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I’ve been an adult for over 30 years now. I have been around the block a lot of times and what I am about espouse will infuriate a lot of people.  I want to know who actually believed that Woman’s Liberation was liberating?  I have spent my whole adult life as a drudge for this ideology, and I am now damn mad about this. I am not looking at liberation but extinction.

Feminism was supposed to the greatest single thing I could ever imagine. Every door was supposed to be open to me, and it was my responsibility to walk through them. I could be whatever I wanted to be – with the grand exception of being a home-maker. That was/is regressive, oppressive and socially unacceptable. I was to go out and ‘make something of myself’ for the generations of women who had been oppressed before me. I was to scale the mountains of The Corporate World and break glass ceilings, laughing as those shards fell and pierced the men below me. Those men would now bleed and know what true oppression was.

I am now in my mid-fifties.  I am tired, no, exhausted. I am not alone. I tried it all. I worked internationally as a musician. I ran businesses and wore the silk suits. I made money and a lot of it. I also became a wife and mother. My husband was working in finance in the City of London for the large merchant banks. He was working a 12 hour day to fulfil his dreams. At that point in his life, he wanted children in a more theoretical sense, but as I am older than he is, I wanted them more immediately. As a Gen X woman, I could do it and who really needed a man.

The question becomes who is raising our children? Now I, like the silly person I am, believed that I “could have it all”.  Women were not just women, but we were Super Women – like Wonder Woman but with kids. I could handle the stress of business and raise my boys. I tried the Nanny route and found that, as lovely as they were, it didn’t work for the boys. And when one of my boys was diagnosed with a special educational need, it really didn’t work. So I went to part-time work and full time Mum. I was working the equivalent of 16 hour days 6 days a week. Sunday I only worked the required 5 “Mum Hours”. To be a Super Woman I also had to hire a housekeeper and a gardener.  Why? Because I was only 1 human being trying to be 6. I became bitter because I wouldn’t let my husband do anything but play on his computer. That was what being a modern woman meant.

We, as women, can’t denigrate men and make them feel worthless, then turn around and expect them to help us. We, as women, can’t declare that we don’t need men and then expect them to behave like partners. We, as women, can’t declare that we are the best at raising children and then expect men to behave like fathers. We, as women, cannot expect good marriages if we act like we’re helpless and then emasculate our men. Sorry, I’m being logical again.

I know some of you will point out that there are men out there who are dogs. Yes, I know. I do wonder why they are dogs as well. I know that some men are violent bastards. I do believe that we, as women, must make sure they go to jail for assault just like any other criminal. This “but I love him” thing has got to stop. There are several things to consider regarding male behaviour: 1) why do they act the way they do, 2) why do we act the way we do, 3) why haven’t we fixed the next generation in a positive manner?

I currently believe, as I watch my adult sons, that men are actually frightened. We have taken from them the things that make them men and they don’t know what to do. Some of them will “act out”, some of them will become insular and some will collapse into drugs and depression. We are watching this daily on a grand scale in the Western European Civilization. My sons currently don’t have girl friends. My youngest has never had one. He is not gay, but he is not willing to put up with the attitude and behaviour of women his age. My eldest says that when he gets home from a stint in the military he will be looking for a Christian girl with a love for horses to marry. He says he thinks his chances are good at finding a wife who might want him as a husband. My youngest says that he has no chance of getting married and having children, a family, because he would want someone who would be a helpmate in life and understand his drive to be a Vicar.  They don’t like drinking; they don’t like football; they don’t like cheap engagements. They want women they can care for and protect. I honestly don’t think I will be blessed with grandchildren. They are manly men and I know that is not acceptable any more.

This leads me to why are we women acting the way we are? What actually is in it for us? I watch the response, and was a victim of that response for 6 months, to women who want to be home-makers. Why do we look down on it? To be a good home-maker you need to be a nutritionalist, a dietician, a nurse, a carpenter, an accountant, a secretary, a logistics expert, a tailor, a laundress, a mechanic, and a cleaner. I can see why women wanted to go to work outside the home. There is less to do! However, if we declare that we don’t need men in our lives because we are Super Women and can do it all, we can not complain when we have a full-time job AND all of that to do. There are single mothers by choice and those who did not have that choice. And there are married women who chose to act in a manner that make them single mothers. I was one of the last group.

It wasn’t until I had a life changing accident that I LET my husband have a real say. He thought I was happy being in charge. I thought I was, but I was always frustrated and angry about things. I wanted my house to be clean. It never was and I was angry at husband and children for making messes – messes I took some sort of great pleasure in cleaning up while guilt tripping them with my martyrdom. My self created martyrdom. I was frustrated at my children's behaviour but my own was one of swinging from good-parent to bad-parent. They never knew where they stood because of my moods which were based in my exhaustion. My exhaustion came from my belief that I had to do everything because this was what I was indoctrinated to believe. I wasn’t so much a woman but a shapely man. My husband’s position in the household was to provide me with sex upon demand and that was it. Outside of copulation he had little to no value. This type of behaviour is supposed to improve human society how?

