Ann Allan: ‘There seemed to be a Purple glow over the city’

image

As a blogger I’m always on the look out for a subject for my next blog.  In my case it is usually something witty ( hopefully) and the word ‘me’ or ‘I’ comes up quite a lot. As I lay in bed last night unable to sleep I was thinking about what I was going to write about for my next blog. It was going to involve what I’ve been doing over the last few days and it was  probably going to feature me.

And then I thought about where I had been on Monday and I abandoned any idea of being witty and self-deprecating and decided to concentrate on the hours of Monday afternoon. I have to be honest and say I wasn’t looking forward to the event I was going to but I was going with my friend Olive and so that didn’t matter. She is great company and we can talk for hours. Olive collected me at 3p.m. and we headed for Stormont. A car parking space had been pre booked so we didn’t have to drive around looking for a space.
After the formalities of getting though security we headed for the long hall. I admired Olive’s purple nails. They looked gorgeous. We took the lift to the first floor where we were joined by Olive’s partner.

We had arrived at the launch of Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month  # PCAM . We were early and took our seats. Basil McCrea came and said hello and Joanne Dobson who sponsored the event arrived shortly after. The team from the UK led by David Parke also arrived and after introducing themselves proceeded to set things up.

After an introduction by Joanne Dobson, Victoria Poole spoke about how she had recently lost her grandmother due to late diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. She explained that she now worked in PR and was using her skills to raise awareness of the condition and how the symptoms don’t always present themselves until it’s too late. Victoria has become a spokesperson for Pancreatic Cancer Uk in NI. She thanked the large number of MLAs who turned out for the event.To give them their due,  there were a large number present.
Next to speak was Gráinne O’Neill. Gráinne recently lost her mother, again due to pancreatic cancer. She talked poignantly about how herself and her siblings were dealing with the loss. Again she highlighted late and misdiagnosis were a contributing factor to her mother’s death.
And then it was Olive’s turn. Olive told a hushed audience how she had been recently diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer. She had noticed no obvious symptoms and it was only when imageshe went to her doctor when she noticed her skin becoming yellow that alarm bells began to ring. She listed the symptoms to look out for which are:

stomach pain,

weight loss,

yellow skin or eyes or itchy skin,

 oily, floating faeces.

The Northern Ireland Public Health Agency’s ‘Be Cancer Aware’ campaign publicise these danger signals. It is understood that PCUK are campaigning for the symptoms of pancreatic cancer to be included in their ‘Be Cancer Aware’ campaign.

Olive addressed those MLAs who are on the health committee and in a position to influence policy about the use of drugs provided in NI. The availability of these drugs, she said could mean adding months to her life expectancy. My admiration for Olive is immense. The strength it took to stand up and tell us her story was inspirational and I was so proud to be there. You can watch it here:

http://www.youtube.com/attribution_link?a=HQd2AA-znTs&u=/watch%3Fv%3DxpB0MZJqBNg%26feature%3Dem-upload_owner

Thanks to all the team from the UK who braved the weather to come to Belfast. After a very successful launch we headed out to the cool night air and as we gazed down over the city there seemed to be a purple glow dotted with the orange street lights.

If you would like more information or you would like some advice you can contact:

http://www.pancreaticcancer.org

Pancreatic Cancer UK Support Line: freephone 0808 801 0707

* Since writing this piece it has been announced that as of today, the 4th November, the life extending drug Abraxane is no longer available in England, ( through the Cancer Drugs Fund ), to newly eligible patients with advanced pancreatic cancer.

image

image

Ann Allan: A Tale About a Dog.

It was Halloween and I was dog sitting and looking after the eight year old grandson. Not the best weekend for dog sitting I soon realised. When Poppy (that’s the dog) was dropped off she ran in circle like something possessed for at least 5 minutes taking in a tour ofimage downstairs at the same time. She’s a black cockatoo,sorry cockapoo, 😂 and as her coat is long at the moment she appears to have no eyes and therefore looks like a shaggy rug. I wasn’t prepared for what happened when her ‘mummy and daddy ‘ left. She howled and cried like a baby. She ran to the window and perched up on my new armchair which didn’t go down well. She was looking to see where they’d gone. She then decided that my knee was the place for her and dog sitting literally became the dog sitting on me. As the shivering and shaken stopped I breathed a sigh of relief. Daughter was texting to see if she had settled. Just like she used to do for the weans.
Took her out to the back garden for a wee run around. ( I was terrified she’d leave any little parcels in the house) and some idiot, sorry the hubby had left the side gate open. Poppy made a break for freedom. We all three charged frantically after her as she headed on to the main road. Luckily her attempt was thwarted and we caught her in time. Cue hubby cursing and swearing.
Back indoors Poppy followed me everywhere I went. Tripped over her a couple of times and patience was wearing thin. Fed her, hubby took her for a walk and we settled down to watch Strictly. Well when I say ‘watch Strictly’  strictly speaking since I started tweeting I rarely watch anything properly. I glance up every so often and annoy G by asking what’s happening. This time it was difficult to do both cause Poppy again insisted sitting upright on my knee. I was now her best friend.
I hadn’t envisaged what it would be like to have a dog at Halloween. First there were a few bangs then more bangs. The poor thing started to shiver and shake while uttering a sound of pure terror. I hugged her and stroked her and once more she settled down. That was until the door bell rang and the trick or treaters arrived. Poppy went berserk, barking and imagegrowling. This happened on more than 5 occasions and I was seriously considering opening the door to the trick or treaters and telling them to f..  er,  go away. Then the fireworks went off in town. The whole house seemed to shake and Poppy was traumatised. I began to panic. Can dogs have heart attacks? This one was surely heading for one. A lot more hugging and stroking and she again settled down.
Bedtime and I made her a bed on a chair in the bedroom. She settled down and exhausted I drifted off to sleep and forgot all about Poppy. I felt something nuzzling up to me during the night and thought G was dreaming. But as this was an unusual occurrence I reached out to return the sentiment. When the panting started and I felt something really hairy I jumped out of the bed in a panic. It wasn’t the hubby ( I might have known ) Yes, Poppy had been sleeping in the bed between the two of us. Pushing her off made no difference so all three of us settled down to sleep. At about 8 o’clock the grandson decided to go on the Mac in the study and I swear the whole street was wakened with the volume. At least the dog had vacated the bed.image
Daughter and son-in-law collected both at about 12 and I sank down on the sofa to catch up on some sleep. What have I learnt from this? I wouldn’t like to be a dog at Halloween.

