Monday, 1 October 2012

Peter. a little more to his story.

Taking the trip to Zurich and arranging for one’s own assisted dying with the help of Dignitas requires great strength of character and a certain steely resolve. My brother Peter had these qualities in spades.
He was suffering from the disease PSP, an innocuous enough string of initials, even innocent sounding. They stand for Progressive Supranuclear Palsy. The first clue is in ‘Palsy.’
It doesn’t take long researching on Google to discover how profoundly unpleasant and it could be argued, down right terrifying this particular disease is. There’s a lot of mention of what can be discovered through autopsy and biopsy of the brain after death. Not the easiest thing to read.
The symptoms lurk in the shadows for the longest time. It took an age for Peter to receive any certainty. He was a commercial pilot amongst other things, so was used to having frequent and thorough medicals.
Degenerative diseases on the whole seem to involve great indignities...and Peter could not countenance such a miserable conclusion to his life. He had always been fit and active, one of life’s ‘do-ers’. He took a considered choice to have a controlled and dignified end.
He had two main concerns; the first and most worrying for him was that he would be well enough to travel and carry out his own wishes. The second was that no-one else would be held responsible. With this in mind he took it on himself to dot every ‘i’ and cross every ‘t’ of the arrangements. All of this without doubt, added to the stress and worry he was already feeling but he was unshakeable in his intent.

His over riding concern was that he might suddenly slip into the full grip of the symptoms. This would mean that he either wouldn’t be able to speak or write and express his intentions on arrival at Dignitas or that he would loose the swallow reflex.
The arrangement is one of assisted dying. It is not one of killing or of suicide at a moment of weakness and depression. Peter was not depressed nor did he want to stop living a full and enriching life. Sadly the latter was no longer an option. The disease had taken that choice away from him. It was more a complete focus and determination not to suffer what he considered to be an existence without dignity or hope of any kind of recovery. All of those who loved him would have nursed and cared for him whatever difficulties that involved. He refused all such offers.

In the week leading up to the fateful day we had a lot of laughter and story telling. In more ways than I can say it was profoundly surreal and extraordinarily loving. A rare and extraordinary privilege.

We walked with Pete in his wheelchair, the many paths along the lake, we drank cool beers and delicious wines. We had fun and laughed and wept.

The last day was as good as ever it could have been.

At the clinic the two people who took care of us were an older man and woman. Both very lovely, kind and caring people who were nothing but sensitive, primarily to Peter. They knew all our names and our relationship to each other. They made emotional and physical space for us. There was no sense of rush. Peter set the pace and was in full control of what happened and when.

He was surrounded by love and held in our arms...what more could any of us wish for.

Now, after paying close attention to the unhappy conclusion to Tony Nicklinson’s life I would like to do as much as I can to shine light on this way of release as an ethical and viable option for people suffering from any of these dreadful complaints that make life unendurable for them.

Surely we must change the law so that desperately sick people do not need to travel to foreign and it has to be said expensive lands, in order to die quietly and with dignity at a time of their choosing. It cost a lot of money it's a fact. That is another issue that should be addressed when we tackle the legalities and logistics of setting up something in the UK.
There was no question of anyone doing this to or for him. Dignitas provided a safe professional place with experienced professionals on hand to help him reach the conclusion he desired so strongly.

This was not euthanasia. No one put a stop to his life which is another thing entirely. Assisted dying allows a person to end their own life within a safe framework. Not an easy option by any means but when the alternative is too horrific for an individual to countenance then it must become a legal way to leave.

Wednesday, 29 August 2012

Musing on...

My kitchen

..is full of simply contained chaos. The turquoise, chalkily washed walls are covered in pictures they dance and jig across the space. None of them have carefully aligned hooks and clips..they all vie for attention like so many children asked for answers...hands up in the air waving to be noticed.

But that's how I like it! So many moments tumbling like shifting breezes.




The Kitchen 8th July 2012
Chalky walls, flake and blister,

enclosing the simmering heart of the home.

No formal lines of panels and cupboards

but a jumble of colour and surface.



Lacquered ash and scrubbed pine,

knobs of flamed walnut while sycamore ripples

neath the dark granite top with its little round sink.

Bright steel swan necks arch shining and polished.



Under the sill laden with plant pots

the butler’s sink on it’s painted brick piers.

A curve bellied plate rack holds lines of white platters,

from hand forged hooks dangle eggs in a basket.



The old mottled mirror, circled by photos

forms a door to the larder, dry goods stacked within.

Dogs lazily curl in their Aga side baskets

hiding the bones lying buried beneath them.



Next to the stove is an old hotel cooker

with an enamelled oven, far too generous to use

But its hob is wide with room for six saucepans,

there’s a shelf for the jars full of pasta and rice



with dark African pots all crammed with utensils.

A rope of fat purple garlic hangs by the onions

No one can tell they are hollow and empty

Too lovely to cut, to crush and to cook

They disappeared inside their pale skins

secretly.







