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Wednesday 29 October 2014

Tell Three Women

Okay, girlfriends, picture the scene. You park the car and go for a walk one day, taking pictures as you go. You're 35. A hill-walker. Pretty fit. You're working full time in a job you enjoy and you've not long moved to your first ever 'bought' house in an island village. All is well with your life. 

About an hour into the walk, you realise you're quite tired. Your eyesight feels a bit odd but you've had migraines for years and 'visual disturbance' is common in some migraines. You have a bit of a headache as well. In fact, the pain runs from the top of your head down into the right side of your neck. You head back to the car and drive home quite slowly. Over the next few weeks, you feel worse and worse. You lose control over your right eye for a while. Your right hand starts to curl in. Your right knee buckles. Both hands and legs tingle. Your speech becomes slurred. And the pain in your head gets worse and worse and runs from your head down into your back and your right elbow. You'll be a bit worried about your control over your bladder because for a while you can't tell when you need to 'go' - so you go all the time - just in case.

You won't find out for quite a while but you've just had a stroke. This happened to me 31 years ago. My GP didn't diagnose it but sent me to the wrong hospital, the Victoria in Glasgow, where I was lucky enough to find myself in a consultation with a young doctor who immediately referred me to the right place: the Southern General Neurological Institute. From the moment I got there, I knew I was in good hands. Their experience and expertise were crucial to my recovery, although I have to say that I put my survival before that down to the physiotherapist who regularly carried out what I believe is called 'inter-costal drainage', a technique that eased the pain in my back and helped me to relax.  

Stroke is more likely to kill women than breast cancer but we don't hear much about it, do we? Yes, there have been posters around for a while:


I don't really find these helpful. For one thing, every stroke is different and you don't always get visual indicators that other people can identify. (I got little sympathy from my immediate boss because I didn't 'look' ill most of the time.) And these posters can be quite alarming unless you know that you have up to two years after a stroke to recover, so the weakness and disability may not always be as severe as they were at the start. But at least these posters and the current ads by the Stroke Association emphasise the need for early diagnosis and also that a stroke can happen to anyone at any age and for lots of reasons - and survival is not just possible but likely. And to be brutal: the younger you are the more likely it is you'll get better and the more of your powers you'll recover.

When I started to feel better, I took out a covenant with Oxfam. Just by way of a thank you. I reckon I've donated over £30,000 to them since then. I didn't know about the Stroke Association. But I'm glad they're around and glad to urge you to take part in their current campaign directed at women:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5L-r2puKZs&feature=youtu.be




Wednesday 22 October 2014

Gardyloo!


Let's play a new game. It's called how many objects can you cram into the cubicle of a public toilet - apart from the toilet?

Of course, I can only speak for ladies' toilets, but here goes.

There will be two waste bins, one on either side of the loo. Neither of the bins will be labelled so it is a mystery what they are for and why we need two. Maybe there are bin wars going on, with the manufacturers of toilet bins fighting for supremacy in loos across the land. The main use of these bins as far as I can see is to reduce the space available for people to sit on the toilet, because the bins are usually taller than the actual loo and stick out beyond it.

There will be a hand sanitizer, usually attached to the wall of the cubicle. It will be empty. It probably hasn't been filled since the toilets were installed, so its only use is to stick a few inches out from the wall just where you can bang your elbow on it.

There may also be a toilet brush in a white plastic holder. It's often behind the toilet and, frankly, that's where it's staying. Nothing will persuade me to touch that.

Next to the hand sanitizer will be the toilet roll holder. This is often in the form of a large drum, again sticking several inches out from the wall. It will be very badly designed. It's supposed to allow the user to pull off several sheets of paper at a time but usually it's empty or it's stuck. If it's empty there may be several rolls of paper in the cubicle: one on top of the drum, one on the floor (yuk) and maybe one on top of the toilet. If the drum is stuck, the floor of the cubicle will be covered with wee bits of paper, proof that previous users have tried to coax some paper out of the drum. These will attach themselves to your shoes when you leave, flapping as you walk till some kind person (usually another woman) points them out to you.

