Five Amazing Things

1) Parents.
2) Surrogate Parents
3) Pets
4) Dishwasher
5) Other people and also friends. Living a simple life (which includes 4)

The key way to look at disappointment - as an opportunity

My Dad gave a lecture a few years ago when he said that the Chinese word for crisis is the same as opportunity.

Things happen in life. You can have an interpretation of the past, an occurrence or experience that may be negative. It may have a poor outcome, you may see it as a mistake. You might regret it. Perhaps it was a bad experience. You may have disagreed. It could be an unresolved issue. Something you didn't want and it scuppered your high expectations.

So why not have a revised view of the present and future? You've an opportunity to blossom. You can be very specific about what you want. Be realistic, do something you can achieve. You can change the situation, alter your expectations maybe. You can change direction and have new experiences. Above all , ENJOY.

Contemporary History

Been reading about 'Star Wars' recently. No, not George Lucas but Ronald Reagan. What becomes obvious is that Thatcher was more right wing than Reagan. She was worried that it might mean that we would all have to get rid of nuclear weapons. Of course that would have been awful so she had to persuade Reagan (who was anti-nuclear from an early age apparently) that Star Wars meant Star Wars with nukes.

Unlike Thatcher, Connie's been making me laugh as usual. I was recommending that she sell this to the Dragons. She told me about telling Dylan to bring his girlfriends home - he keeps on staying out late. Then he did as she had asked and they were rubbing noses outside the front door. Dylan is of course a cat.

Then Connie did an impression of her walking past her Jehovahs Witness neighbour's door. Someone trying to look like they're walking normally, but actually skipping along on tiptoes with their head bent. Still chuckling from the thought. This was inspired by 'Baby Bible Bashers' a Channel 4 documentary that Connie's set to watch tomorrow.

A woman called Darwin

You may have noticed Mum that I deleted some posts from the blog. It was because they were too depressing. A close friend of mine died on Boxing Day. She was like a second mother to me. I was also doing essays on death and felt close to it.

Anyway I had a lucid dream last night and thought it was worth documenting. I have thought twice about this. I've dipped into Alan Clarke's diaries for example (Yes, the Thatcher loving far-right vegetarian character) and always found it irritating when he puts his dreams on paper. Anyway.

J (the deceased) rang me on my mobile whilst I was shopping. 'Can you marry M (deceased's husband) Anna tomorrow afternoon?' 'Yes' I said 'whatever you like. Take care.'
I went to their house (it wasn't actually their house but one they were living in about ten years ago) with A (deceased's daughter) and A said 'Yes, it's her voice when she speaks to you isn't it?'.

We started the ceremony, with me, M and A. A was trying to summon the ghost of a woman called Darwin. Darwin wouldn't appear. M didn't want to proceed. He said it was stupid. The wedding fell through.

Then I saw Uncle C (deceased's brother-in-law - also deceased). And M was talking to him. I approached and asked M how come he was dealing with the death of J so well. M said he was going to Brazil next week.


I think the dream is trying to tell me that I need to speak to M and A to offer support. But what about the ghost of a woman called Darwin who can't be summoned? I think Genetics, Evolution and Science have even less comfort in times of loss than telephone calls from loved ones. Even if the latter is fiction.

Five Amazing Things

What I love about the new house is the south facing aspects. Hopefully from now on I will always live in such a house. It means that you know what the weather is. If you have a north facing window then you sometimes don't know if the sun's shining.

The history of dementia is progressing well. I'm trying to narrow down my question/s to something like 'How has the definition of dementia changed?' so I've been to Leeds University Library which was great. Nobody really says 'Senile dementia' any more so I'm trying to find out when that happened, if anyone prefers using 'Alzheimers' as it can only be diagnosed at postmortem, when 'senility' went out, if it has. So far I've found one book referring to Aging and Senile Dementia from 1977. Apparently Churchill had it.