Ann Allan: Ann in Wonderland (with apologies to Lewis Carroll)

imageIt was a pleasant Sunday morning and I was reading Newton Emerson’s piece in the Sunday Times. My eyes felt heavy and just as I nodded off I noticed a white rabbit beckoning me to follow him. Within a few minutes we were on the steps of Stormont. “You are looking for a job, I believe” he said.  “Well yes” I said, but I don’t think I’d get one here”.  “Have you stood for election? ” he asked. ” No” I replied. “Well you shouldn’t have a problem then, great jobs going here to non-elected personage ” I’ll bring you up to the members dining room. There’s a tea party today. You can see what you’d be letting yourself in for ” The White rabbit disappeared and I found myself in the dining room at the Mad Hatters tea party.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. ” I’m the ‘heed bummer’ here” , he said “Mitchel’s my name.” Having studied Ulster Scots at the University of Life I knew this meant he was a man not to be reckoned with. “Let me show you around ”  he said “but be careful,  Arlene, the Red Queen is looking to behead someone today. She found a tricolour flying on the roof this morning.” ” I will”  I said,” I will”. This is such a weird place, I thought.

The white rabbit suddenly appeared carrying a large clock.  ” What’s that for” I asked. “Well I need to know when the next deadline is for ending the tea party and there are so many I need to carry a clock to keep up ” ” Good thinking” I said. This was one intelligent rabbit!
“Ok” the head case, sorry the heed bummer said. ” This is the Mad Hatters Tea Party. Happens most days around three. ” Why are they not working? ” I asked.”  Er, yes, well, you see this is how we differ from the real world. We don’t actually work if we don’t feel like it. imageYou see the DUP over there. Some strange characters in that group.”
“Why are they wearing clothes pegs on their noses ” I asked. “Well they couldn’t stand the smell of some of the other parties and they couldn’t keep holding their noses and feed at the corporate trough at the same time, so Gryphon Poots came up with the idea of the clothes pegs.” I noticed one of their number had fallen asleep at the table and he was talking in his sleep. I think he was talking about how he was cleared of something and was going to vote for same-sex marriage to prove he wasn’t homophobic. Ok! Well it is a dream!
“That’s a very attractive lady pouring tea for the King ” I said. ” Yes, that’s little pengelly, the Kings favourite.” ” Why would that be? ” I asked. ” Rearrange this ” he said. ” skeletons, knows, are, buried, where.” Thinking back it dawned on me now  why security had a woman called Red Ruth in a strangle hold as she tried to march her way down the rabbit hole.
At that moment the dupers broke into singing

. 🎶 A very unhappy birthday to you, to you.🎶

” Surely that should be

🎶very happy unbirthday to you, to you 🎶 I ventured.

” Not when you are a member of the DUP ” he replied. They live by the word of the bible. ” But twiddledum Campbell and twiddledee Wilson are tucking into an open prawn sandwich” I said. “I don’t see any slaves, imagewell with the exception of Jeffrey the dormouse, and the only one with a beard is Simple Simon. ” Cherry pick quite a bit,  they do” he smiled and for a minute or two Mitchell disappeared leaving only the grin behind.image

Turning to the next table I saw a man dressed like a caveman. “Who is that?” I asked mien host who had materialised again.” That’s the Knave of Hearts, used to work in TV. Says he’s on the wrong side of history but he’s not exactly sure which era. Since he didn’t go to Specsavers he seems to have lost his way. Had a falling out with the King of Hearts. Used to be best buddies, even made a voting pact but then the Knave got ambitious and orchestrated a walk out.”

I was beginning to feel quite giddy and realised I hadn’t eaten for a while. There was a cake sitting on one of the tables with the words ‘EAT ME’ written on it. “Don’t” shouted Mitchel. “Stephen the Jabberwocky Nolan eats that before interviewing politicians on his radio show.  Makes him rant and rage and when he gives them a bite the whataboutery that spews from their mouths is unbelievable”  Yuck, I thought, I’ll give that a miss.image

“Would you like to say something on periscope?” came a voice from behind me. I’m on a submarine now I thought. But no it was one of the frog footmen. Basil was his name. He periscopes quite a lot and wonderland is an ideal place from which to broadcast. No idea why he had a pair of curtains behind him.

