Special visitors

I love having visitors, none more so than Rosa and Claudia, my great granddaughters. Their visit latest, coming into Sunrise with Ria, was their first for eighteen months.

A wonderful hour. As usual, they roamed the flat, jumping on my scooter, and having a fine time. 

After they finished the few little jobs I had for them, including watering my windowsill plants, they had a treasure hunt with prizes. They missed nothing.

The visit ended with a photograph and a promise to be back soon. I can’t  wait. It is a marvellous pleasure to be with such lovely girls.

Sunrise reflections, two years on

Two years ago today I moved into my new home, and a new life, at Sunrise Cardiff.

And what a life it has proved to be. I didn't foresee the historic events that would follow.

My first six months here was a time of adjustment, of learning to live in different surroundings, of adapting to a totally different life style. My ‘turret suite’ was comfortable and the care and attention I was receiving helped make up for the lack of total freedom l had always enjoyed. 

It was a relief when, after a sad and worrying few years with Rosemary’s eyesight failing and Beverley’s sudden death, I found I could not manage to look after myself properly and deciding that moving into a home was the answer.

After that first comfortable and comforting six months coronavirus changed everything. There was uncertainty and anxiety, relieved by the magnificent Sunrise carers. My lowest point was in autumn 2020 when I was in hospital with coronavirus and a broken ankle, followed by weeks involving isolation and a very slow recovery.

Throughout those difficult months I felt optimistic and positive and I recorded my thoughts in my blog, recently published on Kindle as Pandemic! My Care Home Diary, thanks to Robert’s skill and patience as editor

Today, I feel better than I have for years, able to look after myself and enjoy life, even if it is still limited to some extent.

What of the future? Whatever happens I will try to remain positive, and grateful for my good fortune in having such a marvellous family and so many friends.

Better days - surely better than the past, best forgotten, eighteen months.

Problems, problems

The pandemic has for many months cast a dark cloud of uncertainty, affecting people’s lives throughout the world, uncertainty that has spread even deeper in recent months.

National and local governments are struggling to cope with circumstances, conditions and events many of which are beyond their control. Britain is a typical example. I can never remember when we faced so many seemingly intractable problems. The list is daunting.

Far from being subdued, Covid is still deadly - yesterday’s death toll was the worst for months. In some areas the infection rate is soaring, not surprising since the lifting of restrictions on mass events has led to packed night clubs, festivals and sporting events.

Now turmoil in Afghanistan has deepened the uncertainty. The Prime Minister’s attempt to get a united response inevitably failed, leaving doubt and recriminations but no relief and little hope. The scenes from Kabul are desperately sad, made even worse by the international failure to deal with a situation that can only escalate.

Britain is looking more out of touch with reality than ever, beset by a host of problems, many of which could have been foreseen. The list is formidable. Drastic shortages in the supply of food, lorry drivers, care workers and immigrants who have kept many industries going, now swollen by the inrush from Afghanistan.

What is the government doing? Very little, it seems.

The prospect of shortages from the pandemic and Brexit was clear many months ago yet there has been nothing but dither and confusion.

Our government is just not functioning and that one noisy day back in the Commons last week was a farce, an example of the pass the buck, find someone to blame exercise.

No action, no realisation of the seriousness of the situation.

Britain and the world is facing its greatest challenge for decades, even a lifetime, and Britain mirrors the bewilderment and inaction  of so many other countries

Unless someone, somewhere gets a grip on things, that cloud of uncertainty is going to get even darker and deeper.

Anniversary memories

A sunny morning today. Just like the one 69 years ago when Rosemary and I got married.

A exciting day which I vividly remember. The destination, Bray, a small seaside town near Dublin.

Why there? To escape food rationing, still in force after seven years. The thought of bacon and eggs, cakes and cream was irresistible...

My best man, reporter Peter Parry-Jones, and I were driven from my home, 31 Malefant Street, Cardiff, to Christchurch Congregational Church in the centre of Penarth where a big crowd was waiting. Rosemary was well known in Penarth as the local reporter and the town’s police chief, Inspector Tom Arthur had a team of white gloved officers out.

Rosemary arrived with her father. It was a lovely service with one of Rosemary’s friends singing a Mozart aria.

There were over seventy family and friends - many journalists - at the reception, the first to be held in the Paget Rooms Penarth, just freed from many years of RAF use. 

We were waved off as we left to go by train from Cardiff to Bristol airport for the afternoon Aer Lingus flight to Dublin.

Then, the first shock of the day, There was a Dublin bus strike and  we had to take a taxi, my first money worry.

But it was a lovely holiday in beautiful Ireland  - and that food!

This sporting life

It is good to see more activity and freedom in every day life, with entertainment and sport getting into their stride, the crowds back.

I enjoyed watching the women’s cricket Hundred final yesterday where 17,000 spectators were at Lord's.  

But with the Welsh government still cautious, care home residents still have less freedom. 

