As the lockdown slowly releases us from our house arrest and the sun is warming our backs

A more normal life seems to be opening up for us holidays can be booked a future seen

It seems that we have been restrained for years but in reality its more like eighteen months

It has caused our lives to shrink leisure has been home-based health issues put on hold

Could we have carried on for another eighteen months? we could but not happily

Could peoples mental strength carry them? on for some that would be possible but not for all

The less stable in our society has struggled to carry on especially those that had to shield

The fortunate have had family or spouses to support them the less fortunate have been all alone

Some reliant on social care for their daily needs that have been supplied as a bare minimum

Some have depended on the kindness of volunteers to keep them supplied and supported

Some have been supplied with boxes of essentials by the government

Some have been supported by local foodbanks shamefully necessary in our society

As we head towards the end of lockdown the freeze on evictions comes to an end

As some of us rejoice others are losing their homes a new tragedy unfolds

Your world stops when you are sick.

When you can’t go to work because you feel too sick

When you can’t walk your dog because you feel too sick

When you can’t do anything in the garden only look at it because you feel too sick

Then you must justify your reason for being sick

To save your place among the lucky few who are still on the sick pay scheme.

The reward is if you are sick, they take you of the sick pay scheme.

For every pound saved is a pound to be paid to directors’ fees.

Every service user retained in an inappropriate service is a plus in the profit and loss.

Every staff member screwed out of a benefit is a plus.

Every milage claim rejected is a bonus for someone.

Every penny pinched makes the rich a little richer.

The hours that are worked and not paid for are still claimed by someone.

Should some care not be given to the carers that make the profit.

Its not just the money although that is more important to the less well off than the rich.

It’s about genuine appreciation for the efforts that are made not lip service.

In an office it gets to lunch time and a plan is made get away from the desk and phone, you’ve been at work for three and a half hours you have earned a break.

On the shop floor it gets to lunch time you prepare someone else’s lunch no little walk to stretch the legs and take in the peace.

You have been at work for five and a half hours your next break is when your shift finishes maybe twenty-four hours from when you started possibly thirty-six.

We know this when we start this type of work and we do it because we choose to mostly, but carers are not just carers they are humans that would just like to be shown a little respect.

The storm that came in a long awaited rush.

It roared and it shouted its way from the west into the east.

Assembled by nature in a complicated fashion.

Born in the south Atlantic it came steadily on.

It claimed its lives on the uncaring alter of nature.

Giving us a reminder that nature runs the earth.

Before the use of satellites the death toll would have been much worse.

The peaceful use of technology is a blessing not a curse.

Should we blame global warming for the problems it has caused?

Why do we always have to find a place to lay the blame?

Sometimes we need to accept that life has inherent risks.

A life without risk would be dull, and that would be a shame!

Your done they said it’s time for you to leave

I left without a plan to face a world of work

No qualifications or worthwhile experience to help me on my way

Only youthful optimism and a need to earn some pay

I gave up childish things and accepted the fitting of my ball and chain

Tied into the government system my labour for pay, another cog in the machinery of state

Just another revenue stream for an uncaring capitalist system

Contribute your labour and your taxes and they hope you die before your pension is due

You choose a hero to follow according to your rebellious bent

As each year passes your value increases as your contributions increase

The chains that bind grow tighter, the rebellion gets strangled into submission

Passive sublimation of the masses under the guise of democracy

Our ruling classes have never experienced the swish of Madame le guillotine

They carry on trampling and exploiting for the benefit of the few

One day we will realise the French should be admired and not despised

They would not be pissed on by the likes of Cameron, Brown or Blaire, Clegg or Thatcher find me one who was fair!

The global organisations that use songs of love and hope to shackle the masses.

Ritual and hierarchy that reinforce the power they wield.

Secrecy and fear to hide the corruption.

Huge cathedrals and churches decorated with the golden trappings of wealth.

Dressed in gold and silver embroidered robes, but a pig with a gold ring through its nose is still a pig.

Strategies designed to keep the congregation in their place.

Wealth created by rich benefactors’ wise investments and ownership of land.

Collections from the hopeful fees from the groom and the dead.

Money from those scared of eternal damnation and those hoping for redemption or salvation.

Are these modern religions any better than the beliefs of the ancients?

Have they brought about peace in the world and goodwill to all men?

They seem to have killed more than they have saved.

They can’t even agree in their own organisations women’s roles are not equal.

Married priests and abortion all reasons to differ and bicker.

You can all believe what you want just leave me alone.

