My Nana - Day 14

Friday 14th December 2017

14 variations on an original theme - is the construction of Edward Elgar's much-loved
orchestral work, The Enigma Variations, composed between 1898 and 1899.
It was commenced in a spirit of humour but became a serious project in which
the composer sketches his friends and family.

Today I have set off at crack of dawn to visit our Birmingham office. I am looking forward to spending some time with the team and then, after work, I am travelling on to Durham to collect my youngest son back from university. Let the holidays begin...

Today's post is a celebration of a family member, written with much love by Annette Hill. Annette is one of those people who makes the world a better place. She works as the Director of Workforce Development for Hospiscare in Exeter, UK. She is unfailingly supportive of members of the HR and wider social media community. You can follow Annette on Twitter, her handle is @familyhrguru. She is active off-line too, she represents HR for the South West region of the UK on the national HR leads forum which is based in the South West of England. Annette cares deeply about others; she chairs a drugs and alcohol charity in Bristol and is one of the CIPD's Steps Ahead mentors. She writes an interesting blog, simply entitled Annette's Blog that covers a wide range of topics as they occur to her. 

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Heartaches, Hopes and High Fives. I wasn’t very inspired at first. I have 2 or 3 unfinished blogs on the go and just can’t quite express what I want to.

Then the oddest thing has inspired me. As part of coming through another challenging few months, I have been slightly reinventing myself. Part of this is, big gulp, letting my natural grey hair come through! A big step as many women of my age may attest. 

I love it! It’s empowering and, unexpectedly, I am so happy to see in the steel grey coming through at the sides, colouring just like my Nana’s. 

I am one of those lucky people who had all 4 grandparents, at least for the first 11 years of my life, and who had a really close bond to one in particular, Nana Coging, my dad’s mum. I’ve been thinking about her and my grandpa a lot, and about childhood Christmases spent with them.

My Nana’s House

A very modest rented mid terrace in Carlton, Nottingham

The front door was never locked.

We would arrive and my dad would open the door with a loud ‘Yoo hoo!’

We would enter a dark hallway,

Draughts held at bay

By a heavy velvet curtain, blue I think, half way down.

The ‘Front Room’ was to the left – for high days and holidays

Then into the heart of the house

A snug living and dining room with a real fire

Over the years, I would never tire

Of watching the flames, seeing pictures, inventing stories

Full of hopes for the future.

At the back, Nana’s homely kitchen, which had an Aladdin’s cave

Actually, a walk-in pantry down a couple of steps, tucked under the stairs.

On a shelf sat Grandpa’s bottle of Camp coffee.

Never far away from a barley sugar or a toffee.

I loved that place so much.

The only thing I didn’t like was the outside loo

A bit cold and scary, would I meet spiders in there?

Overnight, a chamber pot under the bed

About that, urgh! No more to be said.

Except, my poor parents, coping with us all in one room

Sleeping over on Christmas Eve.

I remember so many tiny details;

Delicate china cups and saucers, copies of The People’s Friend,

The Evening Post, helping with Spot the Ball…

The TV was tiny, black and white, in a box

Controlled by a dial on the wall, it took ages to warm up

But we still looked forward to what was

The obligatory Christmas film, the Wizard of Oz.

Until he became poorly with lung cancer, he kept well hidden

Grandpa pre-booked Christmas lunch in January

In a posh hotel for the following Christmas Day

Nana cooked the turkey for his last one

A few days later he would be gone

We didn’t know, but the clue was his untouched meal.

At home we had warm air gas central heating and a ‘feature gas fire’,

Impossible for Santa to use!

We didn’t even have a chimney, just a gas vent.

So when the Christmas lists we made were sent

We made sure he knew where to find us

At 16 Park Road, Carlton, Nottingham, England, the World.

‘Has he been yet?’ ‘No, go back to sleep!’

But eventually, we were allowed down the steep stairs

To the front room, where miraculously, overnight gifts had appeared

My brother and I need never have feared.

There on the shiny, faux leather chairs

A pillowcase each full of gifts.

In my quilted dressing gown I opened

Felt tip packs, to be arranged over and over according to the rainbow.

Colouring books, outfits for my Sindy doll,

Selection boxes, and some bigger, more costly gifts I’m sure.

But those are not the memories that endure,

What mattered was the warmth and love.

Today, we may say it was a time of hopes, heartaches and high fives!

The latter an ‘Americanism’, we never used back then

We were happy, sad when Grandpa died, and always so pleased to see each other.

Nana lived in that house for a few more years,

I used to stay with her sometimes, holding back the tears

When I had to come home leaving her all alone.

In my primary school autograph book Nana wrote

‘Smile, and the World smiles with you, Cry and you cry alone.’

Looking back, I wonder if that is exactly how she had to live.

In poor health, never a taker, always preferring to give

My Nana was one of the wisest people I have ever known.

I still miss her.

