I rather like him

I came across a lady of advancing years (not Aged Parent) who informed us all that she "couldn't stand that Andy Murray." On further enquiry, it was established that she hadn't ever actually met him. This was not a surprise as she is a lady who has rarely left her home town and he is a man who has possibly never visited her home town. It is the way of the world. On enquiring about the reasons behind her negative judgement upon Mr Murray and all his camels, she informed us that she had seen nothing about him that made her like him. Leaving aside the question of whether it is Mr Murray's responsibility to get us all to fall for him, I have to tell you that, despite a dearth of face to face evidence, I rather like him. As it is Wimbledon fortnight, I thought I might tell you why.
1. The dog incident
In 2014, on the way to Wimbledon practice, Andy spotted a runaway labradoodle in the road. He immediately stopped his car, ran into the busy road and rescued the dog by pulling it into his back seat. This immediately marks him out as a top person.
2. Dunblane
In 2013, when speaking about the Dunblane massacre (Andy and his brother Jamie were actually in the school when it was happening) he didn't speak about himself although he did say that he had been affected emotionally by it, he only became tearful when he talked about the town and the way they had been affected and said he was so pleased that he had been able to do something for them. 
3. Losing in the Wimbledon Final
In 2012 after losing to Roger Federer, he fought back tears again and told the Wimbledon crowd "I'm getting closer" He managed to be graceful in defeat while letting us know how upset he was. 

He seems to me to have nice manners and I was very taken with his habit of wearing his wedding ring on his shoe laces. I was also rather charmed when, after winning Wimbledon for the second time, he collected his trophy and then found time to tell Benedict Cumberbatch that he was a big fan of Sherlock. So, he doesn't play the game of trying to make everyone adore him. I know he sometimes gets annoyed with himself  when he messes up but so do most of us. The difference is that usually only the dog sees me grunting with frustration whereas he does it with thousands of people watching. He seems to be a natural introvert and I am not sure why he should be any different just to please old ladies he has never met. 

Oh no Mr Bond

Peggy Fortnum

Michael Bond has died. It shouldn't really be such a big deal. He was 91. It was, as they say, a good innings. Michael Bond for those of you who are visiting from under a rock was the creator of Paddington Bear and therefore one of the most awesome people to live. Ever.
They say that Paddington reflected the outlook of his creator. He was kind, funny, unflappable and unfailingly polite. Michael Bond said that the tipping of his hat, which Paddington was very fond of, came from his own father, who even wore his hat when in the sea in case he needed to greet anyone.
I loved Paddington Bear. I know lots of people loved Paddington but not like me. I LOVED him. Paddington Bear taught me lots of things. He taught me that to just be nice and kind hearted was a desirable ambition. He taught me that sometimes, even with the best will in the world, things do go wrong and he made me feel that it was fine to be a bit vulnerable like he was.
So, in that vulnerable vein, let me share a little bit. As a child, I never remember my parents having much of a marriage. They were never abusive or anything like that, they were just, quite often caught up in their own unhappiness with each other and that was perfectly understandable I think. 
Because of this, I was never really aware of what a "happy" home was. Again - no need to send for a counsellor - it was what it was and I think everyone was doing their best. Christmas was particularly difficult because everyone was around and cracks are more difficult to paper over then and I didn't really look forward to it. Anyway, I remember being tucked up in bed one night and read a Paddington book about Christmas - as usual Paddington was doing his best and everything went wrong - and it was full of such humour and warmth that, I sort of got what Christmas was about. It was just lovely. I read lots of Paddington books after that and I wanted to be in the Brown family. It was all so lovely - not perfect - Paddington saw to that but people bore things with great patience and loved each other through it. And, when despite his best intentions, Paddington found himself in trouble , he would always be able to go and find his friend Mr Gruber who would listen to him and often offer sage advice.
This may not win me Family Leader of the Year Award but I partially based the way I wanted my family to be on the Browns. They were chaotic, imperfect and not often in control. Yet, everyone was welcome there, Mrs Brown was often worried but it never meant that people felt insecure. That's how I tried to make things here at Martha Towers. This was the first place I ever saw a map of a family that I wanted to be in and I am grateful.

Bitter and Twisted Ranting

 Another day, another day of mowing down innocent people in the street. Do you remember when we all thought 2016 was a terrible year and we all wished it was over? Be careful what you wish for as my old mother used to say. Life is full of terrible fires and people sleeping in sports halls and being told they can't bring their puppies with them or they'll have to share a bed with their mother - or their puppy AND their mother. Because basically it's their fault for being poor and spoiling the view. Nothing new to add really. My head is all over the place. I think it's the weather. I am very ranty. I'm not that keen in joining in the current national obsession with trying to make the Prime Minister cry in public but I am struggling a bit at the moment. (Can you tell?) 