Five Amazing Things

1) I'm still enthusiastic about the social history of dementia
2) Still enjoying the MA in Contemporary British History
3) Sitting in south facing rooms full of sunshine
4) Sunshine glinting off a clean dishwasher
5) Telling your husband to turn down the sound on 'Call of Duty'

Did death become taboo in British discourse as a result of the Great War?

Is writing this essay a fate worse than death? How many questions can a seemingly inncocent question about death generate? Is it helpful to get obsessed about death especially ones 90 years ago? Were there a load of other reasons that in fact made British society obsessed with death? Was the Great War instrumental in causing my own death (hopefully) at least 90 years after it? What isn't taboo? Is eating horrible sandwiches on National Express trains causing them to die a death of taboo? Is it helpful for something to be taboo? Why aren't more things taboo? What is the point of investigating taboo things and what happens when you discover they aren't? Were beastiality, incest and sex more of a taboo than death yesterday? How do you measure changes in attitudes and is there any point to it?

The seasonal celebration of someone very special's Birthday

No, I'm not talking about Jesus Christ, but myself. I'm having a well earned break from packing - having rewarded myself with a birthday Yakult. Helps with the Irritable Bowel Syndrome on these occasions. And I must document the weather today. I can't actually remember a day when the sun shone on my birthday before. The problem being that the sun, having had his hat on, basking in short lived glory is having an early night as he seems to do at this time of year.

I've been informed by the solicitors that we have exchanged contracts. So it's all on for tomorrow. And one of the main reasons why I'm so excited is that I was unpacking the shed in the sunshine - although we don't have a shed at the new house, we do have a south facing garden, so even in the depths of winter if the sun is shining, it will be shining on us, just like it was today.

Phil has bought me a beautiful art-deco style watch with diamente stones to match the engagement ring, beautiful. I love Christmas. Not just for selfish reasons because it's my birthday, I like getting presents and lovely food. But everyone is in a good mood, especially me. I love the music, the decorations, the carols, the christmas cyclamens and pansies. Christmas cards, seeing family and friends. And drinking Grand Annee Bollinger, in the true style of a dedicated champagne anarcho-socialist.

We're moving on Thursday - and the grass really is that lovely oppulent shade of green Up North

It's excellent news. We're moving the day after tomorrow and have a wonderful removals company who I feel like I'm related to after 5 minutes of conversation. I'm making progress on all three of my essays, done a little bit of Xmas shopping and getting ready to pack. I did well in the interview although I didn't get the job, but they said I was second which is better than being last.

And 'Mirrors of Mortality'? Yes, I did get a copy - from one of the authors - totally ludicrous. It's like borrowing a recording of Yesterday from Paul McCartney. No library had it, not on Amazon and out of print - apparently it's easier to smoke and play music in libraries these days.

So we will be in by Xmas. OK, we won't have broadband, but of course before broadband there was always TV (although you can't look up things on TV) but anyway finding Nemo is on. I'm a Muse for Blaglady too, which is helping me reassert my sense of importance. VIP.

And the invention of the acronym? - yes in the twentieth century so the traditional view of the birth of POSH is not Port Outward Starboard Home. That's another story.

And I'm making Phil Connie's Cous Cous tonight.

