I mean, think about it - you're 86 and riddled with arthritis, or even 26 and carrying your shopping and supervising three kids. Do you take the train and walk a mile and three-quarters down a narrow, dark, twisty road, or do you get the bus to your door? I know which I'd choose...
Two more buses passed in either direction on the main road - single deck ones this time. I suspect these were on a route straddling the Kirkintilloch-Lennoxtown-Strathblane-Drymen-Balfron roads...
Killearn is one of those names that sticks out of your childhood memory box for some really obscure reason. There used to be a big hospital here - one of the half dozen or so prefabricated affairs built around the country in readiness for second world war casualties - that in the event, remained open for many years after the war. (There was another at Bridge of Earn, which I'd visited a number of times; and others at Stracathro, near Brechin, Peel - a few miles outside Galashiels, Bangour - next to the mental hopsital in West Lothian, and Ballochmyle in Ayrshire. Strathcathro, Peel and Killearn were built in really rather unlikely, rural locations! Anyway, what sticks in my mind was the campaign led by the Daily Record in the early 1970s, to fight Killearn's closure. I think it had developed some really good specialities - which were eventually relocated in some of Glasgow's hospitals, if my memory serves me correctly.
Blanefield is the next village - though as soon as you get up the hill you realise that the modern blocks of flats on the top aren't as out-of-place as they look because, less than a stone's throw away is the larger settlement of Strathblane. Having disappeared round the back of Blanefield - where I think there was a station, there's now no evidence of a railway having ever existed - and large, mostly detached houses, almost as far as the eye can see! The tall flat blocks of Glasgow now dominate the distant horizon, and, despite a couple of not-terribly-natural-looking roadside nature reserves and a large reservoir, continuous street lighting and an irritating 30mph speed limit herald the outskirts of Milngavie, and then of Glasgow.
This route had one unexpected, if rather subdued, thrill for me, as it traverses Maryhill Road into the centre of Glasgow. A century ago, many of my ancestors lived here, and I'd had it in mind for some time to come and explore the area, and see if I could identify exactly where they had lived and worked. Alas, not a chance - all that remains of New City Road is a stopped-up, recently redeveloped street sandwiched between bits of motorway junction; while numbers 450 or thereabouts to 780 or thereabouts (and quite a lot besides) have been demolished and their sites landscaped; and there is no indication as to which part of Maryhill Road was known as Gairbraid Street - that information was presumably attached to long-gone buildings! Also gone and almost forgotten are the area's railways - the existing 'Maryhill' station having opened as recently as 1987, some twenty or so years after the original Maryhill stations and lines had been closed and redeveloped. The Forth & Clyde Canal and it's basin and aqueduct over the road remain - somewhat bare and forlorn. I imagine my grandfathers and their siblings must have loitered here and perhaps been chased away by workmen as youngsters; while the womenfolk cared for their younger children high up in squalid, red sandstone tenement flats.
I got off the bus a few stops short of the bus station and walked along Sauchiehall Street to Charing Cross, then up trough the Woodlands terraces to the very grand, broad avenues of Kelvingrove Park, before returning via Argyle and Buchanan Streets in light rain, for the 1600 departure to Edinburgh.
Needless to say, I was absolutely shattered last night - but, Kippen, Balfron, Drymen, Balloch - never fear, I will be back to explore some more; hopefully in more inclement climes!
I therefore got the first bus of the day from Edinburgh to Stirling, where I stopped for an hour's window shopping; and then a number 11 to Balfron, on which I was fortunate enough to get the front upstairs seat with its nice view ahead and tons of legroom! This is one of several interconnecting routes I'd wanted to do for many years - at one time they were all variations of Striling-Glasgow routes via balfron and various other combinations of places; but now most of them run between Stirling or Glasgow and Balfron only, where they connect with each other to permit through travel...
Stirling is a remarkably compact city, the western side of the castle being literally out in the country, and soon we were running along the A811, parallel to the former Forth & Clyde railway - the remains of which is clearly visible on the right-hand side. (Former railway spotting has long been a pastime of mine, as I am interested in railway history). The first deviation was in and out of Gargunnock - a village that an uncle of mine spends a great deal of time in (something to do with it being home of the girlfriend I think). But I could see why he likes it there, the village and its surroundings not being entirely dissimilar to Almondbank, where he himself grew up and lived until not too many years ago. There were also many potential walks in evidence - that's another of his passions. Not much is left of Gargunnock's railway station - on the right of the main road a few hundred yards before you turn left into the village proper; though as the foilage was at its annual lowest, it was possible to see mounds where platforms and loading bays may once have existed - it is over 40 years since the track was finally lifted, after all.
