Happiness Matters

September 18, 2019

Young people are taking action

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There is so much going on, it’s amazing that the world keeps turning. Boris is doing his kamikaze best, I suppose, though I’m not convinced of either his methods or his mandate and he seems in his short time in office to have alienated more people than I’ve had hot dinners. The world needs to take action on climate change, environmental degradation, overfishing, the nuclear debate, the manufacture and supply of weaponry… And throughout a three-year fracas about our membership of the European block, many opportunities for action on our future priorities have passed us by.

Yet it becomes increasingly apparent to me that young adults, school leavers and college students are being looked to, to speak for the imperatives of future generations. Last night on the news, a piece about reconciliation in which young people from across an old, bitter divide were invited to meet. Looking exactly like my daughter having a conversation with one of her school buddies: young, hopeful, accepting. And baffled by the old, insisted-upon enmities maintained by their elders. In the same bulletin, mentions of climate change, marches, and Greta Thunberg are fairly routine.

Are young people increasingly seen as the moral voice of our nations? Of course, they are “the future” but as things stand, they currently have little investment in “the system”. Perhaps that’s the whole point: young people are freer, less hidebound by expectations that the “rest of us” take for granted. And “the system” currently appears to pay their views scant regard. A school teacher, when asked if her YA pupils may join a march for climate change says, “What’s more important? The environment, or your exams?” Greta has been mocked in mainstream media for having the courage of her convictions; 16 and 17 year olds don’t have the vote, nor do they have automatic rights to state support. Young people are often characterised as a nuisance, difficult, unfathomable. But do we listen to them?

I’m honoured that young people are taking action. For the rest of us, it seems to be largely a case of “business as usual”. Exploration for oil and gas – so essential for jobs and industry – continues, as does the sale of weaponry, for much the same reasons. I’ve yet to see a convincing argument that selling weaponry – in other words, facilitating the death of persons unknown – is good for any of us.

If we wish young people to advocate for us, we need to allow them full participation rights in our society. Not demonising their curiosity and energy, but allowing it expression, and learning – for the love of God – to listen. It is because young people have different perspectives that their views are so valuable. They need to be heard, accorded a full place in our democratic processes, and given the financial support to allow them some choices and active participation.

Those youngsters whom we designate our hope for the future are growing louder and more insistent. If the threats of climate change are real – and it seems wiser to assume they are than to pretend it’s all fiction – the momentum for change will continue to grow. While the old guard, so accustomed to rehearsing their entitlements and not listening to other points of view, will find itself increasingly isolated.

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September 16, 2019

Back to riding

Fran's School of Hard Knocks, Happiness Matters 0 Comments

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

Fran's School of Hard Knocks, Happiness Matters 2 Comments

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

Fran's School of Hard Knocks, Happiness Matters 0 Comments

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 23, 2019

Ableism and me

'Trapped: My Life with Cerebral Palsy', cerebral palsy, Fran's School of Hard Knocks, Happiness Matters 2 Comments

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 19, 2019

I am over fifty

Fran Macilvey, Happiness Matters 0 Comments

I am over fifty so… it’s all but over for me, is it?

Everywhere I look, in my daily newspaper, in magazines, leaflets and booklets that tumble through my letterbox, on bus adverts and these annoyingly persistent on-line ads that announce, “Over fifties’ health plan / life insurance / home equity release scheme/ travel insurance / no medicals/ Tenfor Ladies Always Discreet pads for the active “mature” lady”… I am reminded that I had better think of slowing down. I am over fifty so…?

Honest to God, perhaps I should just give up and accept that I’m old. But I don’t feel old, and in more ways than I can enumerate I feel younger, more able, more positive and more alive than I did when my age was thirty-something. I’m not just saying that, either. I have a much better grasp of what my life is for, what I can do to feel more excited, more interested and more alive. And, I would like to be allowed to do that without being dogged by the constant, promoted assumption that because I am – ta da! – over fifty, I somehow need to slow down, take it easy, ease up a bit.

I resolutely refuse to slow down, even though, in many ways, I have slowed down. I no longer pelt along the street and slam into the pavements when I fall because I’m moving so fast. Instead, I saunter, and trip and fall in a more graceful pile but, I don’t seem to notice, even with my reduced speed and my care with each step, that I am much slower than I was before.

