July 4, 2022

Testing Positive

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Testing positive

Sorry, this isn’t a post about the current isolation rules, the different expectations between England and RUK, though it could be: one of my immediate family tested positive yesterday, and we are still working out what to do about it. I expect that we will buy in a few more Covid tests, make a plan, and try to stick to it. Positive family member will isolate until they have two negative tests; in the meantime, it is highly likely that we will all catch Covid, and if we do, we isolate until we all have two negative tests.

No, my thoughts run in a different direction this morning: My mother is now staying in Montrose. While husband, daughter and I were away in Paris for a few days at the end of June – we all tested negative several days in a row – arrangements were put in motion for my mother to transfer north. With the decision a fait accompli before our return from holiday, a week later, bags and books packed and private ambulance organised for the trip from Edinburgh, Mum is now in a new home.

I have felt, and do feel, grief about this. The move was sudden, and, given the long silence, unexpected. But there are other thoughts that flit in my head, so abruptly emptied of things to think about: where there were pre-occupations, these are now not my problem, and I have a lot of space, into which thoughts are apt to enter, pause, meander and get lost for a while before being retrieved and dealt with.

I also notice, while chatting or being with others, that I’ve been in the habit of continually checking-in mentally, to see what I should be thinking about or doing for or with my mother. Now, I don’t have any of that to do at all, and though old habits are hard to break, I’m sure I will get used to it.

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June 15, 2022

Waiting to be noticed

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Waiting to be noticed

Me? Religious? Not so you would notice, though I do believe in God.

Otherwise, how do I make sense of all this? Why do I have a home, a place to rest my head and a husband who loves me, when others don’t? Why do I have the most amazing child in the Universe? It hardly seems fair, otherwise. There has to be a reason in all this random abundance, so apparently casual and replete with generosity. All this loveliness, just waiting to be noticed.

When I realise that every atom in the Universe is unique, I feel breathless for a while, until I can feel my lungs filling again, and I relax. When I despair at the stupidity of those who should know better – why fight wars, and disputes over land? It’s not as if you can take it with you! – I want to shake them that make those far-off decisions which carry such deadly consequences and tell them to wake up! That to destroy what we barely understand is to blaspheme against the most amazing miracle that is Life Itself. It is urgent, I feel, to have some respect, for Christ’s sake. As my sister says, “There are no pockets in a shroud.”

Meantime, in the midst of knowing how mind-blowingly lucky I am, I carry on doing what I have to: visits to the supermarket, the bank, to see my mother in the care-home where she is no happier than she ever was… I’m away on holiday soon, and have to run the gauntlet of airports, security, bodies seat-belted in, overhead ventilation and everyone on their phones…

I think – when I stop to think – that all of this is such a miracle, we hardly need anything else – no flights, no foreign holidays – to make it better. If we could just wake up and see what is, we would marvel, and never cease to be amazed.

***

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May 12, 2022

Casting Off

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Casting off

In scenes of family life, I see myself surrounded by strong people. My parents and siblings seem, most of the time, to have cherished many opinions, and I would be the first to say that I have learned to listen. I am a good listener.

Recently in the post-office, I found myself studying the cards and notelets on sale, glancing up at the outsize posters on the walls and wondering which ones I actually liked. Which in fact, were to my taste? And I struggled to answer. Because in my birth family I have so often been cast as ‘the youngest’ and one most in need of help and advice, my opinions have been muted so that even now, I struggle to know which of the many things I do, I do because they are my choice. Which of the many things I possess, do I hold because I choose to?

I struggle to know what I enjoy and what my tastes are. And when I know, I still find it hard to honour them: Wonderful walk on a sunny day, lovely meal, beautiful painting? Maybe later…

So often my choices have been coloured by wondering, “Would s/he like that? Would s/he approve? What would s/he do?” I discover, in late middle age, that learning to choose and decide for oneself, is something that most adolescents get through. As my own daughter nears the end of her teenage years, I marvel that she is already making the kinds of choices I still struggle with, navigating the world as I might have hoped to, had I been less cowed, less in awe of others’ certainty.