The next station - also to the right but a little further away astride what now seems to be a sawmill - seemed a little more complete and even sported what looked like a former signalbox! This might be a place to return in good weather for a bit of exploration on foot, I thought to myself. The village it served - Kippen, did not disappoint either. Slightly further off the road than Gargunnock - and up a rather steep hill (it is easy to see why motor buses managed to syphon passenger traffic away from the railway as early as 1933, when the passenger service ceased), Kippen is more substantial. Not so long ago it probably had several shops, more than one church and maybe even a secondary modern, as well as a primary school. With lots of attractive cottages and lofty hillside views, this is definitely somewhere to alight from the bus on a warmer day - and maybe catch the next one onwards.
Until now, the road is very flat, but as it begins to rise, a valley drops away to the right as you head west - and here road and former railway part company for a while. Passing Arnprior - one of those typically Scottish road junctions with a few houses and a redundant kirk that for some reason still gets called a village, and then Buchlyvie - a really rather attractive roadside village with a pharmacy occupying a former church building; the top of the hill is just reached when the bus turns left and, having negotiated some pretty steep, sharp bends that must make for some interesting driving on clear winter mornings, enters the large village (or is it a small town) of Balfron.
It's funny how you picture places you've never been in your mind. Knowing that it has a roughly triangular shape on the map and that it was slightly larger than most of the surrounding villages, a bus-interchange point and some considerable distance from its former railway station; I always imagined Balfron to be a pretty, chocolate-box concoction of single storey cottages opening onto a wide, flat main street, with the junctions of the two other roads forming the triangle round the village both visible from the bus terminus. I imagined a few discreet gift or maybe even tea shops occupying some of the roadside cottages in the vicinity...
Now don't get me wrong, Balfron is quite a pretty place - but isn't even vaguely as I imagined! Apart from a 1950s 'scheme' (that's council estate for those of you from south of the border) at the top of the village - which the bus enters briefly, the lengthy main street is on a steep gradient; and most of the buildings are two-storey - and not a few gaps are partially filled with light-industrial and other premises set back from the road! As I expected, there is evidence of various public services such as a library, health centre, council office and public toilets - much of which is in my expected pink-marled 1930s style; but quite a few more modern furnishings and illuminated signs also exist, sadly.
The bus interchange predictably consists of a shelter either side of the road at the top of the hill - but all seems to work remarkably well! No sooner had we arrived but two other double-deck buses (a somewhat generous provision for the intending number of passengers) appeared - one for Balloch and the other for Glasgow! (At certain times in the day, it is also possible to connect for Aberfoyle, or even a direct service to Drymen - not going via Killearn first!) Leaving my nice warm and comfortable front upstairs seat I was pleased to get the same seat on the Glasgow bus, even though it was somewhat harder and in a decidedly cold and damp vehicle! And soon we were off - followed, to my surprise, by the Balloch bus, all the way to Killearn - the next fairly subtantial but somewhat prettier (than Balfron) village.
Before we'd even descended the hill, the main A81 road and the former Aberfoyle railway trackbed could be seen in the valley below. This was not part of the Forth & Clyde Junction railway - which itself ran between Stirling and Balloch and, in common with many railways, was primarily intended to transport coal - in this case between Fife and the heavy industries of the north Clyde; though it did connect with it at Buchlyvie Junction - which like most of the other stations on these lines, was some distance from the village of the same name and no doubt, this oversight would have contributed to the later debates about the lines' viability. I mean, think about it - you're 86 and riddled with arthritis, or even 26 and carrying your shopping and supervising three kids. Do you take the train and walk a mile and three-quarters down a narrow, dark, twisty road, or do you get the bus to your door? I know which I'd choose...
Two more buses passed in either direction on the main road - single deck ones this time. I suspect these were on a route straddling the Kirkintilloch-Lennoxtown-Strathblane-Drymen-Balfron roads...
Killearn is one of those names that sticks out of your childhood memory box for some really obscure reason. There used to be a big hospital here - one of the half dozen or so prefabricated affairs built around the country in readiness for second world war casualties - that in the event, remained open for many years after the war. (There was another at Bridge of Earn, which I'd visited a number of times; and others at Stracathro, near Brechin, Peel - a few miles outside Galashiels, Bangour - next to the mental hopsital in West Lothian, and Ballochmyle in Ayrshire. Strathcathro, Peel and Killearn were built in really rather unlikely, rural locations! Anyway, what sticks in my mind was the campaign led by the Daily Record in the early 1970s, to fight Killearn's closure. I think it had developed some really good specialities - which were eventually relocated in some of Glasgow's hospitals, if my memory serves me correctly.
Blanefield is the next village - though as soon as you get up the hill you realise that the modern blocks of flats on the top aren't as out-of-place as they look because, less than a stone's throw away is the larger settlement of Strathblane. Having disappeared round the back of Blanefield - where I think there was a station, there's now no evidence of a railway having ever existed - and large, mostly detached houses, almost as far as the eye can see! The tall flat blocks of Glasgow now dominate the distant horizon, and, despite a couple of not-terribly-natural-looking roadside nature reserves and a large reservoir, continuous street lighting and an irritating 30mph speed limit herald the outskirts of Milngavie, and then of Glasgow.
