This post is dedicated to my Auntie Theresa Mary Moir.

Remember me when I am gone away,

gone far away into the silent land;

My Auntie with her silvery blonde hair before

she was afflicted with cancer

when you can no more hold me by the hand,

nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

you tell me of our future that you planned:

only remember me; you understand

it will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

and afterwards remember, do not grieve:

for if the darkness and corruption leave

a vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

better by far you should forget and smile

than that you should remember and be sad.

--Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

My lovely Auntie on her birthday in May 2011



The Duck Walk!

Following my rather angsty and moaning blog posts of recent I decided to be POSITIVE and get a grip!
So in the belief that sometime all little boys need a walk I took J (and my Mum) for a little trek round Langdon Wildlife Park at the Dunton Plotlands.

This walk is a favourite of J's not least because halfway round there is a pretty impressive lake with many geese, ducks, coots and moorhens who are always pleased to see a human holding a bag of duck feed.
J always has a bag of duck feed when we visit.
As you can see it was a beautiful day yesterday.

J confidently sounds out the words.

J really enjoyed following some of the signs hung in the trees which gave information about the variety of birds who call the nature reserve home.

It was also another opportunity to see how far J's reading skills have progressed since starting his medication.

Yesterday we managed to see Canada Geese, Mallards, Ruddy Ducks, Coots, Moorhens, Magpies and Jays.


I got a real boost from hearing J confidently sound the words out on the cards.








The lake birds realise there is company with FOOD.




J encouraged the birds to come closer so he could get a better look.





Beautiful Basildon (yes "really"?)



 We all had a lovely walk around the lake and enjoyed the nice weather and the countryside views. J really loved seeing the ducks in pairs, the males with their shimmering green heads snuggled up to the warm brown feathers of the females.

The sky was very blue with just soft wispy clouds streaked across the sky - it was a glorious day.

We walked past masses of wild flowers which lit up the paths and verges.

After the walk we went into the wildlife centre for ice lollies and then a wander round the gardens attached. J bought an insect magnifyer and enjoyed capturing, observing and then releasing tiny insects. Meanwhile I spotted an eldery woman on a bench  my Mum relaxing amongst the wild flowers.



Old lady sat on seat (My Mum)



All in all a lovely walk and a beautiful day. It was so good I have found myslef volunteering to go back next week to help when an Infant school visits to do some Pond Dipping. Can't wait... just hope the weather is as good as yesterday.

ADHD Myth and Reality

Since J was diagnosed iwith ADHD (along with ASD, Dyspraxia and Hypermobile joints). I feel I have waged a constant internal war with those who think ADHD is all rubbish and an excuse parents have dreamed up to excuse bad behaviour. "It's a myth", "just an excuse for letting a child run riot", "it's rubbish and about poor parenting", "we didn't have all these children diagnosed like this when I was a child", "it's all about getting extra benefits out of the system", they get their kids labelled and then they claim benefits (amazingly these people think it is THAT easy) etc etc etc.

I have heard all the above and more since J was diagnosed, maybe because I have read about the condition and made myself aware of the history and theories behind it. Sadly the above comments are not restricted to strangers and much to my irritation and sadness have come from members of J's family. And I say "irritation and sadness" because if J does not have his family behind him what hope is there that anyone else will support him.

Other little gems regarding his Dyspraxia and ASD have been "he's not THAT bad", "let's teach him to use a knife and fork right now" (as the Occupational Therapist has struggled I doubt YOU will have greater success) which also blatantly suggests the advisor in question has little opinion of my parenting skills.

But back to ADHD. There appears a concerted effort by the powers that be currently, to label anyone disabled and claiming DLA as a "scrounger sponging off the State". The Daily Mail and The Telegraph are cases in point and in no time you nave those who have swallowed their copy of the Daily Mail for breakfast spouting forth about those with disabilities for daring to claim the benefits they are ENTITLED to.
This is bad enough without getting the same people - and there are now thousands of them, onto the subject of the "hidden" disabilities. Evidently people like me are responsible for fecklessly allowing our children to run riot and we the then "get them labelled" to excuse poor behaviour. They are then full on in their condemnation of such parents "claiming benefits". They completely ignore the fact that many parents claiming DLA for a child might also be working and paying taxes, after all that does not fit with their narrow world view.
If only getting a diagnosis were that simple, in actual fact J was not diagnosed until he was over the age of 7 and even then it took time for the speech and language therapists, occupational therapists, educational psychologists and community medical officers to decide that J would benefit from being assessed by the social communication team. Once he was seen and assessed though the specialist team had no hesitation in diagnosing J with ASD. Getting a diagnosis of ADHD, although this was strongly suspected from the assessments which had already taken place took even longer, and was not formally diagnosed until other assessments had been completed.

