Ship Tax

I saw a sign advertising the RNIB whilst walking to the hospital.  I wondered where the charity struggles to get landlocked Leicester citizens to take their charity seriously.  Then I thought of King Charles' I attempt to get landlocked counties to pay the 'Ship Tax'.  That was a contributory factor in the move towards war.

Recovery in Numbers

One - 'Incident' on 22nd of September ("Fear of the name only increase fear of the thing itself" - Hermione in Harry Potter.)
Two -  Ambulance journeys between hospitals
Three - Hospitals visited (Two in Sheffield, one in Leicester.)
Four -  CT/MRI scans
Five - Wards stayed in
Six - Maximum visitors at any one time (against the rules!)
Severn - Profession Groups - Nurses, Anaesthetists, Neurologists, Dietitians, Physiotherapists, OT's and Speech Therapist.
Eight -  End of visiting time in the evenings.
Nine - Beds in Brain Injury Unit
Ten - Predictable routines (Wake/ checks and move, shower/ wash, hoist into chair, visitors, rest break, physio/therapy, visitors, checks, visitors leave, checks/sleep.)
Eleven - Floors up in Sheffield RHH
Twelve - pastors visiting
Thirteen - Team Elizabeth TShirts
Twenty seconds between each pumping up of the mattress.
Sixty four - Get Well cards (and counting)

Route to the Hospital - An Illustrated guide

Cross the brook at the bottom of Francis Street (1).  Take Byway Road on the right. (You have a choice of Broadway, New way, Trueway, Byway or Highway.)  Walk to the top of the ridge which is Romway Road.  Turn right along Romway, then left up Coplow Road.

(2) Coplow Road Bungalow

(2) View a 1900's bungalow, that I believe predates the other houses.  It looks to me like the house my great grandmother probably lived in that was demolished.  This one feels as if it could easily receive the same fate one day.

View from Evington Lane

(2) Cross over Evington Lane to the footpath on to Teighmouth Road.  I wonder how the locals pronounce this?  In Devon it's pronounced 'Tinmouth'.  There is a record of street names in Leicester being pronounced differently.  Katherine Street is pronounced 'Cat- er-ine (as in nine) Street.  I guess everyone else miss pronounces 'Leicester', to its tit-for-tat.  This is a 70's estate.  I noticed a row of houses each with a taxi parked on the drive.  Is this Taxiland?  There is an american film called 'Copland' about a world where the Cops have to live separately from the populous, because it's become 'war'.  I have no sinister thoughts about these taxi drivers.

(3) On the ring road, (Wakerley Road) there is a house called КОТАРСКА КОЛИϬА.* I wonder what it means? I'm guessing that it's Serbian because the house has Serbian colours.  Wakeley Road, like a lot of the ring road, was planned to hold a duel carriageway.  Some bits were of the original plan never turned into the ring road.  They are still quiet residential streets with long tree filled parks separating the two sides of the street.  This bit is still single lane.

At the junction at the bottom of the hill, turn right along Ethel Road.  Apparently  Arthur Wakerly, the Leicester architecture who designed a lot of Edwardian Leicester, named many of the streets in this area after his daughters and other family members.  The Hospital is on Gwendolen Road.

(4) Before the footpath on the left hand side disappears into the bushes, our route veers left up some steps between neglected housing belonging to the hospital.  The the route assents through trees and communal lawns to the main Hospital at the top.  We dive into the hospital though an outpatient department.

Route to Hospital

* See correspondence between Sandra and Kathleen.

Dear Sandra,

I have Morton Benson from 1971 in two volumes, and ESSE, compiled in Belgrade, published 2002.  The title means English-Serbian, Serbian-English.  I witnessed one session at the Institut za Strane Jezike as a friend of mine was involved, not sure if I contributed to anything though. 

I’ve tried both dictionaries and this is the result:

KOLIBA

Morton Benson:  (1)  Hut, cottage, cabin; drvena koliba, log cabin;  (2) dilapidated house.

ESSE

KOTAR [this one is ONLY in Morton Benson]

K  [N.B.  I can’t work out what this abbreviation means, it isn’t in the list at the beginning.  Any ideas?]  Anyway, after the letter K it says …

(administrative) district (in certain parts of Yugo.;  see also srez [this says the same thing in Morton Benson; in my other dictionary, the more recent ESSE, the word srez does appear, unlike the word kotar, and is translated as “county” or “borough”.