This route had one unexpected, if rather subdued, thrill for me, as it traverses Maryhill Road into the centre of Glasgow. A century ago, many of my ancestors lived here, and I'd had it in mind for some time to come and explore the area, and see if I could identify exactly where they had lived and worked. Alas, not a chance - all that remains of New City Road is a stopped-up, recently redeveloped street sandwiched between bits of motorway junction; while numbers 450 or thereabouts to 780 or thereabouts (and quite a lot besides) have been demolished and their sites landscaped; and there is no indication as to which part of Maryhill Road was known as Gairbraid Street - that information was presumably attached to long-gone buildings! Also gone and almost forgotten are the area's railways - the existing 'Maryhill' station having opened as recently as 1987, some twenty or so years after the original Maryhill stations and lines had been closed and redeveloped. The Forth & Clyde Canal and it's basin and aqueduct over the road remain - somewhat bare and forlorn. I imagine my grandfathers and their siblings must have loitered here and perhaps been chased away by workmen as youngsters; while the womenfolk cared for their younger children high up in squalid, red sandstone tenement flats.
I got off the bus a few stops short of the bus station and walked along Sauchiehall Street to Charing Cross, then up trough the Woodlands terraces to the very grand, broad avenues of Kelvingrove Park, before returning via Argyle and Buchanan Streets in light rain, for the 1600 departure to Edinburgh.
Needless to say, I was absolutely shattered last night - but, Kippen, Balfron, Drymen, Balloch - never fear, I will be back to explore some more; hopefully in more inclement climes!
Friday, 1 February 2008
Taking a breather...
In Scotland, today is designated Breathing Space Day 2008. The organisation's website invites "everyone in Scotland to mark 1st February in their diary as a time to STOP and take some breathing space away from the stresses and strains of modern living," and you know, I reckon that's a pretty good idea myself. (I'd also like to extend the invitation to those of you not in Scotland as well...)
I only found out about it on Tuesday, at a short act of worship following a drop-in I go to, organised by the local community mental health chaplaincy service, led on that occasion by my friend, Maxwell Reay. As he pointed out then, many of the psalms are interrupted at various points by the word 'Selah' - the precise meaning of which is obscure - but it tends to be interpreted as a suggestion that we pause in our reading and just digest what's being said to us, and reflect a little, before we carry on to the next bit; and I reckon that makes a good deal of sense too.
As it happens, we have a little prayer meeting on Friday mornings at Gorgie Salvation Army, which we usually open with a bible reading of some description, and as we're normally all invited to suggest such readings, I suggested psalm 66, which we used and, together with the invitation described above, seemed to help prompt an unusually large volume of prayer - not all of which were of the terribly parochial variety - which, though valid and important, often put me off such meetings, as any outsider who chances by could justifiably observe that our group seems insular, exclusive and possibly not even too interested in including others - which of course, couldn't be further from the truth...!
We should guard against praying with a shopping list filled with only those people whom we know personally. Sometimes it's better to simply ask God to read our thoughts and make prayers from them - which he does anyway; and instead allow ourselves to pray for those people and situations our minds invariably stray towards; or even just shut up and listen to what God has to say to us! Go on, indulge me - contemplate!!
I only found out about it on Tuesday, at a short act of worship following a drop-in I go to, organised by the local community mental health chaplaincy service, led on that occasion by my friend, Maxwell Reay. As he pointed out then, many of the psalms are interrupted at various points by the word 'Selah' - the precise meaning of which is obscure - but it tends to be interpreted as a suggestion that we pause in our reading and just digest what's being said to us, and reflect a little, before we carry on to the next bit; and I reckon that makes a good deal of sense too.
As it happens, we have a little prayer meeting on Friday mornings at Gorgie Salvation Army, which we usually open with a bible reading of some description, and as we're normally all invited to suggest such readings, I suggested psalm 66, which we used and, together with the invitation described above, seemed to help prompt an unusually large volume of prayer - not all of which were of the terribly parochial variety - which, though valid and important, often put me off such meetings, as any outsider who chances by could justifiably observe that our group seems insular, exclusive and possibly not even too interested in including others - which of course, couldn't be further from the truth...!
We should guard against praying with a shopping list filled with only those people whom we know personally. Sometimes it's better to simply ask God to read our thoughts and make prayers from them - which he does anyway; and instead allow ourselves to pray for those people and situations our minds invariably stray towards; or even just shut up and listen to what God has to say to us! Go on, indulge me - contemplate!!
