A Message Across the Ages: Why I Will Be Voting Labour on 8th June 2017

Was the last general election just two blog posts ago? I really need to get on here more often! My most recent pastime of choice has been researching my family tree, a passion ignited by the TV programme, 'Who Do You Think You Are.' I can keep myself entertained for hours with it. Never had I considered the emotional energy that would be expended by spending so much time 'down among the dead,' as I call it. There is a sense that, by uttering the names of these long forgotten people from the 19th and early 20th century, we can somehow bring them back to life again, if only momentarily.

I had always craved to know more about my Dad's family. My Grandad, James, died when I was just a year old.  I'd heard a story that he and his twin sister had come over from Ireland as babies and young Margaret had died as the result of a tram accident.  Researching the documents told a different story. Seems that Grandad was born in Liverpool after all - it is writ clear on the baptismal registers. He was born into a court in Ben Jonson Street, one of the worst streets in Liverpool at the time.

Ben Jonson Street

There is scant documentary evidence of this little family's existence but what there is tells a sad tale.  James and his twin Margaret were born to James and Ann Kelly in 1890. Ben Jonson Street was arguably the least salubrious address in Liverpool at the time.  The road consisted of courts which were cramped, unsanitary dwellings lacking any through ventilation.  Dwellings of this kind served as homes to the massive influx of Irish migrants, many of whom were escaping famine brought about by the potato blight. The lucky ones were able to take a ship to new worlds, many settled around the Scotland Road area of town which was close enough for work at the thriving Liverpool Docks. James senior was one such dock labourer and apart from his occupation, I know nothing about him. 

On census night in April 1891, my grandad appears on the census, not in Ben Jonson Street, but at Walton Prison, He and his sister are each listed alongside their mother as 'infant of prisoner'. How very sad that in this day and age when every moment of a child's life is documented with photographs on Facebook and Instagram, these children have only their births and a brief stay at Her Majesty's Pleasure to evidence their existence. They possibly spent their first birthday there. I don't know what the crime was but given that it was a relatively short stay that it was probably petty theft of food or something. Ann Kelly would have had no recourse to food banks. Just a few weeks later, at the end of May, little infant Margaret had left this life. The cause of her death was 'marasmus bronchitis' a condition symptomatic of malnutrition.

Coroner's Inquest into the death of Mary Condron

In early October of 1892, Ann gave birth to another girl. Mary, but she too had died by the end of the month.  A newspaper search yielded brief information from the Liverpool Mercury. Among the inquests dealt with by the Coroner's Court on Tuesday 1st November 1892 was the sad case of Mary Condron, the daughter of James Condron, a dock labourer. She was found dead at her mother's side in bed and a verdict of 'Accidental Suffocation' was given. There were no other children born to the couple and by 1898, my Great-grandad had also died at the age of 40 years.  The address shown on in the records of Ford Cemetery, was 'Liverpool Workhouse'. From the time I saw this it troubled me but, in fact, the workhouse had an infirmary so this needn't have meant the worst.  When I finally got hold of his death certificate,my theory was confirmed. His address was still at Ben Jonson Street. He had died from an abscess with chronic suppuration and presumably had it treated at the Workhouse infirmary.

This small human tragedy saddened me more than I expected. I had pieced together the fragments of these lives from a few extant details and felt pain in my heart.  I suppose this shouldn't surprise me. After all I share their DNA. Part of grandad, and my great grandparents still lives in every cell of my body so why shouldn't I feel their pain and misery across the ages? I have since reflected on the fact that of all of the siblings, my grandad was the survivor. Miraculous, then, that I am here at all!

On one level this is a personal story, but on another, it is a political one. What sort of world was it in  late 19th Century  Liverpool? Liverpool was a thriving port, one of the wealthiest cities in the world at that time - we still have an embarrassment of riches in terms of beautiful buildings, the like of which would never be built nowadays.  If some of the banking and shipping buildings which lie empty now, or else have been turned into boutique hotels were in Italy, they would be deemed palaces. And yet the Irish migrant population lived in cellars and courts which were soon after condemned as unfit for human habitation.  One of the saddest things was the case of little Mary. We take for granted that our children have a room each.  This family would have only had room for one bed in their cold, damp little court so they would have all had to huddle together to keep warm. This was not uncommon. The same day that the Coroner dealt with Mary's case, two other cases of accidental suffocation of infants were brought. One child was in a bed with both parents and two other siblings. One of the babies was buried on the same day as Mary, probably in the same pauper's grave and the third child was buried the next day. It's all there in the meticulous records of Ford cemetery. 

These were the days before the welfare state and the NHS. Poor people went to the Workhouse to have their ailments treated and probably waited until it was too late. Many of our old Victorian hospitals were former workhouses. 

In our contemporary society, where the filthy rich get more obscenely wealthy with each day and the poor become inexorably drawn into the depths of desolation, it is not hard to imagine a return to those bad old days. I think we ought to call time on a Tory government, which sees the working classes merely as a vehicle to to drive profit for their own selfish ends, and looked for a new alternative. That is why I will be voting Labour later today. 

Invitation to Treat

...go beyond the bog standard company benefits like holidays, work environment. We’re no longer at school! We trust our team and offer full time, self employed positions, offering you that flexibility to choose your working hours and days – trusting you to get the job done, and giving you the responsibility to manage your time. In addition, we offer 100% performance pay. Get the job done, exceed your goals, and be rewarded with additional weekly commission bonuses. No fluff in between. We offer regular National travel opportunities to our team, and an annual all expenses paid International break for our top 10 candidates to relax. Now THAT is what we called benefits!

*******

I'm currently in the process of helping my unemployed daughter with job searches. My, oh, my, times have changed! Back in the day, job hunting was reserved for one day a week, Thursday, when the Liverpool Echo would have a bounty of jobs from all manner of companies, large and small, with a detailed offer of incentives to prospective candidates: paid holidays; working hours (flexitime, if you were lucky); subsidised canteen; pension scheme (often non-contributory); staff social club; annual bonus. Now they're hard-pressed to even tell you the name of the company!

