HANDS OFF MY SAVE HAVEN

I am a person who hates noice. As a person with anxiety and as an empath I often need to get away from the noise of my neighbourhood, the technology and the toxicity of other people. Sometimes you even have to get away from the person you love most. Not because there is anything wrong with your relationship, but just because you need to have some space. Basically, a place where you can just chill for a couple of hours. I could never find a place. I was frustrated, angry and miserable, because I couldn't relax, no matter what.

Then in April 2013, something brilliant happened. I went to London to volunteer at the London Marathon and a friend told me how beautiful Richmond Park is. So I went to see for myself.  It was amazing. I couldn't believe how absolutely beautiful it was. The wildlife was delightful: deer and wild parrots. The only place I'd ever seen a parrot before was in a pet shop. To see them in the wild, loud, free and colourful, was the most wonderful thing.

After walking around here for at least two hours and seeing the protected view over Richmond Hill, I realised something. I felt more relaxed and happy than I had in a very long time. I thought it was a fluke until I went back a few weeks later and felt exactly the same. I felt fabulous. I had finally found my safe haven, that place I could run too if I need to escape or calm down. I loved it and I still do. I have walked and run in Richmond Park and enjoyed every second of it. I haven't cycled there, but I will be next time. I am so happy when I am there. That's the good news.

Now for the bad news. The third runway at Heathrow has been given the go ahead. And they are also considering putting plane routes over Richmond Park, effectively killing the tranquility. Current airline routes are not routed over the park and I don't know why this has to change.

On one of the newly released maps of flight plans, aircraft will be flying as low as 1,000 feet. Forty-seven arrivals and between seventeen and forty-seven departures an hour wll fly right over the park, most of them below 2, 000 feet. At the moment there are forty-eight thousand flights a year, which is already way too many. Heathrow wants to add twenty-five thousand flights by 2021 and that's before the runway is even built!

This is horrid. I've finally found a place where I can relax and the goverment wants to ruin it.

The aircraft will be noisy, cause pollution, And it will upset the people from all over the world who enjoy the park. A lot of people use Richmond Park for the same reason I do:  as a save haven to be quiet, recharge and to think.

Not only am I sensitive to noise, but so are a lot of the nocturnal animals that live happily in all the Royal parks: Bats, owls, foxes, deer, rabbit and many birds and insects. All live nocturnally and all have sensitve hearing, The aircraft could really damage that. There has for a long time being a restriction on the time aircraft can take off or depart from the airport. No aircraft are allowed to take off between midnight and five in the morning so the residents in surrounding areas can get to sleep, though for an insomniac like me, it doesn't make a lot of difference. There are plans to abolish this, which would make things even worse.

Whoever had the idea to up the number of flights and to route them over Richmond is an idiot. It has been a place of quietness, a place to exercise and relax since the formation of the Friends of Richmond Park (of which I'm a proud member) in 1961. To pollute it with aircraft would be insane. Shame on Chris Grayling for approving the third runway in the first place. I hope the consultation works in the park's favour and the whole idea is scrapped. Not just for people like me who use it as a refuge from noise, but for everyone: the athletes, the wildlife, the visitors, everyone.

If you want to have a third runway, fine. But don't fly planes over Richmond Park.

LEAVE MY SAFE HAVEN ALONE!!

The View From Richmond Hill

Beside the Thames

50th Parkrun in Richmond Park

WAS PICARD'S DATA CORRECT?

Normally, I would never use a fictitious show, especially Star Trek as the basis for a blog. Unless you are actually doing a blog about science fiction obviously (see "Nerdy and Proud of it"). Fiction is one thing and fact is another, both are separate and should be kept as such.

However, this time I am going to break that rule just this once, because something occurred to me. 

One of the things Star Trek is good at doing is predicting our future, which is their past because the Federation of Star Trek wasn't founded until 2161. 

For instance, Star Trek mentions many times that WWIII happens. Apparently, somewhere between 2049 and 2053. There is the prediction in "Future's End" that, in 2047 there is an Earthquake in Hermosa Beach, California and the entire coast sinks 200 ft into the sea. This couldn't happen because it's scientifically stupid. Oh and apparently the computer revolution of the 70's/80's shouldn't actually have happened until the 29th century. Hey, I didn't write this stuff okay!

There are plenty of examples I could cite, but we would be here all day. The one I want to talk about is the mention of Ireland in TNG's "The High Ground". First of all, the reason Ireland is mentioned is this episode is centred around the terrorist attacks being waged by a group who want independence from their country (think of the Catalonia and Spain situation, if that helps). The debate was about terrorism and whether it is an effective way of getting what you want.

