Don’t judge the year by one cold meatball - there is another year waiting, just around the corner

Last Friday night, after driving some 500 miles with a hire van loaded with furniture and some 20 years’ worth of ‘stuff’ from two different houses, I got home totally exhausted. However, after a shower, and a large glass of the red stuff, I started to cook dinner. It was a simple meal of vegetarian meat balls in a rich tomato sauce, flavoured with the ‘honey glazed parsnips’ that I forgot to cook on Christmas Day and pasta. Despite being tired, I do so like cooking; for me, it’s definitely therapeutic. I was a little taken aback when one dinner guest declared that one of her meatballs (strictly Quorn Swedish Style meatless Meat Balls) was cold! Given they had been cooked in the oven for 25 minutes and then stirred into the tomato sauce and simmered for a further five minutes before serving, it was difficult to understand why she should have one cold meatball. 

  

However, she loyally declared ‘that one should not judge a meal by one cold meatball’, gave the offending meatball to Billy the parrot to eat and carried on. I like her style… a lot. Usually, at this time of the year, I write a blog about what has happened in the last 12 months and reflect on what has been my thinking or actions regarding the year’s events. This year has felt a little like that cold meatball. Of all my 63 years of life, it has certainly been a very different year than those experienced previously. It was my first full year of retirement and like many others I suspect, I have wondered how I ever found the time to work – but the year has flashed by, and I have been engagingly busy for much of the time. 

It hasn’t been all good. My long-time marriage ended, and although I am sure that some others might disagree, it was principally my actions that predicated the separation. Almost overnight, many of the dreams for a shared older life, dreams that had been worked for over such a long period were gone. I have a new person in my life now. She makes me happy every single day and I know we made the only choice the two of us could authentically make, but the disruption, hurt, anger and anxiety of the marriage breakdown reverberated across the whole of my extensive extended family. Some of those wounds are healing, but others are still naturally very raw. 

Some things that were planned for this year now have a different significance. One of the houses (the Manchester one) was always going to be sold with a move to the House in Scotland, nestled close by the sea, being the ultimate aim. Now, whilst the Manchester house has been sold, I won’t be moving to the House in Scotland. But excitingly, I will still be near the sea, as J and I are buying a house on the Fylde coast. For those readers who may have recently moved, you will know what a mixed bag it can be packing up all your worldly goods. You sit and look at photos, books, in fact anything, because they all hold memories. 

Yesterday, I took down a whole load of paintings that have been hanging on the walls for upwards of 20 years. It was in the taking down that I, once again, saw what had inspired me to buy them in the first place. I remembered absolutely, where and what I was doing when they were bought. Happy times in the main. Last week, I brought back from Scotland a large piece of sculpture from my all-time favourite artist, Urpu Sellar and although the collection (which I think is probably the largest of her work) is now halved, again the beauty of looking afresh at her work was uplifting, and not in the least depressing. 

In fact, although the wider context of separation, loss and uncertain futures are daunting, despite the promise of new adventures to come, there have also been many good aspects to my cold meatball of a year. It has been wonderful to be able to give away furniture, TVs, bikes, books, pictures, clothes, and many household goods to friends, family and charities. If anyone needs a consultant to help ‘declutter’ their life, in the words of the great Mr Cohen, "I’m your man.” That said, I currently have a huge storage unit jam-packed with things saved from a lifetime of collecting, a shed bulging at the seams with ‘big boys’ toys’ and every nook and cranny of our present home filled with boxes of things kept for the future. 

And as this year draws to a close, I also want to say that there have been some very special moments for me in 2018. It was the birthday of the NHS – she is just 70 years young. Good people, with skills, knowledge and experience both created and developed the wonderful NHS we have today. Every time I go to a meeting, or walk the wards and departments at my hospital, Wrightington, Wigan and Leigh, I meet some of these people and am reminded of the extra mile so many make in truly making a difference to the lives of others. It is a huge privilege to be part of this family. I have enjoyed the challenge of the #NHS100miles, and although my personal target of walking 2,500 is likely to be 30 miles short by the 31st, it has been wonderful to walk (virtually) amongst such great colleagues and friends during the year. Well done to all of those involved in showing how physical exercise can reduce the illness burden in the UK and enable people to live healthily lives. 

Sadly, I have lost a number of wonderful friends and colleagues during 2018. They all died unexpectedly and have left a big hole in my life. However, I have made many more new friends and colleagues through the #earlyrisersclub. This virtual community, founded by Judith @jcstaff_ and Nikki @Nikki_Ledingham has grown exponentially over the years. Others have joined and lead the early morning Twitter community in welcoming and celebrating each new day. I am confident that they would say ‘don’t judge the year by one cold meatball - there is another year waiting, just around the corner.’ And there is - full of promise and new adventures – I wish all readers of this blog a very happy and positive New Year – Happy 2019.   

