Farewell 2012 hello the future

So we all survived, I think.

The hedonism of the summer of sport tempered by the lunacy of the winter of destruction. Ah yes a rabid planet rampaging through the solar system did not wipe us out a mere 10 days ago (or if it did I'm either on acid, dead or in a parallel universe)

Those cheeky Mayans eh? Thought it would be great to scare the bejesus out of a few believers. (I am a bit worried though because my son's friend is called Maya and she can be a mini tornado!) Well who knows if they were right or not and it wouldn't be so funny if someone had messed up on their maths after all abacus can be notoriously tricky for calculating advanced calculus! (Well my nuclear fall ouit shelter is still built!)

Ah but let me take you back to a balmy day on the Champs de Elysee where one man in a yellow jersey came storming in on a bike and a sideburn, sideboard more like. Oh yes Le Wiggo had arrived to do what no Englishman had ever done in a hundred years. Yes that's right ride a few thousand miles around France on a pushbike without getting knocked off. (Well I guess it's better than Lance Armstrong who used to fly round!)

And so shortly after he was then speeding round the lanes and roads in Surrey for a gold medal (and 84 speeding tickets as someone hadn't turned off the speed cameras! recession what recession I hear you say)

Soon to be followed up by a dour Scot who had cried at Wimbledon lifting his first major title (apparently gold clashed with Roger Federer's red shirt. Silver was better bling!) But hey all bow to Andy Murray we salute you for looking like the guy of Holby City!

But what on the water Britannia rules the waves, arise Sir Ben (did someone say I'm just gonna kick this Dane in the bowls- oh sorry wrong part of England! ) A finer achievement you will not see and his tiny little boat has just been purchased by the Cameron - What's his name? government as our new aircraft carrier!

Go Mo! Go Mo! you know I never new Laila Rouass could move that quick. Mind you these Eastenders know how to shift when they're being chased.


But to the real world I still feel like I'm living in Germany in 1933, We're not in this all together Dave we never were and we never will be unless of course you mean poo! Then I'm sure you and your mates would be trying to act like Boris on the high wire!


However I am a GRANDAD (ok I know most of you thought I was that old anyway) but I'm not and she is simply the most beautiful little thing.

So my reflections on 2012 as I say farewell to it:

It was a good year for inspiration

It was a bad year for society in terms of inclusivity and equality/

Will 2013 be better?

I don't know I'm not a bloody Mayan!!!!


Peace and Happiness to you all! Happy New Year!




        well except to Harvey's Furnishing because you still have my sofa and table 
       a quote

                  Fran Chapman our Head of Customer Services will be calling you on your mobile        shortly to discuss.

 good job I didn't hold my breath !

How to comfort your children

Mortality is something that we all think about from time to time, especially as we get older. I'm fairly philosophical about it all now. Having gone through the initial fears of my condition and having had a couple of very close calls I've decided that the best course of action is to accept that if the worst happens at least I won't know too much about it. I've lived day to day and grown in strength and confidence about what is happening to me yet there is one area where I am struggling with and it came to the fore this week.

That is what will happen to my children when I'm gone?

My children range in age, the eldest is 27 the youngest is 11 and they all have their own identities and strengths and that is a great thing however I also know their frailties and that is where a parent takes ultimate responsibility.

On Tuesday I went to my Grandfather's funeral. I went because of duty, because of respect for my Father and my Uncle. I didn't go because of love. He wasn't a person who matched in any way the Grandfather I lost in 1976 but he was also not the person who had been described by my father. The reality is that I didn't really know him, This is not surprising as he never really wanted to know me.

When I left the funeral I headed over the Pennines to Liverpool to where my son is following in my footsteps in studying at the University. We met in the Guild of Students and we lunched there and I am so glad that we did.

Put simply he had just attended the funeral of his best friend's dad who had died as a result of an aneurysm. Put simply knowing my medical issues he was worried that he would lose me.

As I sat in the place where I had found the meaning of the word love I realised that he was scared and for a good reason even if he didn't know it.

I am obdurate they will have to nail me into my coffin yet my life and ultimately death impacts heavily on the lives of my children.And I worry. I worry that I have not done enough to help them get on in this shark infested world that we live in.

The motto of this story is simple,

When you go to sleep at night, if you have children, make sure that you have talked to them and that they are fully aware of the world in which we live. Make sure that they understand how duplicitous people can be and how they can protect themselves and their family. Make sure that they understand the difficulties that the will face should they decide to ride things out ,

Make sure that you have given them the tools for life and that they know without doubt that you love them.

