Fran’s School of Hard Knocks

October 31, 2019

I can do many things

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I can do many things.

I can do many things. I can drive a car, I can prepare meals – I’m what might be called a good plain cook – I can sing. Glancing through the remains of what might have once passed as a body of work, it dawns on me that I also produce visual art, some of which has, surprisingly, stood the test of time, despite the absence of any formal recognition or schooling. The test being, after twenty or thirty years, do I still like this? And yes, to a surprising number of things I draw, that is still my answer.

Which does demonstrate to my cynical self that indeed I can do many things and reasonably well. Unexpectedly, I procure from some part of my depths, strange, colourful works that hit the mark, often enough to give the whole idea of me as a visual artist more than passing credibility.

But where does this talent come from? With no concrete idea it existed, I’ve certainly never talked about it. Reminding me yet again, that in getting through life and discovering how I can achieve things, I travel an unusual path. I do not, and cannot, seemingly, arrive at outcomes along the same tried and tested routes that others take. If I can accept that I needn’t match more general expectations to get to desired outcomes along the usual paths, life seems to work out better for me.

I have been characterised as not listening to advice, being contrary and defensive. But perhaps a part of my reaction has come from knowing that what everyone else was telling me was “so obvious”, I knew would not work for me. Did I recognise, even as a child, that I would have to do things my own way? Possibly. Kids are not stupid.

I can’t keep up. And my sanity makes a welcome return when I remember that life is not one long battle to match “How things are done around here” with the way I do things. Things seem to work better when I keep faith and keep going, in my own way.

Thanks for listening.

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September 24, 2019

Parliamentary Sovereignty

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Parliamentary Sovereignty

So the UK supreme court by the unanimous decision of eleven judges has decided that the current attempted prorogation of Parliament is null and void, and in fact, therefore, never happened. That the justices in the Supreme Court are prepared to be so entirely categorical in their conclusions is surprising, perhaps unique in legal history. Legal judgements are often hedged about with caveats and provisos so that appellants might feel a crumb of comfort, but, if the summary of the findings by Lady Hale is indicative, there is precious room for manoeuvre here. Parliament is in session.

I feel comforted that the Scottish Judges in the Inner House of the Court of Session have been supported and endorsed in their findings. And now, perhaps, we can get back to the business of government.

Personally, I feel that our Queen, when asked to prorogue Parliament, would have been within her rights to tell our current PM to go back to his cronies and do his job within the constraints of Parliamentary procedure, fight his corner as he was paid to do, and not to lean on her to further his agendas. That our sovereign may be called upon to exercise her prerogative only once in a lifetime, and the fact that she almost invariably acts on the advice of her ministers, does not mean that, in such rare instances as this, her hands are tied. Prorogation is part of the Royal Prerogative, issuing from the Crown, and to whom we all look to keep a watchful eye on the relationships among the Houses of Commons and Lords, the Executive and the Judiciary. The Queen is not simply in place to follow orders or the expectations of her politicians. Without the Queen’s prerogative, what is her role in a constitutional monarchy?

It will be interesting to see what, if any, constitutional changes arise from this judgement. That the judges have acted quickly, carefully and in the interests of our democratic processes is most heartening. And we should all be mightily relieved that, at the last resort, a respect for law has prevailed. Even those who have sought to undermine Parliamentary sovereignty will have occasion to be grateful with this judgement.

Thanks for reading.

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September 16, 2019

Back to riding

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Back to Riding

I’ve had time off from riding, cutting short last term and starting late this term because my previous horse at The Drum – which hosts an RDA stables – told me he was simply too tired to carry on. I’ve been tired too, lately, so I sympathise, but because of a series of sad losses at the stables – horses working for the RDA tend to be older than average, they have to sedate and require a lot of careful training – there has until now been no suitable replacement horse available. But I have wanted to get back to riding.

So I was delighted to receive a phone-call to let me know that we were hopeful of finding me a new horse. Mr Bob is currently the front-runner, the lucky winner of my seat, and actually, he is such a cute boy, with big eyes, long lashes, a dark, soft coat, and ears that whisk around like radar at the least murmur of approval. I imagine him picking up a signal from the worldwide web…. One of the helpers said, he is a sway back, and from certain angles he looks pregnant, but he has narrow enough shoulders for me to hitch a lift, and frankly, his perceived imperfections simply make him more loveable. None of us is perfect, and if he is happy to carry me then I shall be content. Tomorrow will be only my second ride on Mr Bob, so it’s early days.