“Come with me,” said my host. He led me over to a table with a green, white and gold tablecloth. I was introduced to Marti the White King and Catriona the softly spoken White Queen. They were speaking in Irish and I was sorry I hadn’t studied it harder when I was at school. Sitting on the table was a little bottle with ‘DRINK ME ‘ written on it. ” What happens if you drink that “I asked Mitchel. “Well, we shinners take a sip of that every morning,” he said  ” It has amazing powers. It allows us to believe that every word we utter is true. Gerry the caterpillar drinks it by the imagegallon. I asked him if they understood English as I needed to say something to the lady shinners. ” Go ahead ” he said. “They’ll know what you’re saying. “Peter Mark is offering 20 per cent off cut and blow- drys at the moment.” I declared. “Off with her head” came the chant so I quickly moved off to visit the SDLP and the Alliance. They were sitting on fences rather than chairs. It seemed that they had been sitting there quite a while from the pained expression on some of their faces. There wasn’t much happening so I headed back to look for the White Rabbit.

I noticed then that there was a table far removed from everyone. ” That’s Jim the Red King. “Mitchell explained ” he likes nobody and nobody likes him. Always scowling, never lets his hair down, speaking figuratively of course.”

I heard a series of grunts and groans emanating from his direction. I got the impression this is one unhappy man.

I was beginning to feel uncomfortable in this place.  I knew I was dreaming but couldn’t wake up.  As I wondered around looking for a way out of the many doors in the room I passed a large caterpillar sitting on a mushroom. “Gerry’s my name “he said. “I’m waiting here to turn into a butterfly.”  He was knocking back the truth drink  in copious quantities and smoking on a hookah. “I wouldn’t hold my breath ” I said. He started throwing mushrooms at me and thankfully woke me up. Thank goodness I thought it  was only a dream. Happy that none of this could happen in the waking world I went back to reading  Newton’s article.

Only 10 days to save the Assembly read the headline. “Sugar” I thought “maybe I wasn’t dreaming after all”

With apologies to Lewis Carroll.

Jayne Olorunda: The Victim Maker

image

I doubt that the content of my blog will go down well, but I don’t care. No longer can I watch as NI carries on regardless. Serious issues are ignored as it doesn’t suit the peacetime image that the country wants to project. Yet by not addressing and acting on issues, we risk the mental and physical health of others and we risk creating more victims. This time not of sectarian hate but of race hate. The last few months have seen hundreds of good people marching in support of accepting refugees, brandishing banners and proclaiming refugees are welcome here. Yet did anyone ever stop to think if refugees would really be welcome here? Did anyone stop to wonder how their lives will be, what they will experience in a year, two years or more when they are ‘settled’?

Last week we all watched the aftermath of yet another race hate attack, this time in East Belfast. The victim was asked how he felt. I didn’t need to hear his answer because I already knew. I felt the same, all the freshly prescribed diazepam in the world couldn’t stem the shaking or feelings of inadequacy that one is assailed with after being belittled and abused for something they cannot change. So many new arrivals here are left shaken, vulnerable and isolated due to attacks based on little more than the colour of their skin. In today’s world many cannot go back home as they are often told. And yet NI is taking more. May I suggest that a country once deemed the race hate capital of Europe would not be the ideal to choice to settle already traumatised people. Alongside my own experience, recent months imagealso saw a well known Belfast writer attacked in his own home and friends of mine called names on the street. The common denominator? Nothing more than the colour of their skin.

Incidents like this only confirm that we cannot even accept those of colour who were born and bred here. If we cannot accept ‘our own’ then how on earth can anyone argue that we are advanced enough to accept newcomers? Part of me wants to leave and certainly as the sensible option I have considered this, but it in my current predicament it is hard. It isn’t easy to accept that the country of my  birth doesn’t want me, the same country that stripped me of a father and made me a carer. As a carer I cannot easily get up and leave but until now that was okay as race hate is taken very seriously, or so I thought.
In the last two years I urged anyone who suffered from a hate crime to report it, after all if these incidents aren’t reported they go unchallenged and stand a high likelihood of happening again. As the PSNI website proudly boasts “Hate Crime is wrong. To Stop it report it”. Race hate crime in particular is taken very seriously in NI, one only has to look to our politicians for affirmation of this. On an all too regular basis they are seen pledging to do more against race hate attacks, present at racial equality forum / talks and I imagine the opening of every anti racism envelope that exists. Yet is there any substance in their convictions? Well, the racial equality strategy would normally suggest so (if we ignore the delay in producing it). But it won’t be worth the paper it’s written on if our support agencies continue to let victims down or our government doesn’t fulfill the funding it promised. The very fact that OFMDFM funding for supporting ethnic minority groups has become so uncertain make it seem that their commitment is pretty fragile. Race hate crime can’t be prevented when the very funds allocated for support agencies are so unstable. All of the public appearances and photo opportunities in the world are not going to stop or prevent more racism here, however supporting funding just might.
Last year it was revealed that only 12 out of 14,000* reports of race related incidents in NI resulted in prosecution. For me this was a curious paradox as it is publicly known that victims are encouraged to report such cases. Then why on earth was the prosecution rate so low? If 14,000 people had the courage to report race hate crime then surely even allowing for unproven cases we would see more prosecutions.image

Could something in the processing of these cases be going wrong? A few weeks ago I was given the opportunity to find out. In essence my experience enabled me to test the system. I became a statistic.

