Wake up and smell the coffee...parents - Day 10

(Monday 10th December 2018)

10 different letters are used in a Snellen Chart (an 

eye chart that can be used to measure visual acuity).

Snellen, a Dutch ophthalmologist, developed the chart in 1862. 

I hope you had a good weekend. I spent mine in Somerset with my mother and sister. Despite the awful weather, we managed to make a trip to a local farm and select a tree to put up for Christmas. 

We had a super celebratory meal with family and friends - I am beginning to feel a bit festive :-)  Family are so important and that, for me, is part of what makes today's post so impactful. I have lived first hand the impact that family relations can have on individuals, both good and bad - a member of my team has had a very traumatic relationship with their mother - this continues to torment them and has been very damaging. My own family is currently suffering due to harmful disputes and actions, many of which seemingly are originated from childhood issues - not a good lead into the Christmas period, so it was good to see some people laughing and enjoying themselves this weekend.

The author of today's post is Gavan Burdan, the founder and Managing Director of Burden Dare - an executive search and interim management business. Gavan has a huge heart and really cares about those less fortunate than himself. He is also social and engaging company - you can reach him on Twitter via  @burdendare. Gavan lives in Sevenoaks and is a passionate supporter of the local cricket team, Sevenoaks Vine CC, where he chairs the Management Committee and, when asked, still plays for the Old Vines (the Club's over 40's team). As you can tell from his post and from his comments in previous years), he is proactive in his approach towards supporting others; he is a mentor supporting individuals down on their luck in London (but more of that to follow).

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Heartaches, Hopes and High Fives

With apologies to sensitive eyes & ears

“They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had 

And add some extra, just for you.”

Philip Larkin goes on to suggest that we should all stop having children, and thus solve the problem!

Well that’s not very Christmassy is it?

You may remember my two previous Advent Blogs talking about the adventures of my previously-homeless-mentee; well, his tale continues, and his last 12 months have been “Heartache, Hope & High Fives” to a tee!

Let me take you back to December 2017.

After another storming year of advancement and achievement (he had been on the 6 O’Clock news; in videos; in The Times twice; promotion at work; he was really buzzing – wow was he moving on!), for the first time in 5 years he was looking forward to the 2017 Christmas break. We had even had laughs about Merry Christmas Vs Happy Holidays, whereas previously he would have been reflective and sad because this time of year has bad memories; his father had left home when he was young, he went into the penitentiary system, deportation, loneliness, and his birthday alone – all in these winter months.

But in 2017 things had gone so well.

Then, almost a year ago to the day, I got “that” call; just as we were putting our decorations together, he was falling apart. His mother had sent across a bunch of magazines from what had been home for 33 years, which he was quite enjoying actually, but tucked into the last fold was a short hand-written time bomb saying 

“I’m so pleased you are making a success of your new life in England, don’t fuck it up like you usually do”.

Heartache for him, it completely fried his mind. Heartache for me, I felt so bad for him – frog in well.

Why on earth do (some) parents do it, but at least we now knew the true cause of all the fuck-ups in his life?! It made me wonder about all the things I might have done, without meaning to, to affect my children over the years; I’d like to hope nothing that had come across as stupid!

But, we had fixed exactly this before; I told him we would do it again, he would get through this, he knew the ropes, he knew the small steps we would re-take – and he knew he could have hope; he would get over this, and that’s one of his most endearing features, he always has hope.

This year he’d hope that his first ever business presentation would help secure the coffee franchise on Virgin Trains; he’d hope that he wouldn’t be flustered giving his first ever corporate speech in Manchester; he’d hope that he might get the last sought-after place on a training course; he’d hope that he could feel good this Christmas.

Fast forward to this week.

Two friends meet in London for a Christmas catch-up and chat through that last twelve months, laughing and joking at past fears and worries that had been washed away by yet more success and further advances, and wishing each other Merry Christmas with high hopes for 2019.

And as they parted…………?

PS. If you buy coffee then please support “Change Please” when you see one of their coffee carts or travel on Virgin trains, and buy Tom’s blend in Sainsbury – you’ll be helping homeless back into sustainable employment.

Sleep slips through my fingers - Day 29

Day 29 (Friday 29th December 2017)

25 the High Street, Canterbury is the address of the Eastbridge Hospital.
It was built in 1180 to accommodate the increasing numbers of pilgrims
wishing to visit the tomb of Saint Thomas Becket. Becket was martyred
on 29th December 1170 in Canterbury Cathedral (the above picture is
a 15th century alabaster altarpiece from Elham Church, Kent, UK showing
the 4 knights of the royal household who assassinated him). In the
12th century a hospital was a place that provided hospitality (as opposed
to simply a place to treat the sick and injured). For the past 400 years
Eastbridge has provided (and still provides) a home for eight elderly
individuals known as Indwellers. 