So our boys and young men of the next generation have a problem. They are blamed for everything, loved as is convenient, and used as is necessary. The human race requires male and female to reproduce. What is actually going to happen when we women drive men so Incel or MIGTOW that they have no desire to do the very basic of human drives: reproduce? Are we actually advocating for the extinction of the human race? How do we fix this madness before we have destroyed ourselves with the same amount of thought processes as the dinosaurs?

Long ago I belonged to a debating society called the Cogers. I stood and debated that humans of all types need to take personal responsibility for their actions. I still believe this. In the late 1990s, when I argued this position, I was roundly denounced by Communists and Socialists for expecting people to be emotionally strong in an oppressive world. I countered by pointing out that an oppressive world would only get worse if people did not become strong and face it. I fear that I lost this argument and am still loosing it today. Personal responsibility is taking a hard look at the choices you have made and the reasons for those choices. Personal responsibility is accepting the consequences for those choices and not blaming others for the outcomes.

It has been half a century since the Women’s Liberation Movement began. Women now sit at the highest seats of government and bureaucracy. Women hold power in both the Church and Industry. Women are decorated soldiers, incredible doctors, and amazing scientists. Doors are only closed by the choices women make. If you want to be in STEM and you are a woman, then get the qualifications and you will have a job. If you want to be a athlete, then do your training to your best ability and you will be rewarded. It is not men who hold us back, but the choices we make. The choice to have and raise children is valid, necessary, and a biological imperative. Although women bear the children, it still takes 2 to tango. Men have a place and duty to those children.

I would also like to point out that if you live in a predominately Caucasian country, then white males will have a disproportionate amount of influence and power. That is rather a fact of life. The United States is 73% white and of that 73%, 49% is male. That’s a lot of men. A lot of White Men. I seriously doubt that they wake up each morning thinking about how they are going to oppress women or minorities. However, it seems to me that some women and minorities are waking up each morning trying to find a reason that they are oppressed. These apparently oppressed individuals have a lot media power and influence. They are busy creating the next generation without considering their own choices and the consequences of their actions. I also wonder if in the African Nations there are minorities who bitterly complain about the actions and situations of prominent black businessmen, military men and politicians. But I digress….

So in our Modern World, women are seeking to “overthrow the patriarchy” which seems to include all white males from birth onwards and a fair few brown and black males. We are burning our bras not realising that as we get older we will need that support. The males of all colours do need to be men. They need to be respected and cherished for their manliness. Yes, some will be awful, but some will be incredible. Men are not all that different from us, but we women must understand that they are different. We will not do the world any favours by stepping on them to lift ourselves up.

I am now no longer a Super Woman. I am just a super woman. I embrace all things that which makes me female while I use that brain which makes me on-par with any male. I have a balance now between being a home-maker and being a world-shaker. I’ve rather gone back to how women lived, quite happily, in the 17th Century: a home based business to make money while being present to help and support my family. It is now easy to slip a crock-pot meal on in between executive phone calls. I can plan a marketing campaign in a skirt and heels while reminding my youngest to top up his phone. I know that not all women can do this, but we have the technology so that more can. For those who do have to work outside the home, then we need as women, whose ancestors made the trade union movement possible, to help create healthy home-work life balances. What I am saying is that we need to make our lives work for us and to take responsibility for those lives. We need to stop expecting men to do it for us, appreciate when they help us, and we need to stop treating them like the enemy.

In a war there are winners and losers. This is not a War of the Sexes but a Battle for the Home-front. Our homes and families are what make humans of all types great. We need to bring the family back to the forefront of our concerns. Families where men and women work together to a common end and a nurturing environment for everyone. Extinction is usually permanent and all the money in the world won’t undo it. Giving birth and raising a children when you are 70 doesn’t work either. We can be strong if we work together as a positive group -- no Super Women, no Super Men, no blaming inherent qualities, no more dodging the consequences of our choices. If we want to end Western European Civilization, then we must accept that there will be others who will come and take our place. We will not have fixed the world or men or ourselves, but rather caused our own Caucasian Extinction.

That is not very liberating.

 

An Independent View

You can’t cross the same river twice. This statement is from an old, no ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus in 4^th Century BCE. I think this is an apt way to look at the upcoming Brexit or UK Independence Day celebrations. We are not going back to the 1980s but forward to the 2020s.

The idea of Heraclitus’s point is that both the river and the man crossing it are in a perpetual state of change. The river itself changes from moment to moment as the water rushes through its courses and meanders and rocks, sand and silt are moved and moving. Each second people change physically and mentally. We are growing older and learning new things by experiences, thoughts, ideas and situations. There is no way to halt the forward progression of time and its inevitable consequences of change.

Being a historian of sorts I like to look back on previous similar situations and draw conclusions. The separation of a territory from a greater political block is almost the definition of the British politic for the mid-to-late 20^th Century. The expansion and contraction of the British Empire has been the basis of study from high school onwards to highest levels of government around the world. At no point has the expansion or contraction pleased all people and distressed none. Britain has not been the only European power to enjoy this phenomenon. France, Spain and Portugal have all had a go at it, but it is Britain who has been able to recover the best from a contraction of both physical and political power.