So what really happens when you report a race hate crime in Northern Ireland? As we all are painfully aware the PSNI are stretched resource wise. Yet I could never fault the officers that received and initially dealt with my case. They were professional, sympathetic and courteous. For me it was after the first stages of reporting the incident that things begin to unravel. It began with the promise of a follow-up call the next day. After waiting 2 days I took the plunge and called myself. It emerged that my case had been given to the PSNI Central processing Unit (CPU) for allocation.  It seems it languished there. At the same time one of the suspects had committed to report into the station on a specified day. Did this happen? Who knows? Certainly not the CPU. As the case was yet to be allocated no one knew anything about it or if the person had even come to the station as arranged. I received my follow -up call a few days later. I am still waiting for the outcome. My next call from the PSNI was from a community officer who began the call sympathising with me about what had happened then later admitted knowing nothing of the incident. I wasn’t exactly filled with confidence.
My basic powers of deduction make me wonder if my experience in reporting a race hate incident is an isolated occurrence? Had my case had not languished for so long would things be different? I will never know, but one thing I am sure of is, that as the days since the incident occurred grew longer so too did the chances of the suspects creating a new order of events. My case is only one ( of which I am not at liberty to go into the details ), but am I wrong to believe that delays such as this must prevent prosecution?
On the night of the incident I was encouraged to seek prosecution, but as the time passed prosecution has now morphed into a glorified apology. Right now it seems I will be lucky to get even that. I can’t help think that if the CPU had been taken out of the equation and the very capable receiving officers had dealt with the case my outcome would have been different. How many more cases slip through the net because of being passed from pillar to post? I shudder to think. No wonder we have so few prosecutions for race hate crime.Suffice to say after reporting the incidence  I was afraid, so much so, that I regretted reporting it at all.

My conclusion really is rather bleak.

Could I say hand on heart to a refugee, asylum seeker or migrant that they would be safe here?  No.

Would I advise them to come here? No.

Would I encourage someone to report race hate? Perhaps.

However, I would ensure that their expectations are not high, I would tell them that their response may not be as coordinated as what Joe Public is lead to believe. I would tell them that NI remains entrenched in bitterness and cannot cope with it’s own hatred. Everyone knows that entrenched hatred cannot be easily erased.  If that were possible NI wouldn’t have the bomb scares, the murders and the sectarian riots that we see today. If it were indeed possible I might have known the person who gave me the skin tone that some here try so hard to make me ashamed of.  NI has a long way to go before any newcomer could truly settle here, it needs to clean up the aftermath of it’s indigenous hatred first. It needs to stop talking about looking after the victims (now not only of sectarianism but also of race hate) and until then anyone coming here will be fast on the path of becoming one of NI’s newest victims. Most important of all I would tell them that until NI properly commits to and tightens up its responses and actions to prevent race hate crime, then no, refugees are not welcome here. Quite simply they are not safe. To bring any innocent people here especially those fleeing violence would only create more victims. The last thing NI needs is more victims.

Stats: The Guardian 2014

image

Ann Allan : Spotlight Special.

image
Rewind that, I shouted to the hubby. I had, as usual, got my head in my iPad commenting on Twitter on something that was brought up in the Sunday politics show. I had just caught the end of the announcement. A special edition of Spotlight was going to be recorded on Tuesday 5th and viewers were invited to go apply for tickets. Hmm I though I fancy going to that. One of my usual companions for such an event was in Brighton running the gauntlet at the Conservative conference so I told the hubby,  sorry,  invited the hubby  to come along with me. A quick email was dispatched,  as requested,  and on Monday a reply was received asking me to ring the Beeb and give some personal details.  Well you would have thought I was trying to get into the White House! But having recruited audiences for similar shows in the past  I realised that a good cross-section is needed to balance the audience and the lady on the phone was extremely nice.  Hubby then got the same grilling and we were told we could collect our tickets at the door.

That was when I started worrying. What will I wear? Should I get my hair done?  Will we be seen in the audience?  Will the hubby look as if he’s enjoying himself?  Should I tell anyone to look out for us? Oh God, maybe we will be asked to ask a question!  Decided that the hair needed done and maybe a new top was called for.  However, on reflection, I went for the hair-do but opted for a black tee-shirt hoping I would blend in with the background.

Hubby was excited, ( grumpy about having to get up when he’d rather doze in his chair). Headed into town. Car parking was convenient but we didn’t have enough money for the machine. Tried phoning the number to pay with my credit card. The facility only had details for my old car. Tried three times to give my new registration number and every time the voice repeated an incorrect number.  Could tell the hubby was getting annoyed as he headed off to the cinema on the Dublin Road looking for change.image
Arrived at Blackstaff studios. Sorry  luv,  doors not open yet, come back at 6.30. With 15 mins to pass we headed down Gt.Victoria St.  Reminisced about how it looked in our day.  Where did all those restaurants come from?  As the rain started to fall I began to think this wasn’t such a good idea.
At 6.30 we we headed back to the studio and joined the queue. We showed our ID and were ushered into the waiting area. Unfortunately we were there for over an hour and were subjected to re-runs of old Spotlights so we were reminded of Asher-gate and some homophobic nonsense from Jeffrey Donaldson.

