Deaf Awareness

The parents of one of my former pupils, who is severely deaf, contacted me. Their daughter is coming to the end of her primary school education and they were not satisfied with the local state school provision at secondary level. They have chosen to send her to the same independent school on Exmoor that my own children attended but the Local Education Authority has decided they will not offer any support, even in the form of advising the staff on how to prepare to accommodate a deaf child in lessons. (That is a measure of the Every Child Matters policy, but that is another story!)

Of course I agreed to go to speak to the staff.  I brushed off the cobwebs that have been growing in my brain since I retired four years ago, put together a presentation and off I went yesterday afternoon. I hadn't expected to see 60 teachers waiting attentively but, after a few wobbly moments with the unfamiliar audio-visual equipment and a few very deep breaths, I was off and it proved to be the most interesting and stimulating session I have ever been involved in.

Purely by coincidence, this also happens to be Deaf Awareness Week in the UK. The slogan this year is "Look at Me." This is a reminder that anyone with any degree of hearing loss - and that means most of the population over the age of about 55 as well as those who were born with a hearing impairment - needs to see the face of the person who is speaking. It also reminds us of the achievements of people who are deaf; deafness can make certain aspects of life difficult but it should not prevent anyone from achieving their potential and enjoying life to the full.

       

I worked in the public sector for most of my professional life. I saw a great deal of inefficiency and waste, countless unnecessary changes and projects started and not seen through, while the steady day-to-day work was undervalued. I wouldn't put my own children through the system but did my best to support those children and families for whom I was responsible. I was always a campaigner for change so I do hope the new coalition government means what it says about making local authorities more cost effective and accountable for their decisions.

Unfinished business

A friend once asked me, "Why don't you just finish one thing before starting another?" That was about thirty years ago and I still haven't resolved the issue. I always have several sewing and knitting projects on the go; there is always at least one room in the house with half-sorted bookshelves, drawers or boxes just waiting for me to find time to finish; I've been working on the family tree for several years, ditto the sorting and assembling of family photos. I could go on but I can't change the habit of a lifetime by actually finishing something!

That particular friend had the most organised house I have ever seen but I confess that her tidiness used to unnerve me. I expect she felt overwhelmed by my chaos but we got on surprisingly well together, she with her routines and order and me with my rushes of enthusiasm for trying new things.

Our resident blackbirds are rather like me. They produced four babies and as soon as they fledged they started on another clutch.  Mr Blackbird is busy feeding the first lot, while Mrs B is sitting on the nest. I'm afraid there only seem to be two fat little youngsters now, although it is hard to spot them in the undergrowth where they have taken up residence.

Yesterday one made it up onto the birdbath, so I think they will be fully independent soon and Mr B can get back to looking after his wife.

 

Meanwhile we have taken on some of his duties, providing Mrs B with a constant supply of food so that she doesn't have to leave the nest unattended for too long.

The garden is another example of my haphazard approach to life. I started with a plan; a very costly plan as I consulted an expert. We went through catalogues and design books and agreed on colours, shapes, height of plants and so on. Then my true nature took over and I have added whatever pleases me and the bees and butterflies. The garden will never be "finished" according to the plan, but I don't think I would like too much order there. Even this rose chose not to wait for one bloom to die before producing two more on the same stem:

 

Chaos reigns and I love it!

 

I am currently spending as many hours as I can in the garden, pottering about, reading and simply enjoying the abundance of life. It is an excellent way of avoiding finishing off those tasks that are waiting indoors.

One project I do plan to finish soon, though, is a quilt for baby grandson, Benjamin. Here is what I've done so far:

Twenty-four little boats, ready to be assembled. I'll have to press on because I'm already planning the next project, something for granddaughter Charlotte's first birthday in August.(Yes, Fern, I can hear you telling me to concentrate on one thing at a time. I'm sure I am better than I was thirty years ag. Oops. Perhaps not.)

