Attentive listening: poorly laptops and professors

My laptop has recently taken it upon itself to decide whether to turn on or not, or whether to simply turn itself off midway through something I might be doing. I can’t tell you just how frustrating this is. I took it to our local repair man, who unplugged the battery, counted to ten and reconnected the battery. Heigh-ho, the computer turned on and ran perfectly for the next hour. Then it started playing up again.

So, I looked to see which local laptop repairer had the best reviews. I took my laptop there and just like the disappearing toothache that happens when you finally get to the dentist, my laptop just turned on. Well Paul, the repairer, wasn’t a happy bunny and said he would hang on to it and see if he could find the problem. I was getting slightly worried when, after a week, I hadn’t heard from him. However, last Wednesday, he texted to say everything was fine and to come and collect my laptop.

I did, paid the £40 repair bill, checked that it was working and feeling really happy, I went home. Now I walked home. It is a relatively short journey - 4 km at most. Took me 45 minutes tops. I plugged the laptop in and lifted the lid and nothing happened. The screen was black and nothing I could do changed this. Staring at the screen, I went through a range of emotions. Anger, frustration, disbelief, depression, more frustration. None of which either helped me or got my computer working.

Now I’m sharing my laptop woes not for sympathy, but because of what else happened in Paul’s workshop that first Wednesday. There was a woman and a young boy at the counter before me. The boy was in Year 7 at school. Let’s call him Mark. The woman was his Mum. Now being 11-12 years old can be a funny time in anyone’s development. You are not quite a teenager, but you are moving away from being a young child. They were there, as Mark’s tablet screen was smashed, to get it replaced.

Paul said he could certainly replace the screen, but after looking up the price of a replacement (£150), explained that it probably wasn’t worth it. He told them that it was a relatively limited machine and even, if he repaired it, Mark would quickly get frustrated with the lack of power, memory and connectivity. Mum said it was what the school had recommended buying, and it had all Mark’s schoolwork on it and he was worried about losing it all. Paul showed them a second-hand laptop and said that he could take everything off Marks tablet and put it onto the new laptop. It would be exactly the same, except that Mark would now have more power, memory and it would do things at least ten times faster than his tablet.

Both Mum and Mark didn’t look, or sound, convinced. Mum wanted to know, if it really would look the same, operate in the same way and so forth. Paul assured them it would and that if they wanted to buy the laptop, he would move everything for them across free of charge. When they came to pick it up, Mark could stay as long as it took for him to be happy with it. Mum was still not convinced.

Paul then started talking to Mark directly, not about the broken screen, nor the laptop, but about school, his friends, what games he played and so on. Gradually Mark began to engage in the conversation and Paul carefully brought their discussion back to whether Mark wanted his screen repaired or go for the laptop option. Mum was silent. We all waited. I was silently willing Mark to take the laptop option. And eventually he said ‘Yes please, could he go for the laptop’. We all let out a collective sigh of relief.

Paul said he would have it ready, if they came back tomorrow. Talking to Mark, Paul also said that the laptop cost £175, so how was Mark going to repay his mum. Mum said what about doing the pots every day for the next week. A smiling Mark agreed, and they both left the shop. It was now my turn and that’s when we found that my laptop had now decided to turn on and Paul was wanting to investigate more to find out what the real problem might be. Last Thursday, I took my laptop back again and explained what had occurred when I got it home. Paul was puzzled; I was exasperated. He immediately started to take the machine apart and after 30 mins was still no closer to knowing what the problem was. He too was now becoming exasperated, and I was losing the will to live. It had been a long day, and it was now 5.45pm.

As I had nothing to do, I asked Paul if Mark and his mum had picked up their laptop and whether they were happy. Yes, they had and yes, they were. I told Paul I was very impressed with his customer care and particularly the way that he had dealt with the young lad. His response surprised me. He told me that he was almost sure Mark was on the autistic spectrum and he wanted to reflect that in the way he spoke and dealt with both mum and Mark. I asked why he thought Mark might have been autistic.

Paul said he had listened closely to what Mum was saying about the new machine looking and being exactly like her son’s tablet. That gave him a clue and his conversation with Mark had confirmed his thinking. I was impressed and told him about Oliver McGowan, and how his avoidable death in hospital was a result of NHS staff not understanding Oliver’s autism and how it affected him. Oliver’s parents’ campaign for change in the way that NHS professionals were trained, resulted in a mandatory training programme for all NHS staff on how to develop their skills and approach to caring for people of all ages, living with a learning disability and/or autism.  Attentive listening is part of that approach, and I said to Paul that he had demonstrated exactly this, and it had resulted in a brilliant outcome for all.