England’s first serious and successful attempt at expansion was Ireland. Under the reign of Henry II, England moved to overtake its fellow island companion under the guise of crushing the Celtic Church which was considered to hold heretical beliefs from that of the Roman Catholic Church. In truth it was a power grab by Henry. It was all politics. It always is. England, later the United Kingdom, has fought long and hard to hold on to this verdant island. From the first real invasion in 1171 to the Anglo-Irish Treaty 1922 to the Good Friday Agreement 1998, the issue of Ireland has blessed, plagued and educated both the Crown and the government as how one should best handle expansion and contraction. Do I need state that the mistakes were innumerable?

The Tudor, Elizabethan and Stuart Periods saw England expand her lands and, hence, her international reputation and power. It would set the stage for many further expansions and wars. The best, worst and indifferent example would be the American Colonies. As an American, this whole period had been the main focus of my historical education from Kindergarten through High School. It was both a political education and an indoctrination. A fuller and more balanced view came during my university years.

Through a series of political mistakes and misunderstandings, Crown and Parliament failed to meet what would be considered a sensible level of political judgement and administration which ultimately ended with the Colonies declaring war against Crown and Parliament. Even during this conflict, Parliament never really considered the situation to be of that much importance. They were far more concerned with France and Austria, with a dash of Spain on the side. The Americas were just a nuisance. Parliament had a standing English Army in the Colonies which they supplemented with firstly the Irish, who within in 18 months had changed sides and joined the Americans, and then secondly the Hussars, who would happily fight as long as they were getting paid. Although not considered a major war by European standards, it became far more important when Britain's arch-enemy, France, came to support the Americans. That was not to be tolerated and then, and only then, did it become serious to Parliament. However, it was too late.

The War For Independence, a/k/a The Revolutionary War, was won by the defeat of Cornwallis’s Army at Yorktown on 3 September 1783. Cornwallis was a great and decorated general of high esteem, and he could see that war fought 3000 miles from home in a mixed terrain against a guerrilla force with uninterested soldiers after 8 years warfare was not a winning plan. When Cornwallis surrendered with dignity, the population of the Colonies was roughly 3,184,000. Of that total population, a group of 750,000, or 25%, of the colonists packed up and went back to England. They were not happy at the change of government. This was a huge number of refugees.

So what happened? Firstly the majority of the Colonial Refugees were not welcomed. In spite of being English, they were not “English”. They had changed. They had a different view and perspectives on society and politics. They did not have the same cultural behaviours. They spoke differently. They moved differently in business. They were considered crass at best and, if you were not wealthy, an untermench of sorts. It is figured that half of the refugees returned to the colonies or to Canada and provided the beginning of the western expansion. They did not such much cross a river back but built a bridge to the future.

So what did Britain do now that she was suffering from her first real contraction of size and power? She went on the offensive and found new lands to expand into – Australia, New Zealand, Canada (the ANZACs), Africa and the Middle East. Ultimately she took over the Indian Sub-Continent. The British Empire spanned the globe. It was impressive. She was the Queen of World Power. Then there was the 20^th Century. World War I, the Depression, World War II and the Crisis of the Middle East along with pressure from the United States, saw Britain slowly dissolve her Empire and create a Commonwealth of Countries. Britain's contraction was historically fast but politically slow. It was, by and large, successful. Yet another bridge built across an ever-changing river.

The rise of the economic situations in the 1980s saw the need for closer European ties. Britain had joined the European Economic Community (EEC) or as more popularly known, the Common Market in 1973. This laid the groundwork for what would become the European Union – a massive political and trade group which was to challenge American economic and political domination which has arisen after World War II. This would also guarantee that the European Countries would no longer fall into horrendous wars like that of the early 20^th Century. The North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) would still be implemented to keep the Soviet Union under control and at bay. With The Maastricht Treaty of 1992 creating the European Union and the further implementation of a Common Currency (the Euro) in 1999, France and Germany, along with Britain, were the central power houses. That being said, Britain was always the reluctant cousin in this new family of nations. We looked at the river and wasn’t sure we wanted to get wet.

This history lesson may be boring to those of us who have lived it, but for the last 25 years a whole generation of young people have grown up under it and do not like the current changes. They do not know of a time when UK Courts and not Brussels had the final say on UK laws, jurisdictions and rights. They are of a generation where it is being publicly questioned and debated about schools teaching World War I and II because of the emotional affect these wars and the subsequent outcomes may have on the pupils psychological state. Others in the political-educational realm feel that this chunk of 20^th Century history will only breed dislike or hatred for various European nationalities. There is a push to teach that we are all one and that history such as this is unnecessary.

Not knowing history is sure way to repeat it.

