Thursday, 15 September 2016
Tuesday, 13 September 2016
Pauline Cafferkey
I'm pretty sure you - like me - can remember when you first heard of Pauline Cafferkey.
She gave up a safe job in Scotland to go and work as a nurse in a hospital in Sierra Leone, in a community ravaged by ebola. She got sick and nearly died of this terrible disease. It seems ebola is now embedded deep in her system (she's now been ill a second time) and may keep coming back to haunt her. After all her efforts to help other people, this is her reward.
When she volunteered, I imagine she knew the risks of contracting ebola but I doubt if she ever reckoned she'd have to face a hearing conducted by who knows what professional body, which is accusing her of lying about her health when she was on her way back from Sierra Leone.
I have a few questions to ask:
- Why would Pauline Cafferkey lie about the state of her health on her return to the UK? Is she some sort of sociopath, determined to spread ebola across Europe? Or is she someone in the middle of a 23 hour journey from Sierra Leone to Glasgow who walked into a shambles at Heathrow and is now being punished for wanting to go home?
- Why weren't the health checks at Heathrow rigorous enough to pick up ebola? It's hard to believe that a couple of paracetamol stood between Pauline Cafferkey and a correct diagnosis. If her condition had been picked up at Heathrow, maybe she wouldn't have had to go through two attacks of ebola.
- What is the point of the hearing Pauline Cafferkey is now going through? We're dealing here with a well-qualified, well-motivated professional who went to west Africa in order to help the sick. Does anyone question her motives for going there? I doubt it.
- What will be the outcome of the hearing she's going through? Will she be barred from practising as a nurse? That would be ridiculous, since she has already proved many times over that she's a valuable member of society. What if a 'verdict' of guilty means that other members of the nursing profession are deterred from going around the world helping in terrible situations?
Can anyone bring some sense to this situation?
Let's get this party started
I read about David Cameron's resignation as an MP with a certain amount of amazement. In a matter of a few weeks, it seemed to me, the whole Tory party had fallen apart, with hardly anyone from the old Bullingdon boys' club still standing. I tried to work out what exactly this reminded me of. The closest I can get is this:
I was once part of a group of people who worked and socialised together. Two of the group hooked up. Both had come out of disastrous marriages. In both cases the other partners had called time on the relationship and there was a certain amount of let's say resentment. Their new relationship rattled along for years and years. The subject of marriage came up once in a while but both partners said they were happy to stay as they were. The rest of us were quite relieved about that, since it seemed to us that both of them were still too aware of (if not attached to) their former spouses.
However, the day came when marriage was suddenly on the cards. It was a very special event. They flew off the the Seychelles and got married on the beach, with their feet in the Indian Ocean. When they came back, they announced they were having, not a reception, but a party at their house. So we all fetched up at their door one Saturday night, arms full of drink and flowers and gifts for the newly-married couple. I remember I was holding a palm tree. We rang the bell. There was a slight pause and then one of the other guests opened the door to us.
- Come on in! he said loudly, in a tone of forced cheeriness.
As we crossed the threshold, we heard voices raised at the back of the house. Then a door slammed, footsteps sounded on the gravel down the side of the house, a car door slammed and a car zoomed to the bottom of the drive and took off on the main road. We stood transfixed in the doorway to the livingroom (rather posh - grand piano decorated with a vase of lilies, music stand beside it, a flute resting on the stand). We went in. Suddenly, someone dashed down the hall to the front door and disappeared outside. That door slammed dramatically too.
In the livingroom, us guests looked at each other.
- Em... said one of the newly-arrived guests.
The people who had been here before us shrugged.
- I suppose, said someone, we should just go.
- Bugger that, said someone else. We've come from Perth. Where's the drink? And are there any nibbles?
