I have not written and propose not to write for immediate publication, about the condition of my mother, not because the situation is distressing but it does not feel right to do so. While her admission to hospital came without warning, it was a situation, or something similar, which I had tried to prepare myself for during the three years since moving her north.
At the time there were three considerations governing the decision. I would be able to visit regularly whereas until then I visited over one week each month with involved car journeys within over night stays at Travel Lodges near places I wanted to visit, usually at significantly discounted prices booked over the internet. This week I was due to be at Croydon to attend over Saturday and Sunday the first final which Durham Cricket Club had reached during the 15 years since they became a first class county. I had obtained a significant discount but the whole amount was immediately payable and not returnable. In the past I have paid and not stayed the odd night, including a three night booking in central London, but this occasion I decided to ask for a credit towards a future stay and this morning I received a cheque for the full amount which is in contrast to the general perception of the way major companies approach customer relations. I was less surprised when Durham reimbursed the cost of the ticket because it has always been that kind of a club, more the head of family of cricket clubs in the county who cancelled their fixtures today to enable their supporters to be present at Lords, or like me to be able to watch the event on television. Both their attitudes contrasted with that of train insurance, where on notifying the company they referred to another company where a three minute automated telephone call had to be made, quoting the section under which the claim was being made. I had to do this twice because of making two single journeys to obtain the best price available, half the cost of the least expensive return fare available.
The second consideration behind the decision to move my mother north was because of the staffing situation in the residential home where she had been resident for eighteen months. The management of the home were excellent, but it was impossible to recruit and retain both qualified and unqualified staff and there was a continuous dependence on agency staff who not only changed with every visit but made no connections with the residents on an individual basis, and often appeared to lack any engagement or interest with the residents at all. It was a depressing situation.
In this respect the decision to move her into South Tyneside was not a gamble because of my previous managerial knowledge of the position. Of course as in any residential situation or large occupational grouping there is a range of strengths and abilities and individuals are governed as much by what has and is happening in their own lives as their training and experience, but with one fundamental difference, the equivalent of the X or WOW factor which comes from local people looking after local people with the kind of love, dedication and commitment irrespective of whether they were teachers or nurses or care staff of their parent's generation, mother's who attended the same church or factories, were members of some voluntary organisation or bingo club, they had all been part of the same community who had experienced the same wartime, economic and social conditions over several decades.
The third reason is that I dreaded the possibility that if the need arose my mother would be taken to the hospital where the admission of my aunt in January 2003 led to the admission of my mother into residential care, and where on what became her death bed I had promised my aunt who had provided mothering in childhood, that I would take care of my mother if she was unable to do so. This is not the occasion to talk about what happened to my aunt as the official investigations are continuing, having appealed against the two reports of the Health Commissioner submitted to the Government Minister just before last Christmas. However although the experience of my mother being admitted to hospital has only lasted nine days to date, the contrast between the two experiences has confirmed my greatest expectations.
And then of course there has been the cricket today which began with that sickening feeling as Durham lost the toss and were asked to bat on a greenish wicket where the fast bowlers could expect the ball to swing off the seam under the clouded sky, but which brightened up a little as if too signal to the batsmen that they should cast aside their instinctive fear and to throw aside caution go for it, which they did, from first to seventh man, as only five wickets fell while they amassed the biggest score ever in a 50 over final and which was only a dozen runs less than the highest score when the match was played with sixty more balls bowled.
And then the great miracle occurred which should have been anticipated but few will have even dreamed about. Otis Gibson is a former West Indian Test cricketer who decided to play on and joined Durham in what has become his 38th year, several years longer than most professional players, especially the fast bowlers. He has had an exceptional year achieving what only a handful of players have previously accomplished, bowling out every member of an opposing team in one innings. We should have known this was to be his and Durham's day when on coming to the wicket with his captain to end the innings he hit his first ball out of the playing surface for six and his second to the boundary for four, and then had to face a beamer. This is a fast ball which instead of first hitting the ground flies straight towards the head giving the batsman little time to get out of its way. Sometimes this happens because the bowler makes a mistake but when there is no visible reason the bowler and his side should be penalised. Otis recovered from the neat miss and got his revenge in the sweetest of ways.