Wednesday, 30 January 2008
To borrow Victor Meldrew's catchphrase...
During the past week, I have eaten:
- 1 microwave spaghetti alfredo
- 2 packets Uncle ben's microwaveable rice
- 6 large baked potatoes
- 800g very low far cottage cheese
- half a tub of Quark
- 2 kg of grapes
- 14 large bananas
- half a mandarin
- 12 cups of tea with milk
- 30 cups of herbal/fruit tea
- 700g of cooked chicken pieces
- 2 cups of white coffee
- 3 packets of sliced roast beef
- 250g of cherry tomatoes
- 500g of mircrowaveable vegetable packs
- 750g frozen fruit
- 1 shish kebab
- 1 dozen eggs (9 boiled and 3 poached)
- 2kg of fat free, natural yogurt
- 1 packet of sliced boiled ham
- 2 packets of sliced chicken
- 1 melon
- 5 kiwi fruits
- 500g back bacon
- 1 sweet & sour Quorn meal
- 100g mushrooms
- 2 tins baked beans in tomato sauce
- 1kg very low fat fromage frais
- 4 grilled beefburgers
- 2 Mars bars
- 2 Milky ways
- half a coffee & walnut sponge cake
- 18 Muller light fruit/flavoured yogurts
- 4 oatcakes
- 5 pieces of smoked mackerel
- 4 Alpen cereal bars
- 120g of porridge oats
- 1 litre semi-skimmed milk, approximately
- 2 small slices wholemeal bread
- 5 bits of Ryvita, sesame
- 2 packets of Ryvita minis
- 5 mini babybel light cheeses
- 6 laughing cow extra-light cheese triangles
- 120g smoked salmon
- 110g grilled whiting
- 1 tin tuna steaks in brine
- 1 tbsp houmous
...and I still lost 6lbs in weight!
Truly, I say to you, I don't believe it....!!!!
- 1 microwave spaghetti alfredo
- 2 packets Uncle ben's microwaveable rice
- 6 large baked potatoes
- 800g very low far cottage cheese
- half a tub of Quark
- 2 kg of grapes
- 14 large bananas
- half a mandarin
- 12 cups of tea with milk
- 30 cups of herbal/fruit tea
- 700g of cooked chicken pieces
- 2 cups of white coffee
- 3 packets of sliced roast beef
- 250g of cherry tomatoes
- 500g of mircrowaveable vegetable packs
- 750g frozen fruit
- 1 shish kebab
- 1 dozen eggs (9 boiled and 3 poached)
- 2kg of fat free, natural yogurt
- 1 packet of sliced boiled ham
- 2 packets of sliced chicken
- 1 melon
- 5 kiwi fruits
- 500g back bacon
- 1 sweet & sour Quorn meal
- 100g mushrooms
- 2 tins baked beans in tomato sauce
- 1kg very low fat fromage frais
- 4 grilled beefburgers
- 2 Mars bars
- 2 Milky ways
- half a coffee & walnut sponge cake
- 18 Muller light fruit/flavoured yogurts
- 4 oatcakes
- 5 pieces of smoked mackerel
- 4 Alpen cereal bars
- 120g of porridge oats
- 1 litre semi-skimmed milk, approximately
- 2 small slices wholemeal bread
- 5 bits of Ryvita, sesame
- 2 packets of Ryvita minis
- 5 mini babybel light cheeses
- 6 laughing cow extra-light cheese triangles
- 120g smoked salmon
- 110g grilled whiting
- 1 tin tuna steaks in brine
- 1 tbsp houmous
...and I still lost 6lbs in weight!
Truly, I say to you, I don't believe it....!!!!
Sunday, 27 January 2008
Watch this space - it may get smaller!
Okay, I know. It is months since I've been here and added anything to this, but my good friend John - who has established a new Sallybloggers thingy, has invited me to join that - so I feel I should make some effort...
Last time I was here I'd just started an employability course. That's probably what took all my attention (and much of my energy) away for a while, hence my long silence. It was really good though, as was the result, as I am now employed for the first time in many years - or at least I will be soon, as there's been the usual hold-up waiting for my enhanced disclosure to appear, and I've not actually started yet. The course was for support workers, and we had guaranteed interviews at the end with employers we applied to; so it won't surprise you too much to know that my job is a support worker! I'll be working with people (most likely with learning disabilities) in their own homes, assisting them with everyday living tasks, so that they might maintain their tenancies and their independence...
For those of you who are Salvationists and wondering who I am and how I know John - well, that's easily answered. I'm at soldier at Gorgie Corps in Edinburgh - I moved here last March from Gosport - where John and Marta used to be the corps officers! I've recently been given the role of halls caretaker - with a seat on the corps council; and I'm also a songster.
As regards my title today - well, it went like this...