We raided the fridge in the kitchen and found gin, tonic, ice and lemon, a bottle of malt and a decent supply of wine. There was some champagne on ice in a bucket but it didn't seem appropriate to open it in the circumstances. A further attack on the wall units revealed glasses, not to mention nibbles. We chucked nuts and crisps into bowls left on the kitchen table and took them back to the livingroom.
A couple of hours later, our host and hostess still hadn't reappeared but we'd done justice to the drinks and the nibbles and were just talking about sending out for a curry. Then the front door opened. Aha, we thought, the happy couple.
But no, it was his sister and her auntie. They came into the livingroom - now a scene that my mother always called 'one of eastern decadence, with bottles, glasses, crisp packets and Pringles cans all over the place - and said sheepishly:
- Everybody okay?
We solemnly raised our glasses.
- Where the hell are they? asked one our number.
It was fine. They'd made up their 'tiff' and had now gone to a hotel, unable to face us after their dramatic exit. That seemed a bit daft since they'd be seeing us at work on Monday. The sister and the auntie had by now accepted drinks and a seat on the settee. There was no rush to leave, they said. If we were peckish, there were canapés in the pantry (yes, they had a pantry). We pretty well ate the lot. Anything left over we took home for assorted weans and dogs.
Why does the Tory situation remind me of this? To this day, I've no idea what this couple were arguing about. The dispute had nothing at all to do with the rest of us. But like everyone else in that house we made the best of it. The only people I felt sorry for were the sister and the auntie, left to deal with the fallout from a fight between two pretty self-absorbed human beings.
The difference between them and the Tories was that we never let our friends off the hook. From that moment on, at the slightest sign of a disagreement between them, one of us would shout:
- Domestic! Take cover!
This all happened about 20 years ago. As far as I'm aware, they're still married. I can't see the same thing happening with the Tories. Brexit may be their Waterloo.
Here's hoping...
I was once part of a group of people who worked and socialised together. Two of the group hooked up. Both had come out of disastrous marriages. In both cases the other partners had called time on the relationship and there was a certain amount of let's say resentment. Their new relationship rattled along for years and years. The subject of marriage came up once in a while but both partners said they were happy to stay as they were. The rest of us were quite relieved about that, since it seemed to us that both of them were still too aware of (if not attached to) their former spouses.
However, the day came when marriage was suddenly on the cards. It was a very special event. They flew off the the Seychelles and got married on the beach, with their feet in the Indian Ocean. When they came back, they announced they were having, not a reception, but a party at their house. So we all fetched up at their door one Saturday night, arms full of drink and flowers and gifts for the newly-married couple. I remember I was holding a palm tree. We rang the bell. There was a slight pause and then one of the other guests opened the door to us.
- Come on in! he said loudly, in a tone of forced cheeriness.
As we crossed the threshold, we heard voices raised at the back of the house. Then a door slammed, footsteps sounded on the gravel down the side of the house, a car door slammed and a car zoomed to the bottom of the drive and took off on the main road. We stood transfixed in the doorway to the livingroom (rather posh - grand piano decorated with a vase of lilies, music stand beside it, a flute resting on the stand). We went in. Suddenly, someone dashed down the hall to the front door and disappeared outside. That door slammed dramatically too.
In the livingroom, us guests looked at each other.
- Em... said one of the newly-arrived guests.
The people who had been here before us shrugged.
- I suppose, said someone, we should just go.
- Bugger that, said someone else. We've come from Perth. Where's the drink? And are there any nibbles?
We raided the fridge in the kitchen and found gin, tonic, ice and lemon, a bottle of malt and a decent supply of wine. There was some champagne on ice in a bucket but it didn't seem appropriate to open it in the circumstances. A further attack on the wall units revealed glasses, not to mention nibbles. We chucked nuts and crisps into bowls left on the kitchen table and took them back to the livingroom.
A couple of hours later, our host and hostess still hadn't reappeared but we'd done justice to the drinks and the nibbles and were just talking about sending out for a curry. Then the front door opened. Aha, we thought, the happy couple.