Ps – if there is a reader out there already thinking about what to buy me for next year’s Christmas present, have a look at this! Thank you, Vanessa, @veeteeteach for giving me the heads up on this.

My 12 Quality Street Days of Christmas

Last week was like a Christmas tin of Quality Streets. There were some parts I enjoyed, and other parts that you wished you hadn’t picked. The week started off well. After some 20 years of cooking Christmas dinner for an ever growing and changing extended family, (often more than once in a year), I decided this year would be different. So last Sunday 19 of our family met up at a local restaurant and we had a super meal, crackers, party hats and maybe the odd glass of wine. Not all the family could be there (some live in New Zealand), but for those who could, all seemed to enjoy the time spent together. I know I did and it was wonderful not to worry about cooking the food or having to do the washing up and re-arranging the house after everyone had left. Sunday was absolutely like my favourite Quality Street, a hazelnut and caramel (purple wrapper) kind of day!

Monday was another day of packing and moving house contents either to storage, the children or the tip. The fact that it rained all day didn’t make for a great time, but it was one more thing ticked off on what feels like, at times, to be a long list of things to do before the sale is completed. Surprisingly, moving to a new house does not feature in the Holmes and Rache top ten list of the most stressful life events. Unsurprisingly, many reasons for moving to a new house do, such as death of a partner, job loss, divorce and retirement. In any event, Monday felt like an orange crème (orange wrapper) kind of day.   

Tuesday was a day of two halves – the first part was spent starting to put pen to paper and getting on with a slightly (read ‘massively’) overdue chapter (see previous blog post). Whilst I made some headway, it didn’t flow as well as I had hoped, and progress was probably best described as a toffee finger (gold wrapper) experience. Tuesday afternoon was very different. I went to see one of my grandsons take the role of Emperor Caesar Augustus in the School nativity play. In this traditional production there were no lobsters, aliens, and Spiderman didn’t make an appearance. It was a wonderful experience and as such a definite green triangle hazelnut noisette (green foil wrapper) afternoon. Tuesday evening should have seen me at a community ‘Friends’ meeting, but was actually spent in near exhaustion, lying on the sofa watching a film on NetFlix – best described as a fudge (pink wrapper) evening.  

Wednesday started early for what was a milk chocolate block (green wrapper) full day of Board meetings at Wrightinton, Wigan and Leigh NHS Trust. Each meeting had full agendas and required a great deal of concentration on everyone’s part. Half way through the day, we broke for lunch, which was a selection taken from the patients’ menu for that day. I had a vegetarian lasagne and fresh beetroot – both of which were delicious. At the last meeting of the day we had representatives attending from the Care Quality Commission and Ernst Young. I found it quite amusing that had we not been introduced to them it would have been impossible to say who was from which organisation. I think they must share the same dress code, and certainly the same managerial lexicon and approach to never answering a question directly. It was a coconut eclair (blue wrapper) end to the day. 

Thursday got off to a toffee deluxe (brown wrapper) start as I was able to spend a little time playing catch up on my reading. One of the stories I read was the suggestion that the NHS was considering paying £5,000 to mature students (considered to be those over the age of 25!) to become mental health and/or learning disability nurses. The payment was described as an ‘earn and learn incentive’. I had to smile at this. When I started my mental health nurses training in 1975, we were paid an ‘earn and learn bonus’ at the end of year one. It was just £50, equivalent to £407.37 in today’s money – a toffee penny (gold wrapper) reward methinks! 

Thursday afternoon, saw me sipping champagne (a Christmas tradition) with my long term best friend and fellow writer Professor Sue McAndrew. We exchanged presents, and swapped stories and news. Her Christmas story was of the mink that had decided to take up residence in the roof space above her kitchen. She and the rat catcher from the local council came face to face with it when they opened the hatch to the loft space. Whilst he didn’t do mink (only rats, mice and squirrels), he knew a man who did. The mink has moved on to another part of the river now. All in all, it was a honeycomb crunch (golden brown wrapper) afternoon.

Friday arrived, and the morning was spent at a funeral of one of my fellow NEDs, Carole Hudson, who died suddenly just a few weeks ago. She was on holiday in the US at the time. She was a wonderful person, and someone who used her talents and skill to help so many others. Her last job before she retired was as Chief Executive of St Helens Council. When she was first appointed she was one of only two female CEOs. She brought much wisdom, fun and kindness to our Board meetings and we all miss her tremendously. Although it was a sad occasion, I think Carole would have said the Requiem Mass was a strawberry delight (red wrapper). 