Nowadays, the job market is dominated by recruitment agencies and web-based search engines. For all that there appear to be many more jobs, we have much higher unemployment rates. There are many things that annoy me about the job market which I may go into another time. But today my gripe is perfectly illustrated by the extract from a genuine ad which is shown at the head of this post. Let's break this down.

...go beyond the bog standard company benefits like holidays, work environment.

What kind of an imbecile came up with this copy? How do you go beyond standard company benefits like holidays and work environment?

full time, self employed positions

By offering self-employed positions? Ah, so you mean you don't actually offer any paid holidays? That sounds like a good deal! Well, we can scrub paid sickness leave, maternity leave and a pension scheme while we're about it, shall we? Sounds like the company gets a good deal out of this.

we offer 100% performance pay

So, let me get this straight, that means you don't actually offer a salary. You only get paid on results so that could mean you get very little, perhaps nothing at all, particularly while you are finding your feet. My issue with results based pay is that it gives no credit for the work put in. Anybody who works in a sales based environment will tell you that there will often be weeks when, despite your best efforts, the customer just will not 'bite'. But at least if there is a basic you have something to get you through. This is not a basis upon which people can aspire to make their way in the world, have a family, buy a home or support themselves in their later years.

I hope that, one day, corporate greed with become a thing of the past and that once again, 'a fair day's work for a fair day's pay' will become a byword for a fair society.

Why I will be voting Labour on 7th May 2015

Mum is the girl on  the right.

 My Mum, Maggie, is the one on the right of the picture - it was taken probably just post-war. She passed away in 2008 and I still miss her - I'm just so pleased that I was able to spend my own lifetime up to that point, absorbing the wealth of her wisdom.  Maggie had a tough upbringing.  She never really knew her father who died prematurely when she was just 3 years-old.  Born in the heart of Irish immigrant Liverpool, she and her four siblings were brought up by our Nin, Mary Ellen.  Mary Ellen lost 2 other children before they reached the age of 11 and worked in a rag shop to keep the family going.  Mary Ellen was 'lame' - and always walked with a limp but she worked hard to keep the family going.  As her boys got older, they queued up at the dock gates to get whatever pickings in the way of work that there may have been but were frequently turned away due to the force of numbers.  Such was the cruelty of system prior to the welfare state.  They would pray for snow, for then there would be work shovelling the snow to clear the roads.  It was against this backdrop of poverty that Maggie McCarthy started to develop a political understanding of her world.

Nin - Mary Ellen

I remember Mum telling me the story of why she would never vote Tory - well, she never would anyway, as it was ingrained in every self-respecting working class person that the Tories were for the rich and Labour was for the poor, like us.  Nin was finding it really hard to keep the family going.  A proud woman, it took an awful lot for her to ask for help.  However, out of sheer desperation, she took herself along to 'the parish' to ask for some help in feeding her family.  The two youngest children, Maggie and her younger brother John, accompanied her.  Mum told me, with great bitterness how the children had to watch as Mary Ellen was reduced to tears by a panel of well-to-do Conservatives.  When she explained that she was disabled, she received the retort, "By going out to work, you have made yourself able-bodied."  And with this, she was turned away with no help.  One of the panel was clearly uncomfortable about the situation and offered to buy Mary Ellen and the children a meal but she told him where to go, in no uncertain terms. The Labour Party put an end to this type of degradation with the introduction of the welfare state.  With the exponential growth of dependence on food banks and the erosion of benefits, David Cameron is ensuring a dismantling of the welfare state.


After the war, my Dad, Tommy was demobbed from the RAF where he had served his country in
Libya.  For me, his political views are particularly memorable for the fact that he didn't think much to Winston Churchill.  I've never really heard anyone say anything bad about Churchill - he is sacrosanct - but Dad didn't think much of him so that is OK by me.  Maggie and Tommy were soon married and family life started not long after.  In Maggie's own words, people 'lived in rooms' and the young family rented lodgings in various private houses before securing a tenement home in the city centre.  Extensive post-war slum clearance programmes in Liverpool led to the family moving out to a council house in Huyton on the outskirts of Liverpool in 1961- a brand new 'sunshine home' with gardens back and front.  People took a real pride in their new homes so much so that many of the neighbours took advantage of the Tory Government 'right to buy' scheme in the 1970s.  These houses went for a pittance.  Although they could have taken advantage of it, Maggie and Tommy were adamant that these were built as social housing and should remain social housing. Maggie's mantra became, "People will end up living in rooms again!"  How prophetic!

My Dad.

Dad was a lifelong trade unionist working mainly in the construction industry.  He worked for the one company for over 30 years as a Steel Fixer - like Maggie, Tommy was, as we Scousers say, a grafter.  I know lots of people say that they 'never missed a day's work' but in all honesty, I can never remember my Dad take a day off sick, even though he constantly suffered from painful stomach ulcers.  There were many occasions when he was 'rained off' and had to come home early - you pray for good weather in the building trade because that is when you earn.  He got a gold watch from his employer when he'd put in 25 years but it didn't stop them repaying his loyalty with redundancy in his late 50s when Thatcher declared war on the trade unions and the great job loss train came to town.  His wasn't a docker's pay-off - frankly it was an insult.