But no, it was his sister and her auntie. They came into the livingroom - now a scene that my mother always called 'one of eastern decadence, with bottles, glasses, crisp packets and Pringles cans all over the place - and said sheepishly:
- Everybody okay?
We solemnly raised our glasses.
- Where the hell are they? asked one our number.
It was fine. They'd made up their 'tiff' and had now gone to a hotel, unable to face us after their dramatic exit. That seemed a bit daft since they'd be seeing us at work on Monday. The sister and the auntie had by now accepted drinks and a seat on the settee. There was no rush to leave, they said. If we were peckish, there were canapés in the pantry (yes, they had a pantry). We pretty well ate the lot. Anything left over we took home for assorted weans and dogs.
Why does the Tory situation remind me of this? To this day, I've no idea what this couple were arguing about. The dispute had nothing at all to do with the rest of us. But like everyone else in that house we made the best of it. The only people I felt sorry for were the sister and the auntie, left to deal with the fallout from a fight between two pretty self-absorbed human beings.
The difference between them and the Tories was that we never let our friends off the hook. From that moment on, at the slightest sign of a disagreement between them, one of us would shout:
- Domestic! Take cover!
This all happened about 20 years ago. As far as I'm aware, they're still married. I can't see the same thing happening with the Tories. Brexit may be their Waterloo.
Here's hoping...
Saturday, 10 September 2016
A letter
I just sent this to a local headteacher. I hope it needs no explanation:
Dear Headteacher,
I was having
lunch at the café in Fenwick Place today, Thursday 8 September, when I noticed
a very elderly man park his car and make his way unsteadily across the road to
the newsagent’s. There were quite a few students from St Ninian’s picking up
their lunch at the café next door.
When the elderly man came out of the
newsagent’s, he took the arm of a St Ninian’s student and spoke to him. They
then set off across the road back to the man’s car. The man held on tight to
the student’s arm until they reached the car.
I dare say
it would have been easy for the student to refuse to help or even to shake the
man off. It is to his credit that he didn’t, even though the other students
were having a quiet laugh at the sight.
Obviously, I
don’t know who the student was but I want to thank him for his kindness.
Young people
are often criticized, so it’s good to be able to give some praise where it’s
due.
Yours
sincerely,
Jean Nisbet
Thursday, 8 September 2016
Treeza
The first secondary school I taught in was a non-denominational school (otherwise known as a Proddie school). It was about 200 yards from the nearest Cafflick school. A few families enrolled their weans in one or the other, apparently on a whim. It wasn't our business to ask why. I quickly learned the meaning of the phrase: No big deal. You just taught whoever walked in the door. But I remember overhearing a conversation between a pupil and the depute head:
DH - Whit's your name?
Pupil - Treeza.
DH - Treeza whit?
Pupil - Treeza O'Reilly.
DH - Treeza O'Reilly? And whit are you daein in this school, eh?
The Depute Head did not get it. Theresa was one of 7 or 8 children. Probably from a 'mixed' marriage. Some of her siblings went to the Cafflick school and others to the Proddie school. It was, as I say, no big deal. It was just that he was an idiot.
Today I was looking at photos of the recently-appointed Prime Minister of the UK.
I have no difficulty with Treeza May. I don't care if she's a Proddie or a Cafflick. I hear she went to a grammar school. I don't care. She is married to a man with a foot in some pretty murky NHS business in England. Nothing to do with me, since I live in Scotland where the NHS is a devolved matter.
The divide between Treeza and me is much worse than religious.
She's a Tory.
She managed to keep quiet during the last general election and emerged with a job (the one she'd had before - for years). Then she kept quiet during the EU referendum and again came out with the same job, which rapidly turned into an even better job once David Cameron had been ditched. She handled all that well. I knew she would. I'm old and I'm used to politics now. And, as I expected, she has kept pretty quiet since being elevated to the role of prime minister.