The example they cite is the reunification of Ireland. It supposedly takes place in 2024. So I started thinking...!

Pretend - and take it as read for a few minutes - that the unification happens. Northern Ireland no longer exists because it has been absorbed back into Ireland. Why would that happen? Well, first we have to look at the terrorism bit. It's unavoidable. In "The High Ground", the character Data says that terrorism was successful in getting them reunited. But as of 2019, Northern Ireland has had twenty years of peace. So does that mean that the Good Friday Agreement never happened and the troubles continued until 2024? Or, coming back to the present,  did we get the peace agreement, but sometime after 2019, the Troubles reignited? If so, why?

If this is the case and going on what we already know, was it something to do with Brexit? We all  know the Irish backstop and the debate about a border between Northern Ireland and the Republic is the biggest point that is sticking out (only Northern Irish people will get that joke!). So did it turn out that we never got an agreed Brexit deal, got an unwanted hard border, which dishonoured the Good Friday Agreement and therefore set the Troubles off again?

Of course, if we ignore the terrorism side of it for a second...yeah, I know that's a horrible thing to ignore, but go with me a second...unification is entirely possible as the birth rate among republicans or catholics or both outnumbers the protestants and unionists/loyalists or, again, both and reunification ends up being voted for.

It's an interesting scenario to look at. I know it's a whole load of "what ifs", but it is sometimes fun to wonder what may have been. For instance, what if Archduke Franz Ferdinand had never got shot, what if Abraham Lincoln had changed his theatre plans, what if Hitler had not invaded Poland and on a slightly smaller scale, what if my friend Bill had gone onto be an actor rather than being a journalist? That sort of guessing can be very interesting.

 So, go ahead. Take an era of history that interests you, pretend the opposite happened and see where it goes, you may be surprised.

As to where Brexit and the island of Ireland go from here...who the hell knows. All I want is for the Good Friday Agreement to be honoured. The Troubles finally ended. I don't want them to return.

"The future is the past, the past is the future...! It all gives me a headache!" ~ Captain Janeway (Star Trek Voyager: Future's End)

THE AGE OF THE CAR DRIVER

On the 17th of January, Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh, came into the news when he was involved in a collision with another car whilst driving his LandRover Freelander after leaving Sandringham on to the A149 in Norfolk. 

This has whipped up a lot of controversy about the issue of pensioners driving. 

The current regulations state that as long as you renew your driving licence every three years and you pass an eye test from age 70 onwards, you are perfectly okay to drive without having to take another driving test.

I believe this needs revising. As you get older, your eyesight and your hearing and awareness begin to decline and therefore driving without adequate testing is not a good idea.

I believe you should be able to drive until you no longer can. It's an independence that I cannot have because I do not have the confidence to do so. I always have and always will use public transport. I would have given anything to be able to drive. So I support people who do, because I know what this kind of independence means to people.  If you can drive into old age without being a danger to those around you, then go for it. But when you renew your licence, you should be retested as well.

That's the good side. Now for the bad side. 

Did the Prince apologise for hurting these people? No, he didn't. However, this was a good thing. If you say sorry, it is an admission of guilt and will invalidate your car insurance. Apparently the police aren't going to press charges against him. They had what my dad would call a "quiet word in his ear", but that was it. And that wasn't until two days later (more on that in a minute). 

The media went on about Prince Philip being injured even though he was only slightly injured, but seemed not to worry about the two women and the nine month old in the other car. The only exception was Chris Ship. Good for him. Prince Philip allegedly sent a message of good wishes to the driver, but she claimed it was incomprehensible. 

Should Philip have been driving, yes. Should he be charged with a crime? That depends on the evidence from witnesses, as does any incident. Should he get a medical check-up (including an eye test)? Definitely, without question. His eyesight, hearing and reactions may not be as they used to be.

Above all, the police should investigate this incident as well as they can and if necessary charge the Prince. Just because he is a Royal, does not mean he should be above the law. And the media should give a bit more coverage to the poor people in the other car. They were victims too and deserve to be heard.

The worse thing is, that two days later the Duke was spotted in a brand new Land Rover, driving on the roads of the estate, which cross public roads and he was not wearing a seatbelt. Which says something. It says he doesn't care and that no-one is going to stop him driving no matter what. And knowing about how rude he can be, if a member of of his family did try to stop him, he'd probably tell them to sod off.  At the moment with all eyes on him, he really needs to be seen as squeaky clean or this is going to turn into a PR disaster. 