I'm back from my flying visit to Somerset - hospitals visits done and I have brought my mother and sister up to London for a few days. It will be good for all of us to spend some time together doing family stuff that is different from our conventional day-to-day existence. I am toying with a trip either to the Queen's Gallery at Buckingham Palace - it has an exhibition on relating to Charles II and it is small enough not to be exhausting, or else perhaps the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition at the Natural History Museum.

Today's post is by Rachel Burnham, a learning and development consultant based near Manchester. Rachel works with trainers, L&D professionals and HR teams to help them modernise their approaches and become more effective. Rachel is highly creative. The delightful drawing of Rachel and the selkie was done by Rachel herself. Rachel is a talented lady. She writes an excellent L&D focused blog - L & D Matters and is active on social media (you can follow her on Twitter via @BurnhamLandD). When not drawing selkies, Rachel enjoys spending time with her family and is a keen jazz fan, as well as having a passion for gardening (as below illustrates). 

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I love the night-time.  I love the darkness of it.  Night time in Manchester is all lights and noise and sparkle at this time of year.  But I like the dark. And looking up at the stars.

When I go to bed, I like to turn the lights down low and for the room to become a quiet and dark place.  A place of imagination.  As I ready myself for sleep, I imagine the night sky and feel it wrapping all around us and our little world, like a cloak.  A cloak, warm and enfolding.  

A cloak with a big, deep hood, a long and swirling cape, made of deep, dark blue velvet. Midnight blue. 

During the day, I never wear blue, but at night, I dream I am wrapped in a cloak of midnight blue velvet as I sleep. 

Or I imagine my bed, with its wooden frame and warm and cosy quilt, slipping free of its moorings and drifting out through the open window, across the roof tops, sailing amongst the clouds, dallying with the stars, adrift across the mountain tops or with the sea far below, perhaps an island or two, floating round a lighthouse,  whales, porpoises lift out of the waves and return with a silent splash, selkie seals with big eyes retrieve their skins from under rocks and swim through the night and birds large and small flock all around. 

The truth is that though I go off to sleep well enough, these days I rarely make it through the night undisturbed.  This past year I wake at 3.30 and 5 and whereas I used to turn and dive back into deep dreams, now I am often awake and unable to sleep.

I try everything.  I cut out tea and coffee after 6pm and for a glorious three week period in April, I sleep the full night through. But in May, I start to wake again.

I try deep breathing.  I read.   I write poetry.  Sometimes I work. I read some more.   Sometimes a snack helps.   Sometimes I slip off as I read.   I plant imaginary gardens – this is the best kind of gardening – no sore knees or back – I picture a walled garden with pinky-red bricked walls, a large lawn and a coloured-themed border fronted with box, which fortunately I trim only in my mind’s eye!   From the door where we enter the path goes straight-ahead and the border on your left gradually moves from white flowers, through lemon-yellow, to deeper butter yellow, then to full sunshine yellow, with a hint of pale-blue, deepening to full blues as the border ends.   Whilst if you turn to the right, starting again with pure white flowers, the blossoms deepen through cream, tan, soft orange, to tangerine, scarlet, wine red, and deep purples.  I plan a spring planting, begin the summer bedding, but rarely make it into autumn!

Yet even this sometimes fails to lull me to sleep, so I read again.   Or remembering a book, often read to my son when small, where an older brother rabbit told his younger sister rabbit to think of happy things before she went to sleep, I fix my mind and think of happy thoughts.  And think of friendship.

I realise now that it is only this year that I have begun to really value friendship.  How wonderful and precious it is.   Of course, I have had friends before.   And some have stayed and some I have lost along the way.  But until this year, I don’t really think that I have fully appreciated friendship.

I am such an introvert that I need and like lots of time on my own.  And I have always spent so much time surrounded by family, that until now, I never seemed to have room or feel the want of more than a few friends.  But these last few years everything has changed so much for me, that now I want and enjoy the company of many, many friends.

Friendship is such a varied and elastic term.  There are friends and there are friends.   There are acquaintances and colleagues and social media connections, people met through work and joyfully some of these turn into and grow into fully fledged friendships.

This year I have been blessed with my friendships.  There are friends who supported my through some bad times – who listened and were there.  There are friendships developed through collaborative learning projects.  There are friends who I have discussed ideas and who’ve challenged my thinking – in person and at a distance.  There are friends who I have giggled with.  There’s a practical friend who willingly gave up her lunch time to help me stick things up on walls.  There are friends with whom together we have made things happen.  There are friendships which have come into being through volunteering & campaigning together.   And there is a particular friendship which has been all of these things and so much more – a many-faceted friendship of work, learning, jazz and cricket. I feel nurtured by this wealth of friendship and give thanks for it.

And as I think on friendship, I feel that warming, welcome heaviness filling my limbs and a gradual drowsiness, so as dawn comes, I at last slip away to sleep again for an hour or so.  A good morning is here!

