Late Spring in the UK

Today I went over the Mendip Hills to visit a friend in Wells and what a beautiful sight it was.
The hedgerows are bowing down with the sweet smelling May blossoms whilst alongside the road at each side the Buttercups, Bluebells and Ox-Eye Daisies look their very best:  trees and fields will never show a softer green - it's as though they are saying - 'this is the best we can do'.
All the small villages and most of the farm houses were sporting Union Flags and bunting was entwined in all the trees and gardens.
It was just so lovely I couldn't help thinking I would not want to be anywhere else in the
world this week-end as we all get together to celebrate the Jubilee.  Yeeey!

Women!

Women!  why are we so much trouble?   For we females who call ourselves Christians the debate of the roll of women in the church continues.                                    In 1970
Pope Paul V1 warned the then Archbishop of Canterbury (Dr Coggan) that there could be no reconciliation between the churches whilst Anglicans considered ordaining women to the priesthood.  Considerations, committees, synods, denials and even promises continued for
the next 24 years until in March 1994 in Bristol Cathedral, Bishop Barry Rogerson ordained 32 women to the priesthood.  It was a momentous day and many banner bearing protesters (the Press too, acting as if they cared!) surounded the Cathedral to denounce the Bishop and all he stood for.  Bishop Barry warned that in his opinion it would be 10 years before the first of these women or any following them made it to senior status in the church.  Well!  not 10 years but 18 years have passed by and the status of the female priests is largely the same, few have made it to Archdeacon but none to Bishop and the war still rages on.   One of the most respected leader of another faith - His Holiness the DalaiLama weighed in recently by stating that he hoped the next DalaiLama, the leader of 500 million Buddhists throughout the free world and over 1 billion  in the People's Republic of China (who are not officially allowed to declare their allegience to any faith) plus 1 million+ in Asia who commonly adhere to more than one religion of which Buddhism plays a major part........he actually said that he hoped a woman would be his successor as DL.  How could he?  We have had over 2000 years of arguments over the rights of females in a world of which females are half of the population.  Sort it out your Holiness and then announce your decision to the world
please no committees we beg you.

Molotov

Recently one of the newspapers mocked the speech impediment of the new England football manager; he said it did not worry him as he was used to it - there is a sadness in that comment.
At the same time there was a serious issue discussed in the newspapers in the USA as to whether Winston Churchill had a lisp or a stammer as apparently he always pronounced a
single s as sh - does it really matter?   In this country he was thought to have a stammer left over from a nervous childhood.  He developed a stage craft ie., long pauses until he found the right word he could say  -  through this method his speeches became quite dramatic as we all know.
Lately I was reading about another very famous Statesman who was making speeches at the same time as Churchill and also had a stammer which he managed to conquer for most of the time, when he didn't manage to do so it greatly angered Stalin who thought everyone would see it as a sign of a weak man.  His name was Vyacheslav Mikhailovich   who was Minister of Foreign Affairs in the Russian Government and protege of Stalin.  He put all the words from Stalin's mouth into powerful oration and was made to sign everything to keep Stalin's  'reputation'  intact.
He married a Jewess who was the love of his life but Stalin
 thought to show so much love was a sign of weakness in a man and during the war had Polina arrested and sent to Lubyanka Concentration Camp.  Molotov was a very important man but could not prevent the arrest of his wife;  in an act of defiance that could have led to his death he ordered a dinner for her every night and had it placed by an empty chair so that no one would forget her: a year later Stalin ordered her release from Lubyanka but sent her into exile in Siberia never allowing Molotov to know where she was.  She was released immediately on the death of Stalin and rushed back to Moscow never to leave his side again.
He was given the name Molotov early in his career which  is Russian for 'hammer' his other nickname being 'stone-arse' because of the amount of hours he sat working at his desk.
He died in 1980 during the reign of Mikail Gorbachev and is buried in Norodevichy Cemetery in Moscow, his head stone names him as 'Molotov' 
A weak man?.....never.