Yet, my age and experience confer at least a superficial dignity and the assumption that I know what I am doing. As I refine the processes of casting off from old family influences, I find I must go slowly and work in a new way to reach decisions, knowing that others besides me will have to live with their consequences.

The past, they say, is a foreign country, they do things differently there. And, life, as they say, is a work in progress.

I hope I am making progress.

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April 23, 2022

A beautiful season

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A beautiful season

It’s a beautiful season. The crocuses and snowdrops have emerged among the bright, triumphant narcissi, only to be succeeded in their turn by the bulging, generous bunches of pink, white and red blossom of flowering cherry trees and the docile, large-blossomed magnolia all weeping generous petals by suburban roadsides. The sky is blue and the sun is warming gradually.

The world of nature, though we have thoroughly lassoed it to our own purposes, always reminds us that as soon as one beauty fades, another comes out to delight us. Thus, we should not hanker after what has been, but look for what is now, in full blossom.  

Though heartbreak is never far away these days, it’s a lesson I do endeavour to listen to, and learn from.

Sorting through decades-worth of possessions, aware that the few things my mother still might lay claim to – she is now in a residential care home, and cares very much about that – are only the smallest fraction of what, until recently, she might have called her own, I am caught by grief: at the dispersal of her much-loved collection of books, sought over many years and studied carefully, their contents analysed and understood; her clothes, mostly of the everyday variety for comfort, though in a drawer I find some silk scarves, recalling more elegant days when a quick dress change was required for a sudden acte de presence at some function or other; her clay pots and keep-sakes, all carefully preserved, and each with a story that makes them meaningful.

And so I catch myself wondering at the nature of possession and ownership. Which must surely mean, to have an association with an object that makes it meaningful to self, in a unique way that it can never be to others. As soon as the association is lost, and unless a new association is made, (“I remember when Mum used to wear that dress…”) the objects of one’s affection can be passed on; and in some sense must be passed on, since not only are associations unique to each one of us, but each person, each successor must make their own memories in this life: no-one else can do that for us.

Let us hope that we can each make good memories.

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March 31, 2022

Have lateral flow tests, will travel

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Have Lateral Flow Tests will travel

After a break of two years, I’m taking my three novels, now completed, to the London Book Fair 2022.

They are printed double sided, on lighter paper, which I calculate will save me about a kilo of carrying weight, which is a significant blessing. I’ve been triple vaccinated and will take a clutch of lateral flow tests, masks and sanitiser, which I hope will see me through the two-and-a-half days of my attendance at the Fair without major mishap. Here’s hoping. While Covid will, in all likelihood, become endemic before too long, so far, I have escaped infection and I hope my luck will hold while I am in London.  

Fran with Author Soulla Christodoulou at London Book Fair

I did book to go to the London Book Fair in 2019, saying then that it would be my last visit. And, as on so many other occasions, my prediction proved premature: life had other ideas, the 2019 Event being cancelled at the very last minute. This year, hospitality prices have plunged, are all refundable until point of travel and can be paid for as one arrives at the hotel, so there is every reason to travel. And with a kilo less of weight, it looks as though this year is going to be a win-win-win, whatever happens.

***

I have other good news to celebrate. As part of events to celebrate International Women’s Day 2022, Engender, Scotland’s Feminist Policy and Advocacy Organisation published this post on their blog, for which I thank them most sincerely. It’s wonderful to work with others who are dedicated to meeting the challenges of equal representation for women in all parts of our lives, public and private. If women were more equally represented, I do believe the world would be a more balanced place to live, and everyone would benefit.

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March 8, 2022

Change and Progress

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Change and Progress

Spring is a good time to think about how we would like this year to unfold. Everywhere the daffodils and crocuses are budding and flowering and after the cold of winter, as we emerge from the rigours of Covid, we are hopeful that this year will bring something special to us all: new beginnings, new ideas, new hopes and plans.