We were asked to write a question to put to the panel. I wanted to know that if Simon Hamilton maintains that the Health Service is working in his absence,  maybe we should be considering part-time Ministers. Save a fortune.  We also got a peep at who was on the panel. Gregory Campbell, Claire Hanna, Mike Nesbitt, Michelle O’Neill and I was delighted to see my friend Mairia Cahill was also on the panel. If it hadn’t been for Mairia I would never have started writing.  Look what you’d have missed.

The staff were lovely.  The floor managers went around talking to everyone ( about 100 in the audience ) thanking us for coming and making us feel comfortable.  A guy sitting next to us had his leg in a cast. He had been waiting for 18 months for an operation. Noel Thompson referred to him during the programme.
At about 7.30 we entered the recording studio and took our seats.  A well-known face from the past, Paddy O’Flaherty, came out to warm up the audience. After a light-hearted bit of banter we were instructed to raise our hands if we had something to say, clap if we liked a point and generally get involved.  As I’m still getting used to my new teeth I decided not to saying anything as I had visions of getting nervous, and my teeth flying across the studio in full view of the tv cameras.
Mr. Suave himself, Noel Thompson, appeared and took his seat together with the other panelists. In the glare of powerful overhead lights the show was about to start. But wait, we heard Noel speak to the producer. He hadn’t got a script. A floor runner was hastily dispatched to get the script which imageapparently  was still being typed. A few minutes later and we were off. No hitches and straight through the recording. All ready for transmission later on Tuesday evening.  All very professional. It was also noticeable that having three female members on the panel resulted in a more reasoned and tempered debate.
Came out to a wet but warm evening and headed for home to watch the recording. Ok watch the recording to see if we could spot ourselves ( we did ). What is the fascination with seeing yourself on the tv?
All in all it was an enjoyable experience and one which I ( and him) would like to repeat.

You can watch a recording of the programme at

http://bbc.in/1RtWeIF

Ann Allan: Open Government Meets The Environment.

IMG_2401

Citizens are demanding that the state should be their servant and that information that governments hold should be open for everyone to see.”  

Rt. Hon Francis Maude

On Monday night, in my role as a member of the Open Government steering committee, I attended the launch of the first Environment week. It was held in the Long Hall at Stormont. Launched by Anna Lo MLA MBE, the main aim of Environment Week is to raise awareness  of environmental issues primarily among our public representatives, and provide opportunities for the environmental NGO (Non- Governmental Organisation) sector to engage with MLAs.

Arriving at Stormont there was a notable presence of outside broadcast vans. Wonder was there anything important happening? The long hall was full and I recognised a few faces; Chris Lyttle, Jim Wells, and the two Durkans, Mark and Mark H.  Anna Lo, who is Chairperson of  the Environment Committee, came over and introduced herself.  We had a chat and she expressed her interest in the concept of Open Government.  In keeping with environmental week there were plates of vegetarian sandwiches and lots of smelly cheeses.

Anna started by saying that
” In today’s busy world, events like this provide us all with an opportunity to appreciate what our local environment has to offer. It is vital for our health and well–being. We depend on it for food, energy, raw materials and water. We have a wealth of built heritage, habitats and wildlife which we need to look after. As Chair of the Environment Committee, I am delighted to launch the first Environment Week for Northern Ireland and look forward to seeing this event prosper in the years to come.”image

She then told us about her own personal project to project the swift. Swifts are coming under threat due to the recent trend in renovating our homes. Blocking up eaves and repairing holes and cracks means there are fewer nesting places. Food for thought.image

Minister Mark H Durkan congratulated NIEL and the Environment Committee for organising the week. He said

“This is a good example of how our eNGO sector can help us to deliver environmental outcomes. As budgets come under increasing pressure, their expertise and enthusiasm in securing match funding and harnessing volunteers will become ever more important.” 

He also explained that he had teamed up with Keep Northern Ireland Beautiful to back the Eco-schools hedgehog campaign and his hopes to protect the hedgehog. Apparently hedgehog houses are the way to go about it. He mentioned Ballycraigy Primary in Antrim and Elmgrove Primary in East Belfast for their excellent work in helping to save the hedgehog. Mark H also confirmed that he has banned the growth of all GM crops in Northern Ireland.image
Patrick Casement, Chairperson of Northern Ireland Environment Link concluded by commenting that

Environment week is a celebration of Northern Ireland’s environment and an opportunity to raise awareness of environmental issues primarily among our public representatives “

Belonging to an organisation like Open Government has opened up a new world for me. I feel as if I’m more in touch with what is going in NI and I’m much more involved. I was unaware of the plight of the swift and the hedgehog and would probably still be would had I not attended tonight’s launch.  It certainly makes a change from listening to bickering politicians. I have also to confess that some of what goes on is way above my head, especially when the buzz words and the civil service jargon are being bandied about.  I’m trying to get my fellow committee members to see that everyone needs to know our aims and aspirations and that will be a lot easier if it is written in language that everyone can understand, especially old dears like me.image

Tuesday lunchtime and the second day of Environment week. Time for Open Government to explain how it can assist in protecting the environment. This will be a learning curve for me as it is not something I have thought about.

Open Gov NI had been invited to host a lunch time seminar. After a nice lunch (I opted for the scampi and chips) Jonathan Bell our Project Coordinator welcomed everyone and explained what OGN was all about. What is open government you may ask? Simply it’s asking that governments make themselves more open and accountable to the citizens who elect them. Compared to England, and to a lesser extent Wales and Scotland,  the Open Government Partnership has had little impact for us in Northern Ireland. Our NI steering group is forging ahead with the process for developing the NI specific commitments for the UK action plan. Jonny encouraged those attending to join our network  and support the campaign.