I dare you to make the difference 

The man that hath no music in himself

I wonder if like Jessica, Shylock's daughter,  Michael Gove's children think this of him after today's announcement over the GCSE's.

You see with the announcement of a return to a single examination at the end of a course he has clearly signaled that he does not care about education. Or rather that he cares about some children but certainly not all.

One swallow does not a summer make yet one result may a child's life break

Education should be inclusive and Gove's attempt to bring about an English Baccalaureate is another example of how he has no understanding of diversity in our society.

http://www.mydaughter.co.uk/educating-your-daughter/11-16/education-choices/english-baccalaureate/

It is reprehensible to this commentator that a man, who owes his good start in life to a State Education system,  is trying to take us back to a time of elitism. From a psychological perspective alone the idea of a system that ends in a single exam is horrendous. Even my son who is studying at my University, Liverpool, is no longer saddled with a series of all consuming examinations at the end of a year. Now they undergo module examinations throughout the year, a system which rewards consistent application not a one off hit. For true educational prowess there needs to be a clear combination of formative and summative assessment so that a true picture of a learner's ability can be built up. Relying on one exam in summer can have devastating results.

For example a child suffering from hayfever, asthma or allergic rhinitis can find themselves in a terrible position during the pollen season and that can ultimately lead to bad examination marks. I remember doing one paper at sixth form so doused up on drugs to combat my allergies that I could hardly keep awake.

The ongoing assessment that formative methods bring to the table means that a child has a fairer chance of reaching a better standard. That means a child has a better chance of a better future. 

I urge every parent of a child entering secondary school this year, like my son has, to oppose the plans of a return to sleepless nights and high pressure. For if a child thinks they cannot achieve then they are likely to look for other outlets in their life to get ahead. That could mean many things including the horrific spectacle of the gang colours. We have spent years attempting to include all children in learning and with this decision we may end up with an even more unfair society.

I regularly come across middle aged adults who can neither read nor write properly and when I work with them the common theme running through their life has been one of a feeling of not being good enough. Are we going to destroy more children by this?

We don't need to dumb down we need to work smarter. Use divergent thinking to solve the problems of poor assessment don't return to the depths of despair of an outdated system.

Make sure that our children have the best chance and that we can all grow together. Make sure that all children have the music inside them. 

When a Knight has no honour

What really beggars belief is the day after the most damning report ever in relation to cover up and conspiracy in the UK, one of the main players, Norman Bettiston has come out and held on to the same ridiculous story that has caused pain beyond belief to the families of 96 dead Liverpool supporters.

Being a Knight of the Realm is supposed to be about honour and integrity, but not for this one. This is the first positioning of saving one's own backside.

For three years during the 1980's I stood on the Kop or at Goodison Park watching some of the greatest football and the greatest teams I had ever seen. I stood in crowds where you could hardly move. I even stood in the middle of the Kop and cheered for York City in an FA Cup tie.

And not once did I feel like I was ever in danger!

Merseyside Police were impeccable at handling large crowds in tight situations week in week out, the same crowds that arrived at Hillsborough that tragic April afternoon. They were experienced, capable, forceful, directed, jovial, constantly chatting to the fans and most of all organised.

Yet in South Yorkshire that day there was complete carnage that was brought about not by the fans of two great football clubs but by the ineptitude of one or two key players who were either too wet behind the ears or too arrogant to realise that they were out of their depths.

I do not blame individual officers on the ground, from what I can tell most of them performed to the best of their ability on what was a dark day. No I see this as a clear failure of management and organisation.

So Norman Bettiston better needs to get real and needs to act in a more contrite manner as all I see is the light of his career going out like a flame in nitrogen.

And rightly so.

Justice for the 96, justice for the families, justice for the whole of Merseyside,

NOW!

You'll Never Walk Alone

Tonight my son will sleep in his Liverpool home and I am grateful that he has followed his father to a city that is vibrant, diverse, funny, harsh but most of all compassionate. As a Yorkshireman I am proud of my roots and deeply in love with the moors and hills where I grew up yet I have a second home in a land of Gerry and his Pacemakers, in a place where I grew up and learned of wine, women and of course song.

People often say to me where have I enjoyed living the most? France? Switzerland? Kent? Yorkshire? Wiltshire? My answer will always be the same Liverpool.