Friday, 10 August 2012

Dignity in dying

Our dear Peter
In July I travelled to be with my brother Peter in Switzerland..Zurich..so that he could end his days together with me, his wife and her sister at a special place called Dignitas. He was suffering from the disease PSP innocent sounding initials that stand for Progressive Supranuclear Palsy. It is really up there with the very worst of the degenerative diseases that man can suffer from and involves great indignities...and with him it was fast.
Peter could not countenance such a miserable end to his life and therefore chose to have a controlled and dignified ending.
It was very peaceful and his courage and calm were inspirational..I cannot begin to describe how focused and certain he was that this was the right choice for him.
In the week leading up to the fateful day we had a lot of laughter and story telling. It was profoundly surreal and we simply shared a strong desire to make sure nothing stopped him in his intent.
We walked with Pete in his wheelchair, the many paths along the lake, we drank cool beers and delicious wines..we had fun and laughed and wept.
The last day was as good as ever it could have been..really
At the clinic the two people who took care of us were an older man and woman..very lovely, kind and caring people who were nothing but sensitive primarily to Peter. They new all our names and our relationship to each other. They made emotional and physical space for us..there was no sense of rush. Peter set the pace.
He was surrounded by love and held in our arms...what more could any of us wish for.
We are now home...shattered but so glad he is in peace.
Now I am determined to do as much as I can to shine light on this as an ethical and viable option for people suffering from any of these dreadful complaints that make life unendurable. We must change the law so that sick people do not need to travel to foreign and it has to be said expensive lands, in order to die quietly and with dignity at a time of their choosing. It cost a lot of money it's a fact. That is another issue that should be addressed when we tackle the legalities and logistics of setting up something in the UK.
There was no question of anyone doing this to or for him..Dignitas provided a safe professional place with experienced professionals on hand to help him reach the conclusion he desired so strongly.

This was not euthanasia..no one put a stop to his life which is another thing entirely. This assisted dying..for that is what it is..allows a person to end their own life within a safe framework. Not an easy option by any means but when the alternative is too horrific for an individual to countenance then it must become a legal way out.

Friday, 3 August 2012

A time passed

Well..I stopped writing this blog for quite a while..started another one over on Wordpress which is really all about my delightful puppet friends..and left this one to just sit. Perhaps the time has come to rev this idling engine and slip it it back into gear...brrrrmmmm Lots has happened..and a scythe has been bought to slice through all kinds of jungle..a new blog post to follow soon..xxxx

Saturday, 2 July 2011


















Well...I have now completed two performances of the Mongolian Boy and his Rather Strange Horse. The first was for an audience of mainly very small people and their mums and dads..in a yurt. My two lovely daughters manned the rod puppets and I told the story. The children were very good and they engaged with the characters and the story but in truth it was probably a bit too 'old' for them. Eli and Vicki then won them all over by making impromptu hobby horses to give away from the scraps of cardboard and hazel wands.
David Dempsey very kindly filmed it so I can study what not to do as well as what to do.
The second time was with the brilliant assistance of two gifted teachers Suseela and Mariamah on the rods and to the whole of Inwoods Small School and staff. They ranged in age between four and ten..the perfect ages. Great fun. I need to work out a way to be fluent with the stort telling and be more hands on with the puppets. They are quite fragile so that needs addressing too.

As well as the paper rod puppets I have now been working on sewn bodies and clothes with Flymo hands and heads.
The local bookshop is interested in giving me a space to perform so that is very exciting.

Thursday, 14 April 2011

A poem for Clare when the missiles fell, relentless

The wind unites us.
I breathe in warm, moist air
that riffles my summer garden.
Feel it, laden with life.

You lie, tube pierced and fevered
with hot, dry heat
in a land where mountains range
and wilderness once reigned

So many love and keen for you
watching as you strive for each
and every goal.
Your courage makes me small.

Your beauty is marvellous
The warrior queen, constant at your shoulder
holds your loyal and love drawn troops
who wait in serried ranks for word of you.

They light fires, beat the drum, bake fragrant bread,
dance to ancient chants
so that you will know you are not alone.
The wind blows our love,

it carries our strength to you
shedding as it moves, our tears.
As you lie gently sleeping, quietly dreaming
it stirs across the veranda

where a nest is made
to ease you.
Bringing scents of lavender and jasmine
creamy with white blooms of philadelphus
and echoes of childhood smiles,

wet dogs running.
As I breathe I smell New England
and Pollyanna Glad Day
pink candy floss bright

wild flower meadows
and cow belch warmth.
Sleep, slumber deep,
while the winds unite us

Tuesday, 15 March 2011

Yipes..I haven't written an entry since last August







Scrabble says what are they?



Coo...Time has slithered away like soap bubbles down the plug hole.




Scrabble is now eleven months old and we have two smaller editions..well not so little really. Now they are quite chunky. Like miniature rugby players with slightly bowed legs and meaty thighs. They were like two starvin'Marvins when we first got them just before Christmas..Eli had them curled up inside a couple of home made Xmas stockings and when she handed them over to her father..he had asked for a thirty two foot long fishing boat it should be remembered..he at first thought they were stockings with hot porridge, or worse, in the bottom.. When the two almost completely hairless heads emerged it was not at all clear whether they were puppies or large mutant rats. The mange had left them with big sores and lots of pink skin. The pictures above are after they have been to the vet,(at huge expense and thank you Eli) fed vast amounts of high protein food(thank you David) and tea spoons full of cod liver oil...and loved til they knew no escape for around two or three weeks.
The woman who bred them just didn't have a clue. She thought it was enough to give them breakfast cereal. They both had horror movie worms...and we did wonder whether or not they might just explode after we first fed them roast chicken..they turned into little balloons with legs. For the first few weeks they had to wear socks with holes cut in them for their legs to poke through...
Now they are properly transformed into speedy little thugs who love to hide under the branches of the big old shrub by the back door rather than come in like good girls.