So what do I see happening at 11:01 on 31 January 2020? Everything and nothing. I am quite sure that the sun will rise in the morning. I am quite sure that my horses, then my children, will require feeding. I am sure that the weather will be typically English. I am sure that there are people who will be unhappy. One thing I know for sure is that we will not be returning to the Great Britain of the 1980s. That water has long flowed down the Thames and will not be returning ever.

The Great Britain of the 2020s will be a new creation. She will have the historical ties to her past: The Crown, Parliament, Common Law, Language, history, music and football. She will have new opportunities to become what she would like to be. She is no longer married to a politic she doesn’t love. All her children are grown and can deal with things for themselves but she is freer to be the mother state she should be without external interference from a pushy step-parent.

Those of you who wish to leave and live in Europe, please take a note of what happened in the 1780s. Take a look at what happened to American Slaves in Liberia in the 1860s, the German POWs in the UK in 1946, the Russian ex-pats upon their return in the 1990s. The home you think you are returning to is gone. By 1 February 2020 the Europe we know today will be different. Time has marched on. You will not be able to walk in that river again.

A major political change of this magnitude achieved with no bloodshed, no war, is a sign of just how far we as humans have come. We may argue with each other but we have not resorted to the level of violence our forefathers would have implemented. It has been done with respect. We should be able to shake hands and say that we gave it our best shot, but it just didn’t work for us. Politics should be rational and not emotional. I do want the best for our European brothers and sisters, but I don’t want to be in that relationship. I want a different one. We can have a different one.

The 31^st will have people celebrating and people crying. Perhaps also on the 1^st and 2^nd of February, but on Monday the 3^rd let us come together and start sorting out the problems that affect us in the UK the most – education, the NHS, the welfare state, mental health and homelessness. Let us stop trying to recross many old rivers, and look for the next one to jump into and have a good splash around in.

Humm…. I think I have just changed a bit.

Have We Grown Up Yet?

New Year’s Eve will soon be upon us. The Millennium is now 20 years old. It is old enough to hold a job, drink, take out a loan, buy a car, enter into a contract, join the military, buy cigarettes, get married, get divorced and pay alimony/child support. Yes our new century is an adult. Or is it? Quite frankly it reminds me of a petulant teenager.

I remember 1999 very well. I had a new born baby (January 3) and Prince’s “Party Like It’s 1999” had reemerged and was very popular. There was an air of expectation for both the amazing and the dire. My husband was toiling fearlessly on the Y2K project so the bank he worked for wouldn’t crash on 01/01/00. The air was pregnant with hopes and fears. It was going to be amazing. It was going to be the end of the world. It was going to be something. It was destiny.

As the clocked ticked to Midnight on 31 December 1999, the world didn’t so much as hold its breath but rather tuned in to every TV station so they could to watch each part of the world explode in joy and fireworks as the New Millennium was born again and again. I watched the fireworks displayed on the bridge in Sydney, Australia and the riot of colour in the night sky from Moscow, Vienna, Rome, Paris and then London. Later is was New York, Los Angeles, Honolulu and the far Pacific Islands. It was amazing as the world celebrated this birth of a new time. I felt very lucky and blessed and honoured to be able to be part of this world. For the first time in a very long time there felt like there was Hope – hope for a better future, hope for a better life, hope for our children and our planet. It was a John Lennon song come true.

So our Baby Millennium began to grow. People across the globe tried to reach out to each other during those first few magical … months. Then reality checked in. The Chechen War reignited. The Colombians kicked off again, while both the Sri Lanka and Nepal had civil wars. Tensions were building and it all culminated in 9/11. September 11, 2001 was the day that some clever clog felt it was right to punch the USA in the eye. It began a war which to this day, 19 years later, is not finished much less won. Instead of bringing the United States and the Western World to collapse, it actually strengthened it, and has caused 34 new conflicts which has resulted in millions to be killed. It created division. That division is still here and only getting bigger.

Yet we were still filled with hope. People tried to be kinder to each other (when they weren’t killing each other). There was a sense in the Western World that old grievances were just that – old. It was a time for forgiving. We wanted to be nice to each other and try to work together to build a new, fair, and beautiful society. It was to be one where colour, race, gender, ethnicity, beliefs were to be respected and not oppressed. There was a gentleness to it all. The most wonderful and fruitful moment for this new optimism came with the election of the Barack Obama to the US Presidency. A black man was in the White House. America had finally overcome her dark past and proved she was what she always promised – a land for all peoples with opportunity for all. Baby Millennium was growing up to be a very nice 8 year old child.

Unfortunately, our 8 year old Baby grew older. As she became a tween-ager, she started to be less nice. Wars were becoming nastier and terrorism became commonplace. In fact the world no longer really had set-piece wars, but an on-going, unending stream of violence against an unarmed and unprepared populace. People on the street wanted to live in peace, but extremists and factions didn’t want that. It is now the practice that to change people’s minds about their government or religion, one simply has to blow them up or mow them down regularly. Like an irritating adult-child, people began to think it was okay to stamp their feet and cry "unfair" when they were not happy.