My thoughts go out to the women and the baby in the crash. Everyone else may not care. Thank God that I do.

  

MEMORIES OF MY MUM

My first memory of my mom was when I was about two. My parents (or more likely my Grandparents) had bought me and my sister a convertable high chair. It was awesome because you could turn it into a swing. I loved our little swing and I was always upset when I couldn't play on it. Which is very odd, because when I went on swings in the park, I got motion sick. but my mum knew how much I enjoyed our swing and was happy to build it for me. 

Of course I couldn't take my swing to Exeter. so how do you entertain a kid on holiday at their gran's house? Plasticine (now less popular because of the advent of play-doh). We loved the stuff. It was wonderful. My mum had a very odd imagination. She once made a model of a man sat on the toilet. A man with elephant ears. I have no idea why. More on this later.

So, I remember my mum for being tolerant and for having a vivid imagination. Better than mine, anyway. She was tolerant of us raiding the cupboards to play shop, or using the clothes airer for a tent of making a monkey swing from sheets.  

I remember that she was was incredibly forgiving. No matter how much I failed, she would never be disappointed in me. Her belief was that as long as I tried, then that was all that mattered and I've always tried my best, sometimes too hard. 

The two most important things I remember my mother for is once when I was down on myself, she gave me a card with the poem, "Don't Quit" on it. I still have it to this day. I carry it everywhere. 

The other thing I remember, is that she is my first hero. Firstly, because she has always believed in me when no-one else has.

The second is, she literally saved my life. If not for her, I wouldn't be here. I don't just mean because she is my mum. Take heed of this next story, dear friends, it may also save your life.

When I was about ten, my sister and I were playing a game of Mousetrap. I was left alone for a while and started throwing the silver ball bearing in the air and trying to catch it, a bit like some people do with peanuts (or if you're a Jackie Chan character, chewing gum). I caught it in mouth. I then realised it had gone into my throat and was stuck there. I began to choke badly. I tried to pull it out myself which was a silly thing to do looking back on it, because that made it worse. I don't remember much because it was horrid. It seemed like minutes, but if it had been I would probably have been dead so it was probably only seconds. I remember my sister screaming. She was absolutely terrified. I remember my mum banging me on the back. The bad thing is, it has given me a phobia for people choking (even a little bit) and vomiting ever since, which is a bit hard when you have the compassion of an empath and the skill of a first aider. I still try not to think about it. I go a bit nuts when someone has a coughing fit, or is sick, but I'm okay.  

The point is that my mother was my saviour that day. She had no training in first aid and stopped me from dying. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be here to do all the things I've enjoyed: marrying Don, blogging, making videos, Parkrun, running, journalism, my friendship with Bill Neely, etc. I wouldn't be writing this now. I will never forget this. It's the main reason I learned basic first aid. I forgot to thank her for it before she died, so I'll do it now. Thanks, Mum! 

Here are a few silly memories to finish with. 

THE DODGY MICROWAVE OVEN. 

In our 'matchbox' house in Sheffield, we had a microwave with a pull-down door on it. One day my mum was making chicken, my favourite thing. She opened the door to remove the chicken and for some reason the hinge failed and the door came off in her hand. My dad and I thought it was really funny and were giggling away, while my mum was stood there thinking, "WTF?!"

THE TROUSERS

My mother was quite fond of napping in an armchair, she always loosened the button and zip on her trousers when she did. On one particular day she forget to re-tighten them when she got up. The door bell rang. She ran to answer before I had a chance to offer. As she crossed the room, her lose trousers fell down to her ankles. I just cracked up. I answered the door and then I went back to my mum, where we both started laughing ourselves silly. 

THE FLUSH

As I previously explained, we loved plasticine and my mum made a model of a man sat on a toilet. My sister noticed it didn't have a flush handle. So she put one on it. My mum suddenly let out a scream of protest.

"You've put the flush on his ear!!", she pointed out. A lot of laughter. Not a phrase you ever usually hear!


I could go on about the wonderful and happy memories of my mother all day, but we only have so much space. The most important memory of my mother is the way, she loved me, stood by me, never ceased to be there when I needed her and was a woman who accepted me for who I was no matter what.

I miss her and I always will. RIP mum. You were the best.

My mum's favourite picture of me.

Me and my mom.

UNDER THE WIRE

Lyse Doucet once said that "There is no alternative to being there on the ground, in the heat and dust...".

Marie Colvin believed this to the point of obsession. When she was in Baba Amr she was determined to get the story of the people suffering there. She was a journalist like no other. 