Nothing to report

apart from:
- we're waiting for a roof guarantee before the house goes through
- I have a job interview on Monday in Yorkshire. Yorkshire brace yourself.
- I oscilate between excitement and hatred of my chosen academic topic/s - death, disease, dementia and the twentieth century
- Florence Nightingale might have had dementia. Whether the confirmation of this would interest or be worthwhile to anyone else apart from me is another question.
- Laying bets on how old I will be before I never do any more photocopying, mail outs or arranging meetings. And it's 2 to 1 at 85, 9 to 4 at 86 etc etc ad infinitum yada yada yada. Have I ever used my brain in paid employment?
- I'm now part time and it's wonderful
- I'm doing more cleaning than ever before in my life - put it down to being a student again. I will literally do anything to avoid a) going to the library b) writing anything worth reading c) surfing worthwhile internet sites and taking notes. What percentage of historians hate libraries and always have done? I take it back. It's not that I hate it. I just don't like spending large amounts of my own personal, me time there when 98% of the books are missing - even from the effing british library. Yes I drove for two hours to find a book was missing from the British Library of all places. Phil thinks nicking books from libraries should be a capital offence. Castration would be alright with me. But what's happening to me? One minute I'm happy and joyous full of the joys of spring-ish winter, the next- I'm turning into a nazi. Help! 'Euthanasia'. Sounds appealing. Especially for the ones who nick from libraries. Anyone got a copy of 'Mirrors of Mortality' from 1981?

Spending too much time in certain places

You know when you've spent too much time anywhere when something hasn't worked for ages - say over a period of weeks, months. To the extent where you think it's never going to be fixed. And then when you happen to be there, someone is fixing it. This happened to me in the ladies toilets on Wednesday morning in Kings Cross station when they were fixing a broken entry gate.

On the plus side myself and Connie have had a very pleasant evening watching the Proclaimers top 50 singalong tunes on 'The Hits'. To the extent I'm thinking of buying their album I like their music choices so much. Connie wasn't too impressed with me owning 'Armarillo' - her favourite bit is when Ronnie Corbett falls over on the video. I love it. Jeffrey from rainbow looks a tad on the thin side.

I had a change from acupuncture - shiatsu. First time I've had it. Very nice - like massage with bony fingers. She told me I needed to do fun things. Non-cerebal. I felt watching the Hits was appropriate. They seem to be repeating what the Proclaimers picked from before now - like Billie Jean and Amarillo. I suppose they have to pay large royalties. Another cost saving exercise. I decided that music is one of the ways I relax. But then couldn't get the dowloading thing to work so have to wait until Phil gets here anyway. I've made a note of everything I want to download from the Proclaimers suggestions. Visually I think they've improved with age - one of them has stopped wearing glasses.

The house in leeds is on the verge of going through. Other news, I was suitably undiplomatic in the diplomacy lecture. I said 'It's history from above really isn't it?' He said yes it was. Then I said 'Why can't we do a history of protest - two million people walked against the Iraq war, why aren't we studying that?'. Eyes down, be quiet.

This week was the origins of the second world war. I was on the verge of comatose until the last question 'Why did Britain follow a policy of appeasing the dictators?'. Because our rulers preferred, or thought they preferred, the fascists to the reds. Inevitable is a dirty word in history. Thank God.

Being diplomatic about diplomacy

I have to write and publish 300 words on a historical article regarding diplomacy by tomorrow. It's not assessed, I'm not paid for it and most importantly I'm more interested in the history of ant secretions than diplomacy. Or the giant weird black ladybirds we kept on getting until the cold hit. In fact the history of virtually anything else except diplomacy. I have a book by Richard J Evans (who I respect - he's a good writer) but I disagree with him in his attacks on postmodernism. His argument is that the best way to argue with people is on their sources, where they're getting their facts from. I feel like he's dictating to me on what I can argue with people about. Why can't I just say 'Look, I've had a hard day, I'm a union rep defending poorly paid people from bullying and cuts. Diplomacy was never relevant and it isn't now. Shut up. Read your own article and write your own reviews. I've got better things to read. It's called _______' [Insert favourite book title].

But I have to be diplomatic. I'm paying these people good money to teach me things. The other problem is that (and this is a technical issue) we have to analyse the sources of the article. My good friend (who shall remain nameless) photocopied the article so I'm almost eternally grateful as it saved an estimated 5 hours of work trawling round this and there looking for the damn thing. Anyway, the bibliography and references weren't photocopied. So I have an article which I'm not interested in, with the actual information I need unavailable.

Where are those black ladybirds?