Our Milli, as she now likes to be called, proved what a teenage she could be. She liked to divide people and declared who would be the Cool Kids and who would be the Deplorables. The Cool Kids declared regularly that they were all for inclusion and love – as long as it was on their terms. The Deplorables lashed out at being ignored and unwanted – their world was deemed frightening and depraved. The Cool Kids found dynamic topics that everyone should be concerned about – global warming & climate change, economic inequality, refugees and immigrants – and insisted that those become the only issues of importance. As they partied at conferences and held large rallies, The Cool Kids insisted that they knew the solutions – solutions which required The Deplorables to pay for them. The Cool Kids failed to see how their evident hypocrisy was infuriating the The Deplorables. They were completely blindsided when The Deplorables banded together to fight them. As Milli giggled, twirled her hair and wore too much make-up, her society began to fall apart.

Milli is now coming to her 20^th birthday. She should be past her petulant teenage days, but I fear she is not. She is enjoying being one of the bitchy society girls, one of the mean girls. She says she is all for love, but it you fail to meet her definition of love, then you will feel her wrath. She is defiantly standing on the moral high ground to which she may not be entitled to hold. Milli is controlled and defined by The Cool Kids and this could end most tragically.

Milli’s Society should not be of two parts. It should be inclusive but it should not be one that panders. A strong society is one where the majority are happy with where they fit in and what the beliefs are. A strong society is one where The Cool Kids listen to The Less Cool Kids and no one is a Deplorable. Milli’s Society is now splintering. Her confusion is rapidly becoming a multiple personality syndrome where everything is said and nothing is truly meant. Milli’s Society is rapidly becoming one of quick point scoring, fast returns and an engorging number “Likes”. Hate, dressed as an all inclusive Love, is seeking to run the show.

Nastiness and vulgarity are common and, sadly, expected. Milli’s Society is exhibiting the same behaviour that my 17 year old son has, but at least he can be taught, directed, and if necessary grounded. Milli is lacking parental control. Her parents, that would be those us who are still alive and were adults 2 decades ago, have abrogated our responsibility. We have become self-centred. We want what we want and to the devil with anyone else. We think we are all Cool Kids without embracing that with makes us deplorable. As we fracture into smaller and smaller groups, each desiring power and hating all others, we are in fact killing our child.

Those of us who watched the birth of Milli, our Baby Millennium, need to take responsibility of where she is going and what she is doing. Our Millennium could be one of peace, but that means we need to listen with an open heart. Our Millennium could be one of respect, but that means we need to accept differences but not pander to them. Our Millennium could be one of positive change, but that means taking responsibility for our lives and our habitat. Our Millennium could be one of discernment, but that means we must use a rational judgement rather than emotional outburst. Our Millennium could be one of forgiveness, but that means we accept our sins and do not pass them on to others. Our Millennium could be one of unity, but that means looking for that which draws us together rather that than which separates us.

Our Millennium could be one of Hope and Love, but that means we all have to act in a way of peace, respect, discernment, forgiveness, unity and positive change. Our society, Our Millennium is Our Responsibility.

Gud Yule! And What It All May Mean

Gud Yule!

Today is December 20 and the Yuletide begins. This is ancient Northern European holiday, but it is not unique as it is a holiday of a seasonal change and many cultures celebrate that. And they should. Yule celebrations and traditions, however, are uniquely Northern, where it snows, European. Yule was celebrated in Scandinavia, Germany, Britain, northern France, the Baltic Countries and parts of Russia. So with an area so big what is it all about and why is it returning?

Yule was/is celebrated on the Winter Solstice – the shortest day of the year. It was seen as when the season changed to winter as this was a definite point in the celestial calendar that could be tracked. We see this today as mid-winter, but our fore-bearers knew that the coldest months were yet to come in January and February (you can fact check this). As the nights drew in and the darkness became more pronounced, people then just like people now suffered from the lack of light. What we call depression, they called melancholy. The response was to have a celebration of light, food and drink, activity and fun. And they did.

I’ve done a fair bit of research on this over many years because I really didn’t understand the whole Yule/Christmas thing. As a slightly-right-of-center, card carrying Christian I thought, as a child, that Yule was a weird foreign word for Christmas. Obviously I was wrong. But it is easy to come to such confusion because Christianity has tried, and until recently successfully, swallowed Yule up. How are they similar? Firstly it starts with a period of preparation. In days of yore, the house or dwelling was to be thoroughly cleaned. Walls and beams were to be washed or swept clear of all dust and insects before being treated with oils to preserve the wood. Soot was to be removed from the fire pit/ fireplace and the chimney was to be cleaned lest it catch fire. The structure was checked again for any draughts or holes and those were filled. The wood pile would be created and stacked for proper drying so that it would catch easily when lit. Candles or rush lights would be made and stored. Fresh rushes would need to be stroon across the floors. So much to do!