I had reached the hospital, greeted my mother, taken the two night dresses which a nurse had placed in the bag I had left in the bedside wardrobe and put them in my rucksack, adjusted the TV set to a programme with subtitles and into position so my mother could view and read if she wished, taken out a portable radio with headphones and checked the score in the football with Sunderland playing away at Wigan, and then switched to the cricket as Otis ran up to bowl the first ball against the opposition. Their opening batsman hit the ball straight into the waiting hands of a team colleague standing at second slip. The roar from the Durham fans could be heard across London and I could barely contain my delight. He then bowled again at the new batsman who hit the ball straight at the second slip who again caught it and the opposition had lost two wickets in two balls for no runs. This time I could not contain my disbelief and quickly had to explain to the other visitors and to the other patients my excitement. The game has not ended, disrupted by rain and will be continued in the morning which will be a pity for all those unable to return and witness the historic event live. No doubt, because it will take another miracle, and on two days is not anticipated or likely, the Durham team will be given the freedom of the city and possibly a contender for the sporting team of the year. As for Otis he has become an honorary Geordie and Mackem and if he says he can walk on water, we will sort out anyone who suggests otherwise. I was not there, I did not even see it live, but I did later on the national sporting news, as it will be shown time and time again and become a question on countless sporting quizzes.
It does not matter that Sunderland lost badly to Wigan 3.0 or that Newcastle's home game against Aston Villa was so boring that I went to sleep during the second half of what ended a 0.0 draw and which also means that the Toon have not scored a home goal in the Premiership since February. When the game started seeing the 52000 supporters in their black and white minus me, I began to wish I had chosen to be there, even to renewing the season ticket. Later as I drank a pint over a Pizza watching the start of this year's X Factor, I knew I had made another good decision.
The Myspace experience had commenced after checking the internet sites of last year's finalist before their concert in Newcastle, so it was fitting that I was able to watch the start of this year's series which may not have been possible had I been at Lords and the game ended on the day and then I had to make my way across London to Victoria station, then train to Croydon and walked to the Travel Lodge from the station without stopping out for an evening meal after a day of sandwiches, fruit and cold drinks.
Tonight the programme editors had cleverly sliced the two opening auditions in London and Manchester into the first of two programmes in order to include the drama of deciding to bring back Louis Walsh, a judge of three years of programmes, after he had been rejected in a public way beforehand. The programme has a new format with four groups and four judges which will make it interesting what happens when they are divided 2 and 2 in their judgements. The second change is to lower the age of entry of the younger, now separate male and female groups, from 16 to 14. Having separate male and female groups of individual contestants may follow the American Idol format of commencing with separate groups who then enter into a male female competition to see how many can remain when then top six from each group compete to become the top six overall. The programme was also better structured this year with those who cannot sing shown at the opening and with subsequent sections closing with two individuals with heart rendering stories destined to become section finalists if not finalists overall.
The first was a fourteen year old who technically died from organ failure the previous year following a burst appendix and the second a young woman who found that her father had sent for the application forms but had not given them to her before he died just over six months ago. The young woman can sing with a distinctive voice but as a consequence of the death of the parent there was that kind of feeling which grips your attention and emotions. There was also a nervous 32 year old dinner lady with the school waiting to hear the result who could go further, and a brother and sister duo with an energy and enthusiasm which reminded of the Big Brother twins
Talking of Big Brother, the X factor now has a new male presenter who is the same presenter as the five times weekly half hour Big Brother Little Brother programme. He is a talented young man, who is attractive to the opposite sex of all ages, and he comes over as intelligent and honest, but what would one give for his weekly income, or to be in the shoes of the Scottish single parent who won £35 million in the Euro lottery, but then made the mistake of going public.
And talking of Big Brother the programme has been even more clever than usual over the past couple of weeks although I object to introducing food deprivation as well as selecting participants who smoke. There will have to be a significant cull in this penultimate week unless the designers want a situation where any of the remaining contestants could win because of the extent of divided loyalties and votes.