Myself I always carry tissues in my bag. If I'm on a trip lasting most of a day, I carry a flat pack of Izal toilet paper just in case. I also carry a sanitizer spray. Yes, I know, it's a bit OCD but I've watched American women try to open a toilet door without using their hands. It's a tribute to their agility that they can reach the door handle with their feet but I'm past that stage myself. And I am all too familiar with the principle of 'hovering' in ladies' toilets and the spray that sends up. Not to mention the tendency of wee girls to dribble on the seat. I'm taking no chances.

Behind the door of the toilet, there may be a coat hook. Storage in toilets is something that isn't given enough thought. Most women need two hooks, one for the jacket and the other for the bag.What the hell do you do if there isn't a hook? Does that floor look clean and pee-free to you? Of course, the hook behind the door may mean that when you hang up your jacket and bag and sit down on the toilet, you may be nose to nose with them. Yes, some toilets are that small (v Fraser's of Buchanan Street).

I'm in two minds about 'public' toilets. They're not public since such a beast no longer exists but are in shops and public buildings, but at least they're there, which is more than you could say twenty years ago - and more than you can say in la belle France even today. As an 'older' woman I'm grateful. On the other hand, I wish I had the cast iron bladder of a former colleague who boasted she had never used a toilet in the school we worked in but always waited till she got home. I am also grateful to whichever member of staff cleans the toilets every day. In supermarkets, I'm told the person who pisses off the boss gets to wave the giant red hand telling customers where the queue is shortest. Maybe the other punishment involves cleaning the 'facilities.'

Actually, I'm in three minds about public toilets because I've been to Japan, where the door to the cubicle opens as you approach it (no hands), the light comes on as you enter (ditto), the seat is automatically sanitized and lowered for you to sit, the toilet paper machine automatically dispenses 2 sheets when you reach for them. The flush works when you wave at it. As does the door. There's also soothing music and perfume scents the atmosphere at regular intervals. I spent quite a lot of time in the toilet in Japan - and I wasn't ill. I just had to avoid the toilets that were flush with the floor. A lot of Japanese women like to squat to pee.

In India, on the other hand, there are more mobiles than toilets. Priorities, huh?

Tuesday 21 October 2014

And to hell with principle?

Last Monday, I saw Diane off back to Colonsay after a week of culture, fine dining (out, not here) and plenty blethering. I like to think by the time we get to the end of these discussions, we've got the world put to rights, though I can never remember later how we did it. I put her bedclothes and towels in the machine, did a little leisurely dusting and hoovering and sat down with my paper and a coffee. The doorbell rang. It was a delivery man bringing my Nioxin shampoo and conditioner from a firm in Liverpool (the cheapest I've found). As I signed for the parcel, he looked down and said: 'That's a helluva lot of wine bottles for one weekend.'

To explain: just inside my front door I keep two bags: one for paper and plastics and one for glass. When I've filled these I transfer the contents to the big bags provided by the council which are kept in the outside shed. I was a bit taken aback at his comment but settled for saying: 'No, no, no - that's not from the weekend' (4 empty wine bottles). 'That's just last night.' He frowned. Before he could say anything else, I handed him back his wee machine and shut the door.

I was furious when he left, stomped around a bit, had a good swear. Because he had just displayed one of the characteristics of the Scot that I most dislike: this willingness to tell other people how to live their lives. In fact, to tell people off.

Maybe I've been unlucky. All my life, I've been on the receiving end of advice from people who mostly haven't a clue what they're talking about. There was the neighbour who disapproved of me going to university and my sister going to college. What was the point? he asked. You're 'only' going to have have weans and stop work. (Yep, it was the 60s - that golden age). There were the colleagues who tried to talk me out of moving to Argyll (on two occasions) because there was 'no point going there.' (Well, it wasn't Glasgow.) There was the friend who advised Diane and me when we were on our uppers (me a teacher and Diane married to a farmer) that 'you really need to have a couple of thousand in the bank.' Do I need to say this friend had gone from her parents' house to her husband's house on marriage and stopped work almost at once to have her children, safe in the knowledge that there was a secure wage coming in?