I would guess that it would be far more enjoyable to do this very necessary chores if it was tied into a big celebration. Like us, or at least my mother, each year would have a month (November) of cleaning, bringing out the winter clothes and checking them for wear/suitability/dirt/everything, and planning Christmas. We would always put our wreath up on the 1^st Sunday of Advent and our tree up on the 2^nd. My father and my brothers would hang the lights around our windows and into the bushes (which my middle brother hated as he always had to go behind the big pine shrub and got pricked by it) on the first weekend of December. We also had lighted figurines which had to be washed and, on occasion, repainted. It was busy and it was fun. Mom decorated the inside and made it magical. And like our ancestors, Dad would stack the wood on the back patio for the fireplace, hoping he would found the one place where the snow wouldn’t get it. So much to do!

During this season of preparation we were busy, they were busy. It kept everyone engaged in a daily activity which gave them a reason to get up out of bed and to interact with people. I don’t remember people being as grumpy about the season as they are now. My parents and their traditions weren’t unique. They didn’t make them up. They had learned them from their parents who had learned them from their parents and so on. Presents were special because you didn’t get them all the time and those presents were something you would need for the rest of the year. If you didn’t get those new boots for Christmas, then you were stuck with your old ones or hand-me-downs until either your birthday or they utterly died. It wasn’t about perfume but practicality. However, I digress.

As Yule drew closer, horses and dogs would be prepared for the Great Hunt, as well as the weapons needed. This hunt wasn’t just for getting outside for some fresh air and fun, but it would supply the much needed meat for the coming season. I’m sorry, but vegetarians were rather unheard of in the North. These people, usually men, were not looking for some poxy fox, but several large, old boars or stags. This hunt didn’t just feed some “lord” and his family, but a whole community. Yule was not a private event. Getting out and exercising in the fresh air is a well known aid in the prevention and treatment of depression. And this was part of life which everyone did. This is not to say that there were not people who were down or dour, but there was a planned effort to avoid something they didn’t understand but knew was destructive to the person.

The Day of Yule arrived and the Yuletide began with the rising of the sun. Some anthropologists have said it was the setting. Either way, Yule was here and the fires would begin. A large bonfire would be set up and ready to be lit at sunset. This party would continue for a week. There would be music, dancing, eating, storytelling, and yes, baby making. There would also be religious rites as practised by the local people. Odin/Wotan was usually the center of their adoration as he was not only leader of the gods, but also the leader of The Wild Hunt. A celestial version of what they would be doing during the Yuletide.

The Yule Log would be decorated and the personal prayers/pledges would be attached. This Log would then be processed to the firepit and burned. Some viewed the pledges as oaths because as the log burned they believed the smoke took their words to the gods. The homes were decorated with green boughs (but not Christmas trees! Modern invention), holly leaves and berries and in some places mistletoe. Herbs would be lit to freshen the air.

There would also share the Wassail. In England this would be served in a white oak bowl. It was a form of mulled wine or cider. It would have special herbs and spices in it which were supposed to bless the drinker with good health and happiness. This does make sense as most medicines were herb based and trying to avoid illness at this time of year would have been paramount. Chest infections and pneumonia are not new diseases. In Germany, Scandinavia and France, they would have had Glugwien (which you can purchase today at Ikea). Same thing but a different base – grapes versus apples.

Lastly came gifts. Like our Father Christmas or Santa Claus, Wotan was said to know which children were naughty or nice. He would reward the good children with a small gift or a sweetmeat (like our mince pies). For naughty children he would send a demon like creature which we now call Krampus. Krampus would put bad children in a sack and either throw them in the fire or take them home to eat. I know as a fact that Krampus survived into the the 21^st Century as I went to a St Nickolas Tag party for a friend’s children in Austria. Krampus came and the children were terrified until St Nickolas arrived and drove him away. Obviously the point of this was to teach children discipline in their lives from a young age and that actions have consequences. This Krampus was more than just Mum or Dad telling you off. This was a serious outsider and you must pay attention. I’m not sure that any children did not get hurt, but it seemed to do the trick for him to have survived so long – actually longer than an active Wotan.

Yule would come to an end about the 27^th of December. It is not the 12 Days of Christmas. That is the period from Christmas to Epiphany. This was also to be a period of celebration, music, food, dancing, drink, appropriate familial relations which would end with a child in September, and a lot of church services. Both of these holiday times ended when the days just started to get longer. The good feelings created could last for several weeks which would help counter the developing cold and snow with longer days and the beginning of the plans for the spring.

I’m no clergy member, but I don’t see why we can’t give a nod to our ancestral holiday. Burn the Yule Log, go on a hunt which fits your ethical perspective, party with your friends, drink sensibly to everyone’s good health, teach your children that a well behaved child will make a disciplined, successful adult, spread the love and, if you can, make a baby or two. Fight to overcome the darkness both inside and out. And if it works for you, spend some time with your god. Let him/her/them know that you appreciate this season and this life given to you. It’s all about the love, baby.

Nothing seems to be changing

The week has been a bit of a week.  Nothing seems to be changing.  I'm looking forward to spring and and all we get is winter.  The snow was awful....and I'm someone who likes winter.  So the pain is the pain and I'm just not progressing.  I think I could be regressing.