Just before Christmas, I overheard half a conversation between Captain Iain Hudson, my corps officer, and Richard, one of our adherents. "You'll come, won't you Paul...?" Iain said - in a kind of rhetorical tone - and before thinking of asking what I was coming to, I answered in the affirmative - as I'm always happy to do whatever I can to help...
Well, it began last Wednesday - the first-ever morning meeting in Edinburgh - of Slimming World! I have to say, this time last week, I was terrified! At over 21 stones I had no argument that I needed to go to such a group - and I have said for some time I might go if I had someone else to go with - but all the same, I'd visions of us having to be constantly on the phone to each other for support, every time we got the munchies...! To me, it was like a life-sentence as I have to say, I do enjoy my food...
Never fear though, for the SW regime is a strange one indeed. Depending on which type of day you've decided upon (basically a meat day or a veggie day), there's lots of stuff you can eat in unlimited quantities. They call that 'free food', and it forms the bulk of your total diet. Then there are 'healthy choices' - they differ slightly for the two types of days - and you choose one or two things from two lists of these. But best of all is the page that says in big letters - Choose your 'syns'! Now there's a sermon title, if ever I saw one...!!! Basically everything else has a 'syn' - short for synergy, apparently - value; and you're normally allowed up to 15 syns a day.
Alas, already Iain and his wife Alison have been having a good laugh at my expense! He just happened to tell me how little he'd eaten on Thursday - and I responded with a list of all I'd had... Apparently, it's the way that I write that had them in stitches as much as the content. Though it must be said, there was a lot of content - and there has been ever since. I'm panic eating you see - just like people panic buy loads of stuff they don't need as soon as there's the slightest suggestion of a shortage - well, I'm doing the same with eating! Well, that's my excuse anyway - and I'm sticking to it...!
Anyway, it is mostly 'free' food. Well - apart from the day I got up and decided I couldn't be bothered to make porridge, and thought myself very self-righteous in having four dry oatcakes instead. Until I discovered that they have a syn value of 2.5 each, that is...
Then it was downhill all the way - I had a little morsel of that coffee cake that was rapidly going out of date in the cupboard, then another; then half a small mars bar - then the other half. Total syns for the day = 22. Still, I assured myself, even if I end up eating six healthy options and 20 syns a day in addition to all the free stuff, I'm not going to beat myself up about it, because that's infinitely better to what I've been eating before - and if Slimming World doesn't like it, tough! I'm more important, after all...
Oh - and have you ever tried Quark? Don't...!! It's 'free' - so I bought two big pots. Maybe its okay when you cook with it - but the creamy, Philidelphia appearance is where the similarity ends - it is absolutely evil in a jacket potato - believe you me. Don't go there - you have been warned!!
Friday wasn't so bad - only 5 healthy choices and 12 syns all day; and Saturday even better - and even despite the provision of a buffet at Edinburgh City Corps where our songster brigade joined forces with theirs - the Northern Ireland Youth Band, and the ISS bass, Ian French - for an evening festival. I took my own mixture of free foods for a green day - wholegrain rice, flaked fish, boiled eggs - bound together with a spoonful of Quark, which actually, wasn't too bad; plus a banana and a packet of Ryvita minis.
And best of all, I had a lovely letter in the post from June, the SW consultant, welcomiong me to the group. "By the way," she added on the end, "your syn allowance is 5-25 per day." Alleluia! God's good - even when you exceed your 'syns' he organises it so that the goalpost moves in your favour!! Ha ha! So forgive me if I leave you for now with that nice little analogy - but never fear, I'll be back before another six months, as I have every confidence I'll soon be looking for things to distract me from yet more guzzling....
Last time I was here I'd just started an employability course. That's probably what took all my attention (and much of my energy) away for a while, hence my long silence. It was really good though, as was the result, as I am now employed for the first time in many years - or at least I will be soon, as there's been the usual hold-up waiting for my enhanced disclosure to appear, and I've not actually started yet. The course was for support workers, and we had guaranteed interviews at the end with employers we applied to; so it won't surprise you too much to know that my job is a support worker! I'll be working with people (most likely with learning disabilities) in their own homes, assisting them with everyday living tasks, so that they might maintain their tenancies and their independence...
For those of you who are Salvationists and wondering who I am and how I know John - well, that's easily answered. I'm at soldier at Gorgie Corps in Edinburgh - I moved here last March from Gosport - where John and Marta used to be the corps officers! I've recently been given the role of halls caretaker - with a seat on the corps council; and I'm also a songster.
As regards my title today - well, it went like this...
Just before Christmas, I overheard half a conversation between Captain Iain Hudson, my corps officer, and Richard, one of our adherents. "You'll come, won't you Paul...?" Iain said - in a kind of rhetorical tone - and before thinking of asking what I was coming to, I answered in the affirmative - as I'm always happy to do whatever I can to help...