A draft set of commitments is currently open for comment on the OGN Forum (http://forum.opengovernment.org.uk )The draft ideas will be shared with DFP and a set of Joint OGN-DFP commitments will be produced. The commitments will be further refined and revised at a joint OGN-DFP workshop towards the end of October, which will inform the development of a final set of draft commitments. Subject to Ministerial approval the commitments will be forwarded to the Cabinet Office for inclusion in the Draft UK Open Government Action Plan.

I had a go at Periscoping the event (relax Basil) and at this stage had 180 plus viewers some of whom stayed for the entire event. Sore arms afterwards but worth it.IMG_0276

Dr. Peter Doran QUB/Carnegie Trust was next.  See link below. To give you a flavour of what he said I’ve quoted a piece from his talk :

Nobody gets up in the morning and says to him/ herself: ‘That’s a fine day to accelerate climate change and put the world on course for concentrations that are unprecedented in human history.’

Nobody – at least I hope – gets up in the morning and celebrates the fact that we are living through the sixth great mass extinction of species and plant life on earth. Indeed, just last week the WWF reported that due to pollution, industrial fishing and climate change, we have killed off half of all marine life in the past four decades.

Welcome to the age of the ‘Anthropocene’. We humans – you and I – are now the decisive agents of change in the Earth’s planetary and atmospheric systems.”

Andrea Thornbury the Project Coordinator of the Detail Data Project gave a presentation in which she explained that there are seven types of data, two of which refer specifically to the environment. They are:

Weather : The many types of information used to understand and predict the weather and climate and

Environment : Information related to the natural environment such as,  presence and level of pollutants, the quality of rivers and the seas.

Through research the Northern Ireland Open Government Network identified Open Data as one of their key areas of focus for the next 18 months and the network has linked in with the Detail Data Project in the pursuit of this. While the UK leads on the open data barometer Northern Ireland is lagging behind. However an Open Data ecosystem is starting to develop on the Assembly Management System.

http://www.aims.niassembly.gov.uk

All in all an interesting session. I would however suggest that the talks could be shorter and give fewer statistics and details. In my opinion, and talking to others in the hall, I got the impression that very few grasp all the information at the time but they do grasp short punchy points. Perhaps handouts of the more detailed information would be helpful.

There were many questions after the session which is always a good sign.

Anyway,  time to go home and try writing it all up in a blog. The challenge in writing a blog is that most people only read the first few paragraphs, and very few stay to the end. So if you are still with me,  please click on the links below for more information. Thank you.

http://youtu.be/eDCKGqA3eq0

http://www.nicva.org/article/new-open-data-culture-northern-ireland

OPEN SOURCE GOVERNMENT

Paul Braithwaite

‏@Paul_BCT Sep 22
shocking fact: belfast-l’derry train takes 20mins longer now than in 1948! @DetailData story

Follow on Twitter @OpenGovNI

image

Ann Allan: Memories No 18 The Honeymoon’s Over.

image

Our first morning of married life in our new flat was disturbed by a phone ringing in the communal hallway. After ignoring it for a while (we weren’t in from our travels until 2.a.m.), I went to answer it. It was my mum checking that we had got home safely.  I was naïve enough to think that as a married woman (girl) my mum would stop worrying about me. Now, as a mother and grandmother, I realise that the worry never stops. Anyhow on wakening (we were too tired to wonder how the bed got made up) we realised that various bits of furniture had materialised, the wedding gifts had been unpacked and put away and the place looked quite homely.  An envelope sitting beside the bed contained a cheque for £100, a gift from G’s mum and dad.

The telegrams ( olden day texts ) were also there.  Ironically there was one from the Parish Priest who had caused me such unhappiness, wishing me all the best for the future. I wonder how he would have reacted to the fact that we are still together 48 years later.  

We headed for the city centre to buy furniture. Do you remember Donaldson and Lyttle  furniture shop? Well we headed there and for our £100 we were able to buy a wardrobe, dressing table, four Ercol dining room chairs and a small ‘ cottage’ suite. We couldn’t wait for it all to be delivered. In a week we had become an old married couple. We settled down to married life, the two of us and the mice. We weren’t aware of them until one night while watching the telly ( a black and white set from Radio Rentals) I noticed something moving in the corner of the living room. The scream I let out could only be heard by any dogs in the immediate vicinity. Suffice to say there was a large family of them and for the next few months I was reluctant to return to the flat on my own.

Meanwhile on the political front, the SDLP had come into existence. The British Army which had been welcomed by the Catholic community was now seen as the enemy and soldiers were being killed. Charlie Haughey was found guilty of importing weapons destined for Northern nationalists .

