Bring down the borders

Politics (and birdwatching) would be so dull if you took the people out of it. I felt cheered by an informal political chat I then had at lunch with some colleagues. One rookie new guy was saying he shared George W Bush's view that capitalism would solve the climate change problems. After that he said that he thought Overpopulation was the problem. C and I are always having this debate. There's too many people in the world (they say). The population is too large. The world can't support it. We must stop the Indians/Chinese/Blacks/hispanic/other discriminated group from reproducing. But we need to encourage the 'indigenous' white population to reproduce.

Going back to my lunch yesterday, for almost the first time in my life I found myself winning the argument against this Malthusian, racist claptrap. A world population could fit into a country the size of Switzerland (7bn) and this would have the same density as Manhattan. Even better we could squeeze into Texas and have four times as much space per person. This would allow all the other space in the world - South America, Europe, most of North America, Africa and Australia to be dedicated to agricultural land or whatever we wanted, thus no food shortages.

I kicked off the debate because the price of rice doubled overnight on Wednesday. They can't even get it in Ghana. The biofuel targets must stop and we need to bring down the borders and allow people to escape starvation. I wrote to Diane Abbott.

Perhaps I was in a good mood, the sort of mood that is ok about starting political arguments, as prior to this debate I had found myself cornered yesterday by one of my favourite colleagues as this person confided in me, swearing me to absolute secrecy, that they were going to leave the union we are both in. The person then launched into a minute by minute account of some union event with other union members they had attended. I found myself giggling and then laughing at loud, at the unconfidential nature of this top-secret news I was getting. The person then said to me 'You're not taking me seriously are you?'. At which point, I said 'It's your wit, you say funny things. ' The person carried on.

We were walking along in much the same vein and then suddenly the person said 'Oh Look at that blackbird'. And there before our eyes was this huge black bird with large white flecks on its head. The person peered over and moved closer, in much the same way I would expect Bill Oddie to. I was thinking to myself - Wow, an ornithological genius in our midsts, this rare species is going to be identified. After some inspection she came back to me, saying 'Yes it's a very old blackbird' ...(I was already laughing) 'Or a big blackbird with paint splattered on its head.'

Geriatastic

We had an absolutely amazing holiday just recently - a series of mini-breaks including a stay in Birmingham, culminating in two nights at 'Burgh Island' - the only hotel with its own island. It is where Agatha Christie found inspiration for a couple of her books - 'Evil Under the Sun', which I managed to get a 'facsimile' copy of on our way there and 'Ten little Niggers' - a facsimile copy of that was not available. Funnily enough. I did find out that the title of that book was only changed to 'And then there were none' in 1980! And reading Agatha'a autobiography I found that one of her early collections of short stories was called 'Anna the Adventuress'. It is quite striking reading this account from the First Lady of Crime Writing how little has changed . Anyway I put any decent views I had to one-side for the weekend and soaked up the opulence, sun, sea and sand. Although it was freezing as husband will testify - he actually swam in the sea and I've got digital photographic evidence.

Now I've actually decided to go part-time almost enjoying writing a history of geriatrics at the moment. All the time I'm thinking 'Why didn't this happen earlier?'. It's just not the done thought or thing for historians. They all seem to think and write 'Oh brilliant at least it happened then'. I am trying to turn more Whiggish. Reading Agatha Christie helps. There's a famous Randy Newman song about it.

Anyway, more positive news.
The garden is coming on, S's father is helping us navigate freecycle to get rid of the washing machine. Have a brilliant life coach (another thing apart from getting rid of cancer for me that the NHS has given me). Am on my way out of London. The spare room is lovely with a beautiful room length library spanning a whole wall. Another dinner party tonight - my favourite dish, Lamb Rosemary and Orange.