Well, it began last Wednesday - the first-ever morning meeting in Edinburgh - of Slimming World! I have to say, this time last week, I was terrified! At over 21 stones I had no argument that I needed to go to such a group - and I have said for some time I might go if I had someone else to go with - but all the same, I'd visions of us having to be constantly on the phone to each other for support, every time we got the munchies...! To me, it was like a life-sentence as I have to say, I do enjoy my food...
Never fear though, for the SW regime is a strange one indeed. Depending on which type of day you've decided upon (basically a meat day or a veggie day), there's lots of stuff you can eat in unlimited quantities. They call that 'free food', and it forms the bulk of your total diet. Then there are 'healthy choices' - they differ slightly for the two types of days - and you choose one or two things from two lists of these. But best of all is the page that says in big letters - Choose your 'syns'! Now there's a sermon title, if ever I saw one...!!! Basically everything else has a 'syn' - short for synergy, apparently - value; and you're normally allowed up to 15 syns a day.
Alas, already Iain and his wife Alison have been having a good laugh at my expense! He just happened to tell me how little he'd eaten on Thursday - and I responded with a list of all I'd had... Apparently, it's the way that I write that had them in stitches as much as the content. Though it must be said, there was a lot of content - and there has been ever since. I'm panic eating you see - just like people panic buy loads of stuff they don't need as soon as there's the slightest suggestion of a shortage - well, I'm doing the same with eating! Well, that's my excuse anyway - and I'm sticking to it...!
Anyway, it is mostly 'free' food. Well - apart from the day I got up and decided I couldn't be bothered to make porridge, and thought myself very self-righteous in having four dry oatcakes instead. Until I discovered that they have a syn value of 2.5 each, that is...
Then it was downhill all the way - I had a little morsel of that coffee cake that was rapidly going out of date in the cupboard, then another; then half a small mars bar - then the other half. Total syns for the day = 22. Still, I assured myself, even if I end up eating six healthy options and 20 syns a day in addition to all the free stuff, I'm not going to beat myself up about it, because that's infinitely better to what I've been eating before - and if Slimming World doesn't like it, tough! I'm more important, after all...
Oh - and have you ever tried Quark? Don't...!! It's 'free' - so I bought two big pots. Maybe its okay when you cook with it - but the creamy, Philidelphia appearance is where the similarity ends - it is absolutely evil in a jacket potato - believe you me. Don't go there - you have been warned!!
Friday wasn't so bad - only 5 healthy choices and 12 syns all day; and Saturday even better - and even despite the provision of a buffet at Edinburgh City Corps where our songster brigade joined forces with theirs - the Northern Ireland Youth Band, and the ISS bass, Ian French - for an evening festival. I took my own mixture of free foods for a green day - wholegrain rice, flaked fish, boiled eggs - bound together with a spoonful of Quark, which actually, wasn't too bad; plus a banana and a packet of Ryvita minis.
And best of all, I had a lovely letter in the post from June, the SW consultant, welcomiong me to the group. "By the way," she added on the end, "your syn allowance is 5-25 per day." Alleluia! God's good - even when you exceed your 'syns' he organises it so that the goalpost moves in your favour!! Ha ha! So forgive me if I leave you for now with that nice little analogy - but never fear, I'll be back before another six months, as I have every confidence I'll soon be looking for things to distract me from yet more guzzling....
Sunday, 16 September 2007
Suicide Awareness Week
This, it seems, was International Suicide Awareness Week. Although I was vaguely aware that it existed, I was pleased to discover the other day that there were actual events here marking it - film shows, and today, a religious service for people touched by suicide - which I went to. While I've not been especially close to anyone who has ended their life, I have known quite a few people who have - I guess it isn't really possible to spend a significant period of your life in association with the mental health system, and not do so...
On the way in, everyone was handed paper flowers, which you were invited to write messages on the back of and place them on a 'meadow' at the front, at a given point in the meeting. I wrote, "Thank you, God, for foiling all my attempts" on mine - without which, I almost certainly wouldn't be here to tell such a tale today. In the prayers I tried to think of all those I'd known who were not so fortunate and to my annoyance, I could only think of two. I know there are at least eight - and probably more. And I thought of that sunny day - I don't really know how many years ago now - when I was out walking near my home in Hotwells, Bristol, when it slowly dawned on me what those firemen I could see over there on the mud banks of the River Avon were up to, fishing with their ropes - in a hole, under the Clifton Suspension Bridge...
Poems were read about departed friends - people the reader had spent time in hospital with; and even as I write, one or two missing faces are springing into my mind - people who were nice to me, talked to me, made and fetched cups of tea for me - when I was young, confused and lost in a world of my own.