Sadly, my laptop is still under Paul’s care; the reason for its poorly condition, still undiagnosed. I, on the other hand, know why I’m feeling poorly, I have a full-blown Bank Holiday weekend streaming cold and chesty cough.    

Revisiting the Room of Requirement

I only wear black. All my clothes are black and have been for many years. I never have any problem choosing what to wear each day, and clothes shopping is a doddle. My one concession to colour is my clogs. I have a large collection of many different coloured clogs. However, I have only been wearing one yellow and one blue clog every day for the last 910 days. I have been doing so as a visible sign to others of my support for the people of Ukraine. On the first day of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, I put them on. I didn’t expect that the war would go on for such a long. Sadly there doesn’t seem to be much prospect of an end to the conflict any time soon.

Events in the past week have made me reflect on the reasons I still wear the yellow and blue clogs as a symbol of my support for Ukraine. For example, I could wear one white and one blue clog as a symbol of my support for Israel or green and red/white as a symbol of my support for the people of Palestine. There is a great deal of conflict across the world, and my support from one side or another is not reflected in my choice of coloured footwear. Ukraine being the exception.

Last week a number of colleagues contacted me and Karen our CEO regarding the messages we sent out regarding the tragic events in Southport and the riots and civil unrest that followed. In the main these were messages of support and thanks. However, we were also asked why we hadn’t mentioned, specifically, one type of racism or another or call out particular conflicts. Interestingly for me, in earlier drafts of our messages I had included examples of world conflicts, including Ukraine, Gaza, Bangladesh and Syria. Given the first civil unrest attacks in Southport, were directed against a local mosque, I had also referenced Islamophobia.

We had asked our Communications Team, and our Equality, Diversity and Inclusion colleagues for their advice about the how we were framing our messages. Whilst we had no intention to exclude individual, group or community, we were advised to remove the specific references to particular conflicts and particular types of racism. We heeded this advice, although I questioned myself as to whether this was the right thing to do. At one level I could understand the rationale and reasoning behind the advice, but my intuitive and emotional self was troubled for sure.

What was clear and unambiguous in our communications to colleagues, was our commitment as an organisation to address and challenge racism, intolerance and discrimination of all kinds in our organisation. Sadly, there is evidence that some colleagues are still experiencing such behaviours and often on a regular basis. Like many other NHS organisations we have developed a wonderful spiritual hub that recognises, embraces and supports different faiths, cultures and backgrounds. When I first saw the hub I was reminded of the Harry Potters Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. As in Harry Potter, our spiritual hub is there to try and help folk whatever their background, troubles or needs might be. Unlike in Harry Potter however, there is no need for anyone to walk past the door three times to gain entry. 

The hub is a small, but an important statement, of our wider commitment to becoming an antiracist organisation. We want to celebrate diversity, and to recognise the conversations we need to continue to have around equality, equity, civility and inclusivity. We all need to work together to create a place where hope triumphs over hate, where we care for each other in the same way we care for our service users. I was also reminded of the importance of striving towards these outcomes last week as I attended an NHS England North West Regional Office meeting.

These are regular meetings chaired by the NHSE Regional Director and to which all Chairs and CEOs from across the region are invited to attend. Usually these are meetings predominately given over to discussing financial concerns, performance issues and national policy. They don’t tend to be fun meetings. This month’s meeting, however, was given over almost entirely to reflecting on the impact on colleagues and their organisations of the Southport attacks. To say that listening to colleagues’ stories was both emotional and challenging would be an understatement. These were powerful narratives. Incredibly humbling too.

The accounts remined me of what a wonderful institution the NHS is. How people from all different backgrounds, and perhaps holding different personal, cultural and religious beliefs find ways to work together in the most challenging of situations. Many of our colleagues who looked after those injured in the attack, were a day later, equally looking after people who had been on the streets rioting. I found that single fact filling me with hope, pride and love for all that is good in our NHS and the wider communities we serve. 

Clogs. I think the time has come to hang up my yellow and blue clogs. I think from now on I will chose a random pair from my wardrobe each day and let other folk worry as to what the different colours might mean.    