I know some people pour scorn on people like me, those who vote Labour because their parents did.  That paints me as some kind of mindless individual who can't think for herself.  I don't vote Labour because my parents did but rather because my parents taught me, through family stories and memories, exactly why a vote for the Tories is in direct opposition to everything that I stand for.  I used to think, foolishly, that we had pretty much made our way to a classless society in the UK.  I no longer think that.  Since 2010, I have seen this CON-DEM coalition ride roughshod over our NHS and  the welfare safety net with a callousness that I didn't think was possible outside of the world of fiction. I now feel like a serf in a 21st century feudal system.   I own the mortgage on a modest but pleasant semi-detached house but I am not fooled.  I survive at the whim of the moneyed classes and, at any time, I am only ever two or three wage packets away from destitution.  The Tory party are too hand in glove with the obscenely rich and that is where their loyalty lies, not with ordinary people in ordinary jobs who have their own modest house and car.  Anybody who thinks otherwise is sadly deluded. The modern Labour Party is not perfect - there have been mistakes in recent years - but I do believe that it still has a social conscience.

Actually, this post has not even skimmed the surface of why I will be voting Labour on 7th May but I hope it gives something of the flavour. Use your vote wisely and use it with a conscience.

Greenbelt 2011 - Dreams of Home

We've been back from Cheltenham a few days now and it feels like we've never been away. I really love Greenbelt but it is always over too quickly and this year was no exception. The weather was a bit of a let down this time round, it has to be said. Torrential rain on Friday evening meant that we bottled out of Billy Bragg on the main stage and sought shelter instead in the Jesus Arms where we encountered assorted ASBOites. We rolled out around one-ish, significantly later than anticipated. There were sporadic showers all weekend, which, apart from the Friday evening, tended to be light, fine rain but the worst of it was that it was ridiculously cold for the time of year. However, you can't let the weather spoil the weekend and we made the most of the event.

The content of our Greenbelt took on a more political flavour than usual. We listened to Faisal Islam, the Economics Editor of Channel 4 News who clarified the finer points not just the national but the global economic crisis. He later took part in a panel with three others. We also attended a talk by David Loyn, the International Development Correspondent for the BBC, who raised interesting points about what shapes the news as we see/hear it and how the nature of news is changing with the advent of social networks. The talk which affected me the most this year was brought to us by Palestinian, Salim Shawamreh who was speaking on behalf of ICAHD (Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions). He invited the audience to imagine what it would be like to have your house demolished, something which he has experienced not once but 4 times. It is an utterly horrendous situation. Recognition of Palestine as a state would certainly be a move in the right direction to resolving the plight of the Palestinian people and the UN will be voting on this issue next month. William Hague is undecided as to how the UK will vote so there is still time to lobby MPs. So, Esther McVey can expect something in the post! The only talk I attended of a spiritual nature was by Padraig O'Tuama. I was intrigued by the name of the talk, Our Lady of Greenbelt. As a Catholic, I struggle with Marian spirituality. On the one hand, I think that many of my fellow Catholics can have a tendency to deify Mary and understand why Protestant Christians can accuse us of 'worshipping Mary'. On the other hand, I always think that Jesus must get a bit hurt the way some not only disregard but actually insult His mum. I know that sounds simplistic and childish but it is the way I think about it. I must admit, Padraig left me feeling much happier about Mary's role and my attitude towards her, which is the last thing I was expecting.

We took in more music than usual with Soweto Kinch, Gentlemen's Dubb Club, Get Cape Wear Cape Fly, Duke Special, Idlewild, Kate Rusby and Ron Sexsmith. Phil had spent most of the last few months looking forward to seeing Ron Sexsmith and we weren't disappointed. We had originally planned to stay over until Tuesday, but this plan was scuppered when Phil discovered that Ron was on at 7pm on Monday evening...so I had to miss the Unthanks and Mavis Staples...oh, well, you can't have everything. Probably some follow-up music purchases are in order.

Sadly we didn't get up in time for the Greenbelt Communion this year which is a shame. But we managed to get to the Blessed service at 5.30 on Friday evening to support Metanoia featuring Robb and Dr Ruth. If only all masses could be like that one. We also managed to get to a service by our friends at Sanctuary Bath - a late one at 11.15pm but a very relaxing and focused end to the day.

The trouble with Greenbelt is that it is so packed with activity and punctuated with conversation, it seems to be over so very, very quickly. Oh, well, there's always next year!

All Set for Greenbelt 2011!!

Well, overall, the weather looks pretty abysmal and actually rather typical August Bank Holiday weather. So I suppose sunny intervals are good. Can't see it, though.

Maggie on Tour 2011: Day 7, Sunday 14th August

All too soon, our little odyssey was drawing to a close. On the last morning Phil informed me that he was going to take me to Eyam. When I was about 14 years old, I saw a TV play called 'The Roses of Eyam' which told the story of this old Derbyshire village, whose inhabitants put themselves into voluntary quarantine when the bubonic plague broke out there in 1665. The story has stayed with me, haunted me, since the play was aired in about 1976. It was only when I picked up a leaflet on our trip to Bakewell that I realised Eyam was in Derbyshire.

After breakfast we set off through the countryside on the short journey to Eyam. There is a small museum there, of which a major part is devoted to the re-telling of the story of this small community, faced with the outbreak of the plague. It dealt with the experiences of individual families which really brought home the tragedy of the events which took place. Personal stories were backed up with cold statistics, the day by day record of named deaths over a number of months. Sobering stuff. It was a relief to get outside again into the Sunday morning sunshine. As you pass through the village, you pass the cottages where the first deaths occurred and the churchyard where one of the victims lies buried. The people of Eyam still live with the daily reminder of the events which took place there. Lovely though the village was, I didn't take out my camera - it seemed inappropriate, somehow.

Our final stop before home was Buxton, traditional spa resort. The elegance of earlier days is evidenced in the attractive architecture of the Crescent, the Baths (now a smart shopping arcade), the hotels, the opera house and the Pavilion Gardens. We were both pretty tired and agree that perhaps we need to give Buxton another visit to really do it justice. However, we did spend a very pleasant hour in the beautiful gardens, watching the world to by and listening to a brass band playing in the bandstand. Bring back brass bands in our parks - an essential part of a wonderful cultural tradition!