At horse-riding recently, I was distracted and tired – I’m not complaining, just setting the scene – and my hands refused to stay level, weaving and tugging all over the place, like someone trying to cast a fishing line, perhaps: Fine on the river, not so good in the riding school at the Drum. And beneath me, dear Mr Bob waited patiently, doing exactly what I was instructing him to do: weaving his neck up and down, and going no-where I wanted him to. Even though he knew that the end of the lesson was in sight.

Now as well as being clever and handsome, Mr Bob is a very good horse, very disciplined and extremely responsive, so I know very well by now, that he will do what he is asked to do. When I give a signal, he obeys without question. Which is humbling, yes. But he also showed me that my signals are what create an outcome. Not just in horse-riding, but in life too, the signals I give out are often – exactly! – mirrored in what happens next.

So if I want things to go well, it’s my job to offer the right signals. Blaming others – horses, friends, neighbours, delivery drivers – is a big part of what stops me from moving forward; a truth so vividly demonstrated to me by Mr Bob while I was attempting to ride him and going no-where.

In so many ways, Mr Bob has been my teacher. He does not need me to ‘ride’ him – he knows what to do, and does it all the time, peacefully, correctly, and with great dignity. So all I need to do is stay balanced and calm, give the right signals and enjoy the ride.

Lesson well learned. Thank you Mr Bob.

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February 3, 2022

An Exciting Week

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An exciting week

This has been an exciting week. With the turn of the year, and the return of notifications in my email feed, something magical seems to be happening in my ‘to do’ list. Yes, there is still lots to fix and sort and tidy at home, but I’m also getting on with my own work, reaching out and making new connections.

I am in touch with Catriona Kirkpatrick, Head of Development at ‘Engender’ an advocacy organisation with a feminist agenda based in Edinburgh that collects and collates data, reporting and advocating on matters affecting women.

I am in equal parts relieved and dismayed to read Engender’s report, “Our lives, Our bodies” (2018) which explores the stark realities that disabled women still face when deciding their personal and reproductive choices. Of course, this is a subject very close to home, but reading the report several times, I am thoughtful, remembering how painful my life used to be and how much effort has brought me to this point. Telling the truth about our lives is difficult; just as hard is the realisation that often, improvements happen too slowly for many women. At the same time, I am relieved to be reminded that advocacy can bring knowledge, respect and inclusion to a wider audience. Change happens slowly, but it happens, one day at a time.

This week, “Trapped” also features as ‘Book of the Week’ with the Cerebral Palsy Research Network (CPRN), based in Greenville, SC, US. I’m delighted it is featured, and I hope it reaches new readers, helping those who do find it, to realise they are not alone.

Finally, as part of International Women’s Day – 8th March 2022 – I’m taking part in a panel discussion in Edinburgh. More details to follow. Watch this space!  

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January 24, 2022

Plans for 2022

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Plans for 2022

When I look at that date, I can hardly believe it’s already 2022 – where do the years go?

But unlike the somnolence of last year – the lingering uncertainties around lockdown, movement and meeting people anywhere but on Zoom – it looks as if travel will be possible this year and I hope to take full advantage of that freedom. I won’t be taking it for granted; which is another way of suggesting that I intend to enjoy my travels, in the full awareness that travelling any distance anywhere outside my immediate neighbourhood is a privilege.

Thinking back to pre-Covid times, many of us used to travel routinely to and from work on early flights. In the last few years, I’ve also made good use of early planes to get to Schiphol before the morning rush. Now, so many meetings take place “remotely”, I can’t help but wonder why it took a national pandemic, and all the crises management that that implies, to get me to change my ways. It’s not about “having” to meet people in the flesh, though that is undoubtedly a wonderful thing; but so much of what we formerly assumed was indispensable to our way of doing business, has been revealed as a luxury, a thing to appreciate and enjoy, and hopefully take more carefully than we usually would have done formerly. If only one good thing comes out of the last couple of years, it is that we are learning, I hope, not to take what we can do for granted.  