So reading the continued propaganda being published by an increasingly Tory controlled press is disheartening,. I can tell myself that they are all arseholes ignorant people with a narrow world view, but this does not take away the fact that there are an awful lot of them with many hundreds of thousands of readers who hold an equally narrow world view. It is the. I feel depressed, it is then I despair, it is then I wonder about J's future life in a world which has decided his disability does not exist. All I can see for him is a future of isolation, an oddball with a made up label according to an increasingly intolerant and selfish population and a future of mental health problems as a result. It is then I want to cry.

The fuzzy wuzzy foggy reality!

Sometimes life is just too overwhelming and I don’t know where to begin. It’s a bit like looking through a smudged glass, all a bit misty and foggy and hard to see the reality. I find it hard to FEEL the reality, that’s what it’s like being me and what it has always been like. I told a counsellor once that my life and head felt like an un-tuned TV – all fussy and noisy without clarity. I don’t think she knew what to make of it or me.


All I can say is “it’s always been like that” because it has and I don’t know how this will ever change.

Some time ago (around 5 years ago) with yet another bout of serious depression I was given a new drug and the dose was increased. It was coupled with a beta blocker for anxiety - another issue which has always plagued me. I took the tablets for a week and then they kicked in.....lovely. For a few blissful days I experienced what it must be like to feel normal, I was alert, wakeful, controlled, calm and able to cope with the world. The disordered eating stopped and I had unending patience with James who I found challenging and difficult in the years before diagnosis explained his odd behaviours. It was wonderful.... and temporary, after around one week I returned to my normality which is foggy and unfocused.

I have had endless discussions with my GP regarding these issues and suggested ADHD/ADD. I have suggested Dyspraxia (which I am certain I fit) all to no avail, she will not refer me anywhere because I am an adult. Not only am I an adult but I am an adult “who has achieved and achieved well”. Yes I am but how much more could I have achieved  or how sooner could I have achieved things if the issues which have plagued me all my life been identified in childhood with a definite diagnosis.  There was lots of vague talk about my brain” working differently to other children”, just what did they mean? Meetings with an Educational Psychologist in childhood placed the blame firmly at my Mum’s door because her marriage had broken down despite the fact that it was my father who had left my mother high and dry. Great! If in doubt blame the mother, thankfully those days are gone.

My argument is that dyspraxic children grow into dyspraxic adults with the same challenges to their day to day lives. Likewise J is not unlike me as a child according to my Mum, let me think how many labels J has....and how much support he receives which was not there for me.

Interestingly I have learned this week that I had delayed speech and language development as well as difficulties with socialisation in school, the child who was bullied because she didn’t understand how to relate to the other children effectively, the child who was scared of flies and balloons which went BANG and left me feeling shaky, the total and utter disorganisation, the dislike of some wools next to my skin, the dislike of lots of background noise, facial blindness  meaning non-recognition if someone was seen out of contaxt and many of these issues remain. Not for no reason am I a tad isolated at times, not for no reason do I find it easier to relate to my cat who is more predictable than I find people to be sometimes.

Sooo... my GP will refer me nowhere and I am not accepting it, I am taking matters into my own hands and have a private appointment with a Clinical Psychologist in July. I want answers to the difficulties I have had all my life and which I still have even though I have learned many coping mechanisms. It will be interesting to see what she comes up with...if anything. Even no answer from her will be an answer of sorts. At the very least I hope it will give me some insight into this feeling of being overwhelmed and foggy.

Music, Medication and Amazing Relatives

I promised to report back on the medication so here it is...... it works. No idea of the how's and why's, just know that J's concentration levels are much improved and the only thing we've done differently is the pills.

A first music lesson has been successful and J learned the notes C, D and E which he has been slowly torturing me with ever since. And the same day as the music lesson J's class did "long jump" practice ... and J won!

Which leads me neatly on to famous relatives. It's a little known fact ( until now) that J has as a fifth cousin ( so very distant then) an athelete by the name of Lynn Davies who in 1964 won an Olympic gold medal for Great Britain in the Long Jump. He managed a distance of 8.23m which has never been equalled by a British athlete since. J wanted to know if Mr Davies aka "Lynn the Leap" had "jumped as far as I did"? My answer of "just a bit further dear" did not impress J who has serious winning "issues".

On the subject of famous relatives J's fourth cousin is the model and actress Lily Cole who is reported to currently be the 6th richest woman in the UK. Would you think me bad if I asked
her to be J's Godmother when he is baptised later this year?

"Yeah I know you've never met us but you were the first person we thought of - honest".

Why I like Sr Clare!

From the Parish magazine on 3rd April 2011.



From Sr Clare...

