Monday 30 March 2009

Simple pleasures


Today was doing some much-needed housework and "Woman's Hour" was on the radio. There was a battle between the part of me that wanted to replace the radio noise with some music on my iPod...and the other half of me that was rushing to get the work done and couldn't be bother to go and find the iPod.

The latter "me" won. So I stayed listening as I did the washing up.

They were talking about happiness, pleasure and contentment.

The usual platitudes about "money doesn't bring happiness" were touted and I'm firmly of the belief that this is true...up to a point. Money can bring you choices and remove some basic worries and that can help with the whole happiness thing.

Since switching to part time hours (for my own, selfish, reasons - I hasten to add) I have to think more carefully about how I use my income. It certainly hasn't made me any less happy that I can't just go and buy more-or-less anything I want without worrying about the cost.

The times I have been most happy in the last couple of years were times like yesterday - four of us spent no more than £20 (in total) sat in the sun drinking coffee and catching up on the Downs, then going to the Botanic Gardens for a few hours, and taking photographs.

And times like today (post housework) sitting on the back doorstep with a bacon butty in one hand and coffee in the other, putting the world to rights with a friend.

A lot of these latter conversations were a about bad things going on in the world and how it made us variously mad and depressed.

This links back to the Woman's Hour article - when one speaker said "I don't think that humans are on the planet to be happy and content because it's being discontented that gets the bad things changed"

I don't think either my friend or I are going to change the injustices that we got so exercised about today...but I'm inclined to agree that a little discontentment is probably good to stop complacency setting.

On a lighter note, we also surmised what would happen if an alien came and visited and looked at us all typing on QWERTY keyboards, given the dilberate inefficiencies built into the layout.

Such conversations can't be predicted or contrived, in my experience, but gave us both cause to laugh....and that's worth more than money, any day.


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Saturday 28 March 2009

Reappraisal


For the last six weeks I've had a couple of friends living with me.

They've been having work done on their house and asked to come and stay whilst the work was carried out.

I was happy to oblige. They're good friends, good company and there's plenty of room in my house.

Today they pretty much moved out.

Several people have asked whether I'll miss them, or whether I'm glad to see them go.

The answer's not simple.

I've been living on my own for a couple of years now, having moved from my parents' house some 20 odd years ago and then living with my partner.

I hear that the current "housing crisis" is, in part, due to the fact that so many people live alone.

I know several people who choose to live alone and other people who live alone for other reasons. Strictly speaking, I'm one of the latter.

Until now, I've not considered whether I like or want to live alone...I just do.

Tonight is my first night back on my own in the house with nothing much to do.

Am I lonely? No. It's kinda nice to perch here, on the sofa, "House" on in the background and snuggly blanket on my lap to keep out the chill of the falling temperature.

Do I miss them? Yep. As DrP gave me a hug as he finished packing the car I had to stifle a bit of a lump in my throat. They were both lovely company and perfect houseguests.

So how do I feel about living on my own?

It's still just what I do. But now I know that I positively like some aspects of living alone, and also that I could share my living space again...given the right housemate.

Good result, I reckon.


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Monday 23 March 2009

A change of mind


I'm not much travelled and I think I mentioned, in an earlier post that my recent trip to Denver was my first time in the US.

I'd never been particularly interested in going to the States, despite many of my friends having nothing but great things to say about it.

I had been given a choice as to whether I wanted to work on my current project at work - and I said "Yes" in full knowledge that at least one trip to Denver would be required.

To say the least, I was not looking forward to the trip. As it came closer I became more and more agitated and crabby with everything and everyone. I knew exactly what was going on, but I seemed powerless to do anything about my mood.

A friend asked what it was about the trip that was making me so agitated.

I still don't really know the answer to that question but I'm guessing it was mostly fear of the unknown.

Airport security, homeland security, a 10 hour flight, the prospect of jet lag, travelling with the English folk that I don't know very well, and who don't know me...oh, and the prospect of working closely with Americans.

My previous dealings with folk from the US have been mostly difficult affairs - involving insincerity, and a strange sort of patronising of people from "the old country".

Anyway...so I went with a heavy heart.

Airport security was a pain, and felt a little intrusive but was over quickly enough

The 10 hour flight was a lot less physically uncomfortable than some of the short flights I've taken.

Homeland security was strange to say the least. The officers are wholly unsmiling. I mistook a serious question for dry humour (bad move) but scored on the rebound by finally making the officer smile when he realised it was my first stateside trip.