The answer to our prayers

I was chatting to a friend and it seems that quite a few people are on the verge of nervous breakdowns at the moment. I was encouraging the use of sleeping tablets. But the real answer to our prayers is one I had strangely and stupidly forgotten about until another friend mentioned it: The interest-only mortgage. It seems to be a relatively new invention but everyone's at it and it seems to take that stress and overwork out of every day life, not to mention the benefits of hundreds of extra pounds each month.

I will suggest it to husband shortly. Hopefully a third party (our new accountant of all people) will convince and life will be bearable again. We will be together, not apart. On an even keel and not worrying about cash as you do. I feel a two day week coming on.

I wrote myself a list of priorities today as I was banging on to someone else about how crucial this was for wedding planning. Top of it and underlined was 'Living Together'. In fact I don't remember underlining any of my priorities for the wedding, so I'm pretty convinced that this major priority will soon see fruition.

Working Ten Hour Days

I've realised quite late on in life the ten-hour-working-day-lifestyle which these lawyers, teachers, Chief Execs and city types go on about. I've already got routines which make it possible. Some people call them 'snacks'. We have a 'fruit at work' scheme at work, where you pay 20p for a piece of fruit. So at about 2pm I purchase 2 pieces of fruit. I eat them at 5pm. This then keeps me going until I leave work at 7ish, eating dinner at 7.30ish.

The other trick is having early nights. I'm now the Queen of this. Twice this week I've been in bed at 8.30 - fast asleep by 9.

I feel a bit how God must feel - the all-seeing-eye when no-one else is around. Then you bump into someone who's from another office also leaving the same time as you, and make small talk about how this is the busiest time of year and the problems of information technology these days. I don't suppose God has to join in the small talk.

I'm enjoying work and I'm enjoying my course. It's excellent.
Not enjoying being apart from my husband. But when I think about him I smile, the separation is only a temporary thing. Smiling's been pretty permanent since 20052005.

Connie's Cous-Cous

I have to admit the wonderful Connie is an amazing chef and makes a damn fine meal. She has taught me how to make her Cous-Cous which I have to make on Thursday to prove I've learnt it.

You take an onion and fry it until golden brown- about seven minutes - laterally adding two cloves of diced garlic. Boil the kettle for the cous cous. You then add one packet of Passata (sieved italian tomatoes). You then add half a chopped red pepper and a chopped courgette. Then cover the cous cous with the boiled water and let it soak. Then add a tin of chick peas to the tomato mixture and reduce for about 3 minutes, adding a handful of fresh coriander. You add some vegetable stock and mixed seasoning to the mixture. Then serve with the cous-cous and a slice of lime.

Delicious, the quickest thing in the world and good for you.

The blog is I'm afraid the last thing on my list of priorities. It may well have served its purpose in getting me writing confidently, trying to improve with feedback in preparation for the MA.

Anyway it's probably a nice way to keep in touch with friends and family, although Connie is instilling me with a renewed paranoia about identity theft. I know the last time I tried to knock the blog on the head I had some rather unpleasant news which meant I carried it on for therapeutic purposes.

While it's still going - other lovely news to impart is that I spent Sunday with my cousin and family, and got reinvigorated nuptial-wise with the viewing of unseen marital photographs.
Husband has a week off and I had the earliest night ever last night of 8.30pm. I would love to say that the house sale is progressing as fast as Paula Radcliffe's postnatal running achievements. Hopefully we'll still be in for Christmas, although I'll be so busy writing essays that I suspect the house will be bottom of the list of priorities, although higher than the blog.