But I have just realised something quite alarming: Treeza has not got a frickin clue what's going on with Brexit and has no ideas at all about what should happen next. She has tried to pass the buck to the three caballeros:
You know the type: under-blessed with brains and imagination, but over-endowed with self-confidence. Are we any the wiser about the future that we are - unwillingly in my case - tied to? And please don't tell me it's only been 11 weeks since the vote and things can only get better.
I live in hope that this will be Treeza's undoing. These three jokers were appointed by her. Davis has already shown Westminster he has no idea what's going on. Johnston looks permanently terrified. And I can't even remember the other one's name, although something at the back of my mind makes me think he's Scottish. Quelle horreur.
These people are, it seems, the best we have. So here's my question: If Treeza and the boys have nae idea what to do about Brexit and allow themselves to be goaded into daft decisions by the media, what is the future for the UK?
Myself, I'm not leaving Scotland. I'm too old. This is where I live. And I would like my family to stay here too. But it would be good if someone could tell me what the hell is going on.
The divide between Treeza and me is much worse than religious.
She's a Tory.
She managed to keep quiet during the last general election and emerged with a job (the one she'd had before - for years). Then she kept quiet during the EU referendum and again came out with the same job, which rapidly turned into an even better job once David Cameron had been ditched. She handled all that well. I knew she would. I'm old and I'm used to politics now. And, as I expected, she has kept pretty quiet since being elevated to the role of prime minister.
But I have just realised something quite alarming: Treeza has not got a frickin clue what's going on with Brexit and has no ideas at all about what should happen next. She has tried to pass the buck to the three caballeros:
I live in hope that this will be Treeza's undoing. These three jokers were appointed by her. Davis has already shown Westminster he has no idea what's going on. Johnston looks permanently terrified. And I can't even remember the other one's name, although something at the back of my mind makes me think he's Scottish. Quelle horreur.
These people are, it seems, the best we have. So here's my question: If Treeza and the boys have nae idea what to do about Brexit and allow themselves to be goaded into daft decisions by the media, what is the future for the UK?
Myself, I'm not leaving Scotland. I'm too old. This is where I live. And I would like my family to stay here too. But it would be good if someone could tell me what the hell is going on.
Sunday, 4 September 2016
Black hearted
I had to phone an airline this weekend.
I hate phoning these people. I've had terrible experiences in the past: like arguing with BA that leaving an elderly woman with no English sitting in a wheelchair for hours in Heathrow, so that she would have missed her flight if she hadn't come across a young Chilean guy who was alarmed that she'd been abandoned, was maybe not a fair reflection of what she'd paid for her flight (a breach of contract, in other words).
I didn't win the argument then and I don't expect I ever will win with these people, and certainly not now that the UK looks to be leaving the EU, because whatever else the EU does it offers some protection from airline companies that just want to make money and b$gger the service.
TodayI wanted to do 2 things: firstly, make sure the airline would accept me as a passenger, given that I am a bit poorly and may need a wheelchair to get me from check-in at 'Glw Int' to the 'bottom of the passenger ramp' (that's what it says on the form they sent me). I was worried that my needs as a (slightly) disabled passenger might be overlooked online. I was assured that would not happen but it was up to me to make sure they knew I coming. I promise you I will kick up several kinds of hell if I get to the flybe check in and discover they're not expecting me.
Secondly, what would the flight cost? Now that's complicated: the airline told me it was best to book online rather than through the call centre because it was cheaper. So what the hell is the point of having a call centre, widely advertised on their website, if the purpose of the call centre is to refer possible passengers back to the website? The woman at the end of the phone didn't answer that but gave me 2 prices: one for booking with the call centre (in other words, paying to speak to a human being) and the other for booking on the website. The difference in prices was about 40 quid. I said I thought this was a pretty poor way to do business. She said little, just that the booking fee if I booked through the call centre was an extr tenner. I gave in and went online. And I will still have to phone to register as a passenger who needs support.