Robert and the hypnotised hen

The racism and Islamophobia we have seen played out in many towns and cities this past fortnight has been shocking, awful, and difficult to witness.  I can’t imagine how much more pain and hurt these troubles would have caused the folk in Southport – all of whom will have been trying to come to terms with an almost unbearable sense of loss. In this past week I have sent out two communications to all the colleagues I work with. These have been joint messages from myself and our Chief Executive. In these messages we have both said that we don’t understand the motivation of those involved in the mindless violence, racism, and destruction. However, we both understood the fear, anxiety, and feelings of vulnerability such behaviour generates for anyone innocently caught up in the disturbance. Likewise, to others not directly impacted but who now feel threatened. To be honest, I was glad to see the swift justice being meted out through the courts, and likewise the peaceful coming together of anti-racism demonstrations across many communities.

Great Britain has long welcomed people from all over the world to come and live and work here. Following the end of the Second World War it is doubtful that as a nation we would have got ourselves back on our feet had it not been for the arrival of many individuals from overseas. At the time, I don’t think the newly formed NHS would have been able to thrive without the benefit of so many overseas people joining the workforce. And of course this is still the case today as well. Many of these folk came from countries that made up the British Empire. I’m indebted to my colleague and friend Professor Calvin Moorley, who last week shared a picture on social media that for me, at least, both encapsulates our nation’s somewhat imperialist past, the welcome we extended to others and the futility and falsehoods of the claims made by those involved in the riots and disturbances.

Calvin is both a world renowned academic and nurse. I became a nurse and an academic a long time before Calvin. Indeed, I started my nurse training way back in 1975. At that time student nurses didn’t go to university. I went to a School of Nursing on the site of a large Victorian Psychiatric Hospital in Swansea, Wales. It wasn’t a large cohort as is often the case these days, but a small group of about 10 of us. We spent time on the wards and out in the community, interspersed with study weeks in the school. Although in comparison to nurse education today, our training was rather old fashioned and very bespoke. I’m sure there must have some kind of curriculum, and I can recall having to work my way through a little red book that recorded our competencies as we mastered them. That said, we did have some very quirky lectures at times.

I can remember a session that was devoted to the therapeutic use of hypnosis. During this session we were told that it was possible to hypnotise a hen. At the time I had a little small holding, and the very next day I brought one of my hens in. It was amazingly easy to hypnotise the chicken. Simply holding the hens head to the ground and drawing a line away from its beak, the chicken will enter in a state of ‘tonic immobility’ and can stay like that for around 30 minutes. Hamilton Gibson in his book published in 1997, Hypnosis- Its Nature and Therapeutic Uses notes that the world record for a chicken remaining hypnotised is 3 hours, 47 minutes. I have not tried to beat this with any of our hens.

At the end of the day one of my student nurse colleagues, a chap called Robert, asked if he could keep the chicken. I had plenty, and although I was intrigued as to what he might do with it given he lived in the nurses’ home, I handed it over. I strongly suspect the hen provided a couple of good meals for him as I never saw the it again. At the time Robert was a young man who had come all the way from Accra, the largest city in Ghana to train as a mental health nurse. He was one of the warmest, gentlest and generous person I have ever met. Now I have been fortunate to be able to travel all over the world, yet I could not imagine the courage it would take aged just 18, to pack your bags and start a new life in a completely unknown country. He did this, as have so many other people like him. We both completed our training, and sadly we all went our separate ways. I have lost touch with where he is now what he did with his nursing career.

People like Robert are what makes the NHS the largest multicultural organisation in the world. We should be proud of this example of how diversity can make for a better whole. Like many NHS organisations, my Trust has a culturally diverse range of colleagues. We are richer as an organisation because of this.  In these troubled times, we need to stand tall, stand beside each other and loudly reject the notion somehow our lives are made worse by welcoming folk from other countries. We are truly stronger together. I for one, am proud to work in an organisation that reflects the multicultural communities we seek to serve.  

It remains important that we remember those families in Southport whose loss and pain must be almost unbearable. Likewise, we must also remember that it is not just these riots that should concern us, but the racism and Islamophobia, and intolerance of all kinds that occurs every day. As an organisation we have pledged to be an anti-racist and more inclusive NHS Trust. We still have a way to go on this journey. The past 10 days have shown just how important is it to continue to work for a more equitable world, and a world that values and welcomes diversity. We should all recognise the importance of ensuring that in our hospitals, community services, our teams, the communities and neighbourhoods we live in and with every one of those folk we meet each day, it is kindness, compassion, civility and love that prevails.