In the past month, I have had otherwise sensible people telling me I need to 'give it up'. That is, give up my wish for my country to be an independent nation. Just accept that 'we' lost the referendum and move on.

I was raised a socialist by socialist parents and grandparents. At no point did any of them say: Right, that's it. We lost the election. Our socialist principles have been rejected by the electorate, so we need to give up and move on. We hung in there and fought for what we thought was right.

Why would my aim of independence be any different? It's not a fantasy or an obsession. I haven't been infected by some germ carried by the SNP (never voted for them and probably never will; don't like Alex Salmond but see no reason to depict him as the devil; joined the Greens last month because they express principles I believe in). I have in fact carefully thought through why independence is the way forward. And the insistence by some 'unionists' on using the word 'separatist' to describe people like me is just annoying. Like the word independence carried some kind of infection.

Nothing has happened since the referendum to change my view: we still have Trident missiles 25 miles from Glasgow; we still face the prospect of more and more right-wing government with Ukip leading the charge out of Europe; not only are we not represented by the Tories and Lib Dems, we're not even represented now by Labour; I see the poor and the disabled victimised even more by government; I see the rich getting richer while we have coined the term 'the working poor' to describe people doing a 40 hour week but still needing tax credits (from you and me, the tax payer)  to survive. And let's not even mention the Tory councillor in Brighton who thinks access to food banks should be means-tested to stop people asking for food.

Something has gone horribly wrong in the UK and I would love to hear from people who voted no in the referendum if they are still confident in their decision, still believe we are better together and see a way forward for Scotland.

Monday 13 October 2014

Murder, murder, polis

Scotland now has one police force for five and a half million people. This is principally meant to be a way to save money. I object to this for quite a few reasons. 

Firstly, bigger is not better. The trend all over Europe is towards smaller administrative units in all kinds of government, closer to the people who pay for them and more answerable to their wishes. These can be health authorities, local government or police services. I have to wonder why Scotland is going against the trend.

Another worry is who these larger units are answerable to. Who investigates the police, for example, when there are complaints? It was bad enough when we had 12 police authorities and they investigated each other. Now, I suppose, we have to get somebody in from outside Scotland. Extra cost, extra time needed and no guarantee the outside force will know the lie of the land here.

Then there's the matter of who decides what is sometimes called 'tactics' and what I prefer to call policy. 

This is Sir Stephen House, chief constable of Scotland's single police force. He is obviously very well qualified to do his job. 
For most of 2014, Scotland's specially trained armed police officers have been bearing firearms when carrying out their everyday duties, sometimes on the streets. I don't like this and I'm not the only ordinary citizen who dislikes the idea of armed police routinely appearing among us, rather than being trained to arm themselves only when trouble appears. Sir Stephen doesn't seem to have negotiated this with anyone and, worse, he seems to confuse policy (in Scotland, we do not arm our police officers as a matter of course) and tactics (he may need armed police officers at any time and doesn't want to waste time going back to a central area to collect the guns). 

Scotland is not a violent country. We don't as a matter of course expect to hear gunfire on our streets. That may come, of course, if terrorist threats escalate and gangsters get access to weapons from other parts of Europe. But the arming of a previously unarmed police force is a serious issue that needs a lot of discussion - which we haven't had. 

And just in passing, I loathe Sir Stephen's new uniform. To me it looks semi-military. Not at all the 'communautaire' image I want the head of our police force to project. It's bad enough to see the proliferation of hi-vis vests throughout the land. (Anybody know why nursery weans going for a walk need to wear hi-vis vests?) Sir Stephen and the senior members of the police force may like this image but some of us want our police to look like us. Not Rambo.