The care that is taken to place horses with suitable riders was borne in on me two weeks ago, when I was riding another horse. The coaxing noises that I used to deploy for an old, patient soldier were distracting to a new, keen recruit, and it took real concentration for me to stop that automatic murmur. My leader carefully pointed out that my ride would be only ten minutes, because it is so important not to teach new horses bad habits.

I’m always asking, “Why?” and wanting reasons, but as soon as I understood the care that goes into training each horse with the RDA, I was more than willing to do as instructed. And I shall be biddable and content with whatever happens next.

Thanks for reading.

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September 2, 2019

Cooking up a fantasy

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Cooking up a fantasy

Instead of the purveyors of entertainment cooking up a fantasy, I would love to see real cookery shows. Not competitions timed against the clock, but everyone pitching in and doing things together, learning how hard it is to make a thing look effortless, without fancy camera work. It’s time for the single-super-person / super-mum role model to be dismantled in favour of a communal, inter-personal approach to cookery that acknowledges a more realistic perspective.

I know people who drink while they cook, but rarely at any other time. Might that suggest that the cooking – the expectation of it, its relentless necessity – is the trigger? Gregarious individuals who only want company and who, instead, are dragooned yet again into a solitary kitchen filled with labour saving mod cons and who would give anything for a night off?

If Nadiya and Mary and Delia really want to inspire us they can stop pedalling the impossible mythology of cooking with all its contradictions:- 

~ Though s/he is emancipated, s/he cooks, nay, enjoys cooking all the time, alone. 

~ Because s/he is pleasing other people, cook is therefore fulfilled and happy

~ This is the way it has always been and will always be.

~ By cooking, the cook encourages sociability in others, though cook is solitary and would really love to have some help. Not to have to ask for it, just to receive it as a matter of care and courtesy.

~ You may be cook alone, but if your food is delicious – and note, if you will, the implied threat in that – you will always attract friends. None of whom will venture into your kitchen to help. But admiration is reward enough.

All I can say is, how 1950s. Viva la revolucion!

Thank you so much for listening.

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August 29, 2019

Cooking in fantasy land

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Cooking in Fantasy Land

I can’t be the only jobbing cook who finds these weekday early evening cookery programmes increasingly irksome, surely? I have nothing against Fanny Craddock, Delia Smith, Nigella Lawson, Mary Berry and Nadiya Hussein. I admire them hugely. But I find the “it’s what sells” soft focus of early evening cooking as entertainment, and featuring a solitary female anchor, increasingly questionable. Cooking in fantasy land?

Two of the reasons I find the preparation and cooking of food so tiresome is that it takes up a lot of my time and, crucially, I do most of it alone. Traditionally preparing meals was a communal activity, and thus a chance to exchange news and have a laugh, all of which made enjoyment of a necessity. Now, that communal feature is, I feel, channelled by television production companies into “party/treat/summer/festive afterglow” themes, assisted with great mounds of whipped cream and slow mo scatterings of icing sugar so beloved of TV camera angles.

Almost all the boring stuff – the washing, rinsing, chopping and dicing is carried out by someone off-camera or conveniently fast-tracked using time-lapse photography. The fact so ably obscured behind a hundred colourful camera shots is that in the home, in our culture, cooking is not perceived as a sociable activity. Nadiya may be well paid for her talents, but, presumably because it’s what sells, she is almost falling over herself to make it look interesting, fun, exciting, sexy even – using lashings of cream, honey, nuts and fruit.

Despite cooking being a solitary activity, tv chefs are always portrayed as having so many happy, glowing handsome friends who are all so appreciative. By cooking, the fantasy invites us to believe, a chef keeps aloft the hopes and aspirations of the wider family, and all their friends, who flock to delicious parties, drawn by the irresistible aroma and upbeat effortlessness of it all. We are invited to share the fantasy, where the grass is always green and the kids are always smiling, attempting handstands on the lawn. But never helping in the kitchen?  What a con trick. Why are we still being sold this staple as a family ideal?

(to be continued)

Thanks for listening.

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August 26, 2019

Personal Update

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Personal Update

So much has been happening – and not a lot of it to do with work – that I feel now is a good time to remind myself of what my priorities are.