Morton Benson offers an adjective for both words, i.e. “kotarski” and “sreski”.

So, I guess it’s the County Cottage … hang on, what DOES that mean?!

Perhaps I should ask the friend in Belgrade, even if they didn’t include the word she must know what “kotarski” means.

People do give funny names to houses, I once had to find a Portuguese translation for “Fox’s Lair” which a man had seen on a house somewhere in the Portuguese countryside and wanted to use for his house in Cyprus.  He knew what it looked and sounded like; a colleague of mine in Bush House eventually worked it out, while shaking her head over the idea of using such an obscure expression …

I will get back to you with some news.  Just fitted this in before supper (fish pie.  Ready-made?  Of course!)

Love, Kathleen XXX

Your thoughts on Prayer (for healing).

Imagine what might happen if the ‘Secular Party of Great Britain’ is elected to power.  One of the first things they do is to ban the use of ‘religious’ language.  We can no longer use the word ‘prayer’.  What word would you use instead?

“Let us...

Ø  talk to our Creator, 

Ø  listen to our Creator ,

Ø  commune with our Creator?”

The reason the word exists is revealed. It covers many things.

What do I believe?

I believe that we were created, as part of an incredible universe.  We were created as a community, but we also have an ‘I’.  Each of us is known, unique and cherished.  The best analogue is to reflect on how I know my children; the Creator knows all that is created, over all time.  I also believe that the Creator always intended this connectivity between the creation and the Creator.  It was to be a massive interaction, like the neurones of a brain firing in collaboration.

But we observe this paradox around us, the ‘Yin and Yang’ of life; good and bad.  The question comes, “is the Creator, ‘Yin and Yang’, at the same time, loving, benign and uncaring?”  Like other things we see in creation; the ocean, vast, beautiful, but with the flip of a boat, it will easily kill you.  Or the mountains, with inspiring views.  One slip on the scree and you are flung to your death.  Or the dog that is so loyal, “man’s best friend”, but then it mauls and kills a baby.

I trust that my Creator knows and loves me, both as an individual, but also my part in a community.  I believe this because this is my experience.  My relationship is based on the sort of evidence that helps me believe that my wife is still in love with me, and our marriage is sound.

I understand that this world is not how things were intended to be.  It’s a world that has had a ‘brain haemorrhage’.  Every muscle in its body is affected.  It requires a ‘journey’ of recovery. 

So at one level, this is not how it should be, but on another, “This is how it is”.  It’s a bit like I chose to have children, not expecting them to hate and reject me.  But children do do this, and our hearts are broken.  We should not be surprised.

As a friend of a friend said, who has struggled with MS for forty years, “when I think ‘why me?’, I also think “why not me?  People suffer all around us in more ways than we know, and I am one of them."

When the Creator took out that great spinning top, the universal, and with ‘clapping hands and mighty boom, said ‘let there be life’, the Creator knew what was coming, that the seed of a worm had also been sown into the universe. Perhaps if there was anyone else around to hear, a slight groan might have been detected.

I do not believe in a Creator

·         who deliberately makes people suffer, because it’s ‘Good for them’.

·         who responds to the prayers of some great preacher, rather than the prayers of my mother, who stood by my bedside in hospital for hours when I was recovering from a serious operation.  Or the prayers of two people I know whose own son died in suffering at a young age.

·         who is just waiting for magic word combinations, or is unable to help because my faith is inadequate. 

·         who gives special access to some parts of Creation over other parts of it, due to wealth, race or religion.

·         who needs badgering, or petitioning by ever greater numbers of people before wishes are granted. 
Who 'sends people to Hell!' (cf John Powell)

Please avoid….

Prayers of pity- “I can’t cope with the idea of you being disabled – It distresses me.  Therefore you must get back to how you were because I am uncomfortable and upset.”

My thoughts are that initially this is quite an innocent position, similar to a parental reaction when a child brings home a boyfriend/ girlfriend of an unexpected race or sexuality.  It’s a natural fear.  But it is a position to ‘move on from’.