Under the Wire tells the story of her final trip into Baba Amr. It is based on the book by her colleague and close friend Paul Conroy. He was the only photographer she ever worked well with because, as Lindsey Hilsum once pointed out, "She just couldn't be arsed with them!".

It is a heartbreaking and dramatic account of what journalists go through to get the truth. Marie was determined to not let the lives and stories of the civilians' horror be ignored, because, as she said, "It's about people. They are not just numbers".

Like any good journalist, she was determined and driven. She wouldn't give up. Often a driver would say, "We can't do that!" Her reply was, "Yes, you can!". Paul's suggestion was that it was probably safer to just do what she asked.

Unfortnately and sadly, it was probably this determination that cost this beautiful and brave woman her life. After escaping from Baba Amr once, she was determined to go back in. Paul had said he thought something wasn't right, but he knew there was no way she would not go because of a hunch, even one of her own. So, back in they went.

While they were in the media centre there was an attack and after a while it was pretty obvious they were being targeted. As an ex-artillery soldier, specifically a forward observer, Paul recognised the 'bracket' technique the army were using. It was only a matter of time before they suffered a direct hit. When they did, Marie Colvin and Remi Ochlick were killed; Edith Bouvier and Paul were seriously injured. Paul was determined to get out and continue Marie's work of telling the story of Baba Amr.

There is disturbing footage in this movie of the medical centre and Marie's last report, the shelling of the media centre, the claustrophobic tunnel - the only way in and out of Baba Amr, which also got hit.

It was a miracle any of them escaped from the media centre, but they did and this is their story and the memories of the last time they ever saw Marie.

I was crying for nearly all of it. And one of the best bits was seeing Wa'el. He was the translator. At one point,  Paul said, "I went into the tunnel and after that I never saw him again". So, I'm glad he was still around.

Marie was an amazing woman and journalist and I recommend you see this film to find out for yourself how great she was. I am also looking forward to watching the movie A Private War, which is about Marie's life and not just this assignment.

I know I will never be as good a journalist as she was, but if I have taken even a small bit of inspiration from her then that's good.

RIP Marie, you've inspired all of us to keep fighting for the power of journalism and Freedom of Speech. 

The lovely Marie Colvin - the bravest person in the world.

THAI-ED UP IN GOOD NEWS

Ah, good news! Don't you wish we had more of it! Well, recently we did. Background story to this first:

A few weeks ago a group of children who were members of the Wild Boars soccer team went into the Tham Luang cave in the Chiang Rai area of Thailand. No-one knew they were there until their coach, Ekapol Chantawong raised the alarm after finding the kids' cycles outside. He went into the cave to search. Then all of them got trapped by rising water from the monsoon rains. This is the bad news. Now for the good news.

As soon as it happened, things were set in place for rescuing the kids. The Thai Navy Seals, who were absolutely amazing went down into the cave system and when they got to the boys, they put in ropes and drilled larger holes in the cave system, with help from divers from the UK and US, so the kids could get out. Eventually there were so many people in the caves that the air started to run out for the trapped team, so more had to be taken in.The emergency services also helped by pumping gallons of water out of the cave to make it easier for the rescue. The local residents were amazing, providing food and drink, money and general help to the kids' families. The whole world became gripped by this amazing operation. A friend of one of the trapped children made 100 cranes as a way to bring him good fortune - following a Japanese tradition that has been around for years. And there were letters going in and out too.

It was the most amazing coming together of the community. A show of kindness, love and humanity. Something this world certainly needs more of.

There was a time factor involved. This was monsoon season and any minute the rain could pour down again, therefore re-flooding the cave. It was eventually decided that the best way to get the guys out was to literally swim them out. They were taught to dive and to use breathing masks. They were then taken out with a Navy Seal assigned to each of them. Just as they got the last boy out, the water pump broke and they had to sprint for the exit. Luckily they made it.

After a fortnight, all the team and their coach were rescued safely and taken to hospital to start their recovery.

It was an incredible well-planned undertaking and everyone (and I mean everyone) did a fantastic job. This was humanity at its best. I have nothing but praise for Navy Seals, the emergency services and all they people of the area who tried to do their bit and especially the children who were very brave considering their terrible circumstances.

The last thing I want to do is give a mention to Thai Navy Seal Saman Kunan. This guy unfortunately died from asphyxiation while trying to save the kids. He died a hero and should be honoured as such. RIP, sir and bravo to you.

Everything was on display here: love, compassion, heroism, bravery, determination, perserverence, people's faith in themselves, each other and in God. Basically everything that helps make a good news story exactly that.