Now I know Rome wasn't built in a day, but this getting ... well, I don't know.  I did some art this week and I thought it was great. I painted the big space between my ears and called Galaxy.  That was fun.  I went to a Lenten Meditation Group and talked about Joseph of Aramatheia.  I did rather enjoy that too.

But I saw a photo of myself.  I know that the last 2 years has taken it out of me both emotionally and physically, but I look like a wreck.  It is so bad that I wonder why I'm even trying.  I've become ridiculously fat.  I want to exercise, but the pain is such that  it's hard to exercise when you can't even walk properly.  I'd start by walking but I can't even do that! I  despise (and I don't use that word lightly) the fact I am an egg- shaped human. This is not about "Body Acceptance", but my body is now obese and it could seriously harm, if not kill, me.  Being banned from riding on medical grounds is not helping either.

I could try to do "chair exercise" but I don't have a space to do it.  My home is just overrun with people. I am feeling the need for space. I do have a craft room which I could use, but it doesn't have any heat. As the weather has been subzero, exercising out there is a non-starter.  I need my living room, but the children have monopolised it.  I must do something or I am putting my already fragile health in further jeopardy.  ARGH!!!!

So the daily battle continues. Trying to fix the lost, broken person I am is just hard.  I want to quit but I know that isn't a way forward.  Too many people float through life.  I wish I was one who could but that isn't my temperament.

Maybe next week wil be better.

Okay Spring, Any Time Now

Well isn't this turning into an interesting week.  Seven days ago it was warm, albeit rather wet and muddy, and now I'm up to my hocks in snow. It just goes to show how things can change and how things which look like they are solved aren't.

As I said in my last post, I had a hideous accident 2 years ago which nearly cost me my left foot and leg. I had a brilliant consultant who was able to make it so I could keep all my bits and pieces and walk.  Well, that walking part is a bit of a stretch.  I do walk, but not well or normally, and not for long stretches. I am regularly crippled with pain and that is really not good.  I probably wouldn't have been so bad except the fact I had fall about a 8 months ago.

The yards car park is a bit rustic, and has large rock heads and some good sized pot holes. I stepped wrong on one of the rock heads, slid into a pot hole, and fell over.  Not very graceful and, due to the stiffness in my ankle, no way to save myself.  I knew immediately I had done something to the injury.  I called my physiotherapist, with whom I had an appointment later that day, and told her.  I came to see her and she said I needed to go to my GP and get and x-ray.  I contacted my GP to get an appointment, and in spite of begging for an emergency appointment, the best I could do was a month later. I stayed off my leg as much as I could, used my crutches, and ate paracetamol by the box load.

I went to my GP and she told me I was wrong. I probably did need to go get an xray and all I had to do was go to the hospital and get one. I didn't need to see her. A&E was there for that express purpose.  I asked why was I told by both my physio and my consultant (who I called to see if I could get the appointment moved up) to see her first. After yet another circular argument, I went to A&E and was x-rayed.  It looked to the doctor there that I had had a radial fracture from the screw. He was referring me back to my GP who should refer me on to my consultant.

Fast forward to February. I have endured the most awful pain all winter which included many episodes of me screaming as my shoe/boot was removed. I found a strip of codine for when it was unbearable. My youngest son had a riding accident (yes, it does happen) but not overly serious. We went to hospital and was told he was fine.....until 5 days later when my consultant called to tell me that actually my son had fractured his thumb. Can I come into the fracture clinic? Obviously yes. I told him that I was due a follow up appointment and could I see him. I was told to book in when I arrived at the fracture clinic. I did and I finally got an appointment to see him in 2 weeks.  After 8 months, what is 2 weeks?

I went in and the first thing he asked was, "Are you riding?". I told him I had but I suffered a silly accident.  He then starts going through all the paperwork and asks if my GP had properly followed up on the x-ray taken the previous summer.  I said I hadn't heard from her and no. He gets a real stern face and pursed lips. "Go have another x-ray."  So I do.

"You're going in for surgery," greeted me when I returned. "We are going to remove all the metal. Next we are going to MRI it all. You've had a radial fracture from the screw that's been untreated." Yep. I knew that part. Surgery? Oh no. Back on that merry-go-round again. "This needs to be done immediately."

So here I am. I'm trying to keep up a good face on this situation. I'm back to not being able to walk (the snow and cold are just evil), not being able to teach, and beginning to feel like I'm worthless.  I know this is not true, but injury depression is trying to get ahold of me. As I've said, I don't do depression as I'm just too busy.  Yeah, right.  What has me furious is that I have endured the pain because I was stupid and did what I was told to do.

I don't think I could ever win if it came to fighting the NHS. But what good is a service which is GP-centric when the GPs are unable to meet that criteria? I know they are over-worked, over subscribed. Because of that, I don't go and see them unless it is absolutely necessary. Yet due to their failure, I am now going to have to have a second surgery, and place my life on hold for months on end yet again. I am not sure how I am going to get through it. God in Heaven, you have a big one on your plate this time.