I know pain - you can’t hurt me; I’ve seen defeat - you can’t stop me - Day 11

Tuesday 11th December 2018

11 was the number of the Apollo spaceflight that landed the first two people
on the moon on the 20th July 1969. To this day there are regular allegations
that the whole mission was/is a hoax with evidence such as a 'flapping flag'
and a star-free sky being used to substantiate these claims.

Today we have a very personal blog, written from the heart, by Gary Cookson. He is an HR, OD and L&D expert who runs a consultancy business, EPIC HR. Gary is a key member of the HR community and I am proud to call him my friend.

However, the most important thing in Gary's life is his family - his adored wife and four wonderful children. His eyes light up whenever he talks about them. 

Gary is a caring, brave and wonderful man. He took note of my plea for interested parties who might want to run the Advent Blog series to contact me. I really do believe that the series (and you the readers) would benefit from a fresh pair of eyes and a new focus. 

Let me tell you a bit more about Gary: his business, EPIC, helps people to Evolve, Perform, Improve and Compete. Gary himself is physically competitive - a keen sportsman, he is a regular participant in triathlons and has managed some representative sports teams. Prior to running his own business Gary worked in HR in various sectors including Housing, Education, Not-for-Profit and Public (for the DBS). Prior to HR he qualified as a secondary school teacher (teaching History). He has a way with words - he blogs on the EPIC site and you can also catch his wisdom on Twitter (his handle is @Gary_Cookson) as well as hearing him at various conferences and events throughout the year.

I a delighted that he has come forward, as I can think of few who would match him in running this series. I am quite looking forward to being a contributor...

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The theme for this year’s advent blog series is Heartaches, hopes and high fives. The announcement of the theme prompted some deep reflection on my part - as per usual, my year has contained all of these in good measure, and, as usual, my blog is a personal account of this.

I’ll take them in theme order even though as I’ve planned this blog I’ve thought about things in chronological order. The quote which makes up the title of this blog is one of my favourites and comes from the ex WWE wrestler Tazz, but somehow seems appropriate here.

Heartaches

I’ve had a few.

My mum, who last year I said was having treatment for cancer and who I was estranged from, went into remission for part of the year but the cancer returned and she has resumed treatment. Perhaps the only good thing to have come from this is that it has helped us begin to repair our relationship.

My brother's partner, only in her early 30s, is also undergoing similar treatment and it seems out of proportion to be affecting our family like this.

My youngest son, at the time only 5 months old, was rushed into hospital for 3 days with suspected meningitis and whilst we were glad it ended up not being, it was still a serious virus and a very worrying time for us. 

My eldest daughter, now 13, decided this year that she no longer wished to live with me half the week as she had done since aged 3, and has gone full time to her mum's. Neither she nor we have any real explanation for this, but it shows no sign of changing and I’m heartbroken that someone to whom I was so close, for whom I was her hero and prince, who I loved beyond measure, can suddenly decide everything has changed for no apparent reason. I barely see or speak to her now and it’s left a massive gap in my life and heart. Worse is the effect this has on her two younger siblings, one of whom cries every time the elder daughter comes and goes, and wants nothing more than to play with her, and the younger of whom is growing up not knowing his eldest sister.

And finally I’m reminded of my own physical weaknesses. The male members of my family have a history of heart disease that strikes in their 40s. Knowing this, I’ve kept myself more fit than any other family member for a decade and had thought I might buck the trend, but there have been signs in the last year that my body thinks differently and I’m having tests to check what is going on with my heart, which aches.

Hopes

I obviously remain hopeful that all the heartaches will resolve themselves but in addition to these I have the following specific hopes.

That my eldest son passes his driving test and does well in his mock A levels, giving him a clear path to University.

That my two youngest children make a successful transition into full time school and nursery respectively.

That my wife makes a successful return to work after her maternity leave ends. 

And I hope my business, EPIC, continues to grow and develop in its second year. Even though I’ve done well in year one, I would like to be able to secure more income streams and add more value to clients and be able to relax more. 

High fives

Thankfully there have been lots of these. In no particular order:

My business was set up and has exceeded my wildest dreams in terms of its success. I did it at the right time and for the right reason and that fuel has helped me do things I didn’t think possible.

My eldest son got some impressive GCSE results and even bettered my own tally. He also began to realise his potential in our main sport and began to surpass my own levels of achievement and ability (even though I had a great year myself).

I’ve seen my eldest daughter develop some real and unexpected artistic talent, previously no one in the family has possessed this.

And I’ve seen my fourth child born and grow so well, with the high five going to my wife who managed a home birth with no pain relief!

Conclusions

Apologies for the very personal blog but it seemed appropriate for the theme. Often this year I have focused on the heartaches as these tend to dominate one's thinking and emotions, but having a theme like this reminds me, and all of us, that life doles out heartaches, hopes and high fives in roughly equal measure, not necessarily equally in one given year but certainly across a lifetime.

One can dwell on any of these areas but remember - they’re all there and more will come in each category too.