While we are at it, even as a Labour type person, if I see Jeremy Corbyn at one more event grabbing the mike and milking the applause I will go bonkers. He went down well at Glastonbury. What did he expect to happen? Well-meaning, middle class politician smiles and waves at hundreds of very drunk, well meaning middle class people on their weekend off. Off course he went down well. Get on with your work! Also John McDonnell. I do not want a Day of Rage. I do not want to shout in the faces of policemen who two weeks ago were running at knife brandishing maniacs to protect us. I am not going to take to the streets to insist that this government leaves. You could think about doing better next time. Go away and do better. Work on actually getting voted in - like we do in a democracy. Think about reaching the percentage of the British Public who are terrified at the thought of voting for you. 

Even the telly is depressing. I'm not bothering with The Handmaid's Tale because I read the (very brilliant) book and I am not sure if I can cope with actually seeing the things that happen in it occur in front of my actual eyes if you see what I mean. 

Then Brian Cant died - which I took more personally than was strictly necessary. Also found out my friend who I haven't seen for a while has had one of "those" diagnoses. Also have you ever done that thing when you pull your neck and your shoulder without actually moving. Do you see what I mean? This is why I am a miserable crow at the moment. 

So what does a troubled soul need at a time like this? A bit of poetry - the poetry of God. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Psalm 40

I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry.

 He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings.

 And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the Lord.

There you go

I'm only 56!!

Hello all. Very little to report this week. It was my birthday which was very nice. Nice to be thought of and everything. I got some lovely presents and cards and a visit for tea from Aged Parent. I am of an age when birthdays are not quite the thrill ride they used to be. A friend messaged on Facebook and asked what I was doing on my birthday. I was hoping for a night in with a Chinese takeaway, a glass of wine and possibly a little nap. It's enough really isn't it? Especially when Aged Parent had been for tea the night before. 
She had endeared herself to the young people, who are back in situ for a while, by continually mixing up my year of birth with my actual age thus congratulating me several times on my 61st birthday. She then regaled the room with tales of her friend downstairs who has found a boyfriend through the pages of "Chat" magazine. Well I say "boyfriend"; it's a bit of a loose description really. They have talked on the phone a couple of times and he had come to see her last weekend. Aged Parent doesn't really approve of finding boyfriends through the pages of a magazine and she may have had a point. Her friend downstairs came and sat with Aged Parent during the visit because her new friend had to go into town to buy his return ticket from the bus station. It was a couple of hours before AP discovered that her friend downstairs had given her flat keys to the visitor to let himself in when he got back. Aged Parent felt like this was taking trust too far, even for a Christian woman burdened as she is with uncontrollable sexual urges, and raced to her friend's flat to see what was going on. Sure enough, the "Boyfriend" had come back from town and let himself into the flat. He said he was just watching the ping-pong but AP, naturally suspicious when it comes to men, was having none of it and instructed her friend to throw him out and check her envelopes under the bed - which is where all old people keep their policies.
Friend downstairs didn't seem too fussed about that and Aged Parent returned to her flat with grave warnings and saying that no-one better come running to her when people are found dead in their beds. Nobody was. Aged Parent seemed a bit disappointed. 
Anyway after that story and a bit a casual racism directed a her dentist who she is sure is a Muslim and clearing her plate even though she wasn't really hungry she took her leave with this uplifting gem.

AP  How much is it costing you - feeding these two now they are back. I can help you know.
Me Oh it's fine. We are fine - we won't starve. Anyway, with my belly I could do with a bit of starving haha!!
AP You don't have a big belly! Well no bigger than a woman your age should expect anyway.


Happy Birthday to me.

One of the Secrets

I thought about not even mentioning the latest London atrocity. I am certain that the endless publicity that surrounds each event - especially around the criminals rather than the victims - does nothing but feed a strange sense of crusade that these people feel they have. For what it's worth, my own feeling is that someone, somewhere is getting rich from this. Leaders are tucked away feathering their own nests while encouraging the vulnerable to stir up instability on their behalf. It's usually the way.
But London and Manchester leaves a quiet pall over us I think, even as we determine to go about our daily business undaunted because it's the best defence we have. We can get downhearted about how we live in such a world. Fearing for friends and loved ones and wondering what is to become of us all. Possibly one of the secrets about how we live our lives and carry on is in the photo above. This motley crew is part of the team that I manage. Access Plymouth they are called and the people you see are a team of volunteers and staff who work to get the elderly and disabled out and about in Plymouth. It's a task that has become harder as the cuts bite and we are spread ever more thinly but these people are determined because they know the value of what they do. They have learned one of the great secrets of life which is to give of yourself for free - putting in without expecting to take out. Most of them do this for nothing but even the staff could get more money elsewhere for what they do. Charities, for the most part, are not known for massive financial rewards, whatever the Daily Mail tells you.
I read about a mother who was struggling to help her child deal with all the news she was seeing. She told her "always look for the helpers". Whenever you see the people hurt and distressed, look for the strangers kneeling with them. Try to see the people holding them while they cry. Look at the adverts for people offering their beds to strangers who are stranded. It is humanity at its most Christlike and it is here that we can get some comfort. 
The people above are a challenge and an encouragement to us all because they have found at least some of it - some of what life is supposed to be about and it is through such selflessness that some peace and purpose will always be found.