Visitors can come freely into the gardens but still have to be nominated and be tested on arrival to come inside. Children are not allowed inside.

We are rested regularly - thankfully no positive cases for some time - which is a relief.

So here’s hoping that the government will make life better for residents in care homes that have, quite rightly, and in Sunrise Cardiff case, successfully, handled the pandemic will soon give us the same freedom as ordinary people.

Life coming alive again

Sunrise today reminds me of my first six months here that began two years ago this month.

Life is at last ‘coming alive’ again, with regular daily arrivals of visitors, even children.

I am sure those fortunate to have visitors are pleased and relieved and the carers are, too, but most of the residents seem resigned to just existing, keeping going but not really aware of or caring about their limited existence.

It sounds so negative and so different from my views but it is evident and it increases my admiration for the patience and kindness of the carers about whom I have written.

They probably have some concern because of the end of Sunrise in the takeover by Care UK.

This will take some months and the management here, led by Sara and Virgil is to remain the same but there are bound to be some differences

We shall see.

Seaside music

The Scarborough Spa Orchestra

Last night, looking for some music to end my day, I came across a programme on BBC Sounds that reminded me of a pleasure going back many years - seaside orchestras.

It was from Scarborough where the Scarborough Spa municipal orchestra, the last in Britain, was playing at the magnificent Grand Hall. Nine concerts a week throughout the summer, in sun, wind or rain.

They were good, too. Eleven musicians, some of whom had been with the orchestra for 25 years, doubling up, playing over 20 instruments, every programme different.

I always made for the bandstand in parks and at the seaside, with my favourite orchestra in the Rozel bandstand on the seafronts at Weston super Mare. 

The first time was with Rosemary and young Beverley on holiday there. I have forgotten the name of its longterm conductor, famous in the town. Not as famous as some other young conductors of those bands, like Malcolm Sargent at Llandudno.

Last night’s programme, by Matthew Rowe, included a brilliant arrangement of St Saens Dance Macabre that I recently described as the piece that started my lifelong appreciation of classical music. The programme was first broadcast ten years ago.

I am delighted to discover that the Scarborough Spa Orchestra is still going strong after 110 years. It has just resumed its first summer season since lockdown. The famous Yorkshire band is giving daytime concerts in the Suncourt and in the evening in the Grand Hall. Its Teddy Bears Picnic on Sundays is as popular as ever

Well well done, Scarborough.

Reforming prisons

I was moved, and shocked, to read in the Guardian of the failure of British prison system and of the plight of their inmates, now totalling 78,000.

It was a cry from the heart of Frances Crook, retiring after 35 years as chief executive of the Howard League for Penal Reform. After devoting her life trying to change the system she despairs at her failure.

I only know of the charity because of its small hut in a lane near the forbidding Wandsworth prison near where I lived 80 years ago.

After walking a few steps out of the gates released prisoners had their first helping hand from the charity, perhaps some food and advice.

No wonder she is despondent about our prisons which she sees as the last unreformed public service, with minister after minister having done nothing about an ‘unfair and unjust system’.

She can indeed be proud of the charity’s success in 2012, when, with police forces, it vastly cut the number of children being arrested. This has already saved countless thousands of them from trauma and lifelong effects.

I hope that her final assessment, that ‘a small ethical and compassionate system would save the taxpayer a fortune and change lives’ will at last achieved by a bolder minister and government.

If so it would be a triumph for the charity, founded in 1866, named after John Howard, who in the late 1770s over 15 years, and with his own money travelled around Europe to try to evolve a humane prison system for English gaols.

Tokyo's brilliant Olympics

The decision to go ahead with the postponed Tokyo summer Olympics, despite almost universal condemnation, proved to be as successful as it was bold. It was unique in the event’s history, first recorded in Olympia in ancient Greece in 776 BC.

Brilliantly organised and confidently presented, it sadly lacked a live audience. Despite this, it thrilled millions of people around the world,

In Britain, despite the limited television coverage, we were enthralled day by day by the records broken and stories of skill and determination. We applauded the equalling of our previous best medal tally in the 2012 London Olympics.

The pandemic was always menacingly in the background but its threat was largely thwarted by strict safety measures.

What does it all mean for the sceptical, worried people of  Japan where the infection rate is soaring? They were apparently the least supportive country but Japan will undoubtedly reap huge reward.

The 2020 Olympics will be remembered for uniting the sporting world, giving it fresh hope and motivation after the massive disruption caused by the pandemic.

When I first went to Japan 50 years ago tourists were few and far between. Not surprising, as its many attractions were mostly out of reach and comprehension because of the language difficulty. In my two months there I hardly heard or saw a word of English, or any other language. Everything was in Japanese. 

I only managed to find my way around sprawling, ever bustling Tokyo by the efficient sardine-tin-like packed underground where each station had signs in English signifying the next station in either direction. And where did that idea come from? The Tokyo Olympics of 1964.