Mother

When my father met my mother in 1925 she had never seen a picture of herself as her
family did not own a camera and her family home did not own a mirror - her mother
thought mirrors were not only unlucky but made you think too much of yourself.
Dad took her to a photographer's studio and using most of his weekly pay had this
picture taken of her.  It was to send back to his parents and sisters and brothers to tell
them this was the girl he was about to marry.  It was the only picture she ever had of
herself as young woman it would be many more years before the next one was taken.
On this picture she was 23 and had never been out with a man or even spoken to many outside her own family, dad was 35; their happy marriage last nearly 50 years
only death parted them.

Remembering

It is one year today since my sister died and although she had been ill with cardiac disease
for some time the final news of her death came with great sadness.
In the few days following her death I remembered everything she had said (she was the fun  member of the family) and I relayed it all constantly to my bored loved ones as my way of coping with her death.
Now just one year on and I can't remember a single word she ever said no matter how hard I try.  I can though remember clearly all the things she did.  I have been thinking of her today and how kind she was to me as a child and growing up into adulthood.  I cannot remember ever having a cross word with her.  In the early sixties when materials were expensive and scarce she would recycle all my clothes for me so at least I did not feel so much 'behind the door' when all the hippy fashions of the age came into being.
For our other sister who was a competition skater she would sit and sew hundreds of sequins on to old blackout material so that she would look good.
When our eldest sister who lived abroad was having serious problems with her marriage,
her health and her finances she flew out and brought her home.

This proves conclusively that it not what we SAY to others in our lifetime but what we do for them that makes the difference.

                      'Rest in peace my dearest sister, to rise again in Glory'

Extreme Love

Last week on BBC1 Louis Theroux did a programme looking at people living with a loved one who is suffering from Demensia.  It is never an easy subject and for once Louis Theroux appeared to be out of his depth; he was touched by the great love and patience showed by some of the carers - especially those who had been married a long time and had managed to keep a very tentative hold on their partner.
When my mother was almost 80 years old and a very active and bright lady she was knocked off her feet by a young man on a racing bicycle and suffered head injuries which needed 22 stitches.  The fellow picked up his bike and ran off leaving her lying in the road
where she was eventually found by a young 'hoodie' who called an ambulance and  knelt holding her hand until help came.  The injuries quickly healed but shock hit her badly and she spiralled downhill into demensia. Clever doctors told us the accident had nothing to do with her rapid descent into demensia but we know differently!

My three sisters and I found it very hard to bear and dealt with it in our own different ways.

My eldest sister, the one most like our mum, totally lost patience, she visited, and looked after mum's mail and finances but as far as I know never actually spoke to her again.
Sister number 2 simply ignored the whole scenerio and carried on a 'pretend' life with our mother denying that mum had actually 'gone away' and did not know who she was.
Sister number 3 was 'Sister Practical' - she washed all mum's clothing, her person, her hair and her nails and cooked treats for her.
I was the youngest daughter by quite a number of years and did nothing of any good.
Mum decided that I was her sister (who had taken her own life when young) and would grip my hands and talk for the whole of the visit about life when they were young, their Irish relatives and the German bombers who came every night and just missed her.  Strangely; although she did not recognise any of us as her children she always ran to me recognising me immediately as 'her sister' and there fore imprisoning me for the next hour or so.
She was like this for 12 years and eventually had to go into a Care Home.  She knew nothing, could not read, write or tell the time, dress herself or even feed herself.
One skill she did not forget was that she could sing, she always had a wonderful voice
and at the very end of her long life it was the only recognisable thing left of our mother.

She loved the days when the local Vicar came into the home - he would give them all a Blessing and then sit at the piano and play songs and hymns for the next hour or so.
He told us that he had never found anything that our mum did not know and she would sing every word, head thrown back and smiling broadly.

No wonder Louis Theroux was a bit thrown by the behaviour of some of the people he met, my sisters and I are still sad at what happened to our mother but we always tried to cheer each other by saying that SHE did not know what SHE was like so it seemed not to hurt her - but it almost broke our hearts.