In days gone by, I've sat upon the parapet of that bridge myself, even been carried off it by several policemen on occasion. I've been found wandering in a semi conscious, drugged and drunken state in near darkness in the Welsh mountains more than once; and I've sat in that same railway cutting close to Stratheden Hospital in Fife as the remains of one of my contemporaries were recovered from, some months later. I don't know why I've been saved so many times and against so many odds - but I'm so glad I was - so thankful.
If there's one thing that convinces me personally of the existence of God - then that's probably it - for I eventually reached the conclusion that I could try to end my life as much as I wanted - he just wasn't going to let it happen, for he has plans for me! I'm still not entirely clear what all of these are, but it makes some sort of sense - to me, anyway.
And you know, of spiritual warfare - well, I used to discount that as a product of over zealous Christians with too much time on their hands. I took the view that the devil existed only where minds had been exercised in his favour. But several times now, that view has been challenged as good things have occurred in my life - it happened several times just after I'd made my decision to become a soldier of the Salvation Army - and in fact it's been vaguely around these past few days too - just fleeting thoughts that seem to want to urge me to leap from a lofty place, or suchlike. Such thoughts may be understandable to a degree when one is depressed; but when they occur when things are going well, there can only be one conclusion. They're being put there, deliberately!
Of course, you have to be careful not to describe these things in too much detail to doctors...!!
On the way in, everyone was handed paper flowers, which you were invited to write messages on the back of and place them on a 'meadow' at the front, at a given point in the meeting. I wrote, "Thank you, God, for foiling all my attempts" on mine - without which, I almost certainly wouldn't be here to tell such a tale today. In the prayers I tried to think of all those I'd known who were not so fortunate and to my annoyance, I could only think of two. I know there are at least eight - and probably more. And I thought of that sunny day - I don't really know how many years ago now - when I was out walking near my home in Hotwells, Bristol, when it slowly dawned on me what those firemen I could see over there on the mud banks of the River Avon were up to, fishing with their ropes - in a hole, under the Clifton Suspension Bridge...
Poems were read about departed friends - people the reader had spent time in hospital with; and even as I write, one or two missing faces are springing into my mind - people who were nice to me, talked to me, made and fetched cups of tea for me - when I was young, confused and lost in a world of my own.
In days gone by, I've sat upon the parapet of that bridge myself, even been carried off it by several policemen on occasion. I've been found wandering in a semi conscious, drugged and drunken state in near darkness in the Welsh mountains more than once; and I've sat in that same railway cutting close to Stratheden Hospital in Fife as the remains of one of my contemporaries were recovered from, some months later. I don't know why I've been saved so many times and against so many odds - but I'm so glad I was - so thankful.
If there's one thing that convinces me personally of the existence of God - then that's probably it - for I eventually reached the conclusion that I could try to end my life as much as I wanted - he just wasn't going to let it happen, for he has plans for me! I'm still not entirely clear what all of these are, but it makes some sort of sense - to me, anyway.
And you know, of spiritual warfare - well, I used to discount that as a product of over zealous Christians with too much time on their hands. I took the view that the devil existed only where minds had been exercised in his favour. But several times now, that view has been challenged as good things have occurred in my life - it happened several times just after I'd made my decision to become a soldier of the Salvation Army - and in fact it's been vaguely around these past few days too - just fleeting thoughts that seem to want to urge me to leap from a lofty place, or suchlike. Such thoughts may be understandable to a degree when one is depressed; but when they occur when things are going well, there can only be one conclusion. They're being put there, deliberately!
Of course, you have to be careful not to describe these things in too much detail to doctors...!!
Friday, 10 August 2007
It's MY life!
I've just risen for the second time at 8.30am. There's one or two magazines lying around, last night's fish supper wrappers are still in the kitchen, and the dishes not yet washed. The bed is unmade, I've not put yesterday's underwear into the laundry basket yet. I've had a couple of tunnocks teacakes and some ice cream for breakfast; and it's great - I have my life back, MY life...
Perhaps I should add that my mother has been and made her visit. This was her holiday, apparently - the first time away from home in nearly three years. Now, don't get me wrong, I was pleased to be able to offer her the facility - I did say she could come and stay now and again, even before I moved. But it's the way she takes over my life that gets to me - she really never ceases to surprise me in that respect, coming up with yet more and more ways of assuming responsibility for decisions, lifestyle choices and areas of my life that I would never normally consider any particular need to protect!
We only actually fell out once during the week - and naturally enough, it was about bathroom mats - that I neither felt I needed nor particularly wanted and that we'd been trudging round most of Edinburgh looking for in a non-standard size! She's mentioned before she got here she might buy me a new shower curtain and, as the old one was a bit grubby I thought, fair enough, it won't cost mega bucks, so I'll let you; but you see, having got a nice new blue shower curtain (top of the range and from Jenners no less - all for my humble little tenement flat), we needed blue bathroom mats to match (and later, a blue handtowel, and blue flannels)...