The hotel we were put in was a nice, comfortable, corporate sort of place.

Walking around Denver on the only day we really had to ourselves was OK. The compromise required when travelling with others you don't know very well is tricky. They indulged my wanting to walk and look at architecture, I didn't hang around too long for fear of putting them out and I accompanied them to the Mall later in the day.
The city seemed nice enough but I'd need to go there again to see if it was really worth spending a lot of time in as a tourist.

The real revelation came when I went to work.

Without exception, the folk I worked with were engaging, funny, welcoming, keen to learn, delighted to teach and well up for the project we're attempting to pull off.

The smiles were genuine. They were not shallow, nor money obsessed. They didn't think that the US has all the answers, they were realistic about their place in the world.

In restaurants and the hotel the staff were, apparently, genuinely keen to make sure we had a pleasant experience...from the guy who poured coffee and juice at breakfast to the guy who drove the shuttle car around the DTC and beyond. All seemed proud and happy to do their jobs in serving us.

If the next stage of the work proceeds as planned then there's a fair chance that a return visit will be required.

I can't say I'll be gagging to sit on a Boeing 777 for 10 hours in cattle-class again but I'll reasonably happily go through the wretched security procedures and I'll look forward to meeting the Denverites again.

I'd even go as far as considering extending the trip for some time just to hang out and enjoy the place properly...and even fly on my own in order to do so.

I'd really rather go with someone else to share the experience...after all, it's less fun to see something interesting or funny and not have someone you love (in whatever sense) nearby to point it out to...but if a lone journey is required, then I'd do it. Also, I'd probably not send moping emails to a friend saying what a miserable time I was having...probably not, anyway.

So, there's something else new I've experienced...and something else about which I've had to revise my opinion.

This new stuff is all good, you know...





Well, not all good. By God the jetlag really sucks.



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Saturday 21 March 2009

The long and winding road


Anyone who tells you that grief has five stages and implies they apply to everyone is at best naive and at worst, lying.

At least, that's my experience.

So, at exactly two years since I came home from work to find myself single again all of a sudden, I find myself taking stock.



Stage 1
Denial. Yep, I had that. It lasted approximately 90 seconds.

Stage 2
Anger. Yep. I had that almost immediately after the denial. It lasted for a few days having seen what all our friends and family (let alone I) were going through

Stage 3
Bargaining
Here's where it gets sticky for me.
Bargaining with whom? and to what end? Nothing could have changed the facts
So strike stage 3 for me.

Stage 4
Depression
If I can extend that to mean "very sad" or "down" then, OK, I'll tick that.

But wait...here comes the anger again...

Stage 5
Acceptance
Yep. Very quickly, in fact...maybe after a couple of weeks.

But oh-0h Depression's back, and following hot the heels of that is Anger again.

Oh...and guilt isn't mentioned anywhere in the model and I had (and have) oodles of that sometimes.

I've no real idea how other people handle their bereavement but for me implying there's a "right way" or a "normal way" to handle it isn't terribly helpful.

I was, and am, very lucky indeed. Not only did I have a great family and friend network, but I pretty quickly found myself with a whole load of new friends who deal with the facts in a grown up, fairly matter of fact, way because they know that generally works best for me.

From the Brother outlaw who encouraged me to join Flickr and share photos with him and others to improve my photography, to the neighbours who watched out for me every step of the way and did some gruelling jobs at a time when I simply couldn't function.

From someone who didn't freak out when I felt the need to tell him, even before we actually met for lunch the first time and then went on to give me some insight and told me not to blame myself to "the boys" who are always at the end of a text or email to make sure I'm OK.

All those people, and many more, are helping me to get to a new normality in my life.

But I'm still not fully at acceptance, am I?

Finding one of his jumpers that I'd forgotten I kept as I stow my laundry can still completely undo me.

The inability to reach something in a cupboard, or to change the washer on a dripping tap can send me into a rage with him...that was his job, after all.

Then seeing the daffs in garden can make me yearn for spring Saturdays when along with the bread from the baker's, a couple of bunches of daffodils would invariably be handed to me.

Am I abnormal or special in my seeming cycling of "stages"?

As much as I might like to think so, I very much doubt it.

I would imagine it's a fairly typical reaction to a severe trauma and sudden loss of a much loved one.