I’ve had my PIP assessment at home, which went well. Whatever happens next, I feel that I was listened to and heard, and that the assessor was fair and kind. More than that, none of us can expect. And, as it turns out, she was quite able to accept that problems can be difficult to understand, let alone talk about. It’s not as if I’m the first person who has ever been assessed, and I won’t be the last. At some time or other, anyone in receipt of state-sponsored assistance has to be assessed, so I took the opportunity to explain, later marvelling that I have so rarely had that opportunity: from the procedures that were sanctioned on me and over my head when I was young, to the orthopaedic consultant who suggested I try wearing high heeled shoes, it has felt as if I have been “done unto” for ever. Nice to be heard, for a change. I await the decision.

I spent eighteen hours last week, sorting out my passwords, internet accounts and Paypal, as I was hacked by a single spam link which I clicked on… I should have known better, but I’ve been lucky, with no major hassles or dramas, except the idea, at one point, that my internet business account had been deleted. It hadn’t, it was merely locked, but it gave me a few restless hours. Please be vigilant with passwords, logging in and out of accounts, and with keeping stuff up to date. And please, if in doubt, delete spam emails and report them.

I fell again last week, narrowly averting a mangle that could have been noisy, difficult and messy, and accomplished with surprising elegance and luck when I landed and sat back hard on my left wrist. But it was a stupid fall nevertheless, which hurts and is sending out aches and pains all over my left side, my shoulder and neck. Impact falls of this type start with a small site that, as it heals, radiates pain. And of course, a good swim would help, but I’m cagey, having so recently fallen…

I’m still writing, currently hoping to finish a working draft of Pip by October. If my characters keep talking to me, I hope that will work out.

Thanks for listening. 

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August 23, 2019

Ableism and me

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Ableism and me

Thanks to Emma Crees, Writer in a Wheelchair for giving me, over the years, occasion to think about ableism and me.

And in all honesty, I haven’t, much, except in relation to the obvious political footballs: austerity, poverty, dearth of ambition. But, in much the same way as our current social expectation is geared towards masculinity – football all weekend, failing which rugby, tennis, golf, or beach volleyball – for the women – and that contradiction, the blonde, female sports rapporteur – much able-ism goes under the radar, or is simply accepted, tolerated and excused.

But here’s the thing: Why?

In my faith community – to which, I regret, I am now a rare visitor – I have made two requests to help that have stood out in my mind. The first, to wash dishes, was very politely refused because, I was told, the kitchen would be very busy and they needed someone who could carry dishes from the washer and stack them, carry plates and so forth. The implication being that I would make more work for them instead of helping them, and therefore, it would be better if I did not get involved.

The second occasion was when I asked, “What I would have to do to qualify for an in-house shift at one of the larger Quaker centres?” The kind of shifts in which it is expected that members staying for a week to assist with the hospitality, will act in a welcoming, sharing capacity, helping visitors to feel at ease. It was suggested that, since the friend in residence would be expected to carry suitcases, perhaps it would not suit me. After I got home, I wrote to query this, and received no reply.

So, is “Health and Safety” now to be used to exclude persons who wish to participate? I fully recognise that, if I ask to “help” in areas where it is more usual for the able-bodied to do so, it is probable that someone else may need to help me to help them. So, am I therefore to be excluded from giving my ha’penny worth? That seems a trifle harsh.

It is hard – sometimes very hard – for a person with impairments to get up any enthusiasm for joining in. Not only is the able-bodied world peculiarly blind to the challenges faced by those with impairments – “It’s self-service, just fetch a plate and come along…” – but it can be difficult to leave the small comfort zone of passivity that those of us with impairments have marked out for ourselves. A comfort zone which, if I am typical, is made up of equal parts of consolation and despair: Not very life enhancing.

So, joining in, and feeling encouraged to join in, will be exceptionally life-enhancing to one whose usual world is four walls of a room, the bleak car-park or the limitations of a predictable, supermarket shop. Given the sheer appreciation and delight we feel when being encouraged to participate, do organisations that encourage volunteering not see the value in a buddying system that encourages that? Or is that hope of extra care deluded and unhelpful?

It does seem to me that “inclusion” must embrace all sorts and abilities, even if that means making an extra effort for that to be possible. If we are to have an accurate reflection of what “society” means we must encourage those of us who are reluctant to leave their living-rooms to get outside and live a little.

Thanks for listening.

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August 14, 2019

I got the date for my PIP assessment

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I got the date for my PIP assessment.

I got the date for my PIP assessment, today Wednesday the 14th of August.

If this had kicked off last year, I would have said, “That’s my Summer holiday thoroughly ruined”, but there is some stubborn-ness in me that refuses to give anyone that satisfaction. Just because I have to do this now, when we are supposed to be outside and tanning ourselves, having barbeques and swimming in the lake, does not mean I will descend into a worry fest. Why should I? I plan to have a great life, and that includes now, because what else matters, really, in the final analysis?