Sunday 5 October 2014

The mind goggles

I like watching Gogglebox (Friday night 9pm on C4), in which groups of 'real' people watch programmes on TV and have their reactions recorded. I'm not sure how the people are chosen for the show: there are quite a few families including one where 'the boy' never talks, a gay hairdresser couple (except in real life they are not a couple any more), two female friends, a pair of pukka drunks who run a B&B, a C of E minister and her partner + greyhound, a retired pair of teachers, a father and his two sons of apparently Asian descent (whose womenfolk never appear - where on earth are they?) and so on. The people come various regions of England, although I've yet to see anyone appear from Wales, Scotland or Northern Ireland. My favourites are the friends: Sandra and Sandy.










The groups are obviously told to watch certain programmes including this week the news, a documentary about 9/11, Strictly Come Dancing and X Factor.

I've never watched Strictly or X Factor, so these have been quite an eye-opener for me.


X Factor is a disgrace to the name 'entertainment.' This week Cheryl Cole keeps on two talentless singers but rejects the third who has a great voice and engages with her audience. The studio audience goes wild. The people at home watching for Gogglebox shout at the telly: Cheryl, what are you doing?! Well, it's perfectly clear what Cheryl is doing: exactly what Simon Cowell has told her to do. Does he own the franchise by any chance? She has stirred up a bit of controversy. Fixed the result. Pushed the TV ratings up. It's called manipulation.

Strictly is just as bad: 'celebrities' (a much over- used word in my book) are paired up with professional dancers, given some rehearsal time and allowed to make an absolute arse of themselves onstage.The comments from the Gogglebox people about Greg Wallace's dance moves were not flattering. I know why the mainly young people queue up to audition for X Factor, but why would established folk want to be on Strictly? Are they working on the principle that any publicity is good publicity?

I find myself sympathising with my late father who admired real entertainers, the ones with talent, but hated what he called 'cheap' entertainment: theatre shows or TV programmes where the audience were encouraged by some third rate entertainer to sing along, join in - or, as my old man used to put it: do their effin jobs for them.

Judging by the reaction of most of the people on Gogglebox, they don't usually watch TV news broadcasts. They judge the news by the same standards as the other programmes they watch: for their entertainment value - it's all chewing gum for the mind. The only time the people truly engaged with what was happening onscreen was as they watched a documentary about 9/11.

These are not stupid or uneducated people but they seem to have no critical faculties at all. Possibly they had to start with but have been ground down by decades of Allo Allo. Apart that is from Leon, the retired teacher. Leon asks questions and expresses opinions. His wife doesn't really appreciate his interruptions but I do. I would like to take this interruptions further:

I'd love to ask the producers of Gogglebox why they called it that, since it became clear in the last series that most people had no idea what the title meant.

I'd like to know what the people watching think of the mix of programmes they are asked to view. Did it occur to them that September was a suitable month to show a documentary about 9/11? Do they think Simon Cowell is simply ripping the piss out of young people desperate for a break in the music business? Is Strictly exploitative of people under contract to the BBC who can't refuse to take part?

But then there are so many questions I'd like to ask TV people, starting with why the BBC have packaged up a show 5 nights a week that appears at 7pm  - just before the soaps start on BBC1 and ITV - and is nothing but an advert for forthcoming BBC programmes. Does any other channel get to do this? Nope, because other channels depend on advertising for their money and advertisers wouldn't allow it. But the BBC is sustained by your licence fee and mine and can do whatever the hell it likes.





Wednesday 1 October 2014

What happened?

I met a man from Kosovo yesterday. I didn't ask him where he was from. I've learned in the last few years not to ask that of anyone in Scotland who looks or sounds different from me. He volunteered the information.

We started off talking about the weather and he said he liked the weather here. In fact, he likes Scotland a lot though he's only been here three years. He went to London from Kosovo in 1998. He had been in a prison camp, held for months by the Serb army and only released because the West imposed a settlement on the Serbs and western countries agreed to take some Kosovan Muslims as refugees. I looked up the entry for Kosovo in Wikipedia. It's worth a look: this country of 2m people probably has a longer Wiki entry and a more tangled history than most of Europe.