Family things every so often

One of the reasons we picked Leeds as a place to live is because my brother lives here. I was thinking it was a pretty rubbish reason to move somewhere, but lately I've decided it's an ok reason. We had an in-laws party yesterday and it worked surprisingly well. We cooked of course, the computer entertained and the other humans drank a bit. All of the brothers, mine included were making each other, myself included, laugh. The cat locator was got out, after we got bored (or should I say they?) of the Nintendo Wii ( I do recommend Golf) and the Playstation 3 (I don't recommend Call of Duty 4). My brother gave me a number of a gardener who can do hard landscaping and husband's brother gave his verdict on Trotsky's missing leg fur. We had the obligatory arguments of course - is Mark Ronson a rubbish guitarist for example. Overall though everyone was on good behaviour. Husband has got man flu which may account for this civilised account. I was discussing as well the benefits of a brother as opposed to sister - of course it means he can do all the mail bonding palavar and I don't have to worry as much about the female bonding, especially these days when being camp is so much in fashion with every man and his dog, literally, being able to cook Toad in the Hole up to professional standards.
It's surprising how we managed to do all this and the shopping and go on a narrowboat in Skipton. Particularly entertaining, apart from brothers and us women was the story of 'Often Eddie' from Skipton. He used to get paid sixpence each way apparently to tow a barge down a particularly dangerous bit of canal, where they didn't want to waste a horse as they were more precious than humans. People used to ask him how often he towed the barge each day and he just used to say 'Often' so they couldn't calculate how much he was earning.

Breast cancer survivors against page three

There was an excellent article in the Guardian on Thursday - 'Why we love to hate Heather Mills'. And it got me thinking why in the twenty-first century we still have porn on the shelves that children can access. So I'm going to set up a new campaign group and target Rebekka Wade.

At least five amazing things

I suspect my tactics have been realised on this blog. Write a short list of Five Amazing Things when struggling. When feeling better can write more. One has to keep one's blog as positive as possible for about three reasons: 1) so one doesn't get sacked 2) so one's parents, friends and relatives do not get offended 3) so not to sound depressed, bitter, jealous or other negative state and thus getting everyone worried.
Feeling much more upbeat recently. Not feeling nauseous for about the first time in a month. Working the day before a long bank holiday weekend is actually quite fun. Arrived at work early on Thursday and even the commissioners were in a good mood. They smiled. The bike shed was empty. I still love cycling of course. And as it was empty I managed to fit the padlock which I've been meaning to do for months.
Anyway I'm turning into a Whig historian. It's a bit like admitting you're posh. True, inevitable and you might get bullied by people like you for saying it. The fact is pessimists (non Whigs) are more depressed. The real reason I'm emerging into my new Whiggish self (apart from the fact it chimes with my hairstyle) is that I failed one of my assignments. I need to resubmit a more upbeat and well written version.

On Wednesday had a brilliant careers day at the Institute of Historical Research where I'm doing my MA. I was pretty much dreading it, thinking it would make me think how rubbish my career is. The opposite occurred. I was in the upper age bands so somewhat on a par with those on the podium. One of the last things said by one of the speakers was that we could do a post graduate diploma in journalism.
I have one of these things. Ha ha I thought.

Mum held her Equinox celebrations yesterday. Poetry and music and thoroughly enjoyable. It's the hippy equivalent of a Christmas party. It seems to be everyone's birthday around now too and went hunting for birthday books yesterday. Found some and also bought two Lennon biographies as treat for self. Have dipped into them both and just made me regret his death.

Had another letter through from the hospital confirming the embryos are still there. Husband and I are already discussing whether to send them to private school or not. Then I said, I can't believe we're having this discussion before they're conceived. He said they are conceived. So we carried on. He's Yah, I'm nay. My argument is that the money is better spent on their university and postgraduate education, not to mention deposit for house. His argument is a private education is better.

Pleased with Barack Obama's race speech. But less pleased there isn't much news about it. V excited that a certain person has got on the shortlist for Dragons Den. Trying to remain calm and hard nosed about that. And there's at least one place in heaven for another associate of mine. Talking of heaven, I often think of light as the equivalent, and was told a lovely story of a certain little girl who's been told that someone close to her is now a star.

Five Amazing things

1) Loving husband
2) Pregnant friends
3) Happy mothers
4) playful cats
5) blonde hair

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.