I mean, thinking it through, perhaps I was being unreasonable. I only live here and pay the rent after all - so why should I expect the right to have any say in the matter?
So the upshot is that now - apparently - it all looks much better for 'folk' walking in and seeing. I've yet to work out who these folk will be, given that 95% of the time I'm here all alone and hardly ever have visitors, but hey - instead of my nice thick, generously piled brick red mats that did their jobs more than adequately, we can now all enjoy these little cold blue cololured stepping stones and watch the pattern of water dripping from us all over the underlying carpet - which of course I have no way of drying out. Totally impractical - but apparently, it looks nicer...
On Wednesday, my uncle came to visit. I was really pleased about this as I don't see him very often, and he'd not been before. She went to great lengths to discourage the visit, because she didn't want him here. Well, as I say, I only live here and I am only the nephew that he was brought up with who is therefore more like a brother - so why should I have any say? Yet, despite this, she was full of nothing but praise and sympathy for him afterwards...
Anyway, I went to meet him at the station, which gave us a chance for a chat - well, a moan actually. He agrees with me about her habit of taking over your life, and not for the first time, told me how much he hates his fortnightly Sunday afternoon visits to her as she seems to actually think she has a right to this portion of his life - and a right to spend the entire time moaning to him about other people he also has a relationship with, just as she does with me! "It just doesn't seem to occur to her at all", he says, "that other people might actually have a life of their own, that doesn't revolve around her."
For me, the best illustration of this, of the week and possibly of the year - is that the night after she'd received the (admittedly very upsetting) news that her neighbour had died - she had only two hours of very interrupted sleep - while even his widow managed four hours! As I told my very unsurprised uncle, it seemed that after that, she was just itching to get home so she could muscle in on that family's grief - which is just outrageous. If somebody did that to a member of our family, she'd be the first to rant on about how outrageous it was.
Please forgive me for this rant - I just need to let off steam!
Perhaps I should add that my mother has been and made her visit. This was her holiday, apparently - the first time away from home in nearly three years. Now, don't get me wrong, I was pleased to be able to offer her the facility - I did say she could come and stay now and again, even before I moved. But it's the way she takes over my life that gets to me - she really never ceases to surprise me in that respect, coming up with yet more and more ways of assuming responsibility for decisions, lifestyle choices and areas of my life that I would never normally consider any particular need to protect!
We only actually fell out once during the week - and naturally enough, it was about bathroom mats - that I neither felt I needed nor particularly wanted and that we'd been trudging round most of Edinburgh looking for in a non-standard size! She's mentioned before she got here she might buy me a new shower curtain and, as the old one was a bit grubby I thought, fair enough, it won't cost mega bucks, so I'll let you; but you see, having got a nice new blue shower curtain (top of the range and from Jenners no less - all for my humble little tenement flat), we needed blue bathroom mats to match (and later, a blue handtowel, and blue flannels)...
I mean, thinking it through, perhaps I was being unreasonable. I only live here and pay the rent after all - so why should I expect the right to have any say in the matter?
So the upshot is that now - apparently - it all looks much better for 'folk' walking in and seeing. I've yet to work out who these folk will be, given that 95% of the time I'm here all alone and hardly ever have visitors, but hey - instead of my nice thick, generously piled brick red mats that did their jobs more than adequately, we can now all enjoy these little cold blue cololured stepping stones and watch the pattern of water dripping from us all over the underlying carpet - which of course I have no way of drying out. Totally impractical - but apparently, it looks nicer...
On Wednesday, my uncle came to visit. I was really pleased about this as I don't see him very often, and he'd not been before. She went to great lengths to discourage the visit, because she didn't want him here. Well, as I say, I only live here and I am only the nephew that he was brought up with who is therefore more like a brother - so why should I have any say? Yet, despite this, she was full of nothing but praise and sympathy for him afterwards...
Anyway, I went to meet him at the station, which gave us a chance for a chat - well, a moan actually. He agrees with me about her habit of taking over your life, and not for the first time, told me how much he hates his fortnightly Sunday afternoon visits to her as she seems to actually think she has a right to this portion of his life - and a right to spend the entire time moaning to him about other people he also has a relationship with, just as she does with me! "It just doesn't seem to occur to her at all", he says, "that other people might actually have a life of their own, that doesn't revolve around her."
For me, the best illustration of this, of the week and possibly of the year - is that the night after she'd received the (admittedly very upsetting) news that her neighbour had died - she had only two hours of very interrupted sleep - while even his widow managed four hours! As I told my very unsurprised uncle, it seemed that after that, she was just itching to get home so she could muscle in on that family's grief - which is just outrageous. If somebody did that to a member of our family, she'd be the first to rant on about how outrageous it was.
Please forgive me for this rant - I just need to let off steam!
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