Plans for 2022 include a visit the London Book Fair, which this year is open for visitors and happening between 5th and 7th April. Hotels nearby that used to charge a king’s ransom and insist that their bookings were non-refundable without the payment of a hefty premium, and that all sums be collected at point of booking, are now falling over themselves to be accommodating. Bookings are about half of the price they used to be, refundable practically up to the point of arrival and payable only when inside the hotel doors. All of which makes travel arrangements much more relaxed, enjoyable and affordable than they used to be.

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January 6, 2022

All I wanted for Christmas

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All I wanted for Christmas

Having had an ambivalent relationship with the Festive Period for many years – I’ve only recently learned how to truly enjoy the cooking, the jollifications and the present giving – I have often said that all I wanted for Christmas is to be happy. And we have had a truly wonderful Christmas and New Year. As, I hope, did you.

While tidying, mindful of wrappings and boxes to recycle, I reflected on the presents we received: many books, blankets and things to eat: confectionery, biscuits, seasonal jams, oatcakes… Not a techno gadget in sight, and no new clothes either. Instead, perhaps mindful of the climate crisis, rising fuel prices and much murmuring about supply chain problems, we now have enough blankets and scarves to keep warm should the heating go off, enough books to read until next year, and comfort food galore.

Is what we have received as a family an indication of a more general shifting of priorities across society? I do hope so.

While I would not go quite as far as to suggest that presents should only be for children, I do occasionally find the sheer avalanche of goods on offer a little daunting. So I’m heartened to notice a real up-turn in the fortunes of ‘pre-loved’ clothing sellers and the like; and relieved to notice that – finally! – more plastic packaging than ever – plastic-festooned boxes of chocolate, anyone? – are now being presented in recyclable packaging, but perhaps it’s simply that books, blankets and biscuits will always be welcome here.

I find such a clutch of items immensely reassuring and kindly – indeed, I need never worry, this year at least, that I will run out of books to read, and I can save a small fortune on delicious treats and chocolates. Now, all I need to find is an eco-friendly thank you card to send. There are quite a few to choose from…

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December 16, 2021

The Year in passing

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The Year in Passing

The year in passing has taught me a great deal: about the value of patience, humour and empathy, and about the need to be clear about our choices, and unafraid to make them. I wonder how many times I’ve accepted a situation because others have suggested it, or organised it around me, and I’ve just nodded, as is my wont, and allowed it to happen.

I’m a great believer in fate, since I realise that there are some things that, no matter how much we might want them, we cannot have; but I hope that does not mean I am fatalistic, and allow life to drift without purposes of my own. Knowing how much power there is in the choices we make – big and small choices count equally – I’ve become more decisive, which brings an air of freedom and clarity to the things I do. And increasingly, I find that when I make choices – no matter how unlikely – the Universe goes into gear to deliver them to me. How delightful that is!

This year, I have managed, despite my fairly constant domestic duties, to edit into completion three novels – and here I give thanks to my beta readers for their enthusiasm and very insightful suggestions. The first two novels are now submission ready, so in the New Year I shall be submitting again, and more hopeful than I have ever been, of positive outcomes.

With winter, Covid and Christmas in mind, I’ve been tidying our living space, hopeful of refreshing it next year, while buying more ‘pre-loved’ Christmas presents than before. The environment does not need me to throw any more plastic at it, so, with that in mind, meaningful minimalism seems to be this year’s motto: less is more. I only hope that our combined efforts will make a difference to the environment, and mark a shift in our thinking about ‘black-Friday’ spending and consumerism in general. It seems a pity that we so often let that search for “the perfect present” get in the way of enjoyment and our pleasure in company.

I wish you all a very happy Festive Season, with blessings and hope for the New Year 2022. May all our dearest wishes come true.

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