And what is this obsession with speed, anyway? I notice it at the leisure centre, where people in the fast lane of the pool seem to swim with an almost permanent grimace on their faces. If I was watching them, I would say they hate swimming and want to get it over with as soon as possible. Do I feel like that, always counting lengths and desperate to get to twenty so I can get out and leave? Actually, yes, I had to admit, I do, often. Which is stupid.

Being aware of something we dislike is the first step to stopping it. I dislike this notion that the over fifties are on the verge of obsolescence, decayed, faded and tired. What about kind and patient? What about character-filled and interesting? Are all such qualities to be brushed aside because we walk with a stagger or a stoop, and because we insist on writing, “The man with whom I was talking” instead of “The man that I was talking to”?  

Thanks for listening.

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June 27, 2019

Having an impairment

'Trapped: My Life with Cerebral Palsy', cerebral palsy, Happiness Matters, The Rights & Wrongs of Writing 8 Comments

Having an impairment

I hear from readers quite often, writing to me and talking about having read Trapped. Typically a message will begin, “Hi, I’m Andrea, I’m 27 and I have cp. I read your book and…”

Which makes me wonder. Some readers want to write, and ask for advice about that. And I would say, if the first thing you identify about yourself is that you have CP – or any kind of impairment – then yes, you do need to write, if only to get that narrative out of your system.

For decades, my intro line was, “Hi, I’m Fran, I’m X years old and I have CP.” But really, identifying what might be the main challenge in your life as essentially You, is a bit limiting. I have CP, yes, but it no longer defines me, or limits me. The sense of having limitations is odd, relying as much on other people’s ideas of what is possible, as my own. And, I choose not to see myself like that anymore, because to do so is unnecessary and unhelpful.

I’m Fran, I am fifty-four and I have blue eyes; dark blue, almost teal, with a ring of brown around the iris. I like singing, so much so that even at my age, I do so unselfconsciously only dimly aware that other people consider this eccentric. I sing along to music in the supermarkets, because there seems no reason not to: it’s the kind of thing that other people would do, if only they had the nerve.

I’m Fran, I’m fifty-four, and I’m a carer. I care for my family, and for my mother, and I care about the environment. At the moment, four large men – or is it five? – are trimming back the trees at the bottom of the hill at the back of our garden, and I have wept, because I love those trees, which, for me, are a precious glimpse of wildness in the city. I love those trees for being a refuge, for whistling when the wind blows, for being solid and optimistic, and for growing with branches extended wide. And for being taller and bigger than me. For being unfathomable and private to many creatures I will never see. For being faithful, for believing that growth is good and life is sacred.

As for having an impairment… What is that? Is it, as the social model of disability would have me believe, something that I really should be able to ignore? I’d like to, but actually, trying to ignore it is like trying to ignore the elephant in the room…

So instead, I try to make friends with the elephant and listen to what it might be trying to tell me. Often, I might chance a ride on its shoulders, from where I have the most amazing view of life. It’s a metaphor I prefer to play with, rather than push against. And, if we are playing with this particular metaphor, it might be an expensive thing, that hints at a grander life, needing a bigger space to play in. I love those trees because they were elephant sized, and expanded my sense of what I was. Looking up at them, I forgot about having an impairment.

Thank you for listening, and have a wonderful summer vacation.

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June 24, 2019

Doing what we enjoy

Fran's School of Hard Knocks, Happiness Matters 4 Comments

Doing what we enjoy

I’m thinking of writing a series of articles about Life and how to live it well: observations and conclusions often drawn from the times when I’ve not lived so well, perhaps because I’ve found myself caught and bound into doing things I didn’t enjoy.

And now I would say that in life, which can be wearying at the best of times, if we want to live well and happily – I might even go so far as to say that, since we are given life, it is our sacred duty to live joyfully – we really should only be doing what we enjoy.

We’ve heard it said often enough that an insincere gesture is not worth a bean; or rather, that the smallest sincerity is worth more than the biggest obligation.