Maggie on Tour 2011: Day 6, Saturday 13th August

We were feeling a bit jaded on the Saturday, given the unexpectedly long journey from the Forest of Dean...I'm still convinced that Sat Nav Lady deliberately took us the long way round! On that basis, we decided to remain fairly local to the campsite. After breakfast, we took a hike into Bakewell. Bakewell is a pretty little town but quite busy. There didn't seem to be a great deal there apart from a few tea shops and the usual abundance of outdoor clothing/equipment shops. We enjoyed scones with jam and cream with tea and were pleasantly surprised at the cost. We departed having bought traditional Bakewell puddings. Mr Kipling must have hijacked the idea when he started making Bakewell tarts. The pudding has a base of flaky pastry rather than shortcrust and has no icing on the top. They were quite nice, if you like that sort of thing. I'm not a huge fan of things marzipanish but it was still pleasant enough...and when in Bakewell! I felt sorely tempted by the smell of the chips from the local chippy but we opted instead for a Cornish Pasty to munch on on the way back to base. Very nice, too!

Still feeling tired after some tea and Bakewell pudding, we did the unthinkable and pulled the bed out for an afternoon snooze. Later we took a stroll down the the very pretty local village, Ashford in the Water. We hoped to eat out, but to be honest, everyone there seemed a bit posh! I felt decidedly under-dressed even for the pub where the local cricket team were having post match beers. I suppose it was the Saturday night thing but there are times in life when my latent inferiority complex kicks in...I really hate that in myself. Nevertheless we had a lovely walk and went back to have another go at the old 'instant barbecue'. Instant barbecue...it has a hollow, ironic ring to it. It seemed like many hours before the feeble little coals managed to cook through a couple of burgers and sausages but we got there in the end. Flushed with our infinitesimaly small victory, we ambled the 7 or 8 yards to the pub!

Maggie on Tour 2011: Day 5, Friday 12th August

All too soon it seemed that it was time for us to pack up and move to our last destination. Before leaving, I went to take my last shower and prepare for the journey ahead. I went through the ritual - at no time is ritual more important than when you are in a communal shower block -have I got my shower gel? Have I remembered all of my clothes? Is my dirty underwear suitably secured inside my other things so that it doesn't fall out while I am crossing the field back to the van? Anyway, content that all was intact, I exited the shower cubicle...and there is some woman, naked as the day she was born apart from her towel, draped about her head turban style. Well, I don't think I am particularly prudish, but I have no stomach for other people's nudity so soon after breakfast! I mean, actually, there was plenty of room inside the cubicles to dress before leaving. Not only that, the door to the block was wide open and you wouldn't have had to try too hard to see in from the field, or children could have come in with their mums. I have decided she must have been a bit of an exhibitionist. Really, some people!

Before departing the Forest of Dean altogether, we opted to take a run out to Symonds Yat Rock. What can I say? The view was absolutely breathtaking and we spent a little while drinking it in before taking one of the short walks through the forest. My old mum always used to say that you should always leave the table wanting more and it was with a certain heaviness of heart that we wandered back to Maggie for the next leg of our mini-tour. Clearly the Forest of Dean was as reluctant to let us go as we were to leave. Sat Nav lady led us a merry dance as we tried to leave the area. Time and again we seemed to encounter road signs declaring "Symonds Yat 2 miles". I wondered if we would ever get to our destination. It took us much longer than we had anticipated, but finally, after being dragged through town after town, we arrived on the edge of the Peak District. The drama of the landscape was a breath of fresh air after driving through urban sprawl. Before too long, the skies turned a dark, sinister grey before the heavens started to open...

Maggie struggled a wee bit over the hills but finally brought us safely to our destination, Greenhills campsite just outside Bakewell. Tired and weary, we opted for a pizza delivered to the site for dinner and we washed it down with a long cool drink from the site pub, a welcome diversion at the end of a tiring day.

Maggie on Tour 2011: Day 4, Thursday 11th August

One thing we did notice at the 'eco-reception' was that they sold very reasonably priced bacon baps. Why go through the hassle of cooking in the van when you can just buy a breakfast? This gave us an early getaway for our first stop of the day, Clearwell Caves, an old iron mine. I figured that we would have a rainy morning so we might as well go underground. What you see is what you get with old mines/caves, but what I liked about this place is the fact that it is open to the public as the result of somebody's passion. Amazing to wander through these extensive caves and reflect on what would have been someone's working life, in those dank, dark surroundings. Special emphasis on the use of children in the mines. However, even in the little cafe, there are paintings on the wall of the miners who worked there so there is still a strong sense of the community that was. Usual over-priced sarnies (paninis, natch!) but a nice selection of homebaked cakes. We nipped back to Maggie in the car park and knocked up a few sarnies and just bought coffee and cake which we ate outside at the picnic tables.

By this time the rainclouds were beginning to give way to warm sunshine so we decided to nip down the road to Puzzlewood. Puzzlewood is a smallish wood but it is an incredible place - straight out of Tolkien. In fact, it is considered to have been a possible influence on Tolkien's depiction for Middle Earth. I can't really describe it that well as it is like nothing I've ever seen. Suffice it to say it is a mix of moss, exposed tree roots, rocks and pathways and as for the rest, you will have to visit it yourself. I wish I had taken my kids when they were kids as they would have loved it. It's not an attraction for anyone with mobility problems and it is rather slippy underfoot if there has been recent rain.

After an active day, we returned to the site for a relax and early dinner followed by a walk in the forest and a Harry Potter DVD (with continental chocs and a bottle of rose).

Maggie on Tour 2011: Day 3, Wednesday 10th August

Time to pack up in Much Wenlock. We went into the town to take a few photos of the buildings. I resisted the temptation to take a photo of Phil outside Bastard Hall as it looked like a private house. One last stop before we left was the ruins of Wenlock Priory (English Heritage) ...before the rain started again! Fortunately the Priory was not very busy so we were able to spend a fair amount of time there before the showers set in.