There is a massive literature about the marginalisation of disabled people.  This is a worldwide problem.  I see that it is based on the abuse of power, as disabled people have their power compromised through access to wealth, and voice.  Also the natural tendency of all people to ‘normalise’, ie to vera to what is felt to be normal, acceptable, and feels comfortable. 

What I do believe about pray.

I recall my daughter telling me about her Philosophy teacher at school asking the children to put their hands up at the beginning of term if they were willing to allow the content of the subject to influence what they actually believed.  My daughter said after some thought, she put her hand up, because she knew her beliefs were ‘living and organic’, able to be attuned, and she had nothing to be afraid of here.  I also feel that my beliefs are open to change, particularly if this is towards what I believe to be ‘the truth’. 

I believe that when we pray, we look to the face of our Creator.  This is like the child who when confronted by a stranger, or testing situation, looks to a parent for reassurance.  There is a famous demonstration of this called the ‘Campo’s, visual cliff.’  Babies can see that they can get to a toy if they crawl over a glass table top.  They are unsure if it is safe.  They look to their parent on the other side of the table.  It the parent frowns, they stay still.  If the parent smiles, they crawl across the glass.

When I pray, the best thing I can do is to feel how my creator feels, and be guided by that.  If I feel encouragement that my loved one is going to survive, and grow strong, I know that it will happen, and prayers are aligned to reality.  I may feel that I am being prepared for loss.  However my pray is not passive.  It’s not like cheering for a football team while watching the telly.  It is being in the stadium and being part of the action.  My prayers, just as the cheering of fans, is part of the healing, part of the plan.  When my team wins, I am deeply affected.  I was there, I was in some way part of it.

I also believe that I am changed in the process.  Being a part of the Creator’s actions is bound to have an effect on me.  It’s like an architect who creates a great impressive building.  The achievement will change their lives for ever.  Or the writer who publishes a book that is greatly acclaimed.  They have a new world opened up to them.  In the same way, when I am part of the Creator’s purpose for people around me, and I see that this is as real as the movement of muscles and limbs, I am a different person.  I see the world differently.

In this way things that are not good.  Where not intended to happen, cause misery and suffering, are used and transformed into wholly positive things that have multiple factors of goodness over and above what was there before.  Without the suffer, may not have existed. 

In Sheffield we visited St Marks’s Church.  This Victorian church took a direct hit by a bomb in the second world war.  After the war a new church was created using the stones of the old.  A new design was allowed that brought a unique light, creativity, and splendour into a building that would otherwise be ‘run of the mill’.  It was fascinating to visit, and I for one would not want it to be returned to the old building.

Not forgetting Royal Hallamshire Hospital

James - did nights 6 times- came over to Liz to say good bye.
Sam - lovely person- did Liz's hair in french plats.
Sarah I - perfect professional kind care.
Sarah II - sames but with bright pink lipstick.
Femina - sang the rosary to Liz in the night.
Linny - another Kerelan nurse who cared a lot.
Helen - "Looking in my glasses case" (a chocolate bar- most appropriate).
Jess - young, bright cheery and  helpful.
Alistair - "Right, lets get you out of here and into the sun."
Andy - always there when you need help.  That's true care.
Bluebell - we wanted more of her.
Holly -  A Physio- got straight in and kept Liz's spirits high.
Tim - positive, helpful, we understood why we had to leave.  We had to trust him.
Patrick - in charge of discharge.  Gave us plenty of time.
Eveline - pregnant? Interesting ascent, Liz's last nurse before the sudden departure. Wore the hospital uniform of choice - scrubs.
Linda - chatty, Loves cycling.
Becky - professional, to be trusted.
Nicola - blue hair, knew her stuff.
Lyndon - early carers for Liz.
Dr Sham - Anesthetist- gentle and kind.
Dr Ali - Neurologist - "You don't need to shout."
Dr David Turnbull - Neurologist - very straightforward and helpful.
Dr Hickman - "I'm going to come and attack you on this side."  Explained Liz's eye sight difficulties to her.

Story on the Stairs

When the Royal Hallamshire Hospital was built in the seventies, the designers would not have imagined how important the stairs would be. We count 20 lifts in the central atrium. They look very impressive, but only 3 are available for the visitors and patients. Some of the patients look very ill, with drips, bandages and pyjamas. I joked that waiting for the lift was like catching a train. It's a vertical underground. A crowd gathers around the doors. After five minutes the lift arrives. The lift is full. I thought of the attendants in the Tokyo underground who push people into packed carriages. But our passengers are fragile and vulnerable.