Reading and Writing

When the Tories talked about 'Back to Basics' I'm sure one of their things was emphasising reading and writing. They didn't mention what rate at what level. Anyway, I'm doing reading about ten thousand a day (that's words) and writing about a thousand. I've calculated at that rate I should have three essays written in about 48 hours. So actually only one week off work. So I've negotiated with my boss to keep my hours up. I'm turning into the bastard child of myself. Anarchist come feminist come socialist with a healthy bit of cynicism and death monitoring. I want to read Frankenstein but am a bit worried as it's out of our era (twentieth century girls/boys). I just think it's a bit ironic that a 'horror' story which presumably was a moral tale was written by the ok, legitimate child of arguably the world's first anarchist and feminist (Mary Wollstonecraft and William Godwin). There's a lesson there, but I don't know what it is.

Getting back to a history of dementia

I'm happy again with my dementia idea. Pleased to be going to the national archives today and hopefully look at some real death certificates. Deciding now my first essay will be "A history of 'dying from old age'". I will look at any trends and ask if there is comfort in that final diagnosis or whether it's better to be more scientific. It could even be a brief history of the death certificate I suppose. Second essay will be A historiogaphy of dying and third will be an oral history and dying. I'm starting to wonder how many words we're supposed to be reading and how many words writing. Presumably we have to read about 100,000 a month and write about a tenth of that.

One thing's for sure. I haven't got time to think about whether the alphabet is random or not. Who cares anyway?

The alphabet

I think I can talk about why today was excellent. I 'skim-read' a whole journal article written by a bit of a prat and summarised it in about ten nano-seconds. Work is a four letter word. So is Rent. And Land. And Lord. And Lady. Carpet, boiler and plumber are longer words than four letters. Death has five.

The alphabet is a funny old thing. We like to think of its randomness, but is it? For example I had my Ipod on what I thought was random but it was playing everything in artist order from A-Z. I only needed to get from A to B to get fully satiated. In fact the world wouldn't be too bad if all the artists were obliterated from C onwards. I had, for example, Abba, AC/DC, Arctic Monkeys, The Beatles (under B confusingly) Aretha Franklin. And then you've got Life itself. As a teenager you feel at ease with the alphabet. You feel ingratiated with all the letters from a to z of course. And I spent my twenties disproving this and just getting to know A to B. Then C crops up. We've got enough Connies in the world to write a few internationally renowned comedy scripts. And some more four letter words and six letter ones beginning with c that we can't mention at this juncture. And it's only now approaching the mid-thirties mark that I feel strong enough to even start writing some of these d-words down. Death. Dementia.

And at the other end of the spectrum I've decided that all the words ending in ie are my favourites. Especially my favourite names. Of course I'm biassed because they're my favourite people. Aunties and the rest of you know who you are and I won't embarass you here.

And what would have happened if the musical language had gone up to I? Is this possible? Has anyone ever tried it? Why not from A-Z? Invent a piano where middle L is the key we all know. Random my A***.

An excellent and terrible week

I can't go into detail about why the week was terrible or excellent. This is one of the things about blogging. You're your own censor. And probably tougher than Mary Whitehouse as the very people who read this thing are the people you least want to offend. To be honest if Mary Whitehouse was my reader I'd be more entertaining. But being called dull has never been much of an insult. But I can talk about the football and rugby. But I won't. Anyway, I'm back into dementia which I'm sure is a good thing. Essay one will be a study of deaths due to old age, essay two, a historioraphy of dying and the dissertation 'a history of dementia' as it has been all along apart from one or two days last week when I was feeling morbid. Suffice to say life is full of good and bad things.

Tomorrow I'm going to print off my blog so I can delete all the polls. I think I was the only person who enjoyed them so they're being evicted. Airbrushed right out of history (except I'm keeping a hard copy).

Cheered up by a 'Social History of Dying'

Believe it or not I've been cheered up by the above book released this year by Allan Kellehear which I just bought at Waterstones.

1) I agree with him
2) He mentions dementia A LOT
3) studying death isn't that depressing
4) you can prepare for death and there are well managed, good, deaths
5) It would be a waste of four years research not to do a history of dementia
6) It's a fact we're all going to die, there's no point denying it
7) A history of dementia hasn't been done before in this country
8) I'm already an expert in it