Our next stop was the Forest of Dean and the journey was remarkably smooth until we had almost arrived. Sat Nav Lady started to get her knickers in a twist when we didn't take turnings which she was clearly imagining. Anyway, we finally arrived at Forest Holiday's Christchurch. I must admit, it took me a little by surprise as it was just down a little road from an average suburban street - I was expecting something a little more 'foresty'. A delightful eco-friendly looking log cabin housed the reception and shop sold a range of organic goods and a surprisingly healthy stock of wines. My eyes wandered over the chilled wines and spotted not one but an extensive range of champagnes - not your bargain basement cava, but Mumm, Taittinger and the like. None of the wines were priced, not even the Kumala's and other supermarket staples, all of which made me feel a tad uneasy. I have been brought up to think that if you need to ask the price you probably can't afford it.

Once we were pitched, we decided to get dinner sorted out. What is camping without a barbecue? We had brought a couple of those disposable barbecues with us so his nibs set about the manly work of lighting the barbecue. Unfortunately, the wind had got up a bit and this proved rather more difficult than anticipated. In the end, we resorted to frying our burgers but Phil would not be defeated and managed to barbecue the sausages. After dinner we went for a walk in the, now more evident, forest.

Maggie on Tour 2011: Day 2, Tuesday 9th August

I surprised myself by getting up and showered early which meant we could get an early start for Ironbridge. We drove through the town looking for a long stay carpark not realising we had passed it on the way in..d'oh! The car park was at the entrance Dale End Park which was notable for the fact that it cunningly conceals a bloody great power station. Take note, town planners in the rest of the UK. A few trees can go a long way to covering up an eyesore. Ironbridge has a pleasant riverside of shops and cafes and as we walked, the sun decided to put in an appearance. It was still early and so there weren't that many people about, which suited us down to the ground. Feeling rather peckish, I got a pie from Eley's world famous pie shop...so many world famous pie shops, how come I've never heard of any of them? The pie was rather good, but an extra mouthful or two wouldn't have gone amiss for £2.30. What swung the deal for us with this shop was the name - we pondered if there was a family connection. We had a little walk around, had an ice cream and decided we'd pretty well seen all we wanted to since we were not in a museum mood.

The day was still young and hours to fill. This is the situation where the National Trust membership really comes in handy. A browse through the handbook and you can usually find somewhere close enough to visit for free. And so to Dudmaston, ancestral home to...someone or other! Every NT house has something about it, it's own particular character. We entered the property via the orchard which was in full fruit. There were picnic tables and a cafe and we made a mental note to have tea and cake there later. We had full sun now but given the unpredictable nature of the weather, we opted to sample the delights of the gardens before going into the house. And what a garden! At the rear of the house was a truly splendid and well manicured garden, with pathways beyond into woodland. The lawn was gently terraced, leading down to a magnificent lake. In this truly tranquil setting, I managed to persuade himself to have a lie down on the grass while I did my bus snooze in the sun, bolt upright with nodding dog tendencies. Then, refreshed by the idyllic setting, we decided a walk was in order. We followed the signs to the Dingle (not in Liverpool!), a little woodland walk and then on to the 'Big Pool' walk around the lake taking a full 45 minutes. At one point we chanced upon the biggest number of geese I have ever seen in one place! A bit scary, in fact, but we escaped unscathed.

Once we got into the house which has a number of works of art of note. The last owner, Lady Labouchere, inherited the place from an uncle who wished it to go into the hands of the National Trust. She herself was a trained botanical artist and had a collection of botanical art. Her husband was an Ambassador to Belgium and to Spain. He had a fairly impressive collection of modern art. There is also a connection to Charles Babbage somewhere! By now, tea in the orchard was calling. I thoroughly enjoyed my time at Dudmaston.

Dinner that evening was at the George and the Dragon in Much Wenlock.

Maggie on Tour 2011: Day 1, Monday 8th August

This year we decided to do mini tour in Maggie, our VW T4 camper van. We have been away in her before but it has tended to be just one centre. We are creatures of habit and have a tendency to stick to what we like but this time we decided to go to a few places that we've never ventured to before. We didn't have a lot of time - just 6 days, but we picked three new places that we thought were do-able.

On Day 1 we finally managed to set off for Much Wenlock in Shropshire at about 2.30 arriving about 4pm - typically disorganised and wanting to do all kinds of jobs before leaving! Anyway, by the time we arrived, the town was shtting up. Much Wenlock is a pretty little medieval market town with a more recent claim to fame in that it is reputedly the birthplace of the modern Olympic movement thanks to local 'mover and shaker', William Penny Brookes. That said, it is a bit of a sleepy corner of the world with just a couple of pubs, tea shops and a 'world famous' butcher's shop. We managed to grab an ice cream before the shop shut, just in time for the rain to start.

A drink was in order to start the holiday off so we wandered into a pub which had a nice looking beer garden in a courtyard off the street. The rain started again so we took shelter under a giant parasol, covering a few tables - one of the advantages of smokers being shunted outdoors is that there are more shelters. We had only sat down two minutes when an elderly couple sat on the next table. We started to chat casually and it turns out they live in Caldy! You can't escape, can you?

We decided to take fish and chips back to the campsite for tea. There wasn't much to recommend the food as the fish was over-battered and the chips were like warm-ups from lunch. Typical for Chinese chippies, I find - they seldom seem to have never mastered the art of chip frying. Perhaps we should have opted for Chinese. Anyway, hunger-wise we were in scabby horse territory so we ate until satisfied.

We stayed at Sytche campsite which is walking distance from the centre of Much Wenlock. Very clean and well kept. We would certainly go there again.