When I returned many years later with the BBC Welsh Symphony Orchestra, tourism was picking up. More people spoke English and many shop and businesses used English signs.   

I can see tourists pouring in by plane and cruise ship, thanks to Tokyo 2020. 

Geronimo's story

Every week we are hearing more ‘them and us’ stories, examples of the powerful and privileged getting away with actions and benefits denied to us ordinary people.

The latest involve Boris Johnson and some of his ministers breaking their own rules on quarantining, and getting away with it. No wonder more of us are not listening when told we must quarantine.

The official government response to their failures is always bland and dishonest. What an example.

The news silly season is upon, with newspapers padding out minor stories with big headlines. The Mail on Sunday’s front page lead is the admittedly sad tale of the apparently doomed eight year old alpaca Geronimo that has bovine TB. A real sob story, worth reporting perhaps, but what a fuss. 

Beverley’s two lamas lasted only a couple of years; they can live to 29. The average life of an alpaca is 15 to 20.

What are the chances of our PM courting public favour by giving Geronimo a reprieve?

Needle work

Resistance to vaccination is a problem in the fight against coronavirus, threatening to delay getting the pandemic under control.

A recent study reports that young people are most reluctant although people of all ages and ethnic backgrounds are also shunning the jabs, for various reasons.

In a broadcast today a young man said he is not being vaccinated, not because he fears the outcome but because of his revulsion, horror even, of the needle itself.

I am not surprised. I have had countless injections and have always watched closely, feeling no discomfort, but I do not like watching other people getting the needle.

The simple operation is shown every day on television news  - I counted seven times in one programme - and I think this could be a deterrent for some.

Reporting health stories requires illustration and the usual example is a scientist in a laboratory squeezing some liquid into a frame which I find annoyingly boring.

The government is spending heavily to encourage people to accept jabs, even offering incentives, including free pizzas and vouchers.

I hope it works. The more people vaccinated the quicker coronavirus will be defeated. 

The silly season

August. Holiday month. The newspaper ‘silly season’.

With parliament in recess, ministers and members are taking a break, at home or risking an overseas trip, probably unannounced, to avoid being accused of ignoring their own rules.

It should be a time of rest, recreation and recuperation but with the pandemic still hanging over us like a cloud it is not all beer and skittles.

Foreign travel has been made a little easier with the government’s last minute change in the travel rules following intense criticism by the besieged travel industry and the public.

The ridiculous amber countries watch scheme that had hundreds of thousands frantically dashing home to avoid quarantine has gone. More people will be off to the airport, willing to jump the hurdles of extra cost of tests, the form filling and the airport queues to taste freedom.

And there is at least a much bigger choice now, dozens of countries. Another belated decision is to allow double vaccinated travellers from some countries to come here without having to quarantine.

It was heartening to see the airport reunions of families reunited, some after two years.

Despite the fickleness of our weather - from blazing sun to howling gales - most people. are enjoying holidays in the UK. Wales is one of the most popular destinations. 

As for me, it will be just a ten-minute drive, by scooter, to Roath Park. When I was there on Sunday with Robert, Karen, Owen and Rufus the dog we had a picnic in the cafe, looking out onto the lake, dotted with paddle and rowing boats, back after two years.

I remember Beverley, many years ago, shouting in delight as she pedalled a tiny boat on the children’s pool, long since closed.

No one was swimming. That stopped long ago due to water pollution. A pity as it was a favourite with me and my school friends.

Among the park’s many attractions is the fragrant, multi coloured rose garden, and of course, the ice cream kiosks.

So in this summer, marred by a vicious virus, why fly hundreds or even thousands of miles when Britain has so much to offer.

Latin - a living language

Dum spiro spero, nihil desperandum, ad infinitum, et cetera. That is more or less the extent of my Latin vocabulary.

Just over 80 years ago, at the start of the war, I was evacuated, voluntarily, to live with my Auntie Flo, transferring to Cardiff High School. 

I was in the arts ‘stream’ - I had no idea of or intention to take up science - and I learned French, German and Latin.

The German lessons stopped abruptly when the aptly named Mr (Herr) Walter Wagner left to join the army. He was  British, not a spy.

For my first year of Latin I enjoyed being hailed as a budding genius but I had had the unknown advantage of two years on the subject at my London school.

As the terms passed my halo dimmed and I struggled, but somehow managed a credit at my final examination. 

All this came to mind with the government announcement that Latin is to be included in more schools in a pilot scheme in England. The reason - it is now seen as too elitist and is taught mainly in public schools. 

I don't agree with that view. I have found my basic Latin useful in journalism and writing generally and, like French, it has made it rich and colourful.

Our language, in writing and speech, is evolving all the time, marred too often by the woeful misuse or overuse of some words - awesome, great, impact (affect) and other here-today-gone-tomorrow words. Lazy writing and speaking.

Latin was first used by the Romans  about 2,700 years ago  and it is good to see it is still is still holding its own - pro bono publico, as they say.