The man praised the western powers for their actions in Kosovo. (He's probably one of Tony Blair's few fans.) In fact, he praised a lot of things here in Britain and is glad to be here even though he can't work at his profession (mechanical engineering) because his qualifications are not recognised and so has taken a lot of what he called 'random jobs', that is the ones Brits don't want to do. He likes Scottish people. Most of them are friendly, according to him.

That, sadly, led him on to describe some pretty horrible experiences he's had in Scotland. Like being told by one Scot: 'I hate all foreigners.' And by another: 'You people are taking over my country.' It's not just that these remarks are ridiculous. In fact, stupid. How can you hate all foreigners? Since Scotland has the lowest level of immigration and the lowest population density in the UK if not the EU, how can immigrants possibly take over?

But it's not just the stupidity involved. It's that there are people who think it's okay to talk to other people like that. In Scotland. In the 21st century. I remember a friend telling me how she'd been berated over the phone by a stranger - a Scot - on the grounds that Americans (she's Canadian) are responsible for the state of the world right now - warmongers, murderers all of them. And a South American friend was insulted in a shop by a Glaswegian Asian because he thought she was Muslim and he disapproved of her hanging around with a white man (who was in fact her Scottish husband).

It's certainly true that there's been a frightening rise in right-wing groups all over Europe in the last twenty years. But there's something else happening in Britain.

Before I blocked them, I was getting Facebook ads for the Conservative Party. They all invited me to have my say. But only on two subjects: immigration and 'welfare'.

The Tory Party has latched onto these topics and made immigrants and people on benefits scapegoats for everything that's gone wrong in this recession (and no, it's not over as far I can see from Scotland, even if it is in central London). The bankers, stock markets gamblers and most of the Ponzi scheme managers are still free and making money.

The British public seems to have bought into the idea that Britain is 'full' and can take no more immigrants, when in reality the population density here is pretty low and we need immigrants to do the 'random' jobs my Kosovan acquaintance talked about, more so in Scotland than elsewhere. And people on benefits are said to be getting something for nothing or spending their benefits on drink and drugs, whereas most of them are either pensioners or working families earning so little they need tax credits or folk who are sick or disabled or have lost their jobs but paid into tax and national insurance for years before they were laid off.

The politicians could help set the record straight but the LibDems keep quiet in case they're tainted with the same reputation as the Tories and Labour edge closer and closer to the Tories in order to get into power, taking on the same punitive policies. Then there's Ukip - but I'm not going there. Newspapers and TV stations like Sky, the BBC and ITV play their part too, as do some Facebook and Twitter groups like Britain First. Stories appear that clearly have no substance and the flames of hate are fanned by poor and sensational reporting that is never contradicted because, well, who is there to contradict them?

For example, there was a programme on ITV last week about migrants in Calais trying to get into Britain. There was no attempt to investigate how these people had ended up in Calais and whether they had been offered help in other countries on their way north; no attempt to find out if they were aiming for Britain because they had family there; no reporting of what the French government or the EU were doing to manage this influx of - well, I would call some of 'refugees' but that's a word that's totally out of favour right now. There was a faint air of panic in the reporting.

A friend of mine told me in all seriousness a couple of weeks back that post office employees reported handing over benefit payments of £1000 a week to 'foreigners.' I said it was impossible for anyone to get payments like that because there's a benefits cap in place of £25,000 or £26,000 a year. What he was telling me suggested people could get £52,000 a year in benefits, which is clearly nonsense. But who could tell him he was wrong, apart from me? And I'm not sure he believed me.

We live in a very unkind country now.

And the terrible thing is this is all a distraction from the real issues: poverty wages (Tories talk about the UK as a 'low wage economy' as if that's a good thing); the scapegoating of the disabled; the triumph of capitalism which is making lots of money but at the cost of the fabric of our communities.

Normally I'm an optimist. I'm the person who is told to give up the ideals and get a sense of 'reality.' If this is reality, friends, you can keep it.