The stairs allow just two people to pass at the same time. It's a friendly place, amply supplied with deference and goodwill. Most of the stair-climbers appear to be the staff.

'A' level is entered through the outpatient department. We walk past the reverent, empty chapel. Round the back of the lifts. Don't descend to the curiously named 'lighter activities' dept. Head up to the main hospital entrance on B level. Then continue up past the sign for Boots the chemist. Up past level D, given over to dinning and strong smells. At G level we break into the sunlight, with large windows offering greater and higher views over Western Park. Only two more levels up to I, where we are greeted by a rabbit telling us 255 climbs equals Ben Nevis, and 1567, you have climbed  Everest. How many for 'K2' level I ask?  Only two more levels to go to reach K , and Neuro Critical Care.  The staircase continues to O level and then to the roof, were we understand that there is a helipad. In the event of a fire, we have been informed, head for the roof!

View from Level K

2 more floors to go.

Learning about Loxley

At Malin Bridge, not for from the Mini-Market, is a sign to the great flood of Sheffield in 1864.  The Dam on Dale Dykes reservoir broke Soon after construction, as it was filling with water.  A Tsunami of water  careered down the Loxley valley, which might explain why there is archaeological evidence of the mills that once filled this valley, but only the foundation stones, and large metal capstones and fly wheels.   There are dramatic heart rending Victorian pictures of the incident.  Apparently Henry Jessop, the mayor at the time, was felt to have handled the crisis well at the time.   Jessop is a big name in Sheffield.

The Loxley and Rivelin valleys have a series of mill ponds.  Each one signifies a factory, with forge and cutlery workshop.  The smoke, noise and pollution has all gone.

The mini market is running by Dillar (he helped me by saying 'rhymes with Blair').  Dillar, a Kurd, escaped from Iraq many years ago.  He told me he has wanted to go back, but his father says it is too unsafe.  He felt the Iraq was a freer country under Saddam Hussein than it is now.  He gave the thumbs up to Loxley.  I bought Sheffield milk from 'our cow Molly' and Lilly's baps made up the road. Sheffield appears to have quite a flourishing local food scene.

Lovely and Wadsley common provide a perfect place for early morning walks, with or without a dog. I noted that somewhere on the common is the etching of a sword on a rock.  It's location is a closely guarded secret.

Thomas Halliday has two houses of note.  He was the Unitarian minister in Norton at the turn of the 19th century. The grand house of Loxley was his.  Also a house at the top of a steep escarpment by the river.  It is called Robin Hood Inn.  Halliday had it designed to have the minimum possible amount of wood in its construction. He has experienced a family bereavement due to fire, and wanted to create a fireproof house.  He called the area 'Matlock' after his Derbyshire origins.  It retains the name to this day.  A paved steep path, fitted with a handy rail, descends to a bridge over the river.

The remains of the valley after 11th March 1864

Robin Hood Inn (now apartments)

Loxley House

Walking around Loxley

Thomas Halliday - 1804

Nor by me e'er shall you, 

You of all names the sweetest and the best,

You Muses, books, and liberty, and rest,

You gardens, fields, and woods forsaken be,

As long as life itself forsakes me not. 

(Cowley)  Translation provided by Peter


The names of the most charming of the world, no more can ye, ye mountains, waterfalls, pastures, the forest is mine, and the cliffs of the cavern, while the soul remains out of spite.
Google translate

In the wall of a house called 'Robin Hood Inn'.  Built by Thomas Halliday, local Unitarian Minister.  The house was designed to be fire-proof, because Halliday suffered a family bereavement due to fire.  The stairs and beams apparently are all stone.  

Halliday also owned Loxley House, just below the common, which he rented out to his friend Thomas Payne (not Thomas Paine).  

Ditch the Metaphor

Yesterday's early light was beautiful.  I set off up the hill using the Sheffield A-Z I had picked up from the house.  I could see Nigel's post-it notes from when he used it to make GP home visits.  Marjory Brown, bad chest and sore feet - (not her real name.)