So what have I learned?  It doesn't pay health-wise to be a good and patient patient. You have to push and fight to get treatment. Don't let them fob you off. If you need treatment, call every day and become the biggest pain in their butts that you can. It seems that is the only way to get the help you need. Being good just means that you ruin your life while making their life easy.

Take care and slip in the snow. You don't want a broken leg!
k.

I Got Lost... Again

I think I know why people don't keep New Year's Resolutions.  It has to do with `January.  I know this isn't a new idea, but rather a statement of well known fact.  Christmas and whole holiday season is such a high emotionally that we hit the New Year loaded with all of these endorphin releasing sensations that we make plans and have ideas of improvement without regard to the January Blues.

January Blues don't start, I have realised, on the 1st. They hit about the 20th. Christmas is down, boxed and put away for another 11 months. The weather is now becoming seriously boring with the cold, wet, and various choices of precipitation. The mornings are dark and the evenings are dark and all we have to look forward to Lent.  I often wonder if our friends in the Antipodes have July Blues.

Valentine's Day comes and it all starts to lift. Suddenly there is lots more light in the mornings and the evenings have a sunset at a far more sensible time...like when I'm home from work rather than at work teaching the last lesson. Nature creates a dawn chorus of birds outside my window. The weather is sending signs of easing up on the long winter. And I feel better.

I got lost about the 20th of January myself.  I woke up and I just felt awful -- physically and emotionally. I had had a serious riding accident nearly 2 years ago which crushed my left foot and ankle. After a brilliant surgeon and lots of ironmongry, I still have a complete leg. The pain however has not ceased. Now, I'm not a weak or "precious" woman. I like to think I am about as tough as it comes, but this really did me in. The pain lead to depression. I don't have time for depression.

I do understand depression in others and I am most sympathic about it. It is a horrible emotional imbalance that leaves you out of control and fighting with yourself. The feelings of self doubt and inability coupled with a mind telling you to get on with it and there is no rational reason to be feeling this way is a recipe for suicide. I get it. And I GOT IT. But I don't have time for it. I have a family. I have a business. I have people depending on me. I have animals depending on me. I have laundry depending on me. I have to be 100% all the time. The more I am not 100% the worse I feel. It wasn't so much a battle to get out of bed as a battle to get through the next hour. Some folks understood the situation but there was nothing they could do. To see my doctor on a non-emergency basis is a 6 week wait. I just had to fight my way through.

The fight became serious when things started to go wrong. I went to deliver a horse to its new home and on the way back to my yard I had an accident. The back of my trailer is now bent out of shape and must be replaced. Great. It was a stupid accident that shouldn't have happened. But I suppose that is why they are called accidents. Next my 4x4 died. The starter motor caught fire and I now own a very nice Range Rover Vogue yard ornament. I will get it fixed but the effort and cost is a bit much. Then there was the need to get new horses for the yard and I qualified for a bank loan...right up to the moment I discovered my passport and driving license was missing. After 25 years of banking with my bank, they suddenly don't know me and I have to produce all sorts of documents including the utility bill statements for the electric I pay by Direct Debit from the account I hold with their bank. ARGH! My beautiful husband steps up and produces all the required info and then I have the loan. But I lost the horses I wanted due to the delay (I do have some new ones which are fab and half the price so maybe it wasn't all that bad). The final piece was my mother died.

If you look back over this blog you wil know that my mother suffered from Alzheimers. It was awful to watch someone you love have their brain turn into scrambled eggs. I remember and now cherish the last moment when I know she knew who I was. It was beautiful and horrible. Now she is gone. She has been mentally gone for 5 years, but Mom was still there. Now she is not. And this really hurts. I know it is part of life and we all go through it, but it changes nothing. It doesn't matter that she was old (91) and frail, she was still my mother. Because I was a "late in life child" (trans: What the Hell do you mean you're pregnant? Who do you think you are? Sarah? [my father's reaction]), my parents were rather old when my children appeared. The children only have vague memories and photos of their grandfather. Two years after Dad died, my mother was diagnosed with progressive white vein dementia and Alzheimers. I see young people whose grandparents play a very big part in their lives and I am a touch jealous. My parents are together now and I hope that they are happy and not causing too much mayhem in Heaven.

It is now past Valentine's Day.  The days are getting longer and warmer. The rain seems to only happen 2-3 days a week instead of 5 to 6. I heard the dawn chorus this morning.  So rather than give up on my New Year Resolution, I'm just going to restart it. I've opened the pen and paper journal, taken a deep breath and begun again.  Perhaps that is what we all should do.  Accept when life just overtakes our good intentions and when the whirlwind we caught in slows down, not give up our ideas and dreams, but refocus on them.  Even when the sky is black, there is something beautiful to learn from the experience.

What did I learn?  I can really bend and not break. I am strong and capable. I need to love myself in order to be able to love and help others. If this means taking an extra hour to get ready to face the day, then so be it. Sometimes it is okay to be late and to be there fully. 

And tomorrow the sun shall rise and so shall I.  And I shall be thankful for the day the Lord hath given.

k.