Well, you know what they say. Blog in haste, repent at leisure. So this morning's introspective, brooding blog has been left to simmer for a few hours in Notepad, before being discarded, despite containing strong evidence of my ability to displace angst with cookery!
Let me tell you a story from my teen years instead. When I was 16, two friends of mine and I were doing the Duke of Edinburgh's Award scheme; one of those worthy awards designed to get young people to develop their interests and get involved in their communities. For our gold award, we had to do some form of community work. And we ended up going to a nearby mental institution to teach basic first aid to inmates who had the possibility of moving out of the hospital into supervised housing.
Now this was nearly 30 years ago. Big institutions still existed to house people with a whole range of illnesses and disorders. Of the people we worked with, I don't think you would dream of sectioning any of them these days. There was a guy with severe epilepsy, one with acute ADHD, a woman with Down's, two with cerebral palsy, and so on. Hardly conditions that require confinement.
Anyway, the weeks we visited there were some of the most fun weeks we ever had. The people we worked with, both staff and patients, were just out of this world, not least in having the most wonderful senses of humour. We'd talk through all the basic stuff; burns, cuts, etc., me usually trying to avoid having Katrina sit behind me as she had a thing about stroking my (then) long hair.
But the funniest guy there was called Peter. Peter had severe cerebral palsy, and was confined to his motorised wheelchair (with skull and crossbones logo). He had little muscular control, and severely impaired speech. But the most riotous sense of humour you can imagine! When we were doing bandages, he always insisted on being the patient, so we'd struggle to try and put a sling on his madly thrashing arm, while he moaned theatrically about how it hurt so much. And then he'd want to have a go himself. Well...there is a point when his lack of control, and the fact that the floor is now covered in discarded bandages, and the patient looks like an extra for The Mummy, just meant that everyone dissolved in helpless hysterics!
Being teenagers, we all moved on afterwards, finding more important things to do in life than go back and visit. Margaret Thatcher introduced a policy of Care in the Community, where people like Peter and Katrina were to be cared for in their homes, carers supporting families. Laudable in principle, but disastrous in practice, as lack of funds, strategy or will often meant vulnerable people were left to fend for themselves, sometimes on the streets, and even ending up in prison, as no alternative existed anymore. Writing this, I find it hard to believe that this was only 1981 and not 1921. Incarceration or neglect.
The hospital is gone now; there is a large housing estate there instead. But I do wonder how all those people got on. Peter's indomitable spirit, I suspect, could carry him through most things. Alan, much more brooding and depressed about his cerebral palsy, found life much harder. What did it do for me? Well, they taught my teenage self to look at the person beyond the condition, and to find their warmth, and humour and, yes sometimes their sadness and frustration. In fact, I'm sure I learned much more from them than they ever did from me.
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So. A happy story deserves happy music. This is the wonderful Duke Special, who I was lucky enough to see a couple of years ago. His songs, sung in his deep Belfast accent, are beautiful showtune ballads and folksy melodies. I got a 10" limited edition vinyl signed by him that night. I can't play it though; it's 78rpm!
Watch out for Temperance Society Chip Bailey on the Stumpf Fiddle, surely one of the US's greatest contributions to the world of musical instruments! And you will have never seen a cheese grater and whisk played with such elegance!
Love to all of you
L xxx
Let me tell you a story from my teen years instead. When I was 16, two friends of mine and I were doing the Duke of Edinburgh's Award scheme; one of those worthy awards designed to get young people to develop their interests and get involved in their communities. For our gold award, we had to do some form of community work. And we ended up going to a nearby mental institution to teach basic first aid to inmates who had the possibility of moving out of the hospital into supervised housing.
Now this was nearly 30 years ago. Big institutions still existed to house people with a whole range of illnesses and disorders. Of the people we worked with, I don't think you would dream of sectioning any of them these days. There was a guy with severe epilepsy, one with acute ADHD, a woman with Down's, two with cerebral palsy, and so on. Hardly conditions that require confinement.
Anyway, the weeks we visited there were some of the most fun weeks we ever had. The people we worked with, both staff and patients, were just out of this world, not least in having the most wonderful senses of humour. We'd talk through all the basic stuff; burns, cuts, etc., me usually trying to avoid having Katrina sit behind me as she had a thing about stroking my (then) long hair.
But the funniest guy there was called Peter. Peter had severe cerebral palsy, and was confined to his motorised wheelchair (with skull and crossbones logo). He had little muscular control, and severely impaired speech. But the most riotous sense of humour you can imagine! When we were doing bandages, he always insisted on being the patient, so we'd struggle to try and put a sling on his madly thrashing arm, while he moaned theatrically about how it hurt so much. And then he'd want to have a go himself. Well...there is a point when his lack of control, and the fact that the floor is now covered in discarded bandages, and the patient looks like an extra for The Mummy, just meant that everyone dissolved in helpless hysterics!
Being teenagers, we all moved on afterwards, finding more important things to do in life than go back and visit. Margaret Thatcher introduced a policy of Care in the Community, where people like Peter and Katrina were to be cared for in their homes, carers supporting families. Laudable in principle, but disastrous in practice, as lack of funds, strategy or will often meant vulnerable people were left to fend for themselves, sometimes on the streets, and even ending up in prison, as no alternative existed anymore. Writing this, I find it hard to believe that this was only 1981 and not 1921. Incarceration or neglect.
The hospital is gone now; there is a large housing estate there instead. But I do wonder how all those people got on. Peter's indomitable spirit, I suspect, could carry him through most things. Alan, much more brooding and depressed about his cerebral palsy, found life much harder. What did it do for me? Well, they taught my teenage self to look at the person beyond the condition, and to find their warmth, and humour and, yes sometimes their sadness and frustration. In fact, I'm sure I learned much more from them than they ever did from me.
----------------------------------------------------------------
So. A happy story deserves happy music. This is the wonderful Duke Special, who I was lucky enough to see a couple of years ago. His songs, sung in his deep Belfast accent, are beautiful showtune ballads and folksy melodies. I got a 10" limited edition vinyl signed by him that night. I can't play it though; it's 78rpm!
Watch out for Temperance Society Chip Bailey on the Stumpf Fiddle, surely one of the US's greatest contributions to the world of musical instruments! And you will have never seen a cheese grater and whisk played with such elegance!
Love to all of you
L xxx
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