This is the city that taught me how to be me, for the first time in my life I actually began to know myself there. I discovered who Trace Senior really was and believe me that took some sorting out. I discovered love, deep love and friendship that will never be put asunder. And to know my son is experiencing the same is of great relief to this slightly balding, overweight middle aged man.

Yet I have that luxury, the knowledge that I saw my son only a few hours ago and spoke to him on the phone whilst I wrote this blog. Tonight in Liverpool the families of 96 children, for they were all someone's child, cannot do that. They cannot do that because of institutional mismanagement, negligence and lies.

I am convinced that this report will go deeper to the heart of British politics and institutionalisation than even perhaps the Bloody Sunday inquiry. I am of the belief that elements of our society and so called ruling bodies were absolutely clear, long before today, of the nature of what had happened that fateful day April 15th 1989 at the Leppings Lane End of the Hillsborough stadium.

The question is what was known and by who and when? And what should we do about it?

Firstly let us be clear. Whatever is done it will not bring back those poor souls who died that warm spring afternoon in Yorkshire. Nor will it take away the 23 years of hurt that the families of the 96 have fought for justice. But it may bring some kind of closure, closure on a wound that festers on the very soul of our society that like an infected pussy carbunkle has been allowed to continue to grow by inaction, ineptitude and instictive self survival of a few in the know.

Everybody at that ground that day has suffered in some way. Everyone who has any connection with Liverpool or Nottingham Forest Football Clubs have suffered in some way. Everyone connected with the Taylor Report have been affected by the realities of what they knew and saw and did, or rather didn't say.

Yet at the end of the day there are people, powerful people, who clearly know more than they have told and it is those who have caused much of the suffering and they should be held accountable.

Will that happen? Possibly not, probably not. Why? because in the words of Mulder "The truth is out there" And we all know what happened to Agent Mulder.

This is without doubt a conspiracy of the highest order and I like a good conspiracy theory like the best of us. Unfortunately I fear this conspiracy will turn out to have real truth behind it.

Tonight as I go to sleep and think of those back in Liverpool and those connected with the city I will pray that those involved will sleep a little easier tonight as the healing process can begin. I hope that we as a great nation will help those in Liverpool to do that.

For one thing I am certain of, once you have been taken in as a child of the city then you will always be part of that city. Liverpudlians are known for doing that. Tonight however if this nation wishes to be truly great then we need, each one of us, to put our differences apart and to put our collective arms, and hearts around those who are in pain under the shadow of the Liver Bird!

Hungry for it ... Part 2 in Malta

Well I said that I would continue this particular stream of thought but I never expected that I would do this because of the circumstances that arose to give me the inspiration.

And I say inspiration in a muted sense for what I am about to describe is not exactly what one would normally describe as inspirational.

Yesterday we took a jet from Heathrow to Zurich, an uneventful journey apart from the excess of £60 that I had to pay because of the stupidity of my bank blocking my card for security reasons forcing me to pay for service desk rather than e-ticket. (That's for another story though). The jet was spacious, clean and the staff were welcoming and friendly all what I have come to expect of years travelling with Swissair. As predicted we landed at Zurich on time and were transferred through to our Air Malta flight with relative ease. The staff welcomed us on board and for a local carrier the aeroplane was surprisingly modern and clean. The pilot took off with a little of an attempt to recreate a roller coaster ride but soon we were zooming over the tops of the Italian Alps and heading South for Rome then Sicily. Dinner was served and I have to say it was a rather nice combination of chicken, aubergine salad and hummus with coconut macaroon to follow and wine flowing a plenty. (Beat the hell out of Ryanair, another story)

And then it all went wrong. my daughter was sitting behind me and me and my son occupied aisle seats. Suddenly from behind there were cries of help and panic filled the cabin. Now in today's world this leads to all sorts of thoughts flowing through one's mind and I started thinking back to the earlier part of our journey when some road rage maniac in Great Hinton had tried to run us off the road (another story). Had that been a bad omen and although I'm not particularly superstitious when I fly I become increasingly thus.

As it turned out this was a medical emergency and therefore right up my street as so to speak. A call went out for any one who could help as a man was being violently sick and had gone into a serious state of confusion. By the time we had got to him though and got him out of his seat he was already unconscious and coning. His pupils were fixed and dilated pretty much by the time he was now laid in the aisle with his head in between my son and daughter. Although several rounds of CPR and defibrillation were tried (not to be taken lightly on a pressurised aircraft) the reality was that this poor chap had suffered a massive episode either coronary or cerobrovasularly.