There is a great deal said these days about those who feel hard done by. And yes, for swathes of our poor, vulnerable and lonely citizens the system is really not working very well, it is stretched to breaking, and broken, in many places, badly patched. For many, many people the daily grind goes no-where near addressing their basic needs; and, since destitution is not something I shall have to face any time soon, I’m grateful, and intend to make the most of all my chances, today, tomorrow and every day.

But… – why is there always a but? – the rules in this particular system appear to be arbitrary, made up with no end in view except to further curtail the ability of those with mixed abilities, to participate. There is no real logic behind the “twenty metre rule” or the broad definition of “to mobilize”. I am informed by ATOS that someone is coming to my apartment today to see “how my disability affects me” – but really, that’s not it. They are coming to see how far I fall within parameters that they work to, and whether they think I am justified in getting additional help with my needs: all surprisingly subjective.

And that is particularly hard to explain when I find it hard to understand, when I am prone to saying, “I’m fine thanks!” even when I’m in a lot of pain and covered in mud; and when it pains me – with an almost physical ache – to enumerate the ways in which I find it difficult to do what I want to do. The gap between what I aspire to, and what I can reasonably manage is increasingly obvious, and makes me, on my bad days, want to – to end – this crux of compromising.

None of which is self pity. But there are shards of despair in there that I dare not look at too closely.

Thanks for reading.

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August 11, 2019

Points of departure

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Points of departure

Following my previous post, I have also cause to reflect, again, that a memoir cannot cover every aspect of a life. Not only would our attempt to cover “everything” make of a memoir an encyclopaedia, but naturally, the scrutiny of a memoir covers certain periods, and stops at certain natural points. Beyond these points of departure, our lives can change, and flourish beyond recognition.

In my memoir, for example, I reflect on every young girl’s dreams of being included, being loved, part of a carefree community of those who enjoy life. I talk about certain on-going traumas that affect people with my abilities – the assumptions, for example, that we will do what we are asked, that we should never be a nuisance, that we should be inconspicuous and no trouble, and, above all, never embarrass anyone. (Can others embarrass us? Well, yes, that is fairly routine.)

“Trapped” also explores some myths of mainstreaming that we all face at some points in our lives. If only you will be good, if only you will work hard and make us proud of you, the myth whispers, you too, can have all that we have: friends, family, a wonderful job, meaningful occupation, a fantastic, fulfillingly amazing emotional life… And, as anyone will tell you, it ain’t necessarily so. We all fall down, at times. We fail exams, we break up relationships, we may even become homeless or destitute. But the common thread in all these low points is that – in more ways than we are usually aware – we are the same. We all have stories to tell, and lessons to learn. And in that, we are, and can always be, bigger than the sum of our parts.

Thanks for listening.

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August 2, 2019

Passing the buck

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Passing the buck

I was speaking recently to a friend, whose wife has a long-term, incurable condition, and whose original lifetime award for DLA has recently been reassessed. The outcome of her claim is that she has received a two-year award for PIP. Which means, she keeps her car meantime, and can keep working, as long as she is able. It also means that in two years, she will have to re-apply, and start jumping through a fresh set of hoops.

In two years’ time, we are supposing that a package of existing welfare benefits, including PIP, will have been devolved to the Scottish government. So, by handing out short-term awards, is Westminster simply passing the buck? All the existing, temporary awards that have recently been made are going to require reassessment – unless they are also lifetime awards – when they expire; and one result of awarding PIP even for a short time, is that no “parachute payment” (awarded when a claimant who qualified for a vehicle under the old DLA scheme loses their entitlement under PIP) is paid.

If the outcome of my reasssessment is that I lose my car, then at least I have one major comfort: When benefits are devolved, I can reapply to the Scottish Government and see what happens. Whatever their decision may be, I’d rather have decisions about my benefits entitlements taken by an independent expert – not ATOS or AWOL please – and emanating from a political administration with which I have some sympathy. Sorry to say, but I’ve never voted conservative, and I don’t think I ever will: I am just too aware of the undeclared value of “social capital” – “good” education, “privileged” up-bringing etc – to suppose that it has no effect on our democratic processes. Although, if current political developments are anything to go by, there is evidently no guarantee that even with social capital, we obtain sound governance.

I’ll keep you updated on the progress of my PIP application.

Meantime, thanks so much for listening.

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