And to give thanks for still having their lives and to honour Saman Kunan, the Wild Boars have now entered a monastery for nine days which is rather moving.

It was wonderful to have some good news for once. I wish everyone who was involved the very best. And I hope the kids grow up to have a wonderful life. After this, they deserve every good fortune. Oh, yeah, and lots of fried chicken!!

WE ARE STRONGER THAN WE THINK

When I first saw a marathon on TV and saw all the mad people running in their shorts and t-shirts, I honestly thought there's no way I wanted to ever do that. Not the marathon, I still don't want to do that, but the running itself. Me a runner, no, never, not in a million years. That all changed when I started volunteering for Cardiac Risk in the Young (CRY) and actually went to a marathon. It was amazing, the atmosphere was incredible and the crowds were unbelieveable. This time, the marathon was a lot more fun and I began to understand the joy of running and being free. So when I went to my second marathon, I asked my friend Bill how to begin this running malarky. His suggestion: do a parkrun. A free run every Saturday at 9am in parks all over the UK. So I did. I've been running ever since.

It's not easy at first, and sometimes the idea of getting up and running a 5K can be daunting, but that's the best time to do it: when you absolutely don't feel like it. 

So I did. And I was so happy about it. I got fresh air, moderate exercise (you don't have to be a fitness freak, even a slow person can do it and you can even walk, the point is to get out in the fresh air) and best of all I got to make friends. And any advice I needed, I just asked other runners including Bill. I was having a ball. I ran for nearly three years. I even got really fast at one point (37.11). It was great.

And then disaster struck about a year ago. Everything fell apart. I suddenly couldn't run. At first it was a depressive 'I really don't want to do this' sort of thing and then it got to a point where the idea of running absolutely terrified me. I couldn't work out why. I loved running. It wasn't easy, but I loved it. 

When the AJ Staff got jailed, this was a motivation to get out there. They were imprisoned, couldn't run, except up and down a corridor. I also remembered the people of Boston who had their marathon ruined because of terrorism. And I remembered Mohamed Fahmy's words: "Be thankful for small mercies. You're not homeless, you're not in prison and you're not dead!".  And Bill's words: "I can do this! They (Boston) couldn't, because of an act of violence, so just keep going". Eventually, though, even they ceased to motivate me. I asked Bill's advice. It was simple, but sensible: Don't run for a while. Just accept you can't and don't. So I didn't. I was glad I didn't have to anymore, but I was sad, because I loved running, I was slow, but I didn't care. Just being able to get out and run was fun and the freedom of it was wonderful. 

This went on for a while. I thought I would never run again. Then I remembered we had entered the London 10,000. I had to be able to run for that, so I went to my park runs as a volunteer to at least get back into the spirit of it and then ran if I felt like it. About twice. I wasn't worried about the Westminster Mile, because it was only a mile. Even someone with no mojo could manage a mile. My friend Pauline said "Don't worry, you'll be ready, we'll get you there". So I (painfully) did a couple more Parkruns and volunteered in Richmond, where Bill also said, "You'll do it!"  I tried to do a 10K around Pugney's and just got there. I tried a week later and couldn't even make five. The week before the 10,000, I wasn't even close to being ready or motivated. I had to do something drastic. So, I told Don that the next morning, I wanted us to run as far as we could. I had to at least try. So I did. I ran 8K. I don't know how I did it but I did. I was determined to get out of this running funk I was in. Two days later I ran 6K with Pauline and Geoff.  

I still wasn't sure I could do this. But everyone had got so much faith in me, that I had to try. It was then I surprised myself in the most fantastic way. I ran the Westminster Mile - all of it. Usually, I run, walk, run, walk, run, walk ad infinitum. This time I started to run and I kept running. I was slow, but I did it.

The biggest test though was the 10K. Could I manage that? It turned out I could and in the time I wanted too. I wanted to do it in around an hour and a half. I was only two minutes out. I was thrilled. Before I did it, I was terrified I was going to fall apart. I didn't. The atmosphere was amazing, the crowds were fantastic, the sprinklers were a wonderful idea and the feeling of getting across that finish line was the very best feeling in the world. I loved it and I am so glad I persevered. 

Will I be doing the Westminster Mile and the 10K again next year? Damn right!! In fact I'm so pleased with myself, I am doing the Kew Gardens 10K in September. I can't wait. 

All this has made me realise one thing. Never give up, just keep going. You'll be surprised at what you can achieve.  

I thought I couldn't achieve a 10K, but I did. Never forget, you are stronger than you think.

"Run like hell because you always need to! Laugh hard and run fast!" ~ Peter Capaldi.