"Have you ever thought about calling God
‘Mother’?
When we call God ‘Father’ we are making a real
call to a personal God, but the image in which we
clothe our call is a metaphor. God is not a human
father. Nevertheless ‘Father’ is the nearest we can
get to a true picture, according to our teacher, the
Christ. (Matthew 23:8-10).
But God the Father is not a man, nor is he a male.
‘Mother’ is another picture of God that the
scriptures use, though nothing like as frequently
as ‘Father’. ‘Will a mother forget her child?’ asks
Isaiah. ‘Even if she did, I will never forget you.’
Many children see chiefly in their mother the
characteristics of unquestioning love and endless
faithfulness which we ascribe to God.
Jesus compares himself to a mother hen: ‘O
Jerusalem! How often would I have gathered your
children together as a hen gathers her brood
under her wings, and you would not’ (Matthew
23:37)
Sometimes it feels good for me to say ‘Our Mother
and Father who art in heaven’!
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!


Isn't that fabulous?  I think she says it beautifully and I find her enthusiasm and approach to life inspiring and open minded. Meant to post this at the time as it struck me when I read it how right Sr Clare was when she wrote these words.  She had said the same several weeks previously at the Journey in Faith course and it was good to hear but even better to see written down in more detail.

Too often we see a crude image of God in the masculine, the proverbial  "old man" flowing beard and all the other manifestations  so beloved of artists and Hollywood. We don't often sit down and think about the reality or the truth behind the patriarchal imagary. Why not a God who is in equal balance between the divine masculine and feminine? Isn't that a more likely and more balanced construct?

Many of us (either identifying as "religious" or not) have forgotten or lost the notion that God the Father was never separate from God the Mother and we have lost that duel aspect of developing a relationship with God in full completeness and balance. Interestingly during the years in which I saw myself as "pagan" I found many more people who DID see the male and female aspects of the divine and were much more accepting of this way of seeing God in balance though not accepting a Christian tradition of God. This balance was something which seemed right to me and was probably one of the reasons I was drawn to the pagan tradition initially. They were also much more aware of the dangers our masculine and technological society was capable of wreaking upon the Earth.

So Sr Clare's thoughts on this divine balance were refreshing to read and affirmed for me that I am now in the right place spiritually.

After several years of identifying with the pagan Goddess it feels right that it should be a woman who showed me that the Catholic Church was not the crusty old place I had imagined or assumed. That it can be pro-active and forward thinking, that the people involved were human and multi-dimensional, that there was an acceptance of more than one way for people to find God in their lives. And they have a successful approach - the church is packed to bursting point on Sundays with the overspill going into the church hall. So successful and busy are the Parish churches that there has just been planning permission granted for an extension to one church to accommodate all who attend. This is something I will bear in mind for the weekly torture session  Childrens Liturgy which it is my happy duty to assist with.

Conversations with the ones I (mostly) love.

So tomorrow is Prince and Princesses day at school courtesy of Wills and Kate’s wedding on Friday which co-incidentally will also be 11 years to the day since I tied the knot with M who is J’s Dad.


J will not hear of just plain clothes for the day and so a trip is made into town to buy a readymade crown and a metre of gold fabric which can be twisted into a cloak without too much hassle.

J informs me that he would like several fancy buttons and adornments sewn onto the cloak. I inform J that I am crap at needlework and short on time so he will have the outfit which involves the least possible effort on my part but which looks as though I have gone the whole hog.

Back home J tries on the fancy crown and material cloak – Skype is up and running so I suggest we Skype Daddy to show him the costume which goes down a storm.

While in conversation with M I mention a plan to attend a silent retreat in October this year. M does not even pretend to hide his amusement but does agree to have J for the weekend as long as he can have a silent retreat in a Pub on my return. M then disappears from the screen saying “just a mo”.

The phone rings and it’s my Mum – M returns to the screen with guitar singing “Shine Jesus Shine” and generally takes the piss, he then suggests that if I am attending a silent retreat I also take my mother.

My mother asks if M is here and I say he is on Skype. My mother suggests I turn M off until he can behave.

M then begins to play out the role of “some poor monk who took a vow of silence in 1945 but then came across you two”.

I think it safe to say M is off the Xmas card list this year.

Meanwhile J is dressed not as a prince but “as a King” apparently and is beginning to enjoy ordering me around.

The cat is yowling in the kitchen because she has suddenly taken an abject dislike to the fancy overpriced spoilt animal cat food which starving cats in other places would be glad of. As the years progress she is rapidly becoming like our last cat Grace who was , according to M “the most pampered animal that God ever put breath into”. All signs are that Drusilla is headed the same way in the pampered animal stakes.

Oh and M is taking me out for dinner next week (oh yes you are dear – and I like my wine to be white, chilled and dry).