Keep your special days and festivals that you stole from the pagans.

Witches and warlocks’ priests and priestesses what’s the feminine of Rabbi or Mullah.

What a cruel twist of fate

To be born into a species that is aware of their own mortality

The birds in the garden sing with such joy’ no concept of an end to life

The rabbits in the fields make the most of every day

Only humans spend time contemplating their own demise

Only humans spend time trying to extend their three score years and ten

Wearing a tracksuit and running doesn’t seem like a good use of limited time

Cycling in lycra and going nowhere at speed seems a funny way to put off the inevitable

Going to the gym and bathing in other peoples sweat on the machines, I tried it once it’s not for me.

Yoga is a nice thing to do I haven’t done it but I’m sure its ok whether it promotes longevity I cannot tell.

I think walking the dog is the one I would choose headphones listening to glam rock to distract me from my own demise.

It probably will not delay me taking up residence in the little corner of hell reserved for me.

My uncle Terry went out to fight in WW2 the place I don’t know for certain, but they ran out of ammunition for their weapons and were told to roll the guns over a cliff and then surrender. This they did and he was taken into a camp in Italy. Terry was not keen on this and managed to escape into the Italian countryside, along with another Englishman and a young German deserter. They found themselves in an area of caves, it must have been summer as there was a profusion of wild berries to eat. They used one cave to sleep in or hide and a second one as a toilet, this was much used as their diet consisted of berries and more berries. One day while Terry was in the toilet cave a German patrol came by and spotted his companions. Terry heard a commotion going on and stayed hidden, his companions did not let on that there was a third escapee. He was now alone with no Italian knowledge and with deteriorating health due to the poor diet.

 He decided to seek help from a local family who took him in at great risk to themselves. They fed him and kept him hidden until he was well enough to leave. While making his way across Italy he walked into what he thought was a large force of German soldiers. Strangely they did not approach him he knew that they could shoot him if he ran so he raised his arms and surrendered. Still the soldiers did not speak but just watched as he walked towards them. As he got close to them they all smiled and greeted him as friendly Americans are prone to do he had mistaken them for Germans because of the shape of their helmets.

When he asked why they did not speak they explained that he had just walked through the minefield they were laying, they did not want to shout to him as he may have panicked. They thought it better that he did not know.

The young deserter that he escaped with was shot. This was the second escape that Terry made from the Germans.

Sometime later after the war he was asked about his lack of medals he explained that he was not given any and was told he could apply for them. His response was if they can’t give them to me I’m not going to bloody-well ask for them. He spent a bit of time after the war having a problem adjusting to being home. Then settled down and had a large family he loved his kids and they could do no wrong in his eyes. He taught me to ride a motorbike when I was fourteen while I was holidaying with them. A 1940,s Matchless 350cc single cylinder ex-army despatch riders machine.

He was my mum’s favourite brother I think, and my favourite uncle.

All my heroes are dying, John Lennon murdered in New York

Mamma Cass a sandwich in the toilet

Lou Reed drugs and alcohol

Bowie, cancer but kept discreet and unknown

Johnny Cash old age with some dignity

Woody Guthrie with sadness and humility

Dean Martin with style and coolness till the end

Groucho Marx with wit and humour that didn’t offend.

The loss of a personality is sad, the loss of family is grief.

My mother after years of torment

My father with sadness at not making 100

My brother with shock and anger for me

A loss of a loved one is always a loss but different for every one.

My mother because she loved me her troublesome middle child.

My father because he loved me but didn’t understand me.

My brother because I loved him although he annoyed the hell out of me.

My family perhaps a bit dysfunctional, but they made me who I am.

And I’m glad that I was a member, and I wish I had told them more, how much I loved them.

In 1953 my uncle Carol was living in a cottage on the marshes in Blythburgh Suffolk. As the flood water started rising, he with his wife moved upstairs to safety. This was an exceptional tide and the waters continued to rise. Watching from the bedroom window he watched as his rabbit hutches floated away with the rabbits in them. The rising waters forced them to get onto the roof from where he was able to see his belongings being swept away by the water. Along with his life savings which I think was hidden in amongst clothes in the bedroom. Banks were not popular then as now. Fortunately, he did survive and continued to live in Blythburgh he had one daughter who is the only cousin I know nothing about.  I can only recall meeting my uncle a couple of times I seem to remember us visiting him once at his home in Blythburgh I think it was a bungalow in the village. The flood of 1953 caused havoc along the east coast and there were many deaths. He was lucky to survive.

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