Thankful Thursday

I have now been on this earth in this life for 70 years.  I was born two days before D-Day (the Normandy Landings on the 6 June 1944) and nearly a year before VE Day (the Allied victory in Europe on the 8 May 1945).

I don't remember much about that first year.  I do remember, though, growing up in a city which had been ravaged by war.  Being a major port (particularly for the West African and Trans-Atlanic trades) Liverpool suffered greatly.  Large tracts of the city were wasteland where once the great buildings of commerce had stood.  I should, however, be thankful.  I could have been born in Dresden.

I think I am correct in saying that those of us who were born around that time have lived in the only period of 70 years when we might not have been conscripted to fight for our country or for one part of these islands against another part since the Hundred Years War (which ended around 1453) or the Wars of The Roses (1455 to 1487 between the houses of Lancaster and York).  Actually some might argue that that war still goes on 450 years later. 

Jaz, who started me on Thankful Thursday and my journey of prosletising my belief in being thankful and playing the Glad Game once commented on this blog  "Feeling young is fabulous but growing old is a blessing!!!"  Well I'm still feeling young and I'm looking forward to being old.  In the meantime I shall be very very thankful that I have reached this far and am living a life that I could only at one time have dreamed of.

I wish you all happy hearts.

Bronchiectasis

Not very long ago a doctor asked me what the scar on my back was from. The answer was a the removal of half of my right lung when I was 16. I had suffered for several years from bronchiectasis. It's a very debilitating disease allowed to get a hold, in my case, by cross country running and playing football all winter when I had bronchitis. I went to a school where a note from your parents did not excuse you from any school physical activities.

The doctor seemed quite perplexed and made a rather odd remark but I didn't think anything more about it.  Until, that is, a few months ago when I was watching Seven Sharp a TVNZ programme akin to the UK's One Show when it showed this footage of Esther-Jordan Muriwai: a name which, until that moment, had meant nothing to me.

Today I was about to write my Thankful Thursday post and mention my bronchiectasis.  I decided to see how Esther-Jordan was.  I was taken aback to discover that she died yesterday - my birthday.  The  anniversary of our son, Andy's death and of the father of one of my closest friends.   

The TVNZ news article reads:

Inspiring young woman Esther Jordan Muriwai - Source: Te Karere

Young Māori woman’s legacy lives on

For 14 years Esther Jordan Muriwai was in and out of hospital battling a respiratory disease called bronchiectasis. Last night her battle came to a heart-rending end, she was 24. Having founded the Bronchiectasis Foundation and the Northland Bronchiectasis Support Group, Esther dreamed to help the few in NZ who are suffering from the same illness that took her life.

Until that programme made me look more closely at the disease I had lived for over 50 years in blissful ignorance of how near I had come to being in a similar situation.  I had worked in the hospital but until I saw that programme I had only come across one other person with the disease and he was operated on on the same day as I was.  He died a few days later.

I, on the other hand, have never had the slightest sign of any respiratory problems since I was discharged from hospital with a clean bill of health all those years ago.

Since the original programme I have become aware, however, of the extent of the disease in New Zealand and the Pacific Islands' communities.  I have also developed an admiration for the positive attitude and hard work that Esther-Jordan has put into bronchiectasis awareness and support to sufferers and their families.

I shall continue with my Thankful Thursday post separately but I shall also be thankful for the life and work and positive attitude that Esther-Jordan has brought to this world.

Rescue

A few days ago I happened to write about the rescue services which serve us here in the Hebrides.  On Saturday I was suddenly shaken by a helicopter flying low directly over the house.  Any helicopter makes considerable air pressure waves and they are even more obvious if you are directly underneath.  So I grabbed the camera and went outside.  The chopper was flying across the valley and I  saw that it was flying towards a group of people which included ambulance personnel. 

The unfortunate casualty had been in an accident involving one of her horses (I assume that she'd been riding it).   The incident took 10 minutes from beginning to end (first to last photo).

Goodbye Old Friend

Or the alternative title is "We've been together now for fifty years".

I'm having a clear out: a serious clear out.

In 1965 the UK had a Commonwealth Arts Festival hosted by the City of Liverpool.  I was seconded to assist in the running of it.  My principal job, as I recall it, was to deal with protocol arrangements for dignitaries and others attending the many events from civic functions to theatre and other shows.

I have many fond memories including several opportunities to see full length professionally performed ballets (the first time I'd had such an opportunity and the start of my love of that art form).  I was privileged to meet  Ravi Shankar and hear him play.  

I learned that the High Commissioners of the time for India and Pakistan were good personal friends despite their countries being at war and that the more important a person was in public life the less likely he or she was to care about pomp and ceremony and the importance of their own position.  In other words I learned that in matters of protocol the people at the top didn't care and the people at the bottom (me for example) didn't matter but that the people in the middle cared enormously for their 'rightful' position in the order of things.

During the whole of this wonderful experience the evening suit that I had had to acquire for the functions was my constant companion.  

The late sixties in the city were magical times in many ways.  The age of elegance was still with us and at the many dinner dances and formal occasions that seemed constantly to occur the ladies wore long dresses and the men wore evening suits.  The sixties were also contrasting times of great social diversity and experimentation in the city.  Through all this my evening suit and I were faithful friends and companions.  

Just to prove that the jacket still
buttons up!

When I moved to Scotland the less formal approach to life in the Western Isles meant that we rarely had the opportunity to be seen out together although we have fond memories of the 'posh frock dos' that friends used to organise during the winter.  Despite the fact that for a few years now I have had a new evening suit my original DJ and I remained companions.  Until today.

Today has seen a huge change in my life.  The reality is that we will never be seen out together again.  We are both showing our age and at any formal function now I am more likely to wear my kilt than I am to wear my new DJ.

So it was with great sadness that I decided to try DJ on for one last time before depositing him in a clothing bank along with many other items of my wardrobe.

The sadness was alleviated to some extent by the fact that I could still fit into the suit.  Surprised? Impressed?  I was - both.  The shirt was a bit too tight around the neck I have to admit.  And, just for the record, I would never normally have worn a pre-tied bow tie!  In fact I have no idea where this one came from.