Dunham Massey

Me and Him Indoors have been members of the National Trust for a fair few years now. We joined largely to keep costs down when on family holidays in the UK. There are so many properties providing opportunities for days out within a reasonable distance of any UK holiday destination, that you only have to visit a couple of properties to recoup the cost of the annual membership. Indeed, there are a number of properties within a fairly short distance of home. With this in mind we have decided to try and use the membership for more local properties.

Last Saturday, we planned a trip to Dunham Massey, a property out Altrincham way. It was a beautiful sunny day - quite the most lovely day of the previous week (half-term!) and off we trundled in Maggie the camper. So what was special about Dunham Massey? Definitely the deer.

It has been a deer park since medieval times and it is lovely to see the fallow deer roaming freely around the park which has been a favourite retreat for folks from industrial Manchester for generations. There is no charge to go to the park but there is a £5 parking fee if you aren't an NT member. Our card got us into the house and also the garden (less busy than the public park). The house also boasts a huge collection of silverware - quite impressive. It is always lovely to visit one of our great houses but I have been to so many, they tend to merge now. That said, it was so lovely just enjoying being out in the sun on a lovely day, I would probably like to go back to 'have another go' at Dunham Massey

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Greenbelt 2010: Through the back of the wardrobe.

It struck me, as I reacquainted myself with the festival site on Friday, that Greenbelt is a lot like Narnia. Each year, you arrive back and it's as though you've never been away, that the intervening 12 months didn't take place. You just carry on from where you left off. As soon as you've sussed out the new names of the old venues, you're away!

This year was the first year that we had no need of a tent. Just me and him indoors safely held in Maggie's (our van's) embrace. So it was simple case of arrive, sit about in a queue for what seemed like several years before driving onto the campsite and parking up...easy!

We seemed to pack in quite a bit this year. It was a privilege, as always, to hear Richard Rohr speak. We only got to the first talk but we bought the CDs and hope to spend some time in the Winter evenings being challenged by those. He is always such good value - when other speakers seem to recycle material, Richard Rohr always seems to have something new for you to chew on. Bruce Kent was fab, too - he has such a lively mind at 80 - I wish I had half his intellect now! I also got to see Mark Yaconelli and regular Greenbelt favourites who never disappoint, Maggi Dawn and John Bell.

I enjoyed hearing Dave Wiles of Frontier Youth Trust. I've long been impressed by Dave's capacity for storytelling and illustrating basic truths through story. He has a book out called Stories from the Edge, which I am going to buy as soon as my funds allow. I don't think the YMCA cafe made a very good venue, though, as there was too much coming and going and people chatting over their lunches...well, it is a cafe! Shame there wasn't a small talk venue like the CMS and Blah tents they had the other year.

I like to try and support events connected to Jonny Baker. His is one of the two blogs that I've consistently read during the last 4-5 years now without tiring...and he's a good bloke (despite being a Chelsea fan!) This year that meant an airing of Landskapes, an album of sounds from the Grace worship community in Ealing and a conversation on the topic of curating worship. This is also the theme of Jonny's new book called, surprisingly enough, Curating Worship. Jonny led a really inspirational discussion with contributors, Steve Collins of Grace and Cheryl Lawrie who is involved in creative worship activity in Melbourne. God, they make it sound so easy! I came away with lots of brilliant ideas which will, no doubt, gather dust in some dark corner of my brain. I also shrugged off shyness and fear of doing the wrong thing and attended a Grace service which I really enjoyed, though I'm not saying it was a gaffe-free zone on my part.

Performance-wise, I loved seeing fellow scouser, Roger McGough, of whose work I've been a fan for years. Beverley Knight was superb. Best surprise was Michael McDermott. I liked the look of him from his website and so decided to take a chance on him. It was a good call.

I still managed to fit in some time for social activity and whilst I missed my lovely mate Jon , I was thrilled and delighted to have his gorgeous wife Clare all to myself for what must have been a good couple of hours. To keep the spirit of ASBOJesus alive, I met over coffee (or alcohol) with Janetp, Linus, Tiggy and the lovely, funny Dennis and his delightful wife Sha. I didn't see nearly enough of Sonia and Iain (who was little more than a Will o' the Wisp in Messy Space). But I briefly met Allatseawithabucketandspade and Rebecca.

Greenbelt...it's all about the people, innit?

Me with Clare...ignore me - I look like I am having a stroke!

Capac

I love to see friends who have talent really going for it. So I want to give my backing (for what little that is worth) to Capac. There are three guys in the band, Gaz, Stu and Josh and they've been building up a following in the Liverpool area of late. I know of them through Gaz, who did a teacher training course with me. By the power of Facebook, I found out that one of their pieces, Palindrome, was being used in Hollyoaks so I broke the habit of a lifetime and watched the programme! That was enough to arouse a long overdue interest in what they were doing. Interest is growing; the guys have recently enjoyed playing a Maida Vale Session on Radio 1. If you are looking for X Factor fodder, look elsewhere...this is far more specialist in its appeal. I tried to research dance music genres and subgenres and came up with an epic tome on Wikipedia. So chucking all that aside, I would describe their music as electronica/ambient soundscape with a driving drum beat...or maybe not! Radio One's Huw Stephens does it much better:

"infuses the energy of drum n’ bass and the brooding, sinister vibes of dubstep, with the beautiful intricate nature of post-rock melodies"

Of course it is! Perhaps it's about time I got off my arse and went to see the lads perform.

Capac have an EP out now so why not check them out? More info and downloads are available on their website:
http://www.capacmusic.co.uk/

Back in Employment

Well, after months of uncertainty I finally received a job offer. Not a job in teaching, but almost back to what I was doing two years ago, before the deeply demoralising experience of teacher training and its aftermath. The process of writing a teaching job application is lengthy. I like tailor each application to the school in question so first of all I do my research, using online profiles, OFSTED reports and school websites, all of which is fairly time consuming. Apart from an application form there is also a supporting letter of up to 2 sides of A4, addressing the specific criteria of the individual person specification. So I would say that each application demands, at least, between 2 and 3 hours work fitted into the rest of life. I stopped counting my actual job applications after 75, most of which were condensed into the period between April and July. Having had no success by the end of term, I decided to apply for any job I could. As a family, we got to the stage where we were dipping into our savings to subsidise our income on a monthly basis and I figured it was better to have income than status. Also, if I remained in schools-based work, there was always the possibility of getting into a teaching job via the back door.