It's pretty horrible, all this. How do hospital patients manage when they are travelling back and forth for treatment from the Hebrides? Twenty years ago, I was the person designated - purely by chance in that I was travelling that day - 'the accompanying adult' for a few (mainly very young) passengers going to Glasgow hospitals for treatment. I was the person who sat beside them on the flight and waited with them till I could see the ambulance people coming to pick them up. Has all that gone? Replaced by the cash culture?
I can only call this what it is. Nasty.
I hate phoning these people. I've had terrible experiences in the past: like arguing with BA that leaving an elderly woman with no English sitting in a wheelchair for hours in Heathrow, so that she would have missed her flight if she hadn't come across a young Chilean guy who was alarmed that she'd been abandoned, was maybe not a fair reflection of what she'd paid for her flight (a breach of contract, in other words).
I didn't win the argument then and I don't expect I ever will win with these people, and certainly not now that the UK looks to be leaving the EU, because whatever else the EU does it offers some protection from airline companies that just want to make money and b$gger the service.
TodayI wanted to do 2 things: firstly, make sure the airline would accept me as a passenger, given that I am a bit poorly and may need a wheelchair to get me from check-in at 'Glw Int' to the 'bottom of the passenger ramp' (that's what it says on the form they sent me). I was worried that my needs as a (slightly) disabled passenger might be overlooked online. I was assured that would not happen but it was up to me to make sure they knew I coming. I promise you I will kick up several kinds of hell if I get to the flybe check in and discover they're not expecting me.
Secondly, what would the flight cost? Now that's complicated: the airline told me it was best to book online rather than through the call centre because it was cheaper. So what the hell is the point of having a call centre, widely advertised on their website, if the purpose of the call centre is to refer possible passengers back to the website? The woman at the end of the phone didn't answer that but gave me 2 prices: one for booking with the call centre (in other words, paying to speak to a human being) and the other for booking on the website. The difference in prices was about 40 quid. I said I thought this was a pretty poor way to do business. She said little, just that the booking fee if I booked through the call centre was an extr tenner. I gave in and went online. And I will still have to phone to register as a passenger who needs support.
It's pretty horrible, all this. How do hospital patients manage when they are travelling back and forth for treatment from the Hebrides? Twenty years ago, I was the person designated - purely by chance in that I was travelling that day - 'the accompanying adult' for a few (mainly very young) passengers going to Glasgow hospitals for treatment. I was the person who sat beside them on the flight and waited with them till I could see the ambulance people coming to pick them up. Has all that gone? Replaced by the cash culture?
I can only call this what it is. Nasty.
Thursday, 1 September 2016
Religion
I live in a retirement complex that used to be called the 'Jewish Care Home.' Some bit of legislation - EU or UK, I don't know - stopped that exclusiveness a while back. I don't know how many residents are Jewish these days. It's not my business and besides I don't care. All I ask is a peaceful life with good neighbours - and they are. On a Monday evening, I hear a bit of chanting because that's when some of the Jewish men meet for prayers in the lounge. I feel quite at home here. I know the traditions because my uncle Max was Jewish, even if he said on his deathbed: Don't let the Jews get my body. (We cremated him).
A few of my elderly Jewish neighbours (who by the way have lived in Scotland all their lives, and in many cases their parents before them) tell me they are quite freaked out by the Brexit vote and subsequent racist attacks on other Europeans. They say they don't feel safe. I try to reassure them, but they remind me the synagogue next door has had to employ security staff for quite a few years now. They hear Farage, Boris Johnson and now Trump all spouting an outright racist point of view - and making it acceptable - and, given their history, they fear for the future.
I think I was 13 when I rejected religion. Ever since, I've listened to people of many faiths telling me how important religious belief is. Oddly enough, the one group that have never tried to indoctrinate me are the atheists.
I don't go for religion. That's my right in a civilised democratic society. I've seen nothing in life to change my mind.