I ended with the midnight news which put everything that has happened in perspective. People are missing feared dead beneath the rubble of a fire ripped hotel in Cornwall, and a few are also already dead at a hurricane rips through the Atlantic into the Caribbean. A plane hijacking ended without a fatality but another young boys has died after being killed by a knife in greater Manchester. I have been working on a piece about youth violence which hope to complete in the morning, if I wake up early enough
At the time there were three considerations governing the decision. I would be able to visit regularly whereas until then I visited over one week each month with involved car journeys within over night stays at Travel Lodges near places I wanted to visit, usually at significantly discounted prices booked over the internet. This week I was due to be at Croydon to attend over Saturday and Sunday the first final which Durham Cricket Club had reached during the 15 years since they became a first class county. I had obtained a significant discount but the whole amount was immediately payable and not returnable. In the past I have paid and not stayed the odd night, including a three night booking in central London, but this occasion I decided to ask for a credit towards a future stay and this morning I received a cheque for the full amount which is in contrast to the general perception of the way major companies approach customer relations. I was less surprised when Durham reimbursed the cost of the ticket because it has always been that kind of a club, more the head of family of cricket clubs in the county who cancelled their fixtures today to enable their supporters to be present at Lords, or like me to be able to watch the event on television. Both their attitudes contrasted with that of train insurance, where on notifying the company they referred to another company where a three minute automated telephone call had to be made, quoting the section under which the claim was being made. I had to do this twice because of making two single journeys to obtain the best price available, half the cost of the least expensive return fare available.
The second consideration behind the decision to move my mother north was because of the staffing situation in the residential home where she had been resident for eighteen months. The management of the home were excellent, but it was impossible to recruit and retain both qualified and unqualified staff and there was a continuous dependence on agency staff who not only changed with every visit but made no connections with the residents on an individual basis, and often appeared to lack any engagement or interest with the residents at all. It was a depressing situation.
In this respect the decision to move her into South Tyneside was not a gamble because of my previous managerial knowledge of the position. Of course as in any residential situation or large occupational grouping there is a range of strengths and abilities and individuals are governed as much by what has and is happening in their own lives as their training and experience, but with one fundamental difference, the equivalent of the X or WOW factor which comes from local people looking after local people with the kind of love, dedication and commitment irrespective of whether they were teachers or nurses or care staff of their parent's generation, mother's who attended the same church or factories, were members of some voluntary organisation or bingo club, they had all been part of the same community who had experienced the same wartime, economic and social conditions over several decades.
The third reason is that I dreaded the possibility that if the need arose my mother would be taken to the hospital where the admission of my aunt in January 2003 led to the admission of my mother into residential care, and where on what became her death bed I had promised my aunt who had provided mothering in childhood, that I would take care of my mother if she was unable to do so. This is not the occasion to talk about what happened to my aunt as the official investigations are continuing, having appealed against the two reports of the Health Commissioner submitted to the Government Minister just before last Christmas. However although the experience of my mother being admitted to hospital has only lasted nine days to date, the contrast between the two experiences has confirmed my greatest expectations.
And then of course there has been the cricket today which began with that sickening feeling as Durham lost the toss and were asked to bat on a greenish wicket where the fast bowlers could expect the ball to swing off the seam under the clouded sky, but which brightened up a little as if too signal to the batsmen that they should cast aside their instinctive fear and to throw aside caution go for it, which they did, from first to seventh man, as only five wickets fell while they amassed the biggest score ever in a 50 over final and which was only a dozen runs less than the highest score when the match was played with sixty more balls bowled.
And then the great miracle occurred which should have been anticipated but few will have even dreamed about. Otis Gibson is a former West Indian Test cricketer who decided to play on and joined Durham in what has become his 38th year, several years longer than most professional players, especially the fast bowlers. He has had an exceptional year achieving what only a handful of players have previously accomplished, bowling out every member of an opposing team in one innings. We should have known this was to be his and Durham's day when on coming to the wicket with his captain to end the innings he hit his first ball out of the playing surface for six and his second to the boundary for four, and then had to face a beamer. This is a fast ball which instead of first hitting the ground flies straight towards the head giving the batsman little time to get out of its way. Sometimes this happens because the bowler makes a mistake but when there is no visible reason the bowler and his side should be penalised. Otis recovered from the neat miss and got his revenge in the sweetest of ways.