This ploy has proved more successful and I had invitations to 6 interviews in the month of September. I was accepted to the waiting list for an 18-month contract working in Job Centre Plus (a growth market, it seems!) I was a bit miffed about my lack of success in interviews for support roles in schools, given the breadth of my experience. However, I felt some of the panels may have been a bit intimidated by the thought of a 'receptionist' or whatever with corporate vision and an educational philosophy! Sadly, official unemployment rates do not reflect the number of people who are, in reality, seeking employment. People like myself, with a partner in employment, do not qualify for job seeker's allowance and so tend not to be registered as unemployed. Teachers usually register with supply agencies but I found that during the whole of September I only managed to get half a day's work, grossing me £47.50. Teaching jobs I applied for seemed to trawl, on average, 70 applicants for each individual post and support worker posts barely fared any better.

I initially applied for a job as a Teaching Assistant at my school but was unsuccessful; however, they called me back to interview for the post of Cover Supervisor which I was subsequently offered. The money is fairly crap, to be honest, but at 30 hours per week and term time only, it has its compensations. Of course, I am back in secondary schools work so at the moment I am not entirely sure what the future holds for me in vocational terms. I would like to improve my earning capacity, but frankly, teaching requires a lot more than 9 to 5 commitment and that is rapidly losing its appeal. Maybe it is down to the fact that I feel a bit burnt out by the whole process at the mo, I don't know. Certainly I am in need of respite. Being skint and incomeless is lousy but I figure that you can substantially improve your quality of life with a relatively small increase in your cash flow. Right now, investing in my relationships is more important to me.

Greenbelt 2009: Standing in the Long Now

Just got back from our 5th Greenbelt and the more we go, the less it seems to be about the programme. What is seldom is, indeed, wonderful as my mum always reminded me and Greenbelt provides the opportunity to catch up with friends from other parts of the country. Most notably, I get to see my 'family' from my fave blogs, ASBOJesus and Sanctuary. ASBOJesus has, in particular, provided a safe space for me to be me. Never one for feeling entirely at home in a typical church setting, the virtual community at ASBOJesus accepts me as I am, complete with my many foibles which then enables me to cope with the frustrations of being in the margins of church. It has evolved into something which is far more than the sum of its blog parts. Not having had the smoothest of times in the past couple of years, I have felt hugely supported by Jon, Clare, Sonia and Dennis so it was great to meet and chat in person.

The spin-off from these relationships is that we found ourselves at a couple of Proost events over the weekend. My particular favourites from the superb line-up were Andi Mac's 'I Love Elvis', a quirky little animated parable and Dubb, who was confident last year but whose presence had grown considerably since we last saw him at GB08. Not only is he a hugely talented wordsmith, his verbal dexterity in delivering the lines is nothing short of breathtaking. His debut album, Rhythm and Poetry, is now available from the Proost website. Speaking of breathtaking, on Saturday he was more than ably supported by Tyte, the human beatbox. I'm sorry, I just don't get how you can make so many sounds with one little mouth! Tyte has some beatbox tutorial videos on youtube and I once remember having a go myself...yes, I know it is not seemly for a 47 year-old mum to do such things, but I did it in private and I wasn't hurting anybody...anyway, I only succeeded in getting spit all over my laptop screen and it didn't even sound any good. So hats off to Tyte. I thought Jon was an extremely good sport joining in with the 'singy' bits, perhaps next time he should turn his cap around the other way and wear a bit more bling, just for aesthetics! Anyway, I thought it was all good but those were my fave bits. I suggest that, if you want a bit more of a flavour of what Proost is about, you download these freebies.

The Sunday service was a bit disappointing this year because there was no communion, due to all the swine flu bollocks, and the peace was an 'elbow bump'. I really think that if I am going to catch swine flu it is more likely to be via droplets catapulted from someone's vocal cords in an over-enthusiastic fit of congregational singing than by a handshake. Anway, after the main service, a significantly smaller congregation gathered over at the children's festival where consecrated elements were available for those who wanted them. I wondered who was going to be responsible for glugging all the leftover 'wine'.

The beer tent was a better layout this year - a smaller bar meant it was more spacious inside. In addition, there was a wine bar (or was it a wind car?) which provided a rather more sophisticated ambience. It was called 'NUN' and was adorned with blue lights, Aah! the days when all you had to worry about was whether to drink Blue Nun or Black Tower...it was all Liebfraumilch to me... Far too much choice these days and it leads to snobbery; any old plonk used to be the sophisticated alternative to half a lager and lime. Anyway, I digress. Back to the point, we met Dennis and Sharron there on Sunday evening and DJ Jonny Baker was providing the chilled beats (is the poor lad having to moonlight to make ends meet?)

What else did we actually do there? We listened to Gene Robinson, the first openly gay bishop (is that right?). He seemed a nice man but I had trouble staying awake in his talk. Hmm...sex and spirituality - either is great on its own, but for some reason, the instant you get a clergyman combining the two, somehow it becomes inert. I couldn't be bothered queuing for Rob Bell, having been turned away from his first talk which was hugely over-subscribed. But I listened to the Q & A session at the Grandstand. I liked him but I'm not that keen on farties from the audience asking questions. Some come up with good questions but often they are completely dire. I checked out Maggie Dawn and will probably get hold of her Advent book this year. At least one John Bell talk is de rigeur at GB and this is how we chose to open our festival.