Rioting on the streets was common practice in 1970. I wouldn’t like to guess how many busses and cars were burned. Parts of Belfast began to resemble a war zone. Night life practically came to a halt. It was noticeable that the number of large groups from across the water were avoiding Belfast. So TV became the main source of entertainment. We had Morecambe and Wise, Cilla Black and Val Doonican keeping us entertained. Over the coming months there were nights of continuing riots and we fell asleep to the sound of petrol bombs and occasional gunfire.
As it was becoming difficult to be sure of crossing the city in the morning to get to our workplace, (the hubby was on the Stoney Road and I was in Dundonald House), we decided we needed a car. We headed to see the bank manager and were able to borrow the princely sum of £325 to get our new wheels. Not having a clue about cars, I left it up to the hubby. He came home with a Mini Cooper of indeterminate age and condition from Mervyn Stewart’s who were I believe in Gt.Victoria Street at the time. Like many businesses in the 70’s a bomb later destroyed the showroom.
We were over the moon with our new car. We were so excited that we offered to bring my mum and my mum-in-law to see a play in Portadown.  One of my work colleagues was appearing in it. We duly arrived to pick them up and started off to Portadown. Now they say that pride comes before a fall and we were extremely proud of our new purchase. With about 10 miles to go to our destination there was a thud followed by a scraping noise. Gordon stopped the car, got out and was gutted to find the exhaust pipe lying in the middle of the road. Oh the embarrassment! We arrived somewhat late for the production after a patch up job on the exhaust.
We settled into a routine and Saturday was shopping day. A local grocery store was the venue and the bill for my weekly shop rarely exceeded £6. No luxuries and no carry outs. Basic food and very few occasions to eat out. We had no washing machine so a couple of nights a week were spent in the launderette in Botanic Avenue. No central heating, no microwave, how did we manage? To save money, we traveled home to the parents at the weekend, got well fed and waited on.

We had the car for a couple of months and after the necessary repairs it was going great. In fact it was quite a mover. We were able to park right outside our bedroom window. The bedroom being at the front of the flat and the flat being on the ground floor. Ok, I know you all realised that. Anyhow one morning we headed off to work. I went out first. Gordon, I shouted, where did you park the car?   There was a space where are car should have been!

Morris Cooper 1970 S MkI
Morris Cooper 1970. CC !

Cars were parked on either side of the space.  Our car was gone. We phoned the police and were stunned when Gordon was asked where he had been at 2 o’clock the previous night. Apparently our car had been used as a getaway car for an armed robbery on the Antrim Road. When it was eventually returned we discovered a jemmy stuffed down behind the passenger seat. Obviously a thorough search by the RUC!

When I look back on it now we were both very young to get married.  But it wasn’t unusual, back in those days when women were still treated as second class citizens, for young women to see their future as married with a family. I even had to resign from the Civil Service on getting married and had to reapply for my job.  I think we were quite lucky in that we had both lived independently from our families for a number of years and were used to budgeting and looking after ourselves.  It must have been difficult getting married, leaving home and straight into managing a household. As we headed into 1971 we had hope that things would improve and peace would return to Northern Ireland. How wrong we were.

Girl in a Wig: Girlie Stuff

Hair and Nails and Girlie Stuff

Well here I am, 16 weeks since last chemo. Two months since radiotherapy finished. I’d like to focus on important stuff for anyone else in my position…namely rate of hair regrowth.image

I spent a lot of time googling this particular subject. Over the past few weeks I have (to my shame) used a tape measure to try to assess the rate of regrowth on my head. I’m lucky in that I was never totally bald but as can be seen in earlier blog posts I didn’t exactly have much. My hair is coming back quite thick but as can be seen is a rather surprising shade of grey and white.

But I am so excited to see it, I thought I’d never get to this point. My Consultant says it is long enough to dye although bleaching it would not be wise as the hair is still quite fragile. I’ve used a semi permanent today for three-quarters of the allotted time, it hasn’t made much difference to be honest . However the whites seem less white now. I think I’ll have a proper pixie crop style by Christmas.

Other hair: well it’s all back. I never thought I’d be pleased to see leg hair, but I am.

imageEyebrows: grew back by end of July.

Eyelashes: back by end of July and almost back at full length. I’d spent May to mid July with one solitary forlorn eyelash.

Facial hair: Well! Here’s a weird one. Chemo makes all the hairs fall out everywhere on your body. I’d never really noticed that there were tiny hairs on my arms and face until I realised they were growing back. What no one tells you is that chemo can cause a fuzzy type of hair growth all over your face-like the fine hairs babies have all over that drop off shortly after birth. I realised I had fuzzy soft furry cheeks and after a quick googling of breast cancer forums I was able to defuzz my furry face. It will be funny with hindsight…maybe.

Nails: my nails struggled valiantly on despite my consultant saying I’d probably lose them. They then turned yellow, thickened and I developed several layers to them. One by one they fell off. You don’t notice how much you use your nails to open lids (eg shampoo) or scrape off price tags etc until you can’t do it. Couldn’t even open ring pull cans, still can’t. They are almost back at normal length now though.
Toenails : See above.

image

Before they dropped off

Physically though I feel quite good. Fatigue hasn’t been too apparent and I think that walking five days a week for 30 mins at least has helped.
I’ve even gone back to work too, but that is for another post.

http://www.breastcancer.org

http://www.girlinawig.wordpress.com

Ann Allan: As Good As it Gets.

image

Summer is nearly over and Autumn is almost upon us. Time to have a look back at the last few months and what has been happening. For those of you who have followed my ‘journey’ to get my new teeth, The journey’s over. I’ve reached the end of the road and it’s been a long one. It hasn’t taken quite as long as it has for the Orangemen to get up the road but it has at times been just as frustrating. I now have a full set of knashers and I can assure you that it’s a peculiar feeling to go from no bottom teeth to a full set in a matter of minutes. But imagethey look great and I am growing in confidence everyday. It’s also very romantic as the hubby and I can now place our teeth side by side on the bathroom shelf. I had my treatment at Cranmore Dentistry on Windsor Avenue. The staff were excellent and on the one day that I had a wobbly David Nelson was there to reassure me and talk me through the procedures. All in all I was very brave.