This week I've been reading about how anti-Christian UK 'society' is. It seems Christians feel under attack. One letter in the newspaper I take even described anti-Christian feeling in Scotland - Scotland - as 'violent.' All I can say is: show me where this is happening. Give me proof.
If Christians mean that in UK society they are not entitled to be heard before anyone else, then yes, they are being challenged and I can only ask: why shouldn't your beliefs be challenged? They are not truths but just your beliefs. You are not more important than anyone else in our society. And why can't you accept that people of other faiths - and people of no faith - live in Scotland? I reject the attitude that this is a Christian country. This is a country where many religions have taken root over many years. No one should have that sense of entitlement that lets them think the country is the unique property of one religious sect or another.
As a woman, I have faced the same kind of idiotic problem with some men: they used to have it so easy: plenty of jobs (and their pay was way above what women got - and that's not changed), an entitlement to respect just because of who they were, top dogs in politics, etc. And boy, have we been hearing about it ever since, because things changed: round about 1980, the backside fell out of the employment market, skills got downgraded, unskilled work just vanished. Meanwhile, women got out of the house into the factory, the office, the hospital. No choice there, because, since the 1980s, families can only survive if they have two incomes.
The big problem that I see is that society is adapting faster than religion. Communities have accepted same-sex marriage without a qualm and the same thing seems to be happening about transgender people, abortion and all the other so-called moral dilemmas that bother religious groups but don't trouble most of the rest of us at all.
Given that only 48% of people in Scotland now say they have any religious belief, isn't it time for all religions to adapt to a new world?
Then maybe poor Asad Shah won't have died in vain.
A few of my elderly Jewish neighbours (who by the way have lived in Scotland all their lives, and in many cases their parents before them) tell me they are quite freaked out by the Brexit vote and subsequent racist attacks on other Europeans. They say they don't feel safe. I try to reassure them, but they remind me the synagogue next door has had to employ security staff for quite a few years now. They hear Farage, Boris Johnson and now Trump all spouting an outright racist point of view - and making it acceptable - and, given their history, they fear for the future.
I think I was 13 when I rejected religion. Ever since, I've listened to people of many faiths telling me how important religious belief is. Oddly enough, the one group that have never tried to indoctrinate me are the atheists.
I don't go for religion. That's my right in a civilised democratic society. I've seen nothing in life to change my mind.
This week I've been reading about how anti-Christian UK 'society' is. It seems Christians feel under attack. One letter in the newspaper I take even described anti-Christian feeling in Scotland - Scotland - as 'violent.' All I can say is: show me where this is happening. Give me proof.
If Christians mean that in UK society they are not entitled to be heard before anyone else, then yes, they are being challenged and I can only ask: why shouldn't your beliefs be challenged? They are not truths but just your beliefs. You are not more important than anyone else in our society. And why can't you accept that people of other faiths - and people of no faith - live in Scotland? I reject the attitude that this is a Christian country. This is a country where many religions have taken root over many years. No one should have that sense of entitlement that lets them think the country is the unique property of one religious sect or another.
As a woman, I have faced the same kind of idiotic problem with some men: they used to have it so easy: plenty of jobs (and their pay was way above what women got - and that's not changed), an entitlement to respect just because of who they were, top dogs in politics, etc. And boy, have we been hearing about it ever since, because things changed: round about 1980, the backside fell out of the employment market, skills got downgraded, unskilled work just vanished. Meanwhile, women got out of the house into the factory, the office, the hospital. No choice there, because, since the 1980s, families can only survive if they have two incomes.
The big problem that I see is that society is adapting faster than religion. Communities have accepted same-sex marriage without a qualm and the same thing seems to be happening about transgender people, abortion and all the other so-called moral dilemmas that bother religious groups but don't trouble most of the rest of us at all.
Given that only 48% of people in Scotland now say they have any religious belief, isn't it time for all religions to adapt to a new world?
Then maybe poor Asad Shah won't have died in vain.
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