Let’s open our hearts to love, hope and kindness shared

It will have been a difficult last week for many people. The horrific and tragic events in Southport and the disturbances that have followed since will have impacted upon so many. The trauma, sadness, and anger that folk will have experienced will not be short-lived. We are already seeing some of those challenges to people’s mental health and wellbeing start to play out. I have been more than impressed with all those working in health and care services, the voluntary sector, the churches, and mosques, and indeed the people from the communities themselves providing such welcome support to those caught up in the attacks. They all remain in my thoughts and prayers.

The events in Southport will touch many others too, and in lots of different ways as well. I know that, as I write this blog, I feel a little guilty about having a happy, highly enjoyable weekend; a weekend spent with friends and family. Yesterday, we attended a family wedding held in the beautiful northern town of Clitheroe, Lancashire. I love weddings. The sun shone, the bride and groom, clearly in love, looked wonderful. The service was in the gothic styled and ancient church of St Mary Magdalene. It is a church that has its origins in the 15th Century. Very romantically, the newlyweds (and guests) walked down the street to their reception in Holmes Mill. We stayed over, and thanks to our goat and hen sitting neighbours, we were able to dance the night away. Although it was a real tonic to be part of such a happy celebration, I did feel slightly guilty about having so much fun.

Getting married has not always been about the love between two people. Way back in the fifth century, marriage was nothing to do with religion or love, and often couples were brought together and married off for reasons of prestige, to secure land or because of their childbearing potential. By the 12th century, thankfully, folk were getting married because of their love for each other. However, getting married wasn’t without its challenges. It was only in 2012, that the law that decreed all marriages must take place between 8am and 6pm, was repealed.

Yesterday I was reminded of our wedding. J and I ‘got married’ three times. We were due to get married in the Spring of 2020. We had spent a year planning and preparing for it. Covid came and that was that - everything was cancelled. It was very depressing to say the least. However, to cheer ourselves up, we prepared gift bags for our neighbours with mini bottles of wine, heart-shaped chocolates and a copy of our, now unusable, printed order of service. This was during lockdown, so I delivered the gifts early one morning.

The following day, we got a text to say please come outside. And there they all were. Socially distanced along the road and grass verge, all dressed up, with glasses filled. They had made a mound of presents and a cake. We sang one of the hymns, took loads of photos and given the circumstances, we had a magical time. It was pure kindness on the part of our neighbours.

Later in the year it was possible to get married with no more than six people being present in the church, including the vicar, bride and groom. So, proper marriage No 1 was on a very wet and windy day in October 2020. It was a beautiful service and J looked stunning in her white wedding dress. It had to be dry cleaned, as the hem and train soaked up the mud and water just walking from the church to the car. It was a dreadful day weather-wise. We made our own sunshine. Wedding No 2 was a year later in September. Like yesterday, we had glorious sunshine, and celebrated with a hundred of our friends and family.

Our vicar was really kind. He adapted the renewal of the marriage vows service (usually only used after 40 years of marriage) to bring some authenticity to the day. Wedding No 3 was a year later and held in our local Italian Bistro. We were minus a vicar. We invited all our new Blackpool friends and neighbours to join us. They had missed out on wedding No 2 and we wanted to treat them to a celebratory occasion. We asked everyone to get dressed up and celebrate our marriage in style. The Bistro owners had decked out the restaurant and made us a wedding cake. J and I walked up the road, J looking wonderful in her wedding dress. The evening was brilliant. We sang hymns, ate fabulous food and probably drank too much, I made a speech, as did one of our neighbours taking on the best man role. It was our way of saying thank you for their wonderful kindness when our wedding was cancelled. It was their kindness that gave us hope, at a time of despair.

That is what this blog is about. Love, kindness, thinking of others, never losing hope and recognising the best in others. At the wedding service the vicar offered up some thoughts on what love is. She ended by saying ‘these three remain: Faith Hope and Love - the greatest of these is Love’. I hope, as we all find our own way of dealing with the awful tragedies in Southport, that we can also all find ways of ensuring there is more love and less hate in the world.