So let's be allowed to grieve in our own way, without following a flowchart, eh?

If you're bereaved and having trouble getting through the various prescribed stages - relax, you're not abnormal if you don't follow the pattern...get through it all the best way you can.

One platitude that does work for me, strangely enough, is the one about time being a great healer. The wounds are there but they seem to get less painful over time.

And to anyone who recognises themselves in my descriptions of people who have made my life worth getting up for, then I thank you from the bottom of my heart...you rock!


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Sunday 8 March 2009

Culture Shock


This may make less sense than usual. I'm fighting the urge to sleep. I have been awake for 19 hours now and my body is rebelling.

I having my first trip to the US


I know that at the grand old age of 45 that seems a little insular or xenophobic. Not really. I loathe the whole rigmarole of flying and so it takes a lot to get me in plane.

Rome did it, easily. The Costa del Sol did it against my better judgement. Paris did it but it was more the personal reason than destination.

I landed here approximately 3 and a bit hours ago and it's nearly 8.30pm local time.

In an attempt to stay awake for another hour or so I've read and written emails. Tried to surf on Flickr but Flickr's a little poorly just now.

So I've crawled into bed and put the TV on. I rarely watch TV at home but I thought it might be just engaging enough to stop me dropping off.

What's with the cuture shock, then?

The accents? No...the little TV I watch tends to be US drama at the moment

Is it the NTSC coding rather than PAL? Well, yeah a little...but only a little bit

Is it the frequency with with adverts (or should that be commercials) are breaking up the film? It's annoying but not exactly shocking.

No - it's the combination of the advertisement of prescription medicines coupled by the incredible number of dire warnings.

Erectile dyfunction meds, contraceptive meds, rheumatoid arthritis meds, asthma meds, even aspirin for heart conditions. All have a few moments of pretty people saying how wonderful the drug is followed by at least as much airtime saying how bad it potentially is.

It really is the oddest thing.

I'm all for balance but I'm surprised anyone sees the point of this style of advertising when, presumably, doctors know both side of the tale and they do the prescribing.

I'm sure this business trip to Denver has more surprises up its sleeve but this one has been enough for my travel-addled brain.

I think I'm going to call it a night.

Monday 2 March 2009

Lack of Critical Thinking


Baroness Greenfield has kicked up something of a shitstorm.

It would appear that she declared, in the House of Lords, that the use of social networking sites such as Facebook and Twitter are likely to lead to "infantilisation".

Either in league with or coicident with this piece of "research". I qualify the expression research because, having read the fuller version of the paper it seemed to be taking a whole load of other research, that didn't seem to be directly related to the subject of people vs the internet.

The conclusion that the good lady and Aric Sigman seemed to draw was that:

A) There is a lot of research that says lonely people are less healthy than not-lonely people. Lonely isn't really explained as to whether it's a psychological or physical state...so it doesn't make any comment as to whether alone = lonely.

B) People who use the internet must be lonely

Ergo

C) Social networking sites make you ill.

Now - all this could be completely misrepresenting both Baroness Greenfield and Aric Sigman but certainly what is being reported, for the most part, is some panicky "The internet will damage your children" message.

Whilst their hypotheses may be not unreasonable, they seem to have made a big leap from several well documented, widely understood and known studies to a conclusion about something that wasn't covered in the studies.

I'm a reasonably intelligent woman (on a good day) with a pretty good grounding in scientific principals. I'm also confident and articulate enough to listen to what others say and appraise it critically. Others are not so lucky and could take what the good Baroness says as irrefutable and not open to question.

The theme was taken up in Woman's Hour on R4 today (I loathe and detest the programme but I was making coffee in the kitchen and it was on). A chap was being interviewed about his opinion about the evil thing that Twitter is.

The implication was that it was potentially rife with paedophillic grooming of the young and innocent and that Twitter were doing insufficient to counter it.

When asked whether young users were a big part of the Twitter populace he said "errr no, not at the moment". When asked if there had been reports of such problems he said "errr no" again. Then when asked whether the measures put in place by the likes of Beebo and Facebook were strong measures (for example age verification and parental permission) that couldn't be easily circumvented by a kid of reasonable intelligence he was forced, once again to say "errrr no". Thereby creating a complete farce out of the interview and his earlier rant.

What a waste of time!

But the point is that in the meantime the Daily Mail style of reporting has already taken hold in some minds and "The Internet" is once again labelled as a bad thing.