Oh and I loved the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. A big selection of horns and a drummer with a little bit of hip hop thrown into the mix. I was reminded of Earth, Wind and Fire's funky horn section and couldn't resist the temptation to shrug off my terribleh English sensibilities and have a little boogie in the Bank Holiday sunshine...just kinda got me in the zone, if you know what I mean. Just as long as no-one saw me! I now discover that my EWF connection was well-spotted since the eight brothers in the band are sons of one Phil Cohran, a jazz trumpeter who worked with some of the EWF horn section and was a musical influence on Maurice White. So there! Enjoy!

Gallery Valerie

A friend of mine, Valerie Marshall, has just set up a new website. Valerie is an artist of great talent whose most recent works have combined her love of painting and drama to produce a series of original paintings inspired by the works of William Shakespeare. The good news is that she is producing a series of limited edition, high quality giclée prints which are available from her web-based gallery. The full range of prints for sale can be viewed at Gallery Valerie

Good Things Happen to Good People...

A fantastic day was had by all last Friday when my daughter, Kirsty, graduated from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Modern Languages. These days don't come along too often so you have to make the most of them. We travelled to Gateshead on Thursday evening to give us a relaxed start to the day. The ceremony wasn't until 4pm so we did all the necessary - collected the gown, had the photos taken, had a bit of lunch and wandered around the campus to find out where our baby had been spending her time for the last four years. The ceremony was a lovely affair in the dignified surroundings of the King's Hall at the university. A strange thing about Newcastle is that you don't get to wear a mortar board - well, I ask you, what is the whole point of all that burning of the midnight oil if not to have the opportunity to wear a silly hat? Anyway, part of the award ceremony is to be 'hooded', ie some geezer called the Hooding Marshal slings the hood over your head and leaves it dangling unceremoniously around your throat, much in the style of a hangman. Strange goings on...

We had a lovely reception afterwards, with bubbly, canapes and strawberries and cream. Very nice. For our own personal celebration, we went to a Turkish restaurant and then walked down to the Quayside for a drink before bedtime. We shall live on the enjoyment of that day for some time to come...

I meant to post something about this ages ago, but forgot. Anyway it is something I am really chuffed about. My big sister, Maria, and her daughter Jeanette have been involved for a few years with a kids' project in their locality. It is called the Stockbridge Village Junior Rangers and involves working with youngsters to look after a local area of woodland and learn all about nature. Anyway, they were nominated for an Observer Ethical Award and were joint winners of the Ecover Ethical Children's Award. Maria, Jeanette and other leaders attended the award ceremony at the swanky Kensington Roof Gardens amongst such luminaries as David Attenborough. Highlight for Maria was undoubtedly the opportunity to snog Mr D'Arcy himself, Colin Firth...perhaps I exaggerate ever so slightly! Have a look at the video link to find out about the fab work of the Rangers. I am so proud of Maria and Jeanette for the hard work they put in.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/video/2009/jun/03/observer-ethical-awards-kids1

Jeanette is second from left and Maria is the one next to her snuggling up to Mr D'Arcy!

Holy Week 2009

And so the cycle continues...Holy Week already. As I write, it is almost done. It never ceases to amaze me how difficult it actually is to be reflective, even for such a short time. It seems that when we have time away from our work routines, we expand the 'things to do' to fill the available time. That said, it has, in its way been a worthwhile week.

Monday was a curious day. I received a phone call last week from a cousin to inform me of the death of his father. This was very sad to hear. I barely knew my uncle. This is, sadly, so often the case in large families. But I know he was a lovely person from the distant memories I have of both him and my auntie when they used to visit my parents. We also exchanged Christmas cards each year. I am always glad (if this is the right word in this context) to be available to attend funerals. So much of life is given up to work that, as a society, we seem to be loathe to give up any time to pay respects to a life well lived. A benefit of my current 'state of flux' is that I can afford myself the luxury of time when I need it. The funeral was taking place just a few minutes from where I live so I was able to attend. Though a sad occasion, there was part of me that was excited to meet my aforementioned cousin, with whom I had had limited contact through Facebook, the infamous social networking site. As much as I can see the disadvantages of Facebook, I must say I have enjoyed a number of very positive experiences through it. On this occasion, it certainly took away that awkwardness that you can feel when you connect with family you have never met before. To round the day off nicely, I managed to tip the scales a pound lighter than the previous week at the Slimming World class. 16.5lbs, so far (she adds, smugly).

Tuesday was a day in the city with my youngest. A coffee in Starbucks, a film (Marley and Me - not my choice but it was harmless entertainment) and a bit of shopping. This was also Phil's birthday so it was out in the evening to Dine India and chocolate cake back home. We were able to share the candle blowing ceremony with Kirsty in Spain via the wonders of Skype. We even cut a symbolic slice of cake for her which Lol ate on her behalf! Still trying to get the cake crumbs out of the keyboard!

Wednesday was a more relaxing day, but the highlight was a visit from my friend and former work colleague, Julie. It was lovely to have an opportunity to catch up as it is a rare treat these days.

Thursday, Lol and I met my brother, John, in Liverpool. The weather wasn't brilliant but we did manage to take a walk along the river front and we had a pub lunch. John's daughter, Margaret, was able to join us for that which was fun!

Good Friday means the traditional Walk of Witness. Numbers do seem to have dwindled this year but I don't think the weather helped. We always finish with a light buffet lunch at St Mike's and this year we had the benefit of the lovely new church hall. I love these occasions because it is good to catch up with so many lovely people. I also did the Good Friday service at my own church at 3pm. The best treat was a phone call from Phil in Guernsey with whom we share lovely memories of toasted hot cross buns on Good Friday.

Now that I look back over Holy Week, it has been all about people, taking time to talk and enjoy their company...which just reinforces the sense that the meaning of life is all about relationship.

Happy Easter, to you and your loved ones...when it gets here!