A question of frogs

Granddaughter Amelia, better known as Millie, is now two and a quarter years old. Her language development is a constant source of surprise bordering on wonder to us.  I was having a telephone conversation with my daughter yesterday when we were politely interrupted:

Millie: I would like to speak to Grandma.

Mummy: All right, darling. Go ahead.

Millie: Grandma, I have a question for you.

Me: A question? What about?

Millie: I have a question about frogs, Grandma.

Me: I'm listening and I'll try to answer your question. What is it?

Millie: My question is - what colour are frogs? Are they green or brown?

Me: Mmm. That could be a tricky question but I think frogs are green.
Millie: No, Grandma. Orange!  (Giggles)
Me: You caught me out there.

Millie: Now I have a question about food for you.

Mummy: Beware, mum, she gives two options but the answer is always a third!
 
Outwitted by a two year old. What will it be like when she is fifteen or even two and three quarters?

What ho!

One of the first things we did when we bought our current home was to drop the name it had been given when it ceased to be a farmhouse. "I refuse to live in a house with an exclamation mark," I said. The house had been called Westward Ho!, now it glories in being plain number 20.

We went to visit the seaside village the house had been named after, which itself had been named after Charles Kingsley's book.  We didn't stay long, finding the place run down and rather tacky and we haven't been back in the 21 years since. Until yesterday, that is, and what a transformation: bright new seafront buildings, everywhere trim and sparkling clean, everyone friendly and helpful.

In case you think I am making up the exclamation mark in the name, here's a picture of the Post Office:

(click on picture for a clearer view)

There is a beautiful 2-mile long sandy beach:

plenty of rock pools to explore

and the pebble ridge, which protects the nearby golf course from the sea.

Until 2008 local people would gather on the beach twice a year for "potwalloping."

Everyone would gather the pebbles that had been washed down by the tides and pile them back onto the ridge. I hear there was much frivolity and local ale involved. The ending of this practice has endangered the oldest golf course in England and destroyed another local tradition.

 For those who find the sea too cold or too big, there is a very convenient beach pool.

Until yesterday, I thought that North Devon beaches lacked beach huts but Westward Ho! has a row of them. Behold:

I got really excited when I saw them. We used to have one on the beach at Eastney when we lived in Hampshire and we had great fun there when the children were small.

Up the hill, beyond the beach huts, we saw what we thought might be Bates' motel.

The closer we got, the more convinced we became so we turned back at this point.

Heading down to the esplanade again, we looked across to "our side of the bay." You can't make out our village because of the mist but the headland is Baggy Point.

  We couldn't see any evidence of the shabby seaside resort of twenty years ago. The ice cream van, a stall selling shell fish from Lundy Island and a couple of cafes provide the seafront refreshments.

and we didn't have to have fish and chips, we sat outside at a bistro, enjoying the sea view and a very pleasant lunch.

Having wasted twenty years, thinking Westward Ho! was a place to be avoided at all costs, we fell in love with it. Should we move to one of the seafront apartments? Or perhaps this would suit our taste and pocket more:

I would still find it difficult to live in a place with an exclamation mark, though!!

In the garden

May is the best month in my garden and we had some lovely sunny weather to encourage outdoor living. It has been lovely to have all our meals outside; to watch the blackbirds busy foraging for their hungry babies; to sit and knit while the bees were busy among the flowers.

Already everything is beginning to look straggly. I spent this morning trimming back the honeysuckle, ivy and shrubs that threatened to block the paths. The bluebells look decidedly grey now and the white lilac blossom is turning brown. Fortunately I remembered to take my camera out with me on several occasions so here is a brief summary of the garden in May:

The first of the poppies to open

with lots more buds waiting.

First strawberries

Helping the blackbirds out with meal worms

Completed cardigan for granddaughter Charlotte

and one for Millie.

Columbine invading the herb garden - not an unwelcome intruder

weigela florida

And what could be better than afternoon tea in the garden with scones made from one of Nan's recipes?

It is a long time since I mentioned the books I have been reading. I'll save those for another day.