Rachel Burnham

9 December 2017

Drawn to the Dark - Day 26 (Boxing Day)

Day 26 (Tuesday 26th December 2017 - Boxing Day)

26 December is known as Wren Day instead of Boxing Day in Ireland, the Isle of Man and parts of
the United Kingdom, Spain and France. As Christian mythology would have it,
God wanted to know who was King of the Birds and hence set a challenge
to see which could fly highest - the eagle nearly won, but at the last minute the wren,
which had been hiding on the eagle's back, flew up and hence was higher and so
became King. Because of this supposed treachery, mummers, known as Wren Boys,
dressed in concealing costumes used to hunt down a wren, tie it to a pole
and dance from house to house demanding money from townsfolk as a ransom
to save the wren's life or to provide luck in exchange for a feather -
the money raised would pay for a party (a Wren Ball). It is probable that the tradition
originated in pagan times when there were animal sacrifices to encourage the spring to return.
The mummers would sing a variations of "The wren the wren the king of all birds/ St Stephen's Day
was caught in the furze/ Her clothes were all torn- her shoes were all worn/
Up with the kettle and down with the pan/ Give us a penny to bury the "wran"/ If you haven't a penny a halfpenny will do/
If you haven't a halfpenny/ God bless you!".These days a toy wren, as opposed to a live bird, is used.

It's Boxing Day. How are you feeling? I think perhaps I should not have eaten so much yesterday.

Today's warm and perspicacious post is written by my very good friend, Simon Heath. I first met Simon via Twitter (his handle is @SimonHeath1) and I am delighted and proud to have been one of his first clients, when he took the plunge and founded his business after a long and successful career in corporate life. Simon is an artist. he is perceptive and, having worked in the conventional world of work, he understands the issues in the workplace - commercial drivers, silo mentality, the importance of communication and leadership. He is a good listener and can catch the essence of a point in a pithy illustration that is the perfect aide memoire. My company has won 3 major awards this year for our ability to engage people who work with us and to effect positive change, it is no exaggeration to say that Simon has been a significant influence in our transformation. He has created some masterful animations that helped us share our vision and celebrate success and I have used many of his excellent illustrations to stress a particular point or to remind people of what we need to do.

Outside the work environment (actually in and out the work environment) Simon is a delight to spend time with. He is a deep thinker and determined to do his bit to make the world a better place. Some of my best moments over the past few years have involved sitting, sipping a decent single malt, and chatting with Simon. He is a devoted father (with two talented children) and a loving husband and family man. This of us who know him are very fortunate.

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Perhaps it's a peculiarity of having been born in England, heir to English weather, that a brilliantly sunny, brash, shouty and suddenly insistent dawn leaves me cold. I've much preferred my dawns creepier. Not breaking, but slithering smudgily over the horizon. I don't want some Riviera daybreak hammering impatiently at the shutters demanding a croissant and espresso, pronto. The house lights thrown abruptly up, breaking the spell of the cinematography. There are very few things more infuriating than being awoken by some well meaning soul flinging open the curtains with a cry of "Up and at 'em!". Better by far to gradually awaken as the gloaming begins to glisten with a silvery hue, shadows drawing cautiously closer in to their owners. And this time of the year is delicious in this respect. The days are fleeting. The dawns drawn out. And the descent back into darkness starts sooner.

Autumn brings the advent of the dark days. Days of galoshes and mackintoshes. The night expanding stealthily to fill the daylight saving hours. A sense of anticipation as, before a movie, the lights dim to let the dreaming begin and December beckons in the company of the ghosts of Christmas past. When I first heard the theme for this year's Advent Blog series, so thoughtfully and generously curated by my wonderful friend, Kate, I thought I'd struggle with darkness. My life is not touched by it to the degree that so many others are. My cares are more workaday and mundane. But then another friend, the kindly and wise Michael Carty, reminded me that darkness needn't be negative. And how right he is. So, I'll take this opportunity to share with you some reasons to be cheerful after dark. Things that, for this Englishman at least, simply wouldn't be the same under the mad dog midday sun.

A blanket-built fort in the desert illuminated by explorers' torches

The magnesium magic of children drawing dreams with sparklers 

The "Oo!" and "Aah!" of Bonfire Night

The peaty perfume of a single malt

The exuberant pop of the celebratory cork

The cool side of the pillow

Stars as far as the eye can see (those billions of light years)

Our patient lunar companion

Motes of dust dancing in the projector's beam

The acid luminosity of be-glowsticked revelry

The reassuring warmth of familiarity of the sleeper beside you

The laser trails of tail lights

A doner kebab

Walking up the path to a house full of people who'll be delighted to see you

The sense of anticipation you get from that walk

The liquid joy of the carnival lights reflected in her eyes

The unseen crisp smack of a bat catching its prey

The bedtime story

Closeness

My life is not a hard one. The grumble and grouse of the normal run-of-the-mill life. But like so many George Baileys, it is often only by standing in the darkness, looking in at the window of our life, at the warmth and joy within, that we get a true sense of our good fortune. And that's how I'll close. By wishing you all good fortune.