The route went up through Studfield Quarry.  There are a number of old millstone grit houses scattered through the estate.  I guessed that this is where the stone originated from.   At the top of the Quarry there is a path heading off up to the common.  As I walked through the woods, the track trailed off into the distance.  I searched around for a metaphor.  "Not through the woods yet", "keep on the path and trust that the view at the top will be magnificent."  I got to the top.  There was a small car park, and lots of birch trees.  "Ditch that metaphor" I thought quickly after deciding that the summit was pleasant, but non-descript. 

Today I decided to do the walk in reverse.  There was some light drizzle, but the air was fresh and cool.  This time I found an interesting pile of broken bolders.  They reminded me of the much grander 'Steinura' in Northern Norway.  I decided it was a mini-steinura, and felt quite satisfied with it.  Next I left the beaten track and walked along a rocky ridge.  Here the views were more interesting, with a panorama across the Peak District.  On the horizon I could see high rocky outcrops.  It was good to return and reappraise the place.  I am sure there is a lot more to discover too.  (Still ditch the metaphor.)

Mini Steinura

Warm Rain

Mercy is like the rain.

This morning I got up at my usual time, dressed and out of the door in seconds, like a modern electric train I mused.  Margaret and Joanna, both have elegant, steam-powered engines, needing time for their boilers to be stoked.  I am now listening out for the rumble of boiling water.

I found the route down past the Loxley Works, a smart gated residence, and through the woods to the Loxley river.  By the river there were large masonry blocks, so vast that they reminded me of something that might have being uncovered in the valley of the Kings.  It might once have been the foundations of a power station, harnessing the force of the River Loxley to turn the wheels in the now upmarket residence.

As I wondered, I recalled my mother saying to Peter and me that we could play in the rain.  We were in Hong Kong, and the rain fell in large drops.  I remembered wondering what was so dangerous about rain, but this was warm rain and it wasn't going to harm anyone.  Apparently rain in England has to be respected.

We had a tense moment on Monday talking about trying not to cry in front of Elizabeth, because this made her cry, and then she started choking.  But you can't stop the rain.  Sometimes it doesn't kill you, even though it hurts.

I visited the local shop at Malinbridge.  I told the shopkeeper that I was his latest costumer, for a while.  We talked about the reason we had moved into Loxley.  He had had a friend on the same ward.  As an Iraqi Kurd, I guessed we both knew about tragedy, his on a greater scale.

I am "Dillar" he said.  "Hamdullah?"  I said.  "No, just Dillar."

"Praise be to God" for this morning, and all that will happen it in.

A Journey North

A cycle ride north, beyond my usual territory up towards Melton Mowbray. I came to Stapleford Park where Dave and Fran have enjoyed luxury weekends in the past.  And I remembered that St Mary Magdalene's church is features in Simon Jenkins' 1000 Best Churches.  It's a Georgian Church, fitted out for a wedding.  

View from the gallery

View of the gallery

Some amazing flowers

The church in the park

Stapleford Park

Leicester to Stapleford

Stories over the weekend

Beningthorpe House (NT) (Viewed from the ferry point)

1) The Good News - I am coming to the Bank Holiday Weekend get together in York with the Buttons.  Good News, I can spend Friday night with my friend in Nun Monkton.  Where do we meet on Saturday? That's luck, 1/2 a mile away at Beningbrough Hall.  The bad news is that it's the other side of the River Ouse, so that's 14 miles away by road.  And the good news is that this summer, a Saturday ferry service now operates from Nun Monkton.  11:03- Meet Peter off the first ferry.

We stayed with Ellie and Tom and their
beautiful Children

Ratatouille Button

2) Tom and Ellie have restored the two rooms at the top of their house to a beautiful standard, and we have the rooms to ourselves.  Luxury.  Shame about the lack of a Maserati out the front would you not say Sam?  There seems to be a spare one in a courtyard near to Roger and Helen's.

Helen and Andrew Bailey look down onto Coney Street, York.

Peter on the roof of St Martins Le Gand

View of the Admiral pointing to the sun with a Jacob's Ladder
with our guide 'Andrew' explaining it's story.

The silver lining following the WWII incendiary bomb was a
radical re-siting of the  West Window, so we can get up close.