Yesterday, (Saturday) was made up of lots of last minute chores and things to do that ranged from cleaning the chicken house, fresh vegetable shopping, eye testing, storage sorting and generally trying to remember what we might have forgot in our Christmas preparations. It rained incessantly which made most things more difficult. It was an orange crunch (orange foil wrapper) sort of occasion. 

The evening highlight was a community carol concert around the Christmas tree on the village green. The rain stopped, there was mulled wine and warm mince pies. Some 200 people turned up, most of whom were local families – it was a caramel swirl (yellow foil wrapper) end to the week. I hope you all enjoy a wonderful Christmas and I hope to see you in the New Year.

The Curse of the Writer’s Block and other tales of political intrigue

Well last week was a bit of a struggle. I have a publisher deadline that is way overdue already. The publishers kindly extended the deadline until Christmas. As I write this week’s blog, Christmas Day is just nine days away, and truthfully, apart from a chapter summary, there is not a single word yet committed to paper. Now I’m not struggling because I don’t know what to write, but because every day I seem to be running out of time. Yes, I know it’s a poor excuse and probably one I’ve heard a million times from my students, but I have convinced myself that it’s true. 

The chapter is an academic text that looks at health and social care through the lens of anthropology. It is also a second edition and one of the co-editors for the original publication was a PhD student of mine, who sadly died, much too soon, from a very aggressive liver cancer. So, there is a special reason for being part of the second edition, and the focus is right up my street – it’s a chapter that looks at health and social care organisational culture and politics. My PhD supervisor, the late, but very great Professor Joel Richman, introduced me to anthropology. He also introduced me to medical sociology, critical psychology and Coronation Street. Whilst I have pursued my interest in social and cultural anthropology, and sociology, I kicked critical psychology and Coronation Street into touch.

It was Professor Richman that got me interested in exploring organisations, the people that make them work and the nature of human relationships. He opened my eyes (and mind) to the world of organisational politics, rhetoric and the art of transcendental leadership. My PhD thesis looked at all these aspects through the development of an ethnography set in the world of GP fundholding (yes, I am that old) which focused on contractual and non-contractual relationship behaviours. It was entitled ‘Custom and Contracts in the NHS’ – which at the time I thought was a clever borrow from Max Gluckman’s book ‘Custom and Conflicts in Africa’. The latter was published in 1955 and was essentially a collection of six presentations he had made on the BBC Third Programme (now Radio 3). The fourth of these was a presentation entitled: the ‘Logic of Witchcraft’. This conceptualisation of social organisation and social cohesion absolutely resonated with my data analysis. So, I pinched it and used it as the metaphorical framework for my thesis. Big mistake!  

When the time came for my viva, the two examiners ripped my thesis to pieces, partly because the logic of witchcraft was, in any event, not a well thought through conceptualisation of how to manage conflict and change, but mainly because it simply didn’t work as a metaphor. Eventually, I used the metaphor of the family (the family of the family practitioner) which thankfully did work. All of which is a rather long-winded way of saying I know the subject I should be writing about, I have published several papers in this area, but I have been struggling over the last few weeks to put pen to paper. It didn’t seem to matter how early I got up in the morning or how late I left it before going to bed, so many other things stole my time away from me. 

It might well have been self-applied distraction therapy. I bet many readers have done this. You know, you can’t start writing until your desk is tidy, your pencils are all sharpened, you have a cuppa in hand served in your favourite mug and so on. I thought about this a bit last week in the context of politics with a big P. This blog is not the place for me to voice an opinion one way or the other over how we got to where we are with Brexit or run my political affiliations up the proverbial flag pole. However, I greatly admired the energy, commitment and resilience of those politicians (and their teams of advisors) who last week were so resolutely engaged in trying to deal with the conflict and lack of agreement over the direction the UK should be taking next year.

Some might reasonably see last week as a drama of desperation politics, but I wondered where that energy came from, how time seemed to be ‘borrowed’ to travel, discuss, argue and challenge the opinions of others. One of the outcomes noted in my PhD study was that successful changes to organisations (such as the NHS or Europe) seldom result from purposeful political action. Likewise, the complexity of the issues facing everyone around Brexit, whilst seemingly leading to rebellion, have not resulted in revolution. When the dust finally settles over the whole Brexit affair, I do wonder what customs (anthropological not border security) will remain and what future conflicts will be more difficult to resolve without the cohesion of likeminded citizens to draw upon. Just as I have no words on my chapter paper, I have no easy answers to this question either.