And now my psych training kicked in as all around me I could see a vision of pure psychological trauma. My children suffering in front of my eyes and even the elderly or the tough medics assembled in shock. and spare a thought for the cabin crew, they are trained for this sort of thing but they are trained with dummies and they too were finding this difficult to handle, especially as they were helping to move the body and would have to do the clear up after we had landed.

I instructed the crew to make sure that the children particularly, and not just mine, were moved forward away from the scene, luckily we sat at the back of the aircraft in the cheap seats. There was still confusion but chaos was starting to calm down and there seemed a general air of relief with one person saying well at least it wasn't a terrorist with a bomb.

On arrival at Malta, and I've never been in a public aircraft landed so quickly, I did a final round of checking if everyone was OK, left my contact details whilst here on the island in case anyone needed to talk about things and took my family off to our home for the next week.

Today things seem a million miles apart but I'll keep in touch with this over the next few days .......to be continued   

Growing up, moving on the times they keep a rollin'

This is an important week in the history of my family. My youngest son starts his last week in primary school. Next term he will move into 'big' school. A whole new adventure awaits him. He got his last report this week and is achieving well beyond what he should be for an eleven year old. I cried when I read it. It has been such a journey for him from being attacked by someone who he should have been able to trust, through the long years of Home Education and the depths of insecurity that he was left with scarred onto his psyche, to the blossoming young boy that is confident and ready for his next steps.

Watching him on stage this last week performing in Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat I saw an exuberance of confidence that has only come about in recent months and through careful nurturing at both home and school. I cannot pay enough compliments to Bruce Douglas and his staff at Staverton who took a risk with a child who dearly wanted to be with other children but could not initially emotionally cope. I have seen him go off to stay with friends for nights and ultimately with the school on residential, neither of which ever looked likely a couple of years ago. He has moved from a non league player to a champions league winner and he has made me so totally and utterly proud to be his father. He has also done this against the backdrop of watching me go through tremendous bouts of illness and seen me in terrible pain at times, both emotionally and physically.

Yet it is not just my youngest son who makes me proud. All my children make me feel the same way. My eldest son about to make me a Grandad and training to be a Tree Surgeon, my next eldest son being able to take his Masters in Engineering because of his exams results whilst disappearing on sorties around the world, my daughter about to finish her year placement in PR at the BBC in London before completing her degree next year and  my youngest, eldest, child, my third son, getting fantastic results allowing him to start his BSc. in Computer Science this year. They are all amazing and have all succeeded in their own way.

As I reflect upon my life I look back and think would I have done somethings different. Of course I would that is he nature of hindsight however when it comes to looking at the incredible children that are before me now I wonder would doing things different have made them even more incredible? I have deep moments of regret of a few things in my life but I will never regret supporting my children to be who thy wanted to be, after all that is the role of a parent. The challenge I faced however was that my parents did not give me a role model to look up to so I had no idea what I was doing. An alcoholic father and a drug addicted depressed mother left me much to my own devices and even through the adversity of not knowing what to do there seems to be an invisible hand that has guided me. I can't put my finger on it but I always seem to have known what the right move for the children was. Unfortunately that has meant sacrifices for me including friendships and lovers and I indeed have regret in this part of my life. There are things I would have and should have done differently and even now I hope that there is some way of building bridges with some who have burned brightly but fleetingly at times in my life.

As a Psychologist it is a professional duty to reflect upon one's work and this can be quite painful. The honesty that stands before you when it is just you and the mirror can be acidic to the soul. But that cleansing process allows me to keep going. It allows me the ability to continue to fight for what I believe in and it allows me to continue the battle against my physical challenges.A couple of years ago I never dreamed that I would be writing this today. I was scared, felt very alone and did not see any sort of future for me. I believe that by helping my children they have in turn helped me. They have shown me the way back from the abyss. I am now displaying confidence rather than the youthful arrogance that I once oozed from my every pore. I now have faith that anything is possible given the right support. I have love to give with abundance and I hope that it will be drunk from my well.

And as I listen to my young son laughing with his friends in the lounge as I write this whilst waiting for the roast dinner to cook I have hope. I have hope in the future and I have absolute faith that everything I wish for will come true. And to those of you reading this today I wish nothing less than the very best for you. May you live your life in peace and happiness, may you be with the people you wish to be with and may you feel the love that you desire.

And if you're not quite there yet, well drop me a line and let me see if I can help you on your onward travel. We are all part of the same family and I will never turn you away. My heart and my ears are open and if I can help then I will


Live with passion, Peace and Happiness!