If, like me, you’ve not had a perfect year, then maybe, like me you’ve had an average year.

And that’s neither good or bad. It’s a sign that you’re living your life.

Doing your best.

When things go well, celebrate the successes, but when things go wrong, learn from the fails and stresses.

You’re going to have more of both. Get used to it. It’s called living.

Gary

Home - Day 51

Day 51 (Saturday 20th January 2018)

51, the age of Franklin D. Roosevelt when he was first elected to be President
of the U.S.A., in 1933. On the 20th January 1945 he was sworn-in for an unprecedented
(and never to be repeated) 4th term as US President. He was the first sering President
to fly in a plane, the first to speak on television (when he opened the World Fair in 1938)
and the first to appoint a woman to the US Cabinet (Frances Perkins, who was Secretary
of Labor from 1933 to 1945. She was one of only two cabinet members to remain
throughout his presidency. She helped establish many of the important aspects of the
New Deal, including laws against child labor, the first minimum wage and overtime laws,
assigned the forty-hour work week, a policy for working with labor unions, established
unemployment benefits, pensions for uncovered elderly, and welfare.)

Today is Saturday and I am relieved, as it has been a busy week. There were moments when I wondered whether I would manage to keep a flow of Post-Advent blogs running for you. I am looking forward to a period of calm. Despite the rain, some of today will be spent pootling in the garden, filling bird feeders, etc... in preparation for next weekend's RSPB's Big Garden Birdwatch - something I do every year; playing my part in the annual assessment of  birdlife in the UK. Last year's results showed that there has been a 44% increase in the numbers of goldfinch since 2007. I love goldfinch - social, chattering flashes of yellow, with red patches on their heads that come to feast as a family on the Nyger seeds. Goldfinches are the connecting imagery through the pages of the beautiful book, The Lost Words, given to me as a gift by fellow nature-lover Simon Heath. The book was inspired by the words that were being removed from the Oxford Junior Dictionary and hence being lost to parlance. Robert Macfarlane (one of the authors) wrote a beautiful piece, Badger or Bulbasaur, about the book and our diminishing connection with nature last September. We may not like it, but we are a part of nature and should be more careful with our home - the Earth is the only one we have.

Today's post, whose theme is "Home" is written by an Advent Blogs pioneer - she was one of the very first to become involved when the series was founded and established by and she has remained loyal ever since. This piece comes all the way from New Zealand and has been crafted by Zoe Mounsey. Zoe was born and raised in the UK, in Nottinghamshire. She initially studied Psychology and commenced a career linked to the Education in the UK. In 2013 she, her husband and two children emigrated to New Zealand. She has retained her close links to Academia and now works as a Senior Research Programme Advisor for the New Zealand Fire Service (a job she started last February, having previously focused her academic attention on Disaster Research at Massey University). Zoe and I first became acquainted via Twitter (you too can follow her on Twitter, her handle is @zoemounsey). 

Both photos are provided by Zoe, I added the music at the end.

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Recently I have been thinking a lot about home and what it means to me as an immigrant. I use the word home to mean one of two places - firstly the place where we live in Kapiti, New Zealand. When driving from Wellington there is a point on the road or train line, where you suddenly see the sea and Kapiti Island which always tells me I am nearly home. Home, also means my parents house in the UK where I lived from aged 11. This year my parents will move into a new house and it will be interesting to see how I feel about their new place - will it be home for me? Or will their old house always be ‘home’ because of the memories. Is home about four walls or is it about people and connection? Is it about a space where you feel safe, accepted for who you are? 

My work in disaster research has taught me about the importance of home for those who experience disasters - those that have to relocate due to damage from fires, floods or earthquakes often experience more negative psychological outcomes. This has been on my mind, especially with the Grenfell disaster, as I know the community has been dispersed and I worry what this means for the people impacted by the tragedy. I know I feel more secure in New Zealand now that we have bought a house and have slowly made it our own. It’s more than security, it’s about having our own space and being able to make decisions about how that space looks. 

When I was 13 I wrote a poem called Home which was published in a children’s poetry anthology. 

Back when I wrote that I was the one growing up and home was very much a place of safety and security for me. Now I am the parent and it’s my job to create the home where my kids feel that they can tell the tales of growing up. It’s harder than I ever imagined - this year has involved bullying, friendship difficulties, first boyfriend and first kiss, anxiety about academic performance, concerns about appearance, internet boundaries and discussions about sex, pornography and suicide. Technology has been a key theme and her ability to access information that she is not yet mature enough to process. YouTube and a series of vloggers are Miss 10s preferred sources of information and provide her with insights into the world. I have learnt that while we can restrict access the best approach is to discuss with her what she has been watching and try to put it into context for her. Not always easy when I am often the last person she wants to talk to. 

So I am still musing about home, what it is, what it means and how I can create a space/place that my kids will always feel is home. And hoping that there is still a ‘home’ for me in the UK.

Lynyrd Skynyrd - Home Is Where The Heart Is