Mother

My Mother passed away in April 2007 at the time I felt nothing. Even now I feel little emotion and am unaware of pain. Yet somehow it is occuring to me of late that she was the most remarkable woman that ever lived. Maybe I never knew my Mother. She never showed me the physical affection that I often craved. On at least one occasion she repeatedly told me I wasn't coming home when I was screaming in desperation. I don't know what it was all about.

I sometimes wonder if I ever really knew my Mother. How much was there trapped within her that I never saw? How well did my Father know her? For much of her life she lived to help and support my Father. In the final years as she became weaker and more confused the roles were reversed. My Father was her sole carer in her final times and probably the best she could have had. If my Father could have total, unrestricted control over someone or something he was amazing. Could this possibly be a form of divine justice? My mother was not too dissimilar to a child at the end. I remember as a small child my Father playing with me as a child with my Mother in the background.

My Mother started to be a care worker in when I became partially independant at 10 or 11.. At the time they were called Mentally Subnormal or Mentally Retarded. Mentally Handicapped was an advanced term . They did ,however,, clap with applause when she started a shift. She also wrote a novel that I never saw and poetry on pieces of scrap paper. It was very depressing and often got screwed up shortly afterwards. When I did my English degree I bought a copy of James Joyce's Ulysses, I didn't understand a word of it. She never had an education in any formal sense but was able to explain it all to me. When she was young she ran a book shop.

My Mother had a love of Opera and had Maddame Butterfly and La boheme and others on vinyl. I never really understood Opera it was often sung in Italian for a start. When I was about 12 I first heard her Operatic type voice. It had been dormant for many years and remained so afterwards.

When I went shopping with her she would talk to many people even those who didn't seem keen. Easily upset I would have walked off at the slightest snub - she persevered. When I went out with her she would always introduce me.'this is my son.' As a teenager I would resent it. As an adult I appreciated it. In her final years it was 'my Son - a Psychiatric Nurse in Cambridge' until Psychiatric Nurse and Cambridge became meaningless concepts too her.

She would stumble and fall and it became more frequent. Eventually it was just to the front gate where she would wave at passers by. After this she was restricted to the fall walls of the bungalow. Even then she seemed perfectly happy.

She told me that as a child she was frightened of the Lord's prayer the words 'forever and ever' scared her.

Perhaps I never really knew my Mother. Perhaps I might in the hereafter?

Thoughts On Cycling

As a child of maybe10 or11 I have distinct recollections of doing wheelies down a 2 mile bendy hill near Bristol Airport. In recent years, however, I have had fears of even getting on a bike. What changed in between? Well part of it is simply getting older. More experience leads to more worries about things going wrong. At 10 or 11 I was fearless about the possibility of breaks failing at a crucial point or about colliding with a quiet unseen car. At 44 I worry even about cycling across a road if I think there is any semblance of danger.

Another central factor is in between events. At 15 on a quiet, straight stretch of road on a Sunday afternoon. I tested the new speedometer on my mountain bike. I thought to myself a crash is extremely unlikely. I gave no thought to two dogs shooting out right in front of me from behind a wall. There was no warning whatsoever. Breaking my collar bone was a seminal experience as was being bruised all over, my bike together with speedometer was a right off and I had little sympathy for the whines of the dog.

Aged 38 was a second experience. This one took place at 6.50am on a dark January morning. Going around a roundabout on the way to work the driver said he didn't see my front light which was working but a bit dim. The next thing I knew was my head hitting the tarmac at the opposite side if the car and the helmet breaking into three pieces. I must have gone over the bonnet and was extremely fortunate to be free of pain. Without headgear I could be dead!

This week I have made a fresh commitment to cycle but no more wheelies down bendy hills. Not for the present time anyway!

Popularity is a strange thing. Often its coming and going are chance issues of saying the right thing or being in the right place at the right time. Overnight practically everyone can love you, defer to you and pull out the red carpet and it can be lost equally easily. Even if our personal respect can last a lifetime it is still a relatively short time. Respect and trust are much harder things to gain or earn and a close friend even harder. But true friends are those that remain long after it has gone from fashion and remain to love the real you, and with whom you can totally relax, as opposed to a finely honed image. One of those and you are fortunate, severel is extra special and far more important than fleeting fame and fortune.

Under the surface

I have learnt in life that things are not always what they appear on the surface. People who at seem dumb and stupid can suddenly, unexpectedly, reveal insights. My mate at University Laurence was a case in point. Because he spoke little people superficially assumed he knew little. But when he finally entered into conversations he proved to be pertinant, insightful revealing hidden depths of learning and experience. What, at first may appear unstimulating and dull can infact be an oasis of growth and stimulation.

Guitar

A few days ago I bought a new guitar.The neck broke on my former very cheap one. I am not a brilliant musician but use it to express myself, to write songs. My real gifting is with words and music, in my scheme of things, is a back up to my words. I like the guitar it is portable, versatile and not intrusive.