I had reached the hospital, greeted my mother, taken the two night dresses which a nurse had placed in the bag I had left in the bedside wardrobe and put them in my rucksack, adjusted the TV set to a programme with subtitles and into position so my mother could view and read if she wished, taken out a portable radio with headphones and checked the score in the football with Sunderland playing away at Wigan, and then switched to the cricket as Otis ran up to bowl the first ball against the opposition. Their opening batsman hit the ball straight into the waiting hands of a team colleague standing at second slip. The roar from the Durham fans could be heard across London and I could barely contain my delight. He then bowled again at the new batsman who hit the ball straight at the second slip who again caught it and the opposition had lost two wickets in two balls for no runs. This time I could not contain my disbelief and quickly had to explain to the other visitors and to the other patients my excitement. The game has not ended, disrupted by rain and will be continued in the morning which will be a pity for all those unable to return and witness the historic event live. No doubt, because it will take another miracle, and on two days is not anticipated or likely, the Durham team will be given the freedom of the city and possibly a contender for the sporting team of the year. As for Otis he has become an honorary Geordie and Mackem and if he says he can walk on water, we will sort out anyone who suggests otherwise. I was not there, I did not even see it live, but I did later on the national sporting news, as it will be shown time and time again and become a question on countless sporting quizzes.
It does not matter that Sunderland lost badly to Wigan 3.0 or that Newcastle's home game against Aston Villa was so boring that I went to sleep during the second half of what ended a 0.0 draw and which also means that the Toon have not scored a home goal in the Premiership since February. When the game started seeing the 52000 supporters in their black and white minus me, I began to wish I had chosen to be there, even to renewing the season ticket. Later as I drank a pint over a Pizza watching the start of this year's X Factor, I knew I had made another good decision.
The Myspace experience had commenced after checking the internet sites of last year's finalist before their concert in Newcastle, so it was fitting that I was able to watch the start of this year's series which may not have been possible had I been at Lords and the game ended on the day and then I had to make my way across London to Victoria station, then train to Croydon and walked to the Travel Lodge from the station without stopping out for an evening meal after a day of sandwiches, fruit and cold drinks.
Tonight the programme editors had cleverly sliced the two opening auditions in London and Manchester into the first of two programmes in order to include the drama of deciding to bring back Louis Walsh, a judge of three years of programmes, after he had been rejected in a public way beforehand. The programme has a new format with four groups and four judges which will make it interesting what happens when they are divided 2 and 2 in their judgements. The second change is to lower the age of entry of the younger, now separate male and female groups, from 16 to 14. Having separate male and female groups of individual contestants may follow the American Idol format of commencing with separate groups who then enter into a male female competition to see how many can remain when then top six from each group compete to become the top six overall. The programme was also better structured this year with those who cannot sing shown at the opening and with subsequent sections closing with two individuals with heart rendering stories destined to become section finalists if not finalists overall.
The first was a fourteen year old who technically died from organ failure the previous year following a burst appendix and the second a young woman who found that her father had sent for the application forms but had not given them to her before he died just over six months ago. The young woman can sing with a distinctive voice but as a consequence of the death of the parent there was that kind of feeling which grips your attention and emotions. There was also a nervous 32 year old dinner lady with the school waiting to hear the result who could go further, and a brother and sister duo with an energy and enthusiasm which reminded of the Big Brother twins
Talking of Big Brother, the X factor now has a new male presenter who is the same presenter as the five times weekly half hour Big Brother Little Brother programme. He is a talented young man, who is attractive to the opposite sex of all ages, and he comes over as intelligent and honest, but what would one give for his weekly income, or to be in the shoes of the Scottish single parent who won £35 million in the Euro lottery, but then made the mistake of going public.
And talking of Big Brother the programme has been even more clever than usual over the past couple of weeks although I object to introducing food deprivation as well as selecting participants who smoke. There will have to be a significant cull in this penultimate week unless the designers want a situation where any of the remaining contestants could win because of the extent of divided loyalties and votes.
I ended with the midnight news which put everything that has happened in perspective. People are missing feared dead beneath the rubble of a fire ripped hotel in Cornwall, and a few are also already dead at a hurricane rips through the Atlantic into the Caribbean. A plane hijacking ended without a fatality but another young boys has died after being killed by a knife in greater Manchester. I have been working on a piece about youth violence which hope to complete in the morning, if I wake up early enough
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