And so, if we unwrap that to the whole of our lives, it makes sense for us to do what we choose, and avoid those things we don’t. Unless, that is, we can muster enough heart and desire to do all things with a sense of lightness. Otherwise, what is the point? Sooner or later, our disgruntlement will leak all over our generous, polite, obliging veneer as we falteringly try to explain why we went to such an effort. And if you are anything like me, the disappointment from not making it work, will be acute.

So starting from now – not, like in most cases, first thing tomorrow, but right this minute – I think I’ll do what I enjoy, and really enjoy it. That must surely be why people call life a gift, or a treasure: because we can do what we like with it.

By doing what we enjoy, we also make the point to others that they are free and not beholden to us. Our freedom – and our evident joy in our freedom – sends a message that others are equally liberated from the bounds of expectation, rules, obligation, to do as they please.

Now that is a liberating thought.

Thanks for listening.

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June 14, 2019

Times they are changing

Fran Macilvey, Fran's School of Hard Knocks, Happiness Matters 4 Comments

Times they are changing

My daughter is now sixteen years old, a fact which gives me considerable pause. I have spent much time over the last two decades doing things for the family I am blessed to have around me. But have I used that as my excuse to not do things for myself? Probably.

There must be many people in my position, who surround themselves with details and preoccupations that put them at several removes from the concerns and convictions nearest their hearts. So how do we get back to the things we really, really want to do, instead of staying half-heartedly with those things we think we ought to do first?

I am guessing that most of us will wait until our kids have grown up, and we have a lot of time and space, before we sit back and reflect, remembering what we enjoyed doing before parenthood came along. We’ve all heard about the ‘empty nest’ syndrome, which apparently leaves parents bereft without their usual caring role.

With that in mind – I’ve done a lot of intense grieving these last few years and it is hard work – I have been letting my daughter leave me gradually, mourning and celebrating her passages into youth and adulthood in the small rituals with which growing up is sprinkled: the first time she walked to school by herself; the first time she went to town alone on the bus; the first time she was away for the weekend with a school party…

With suitable safeguards and many sage warnings, these small moments when I realised, “She can manage without me, now,” have paved the way for the recognition that I must honour her freedom – and the rest of my life – by now being meaningfully busy with my own projects. That I can do.

Thanks for listening.  

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June 10, 2019

Getting life into gear

cerebral palsy, Happiness Matters, The Rights & Wrongs of Writing 4 Comments

Getting life into gear

My “to do” list reads like this: housework, swimming, shopping, recycling, visiting my mum, shopping, tidying, answering the door, and getting life into gear. You know, get a grip, get organised, do things.

But… I’m doing them already, and there must come a limit to the number of times, or the speed or the efficiency with which I tackle the jobs in my life. Some things are more fun than others. Visiting Mum, while sometimes worrying, is also enjoyable, interesting, and a good way to remind myself of life priorities, in other words, how lucky I am.

But still, the notion resurfaces occasionally that I could do with being more disciplined about my own work, that, “I need to work harder”. Periodically, I glance at the stats comparing average earnings with mine, and think, “Right! It’s time to get organised…” and I wilt, thinking that surely, hard work alone does not answer that particular ambition.

So perhaps there is something else I could be doing, some different way in which I can frame life challenges that would make achieving things easier. Perhaps I’ve known all along that if I can make enjoyable what I am doing, that is worthwhile in itself. When I am happy, life is already lighter and more interesting, and my life automatically becomes what I want it to be.

More soberly, I begin to perceive that there is a marked difference between pain – which is, I believe, an inevitable part of life, the see saw of change – and what we generally call suffering, which is what happens when we internalise pain, in some ways erecting it into our next great project. Pain of all sorts is both natural and inevitable; our thoughtless conversion of it into what we call suffering might become a bad habit. I know myself, that I can tolerate quite a lot of pain. And so long as I do not rehearse it, hold on to it, I can accept it, feel it and allow it to be until it goes away. I do not also need to say, as I have been in the habit of doing, “Ah me, I am in such pain, life is hard etc etc etc.” Which is a bit like picking myself up from a fall, only to bash my head against a brick wall…

Funny what I think about while waiting at traffic lights.

Thanks for listening.  

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