On a lighter note, whilst looking up some references I did find this article from the Guardian and that made me giggle.

Why did I post the picture at the top of this page?

Well, a couple of years ago I suddenly found myself needing to find a new and wider group of friends. I have been wholly successful in this and would count about 10 new people as very close friends (two of whom are sharing my house temporarily) and at least another 10 as good, sound acquaintances. Are they people I know "in the real world"? Yes. How did I meet them? Via the internet.

The people in the picture are in that 20 or so people.

In addition to all these people I spend real time with, there are another 4 or 5 people I reasonably regularly chat with by various internet means who I haven't met yet. Do they enrich my life? Hell yeah...why would they not? We share observations, photographs, jokes, articles about this and that...you know, just like real people do. That'll be cos they're real people.

As a shy woman, I can tell you it's easier to meet someone face to face after you've exchanged a few e-mails. There's a bit of common ground laid and you've probably already weeded out the people who you're not going to hit it off at all.

So, maybe it's best to have plenty of contact with real people (that sounds reasonable, after all) but my hypothesis would be that it's better to have virtual friends than none at all and that a virtual hug, might not be such a bad thing if that's the only way you can get your hugs just now.

So let's have a sense of proportion and a bit of rigour in our research papers, please.


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Sunday 1 March 2009

Drinks vs Gender - Update



So, it turns out that I was right. A few of my male friends think I'm exagerating the whole "I get given the wrong drinks cos I'm a girl who drinks boys' drinks" thing.

They don't tell me as much but two further incidents with the doubters in tow caused a simultaneous "I told you so" and giggle.

DrC meets me for a swift evening drink. I umm and ahm quite loudly in the hearing of the new landlord of my local as to what beer I might drink.

After I decide, DrC declares it's his turn to buy and so orders a pint of Golden Hare and a pint of Coke.


Landlord looks me straight in the eye and says "would you like ice in that?"

"In my beer? No thanks..."

DrC catches my eye and we share a moment.

A couple of days later five of us go out for a meal in a local Nepalese Restaurant. When the drinks order is taken "Five beers and one pint of coke, please".

The drinks arrive and the coke is put down in front of me - DrC is sitting opposite.

BW roars with laughter. He admits he thought I was making a fuss about nothing but now he sees it in action, he is contrite.

The considerably more charitable SI says that people's response is not unreasonable. He's an actuary and his work is all about the odds.

He gives sage counsel "in most people's experience, the woman is the designated driver, if nothing else. Also - given a random man and a random woman, the woman is more likely to drink G&T than real ale. It's this knowledge that the various serving staff are relying on".

Does it make me feel better?

Since I first blogged about it, I feel wholly less exercised by the subject. Now I'm just mildly amused.


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Humbling Stuff

I occasionally do some volunteering of photographic services for a local organization - the Pierian Centre , some friends join in sometimes, too.

I don't always have a total affinity with the events and activities that take place - some are a little on the new-agey side for my interests and taste, but I'll defend unto death people's right to follow that lifestyle if they choose.



This week, I got a bit of a last minute request to cover an event to celebrate a local man being awarded an OBE. I'd never heard of the gentleman in question - pictured here.

His name is Paul Stephenson.

He campaigned in the 60's for the Bristol Bus Company to lift its colour-bar on black and asian drivers. He was at the centre of a boycotting of Bristol buses and this boycott got worldwide recognition.

He also indulged in a little civil disobedience, getting himself arrested when he refused to leave a pub in the city centre who had refused to serve him on the grounds of his colour. This was considered to be a perfectly reasonable and legal act.

Also in the picture is Princess Campbell. She was the first black nursing sister in Bristol.

The stories that were being told were of not only overt discrimination, but discrimination so intrenched that it was seen as perfectly acceptable behaviour by the majority white community until a "fuss" was made.

That commonplace acceptance of actions that I find abhorrent happened in my lifetime.
Literally in my lifetime.
I was born in the same year this landmark action was taken.

The rooms I was taking photos in had a distinct majority of black faces and, as a white woman milling around with a camera I was wholly welcomed and accepted by those people who had been so badly treated by people around the same age as my parents.

I'm not a big fan of close quarters with lots of people. I'm not a fan of meeting new folk. I'm not great at candid portraiture so it was all very hard work but, by God, what a magnificent, uplifting but thoroughly humbling evening.


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