3) Story of one church in York.  From some evidence of a mysterious church building in the 11th century, St Martin Le Grand grew with the patronage of the Minster.  One very fine medieval window was taken down as war broke out in 1939.  The incendiary bomb hit the church in 1942, and burned so fiercely that only one transept could be saved.  I very much enjoyed the use of the modern wall with the old church.  Also the relocation of the window to help fill in the north wall.  Peter explained Jacob bin Ishaq al-Kindi's role as inventor of the Jacobs Ladder.

The west window, featuring St Martin and his life

Rev Robert Seber, the vicar saying 

St Martin persuading the devil to
read the Mass (Thanks Peter)

When 2/3's of the church disappeared the the
flames melted the limestone columns.

The altered altar

The famous clock.

4) And it was great to hear that St Martin's clock has a tune composed by Andrew Carter, the Australian Starr's good friend.  It apparently mimics the drunken wandering of clubbers that occur around the Church at night.  And here he is with the Starrs in 2013 when they visited to listen to the chimes up our very own tower.

Andrew Carter - Famous York composer

Sunday Lunch in the Red Tower

That time of year

and the best joke at the Edinburgh fringe is.....

Adam Rowes joke.... "Working at the Jobcentre has to be a tense job - knowing that if you get fired, you still have to come in the next day."

Others I like are....

Olaf Falafel "I took out a loan to pay for an exorcism.  If I don't pay it back I'm going to get repossessed."

Alexei Sayle "I've given up asking rhetorical questions. What's the point?"

 Jimeoin "I'm rubbish with names. It's not my fault. It's a condition. There's a name for it....."

Adam Hess "I wonder how many chameleons snuck into the ark?"

Zoe Lyons. "I'll tell you what is unnatural in the eyes of God. Contact lenses."

And some more

Demitri Martin "The worst time to have heart attack is in a game of charades."

Chris Turner  "never apologies, never explain. That's my motto."

Christian Talbot "words can not express how much I hate world emoji day."

Glen Moore "I've only got two weaknesses. Being vague, and some other weakness."

Jake Lambert "I live in a bungalow, which is great though with only one major flaw."

Lost voice man "when I realised that I'd never be able to talk again, I was speechless."

Matt Winning "I wonder whether the inventor of the shoehorn ever tried to bring it up in conversation?"

Finlaystone and the Euro Champs

What I picked up in Glasgow

1) The Romans got there first.  The built a fort at Bothwellhaugh, later to become Motherwell.  Now by the banks of Strathclyde Loch, where Ruth and Sarah swam in their triathlon.
2) The fine Georgian house of Finlaystone, current resident being Sarah Kerr's Durham team mate, was extended by Victorian ancestors to become lopsided Scottish Baronial, like Balmoral, loosing its Palladian charm somewhat.

Finlaystone House

3) No cars in Scotland have GB stickers.  I wondered whether our GB sicker was the reason why I was being flashed by passing cars.  Of course it is too far to France from Glasgow, but also it's political.
4) The Horse Chestnut trees are fine in Scotland.  It was good to see them looking healthy.
5) It was fascinating to see the Loch Lomond discontinuity.  This is along the lowlands/highlands fault line and crosses the loch and up into Conix Hill.

My first find, at Dave Macha's church in Burnsell

6) Having seen the Goven viking Hogbacks, I now have to see the Brompton Hogbacks in Yorkshire.

Govan Hogbacks

Brompton Hogbacks

7) You can get the train from Glasgow to Langs.  Cross to Great Cambrae Island, and be in the smallest Cathedral in the British Isles.  It's important in the story of the Oxford Movement, which revitalized the Anglo-Catholic Church in England.  Designed by Butterworth of Keble College fame, it feature walls of tiles, giving the rather rude description of lavatory Gothic.

80 seats for the conregation

Fine wall tiling

Episcopal Cathedral of Argyle and the Islands

The Barn at Finlaystone

Anna Bennett and Family with us

Finlaystone gardens

Sarah finishes her triathlon

Ruth finishes is style

Alistair Brownlee eventually comes fourth to Pierre LeCorre

The vibe in George Square, Glasgow

Ferry over to Great Cambrae Island

Margaret's turn

Margaret and Andrew building a craggan

The Lighthouse, Glasgow