Chatter is doing well. I have still got a faithful following. But the competition is growing and every other tweet contains a link to a blog. We are becoming a nation of bloggers exposing our souls, our inmost thoughts and fears to strangers who in most cases probably don’t give a damn. There is a danger I think that we can be tempted to unload too much personal information. Once it’s out there it can’t be taken back. I feel that there is a boundary that shouldn’t be crossed. I base that on my own experiences of confiding in someone re personal problems and then regretting it when the problem has been sorted. I’m not saying we bloggers shouldn’t be honest but there is a danger of going too far. On a positive note Chatter has been short listed onto the long list in the Blogs Awards Ireland. In the next two weeks it will be announced as to whether we have been short listed to the short list. Keep up. If this is as far as Chatter gets I am still very pleased and wish my fellow contestants all the best. ( Liar, liar, pants on fire)image
At the beginning of June I was looking forward to a long hot summer. Forecasts of heat waves were abundant. I treated myself to new clothes suitable for basking out n the patio, barefoot, cold drink in hand soaking up my daily dose of Vitamin D. Instead dull cloudy weather. It’s been such a cool summer that the wasps usually in abundance at this time of year seem to have hibernated already. So the new clothes still with their labels on will stay in the wardrobe until next year. I honestly don’t know why I buy new clothes. Getting up in the morning I go for the old, washed out top and jeans, thinking I’ll keep the new ones for a special occasion. The special occasion rarely arises and when it does I look in the wardrobe and can’t find anything to wear. The hubby on the other hand looks as if he dresses in the dark and now that I think of it, he does. The best clothes in the wardrobe are put on to cut the grass, walk round a wet muddy golf course and wash the car. No matching outfits with him. I am however delighted to say that as in other years, the bees have returned to the lavender plants and are extremely busy pollinating whatever they pollinate.
We’ve had the Nama scandal this year and allegations about the shenanigans of our glorious leaders. imageApparently window cleaners are being exposed to horrific scenes. This should be a warning to all those hot-blooded couples who want to have sex in the afternoon to remember to close the curtains otherwise there are going to be a lot of window cleaners suffering from PTSD. Will they be able to sue? Or just claim on insurance?
As well as The Nama scandal we’ve had crisis after crisis on the political scene. Welfare bills, alleged shady dealings from those up on the Hill and latterly the ten bob question as to  whether the Provos are back or did they ever go away?  What a place? Corruption and sleaze, in fighting, mistrust. All the makings of a political drama. But unfortunately it’s our government. A laughing-stock abroad. No one has the courage of their convictions to act in the interest of the country, apparently, the salary and the status being more important.

How to sort it out? The million dollar question. Dissolve the assembly and we leave a vacuum for those who wish to bring us back to violence? Keep it going, knowing the problems will not go away?  SF are always going to have a mandate so can’t be excluded and the other parties also have a core vote so it looks as if we are stuck with what we have got. So nout else to do but get on with it and make it work. Cause in reality nobody’s going anywhere.

Marriage guidance may be called for again to sort out the problems of those parties who can’t live in agreement. Time to look at the marriage vows. What happens to the children?    ( SDLP and Alliance being the bigger kids and NI21, TUV and Greens, the rug rats ) At the  time of writing UUP has decided there has always been three in this marriage and they have had enough. Besides, its one in the face for their former lover who they had a brief affair with in order to get two of their members elected to Westminister. This could turn out to be a clever move with the assets from the divorce settlement going to them in May. Time will tell.

One of our problems is that many of our younger population see the troubles as in the past. They didn’t live through bombs, murders and the terrible times we had in the 70 ‘s 80’s and 90’s . They didn’t experience what it was like to live with the thought that when you or your family went about their day-to-day lives, there was always the fear that they wouldn’t come back alive. They look back and are fed the propaganda that it was a glorious struggle for a United Ireland or a glorious struggle to protect the union. It wasn’t. It was a frightening time with the loss of over 3000 lives. Innocent communities and innocent victims. But when you haven’t experienced it it’s hard to relate to the fact that this was not a just war. So we are stuck with the situation. We are incapable of breaking the sectarian voting patterns that have been the root of all our problems. We are not mature enough to vote for the things that matter most and break the cycle. We need new faces we need new politics but above all we need to accept that this may be as good as it gets.

image

Home

Patricia Cole: The Arrogance of Youth

My mother Patricia Cole passed away in 2006. I came across this ‘blog’ in which she described her time in London at the height of the war in 1944. I was amazed at how her style of writing was so like my own. I hope you enjoy it. I know she would have been delighted to see her words in print.”

We were interviewed in Belfast – good secretarial qualifications and a broad education were required – we satisfied the requirements. It was in early Spring 1944 and the four of us, the three Bradley sisters and myself ‘ imbued with the spirit of youth and adventure’ arrived in London to join the staff of the American Forces Network.

The journey via Larne -Stranraer-London was a nightmare.’ U-boats ‘ bobbed up and down as the ship made its way down the lough. We listened with racing hearts as the Captain gave instructions as timageo what to do if the ship’s bell sounded four times.  Getting into a life jacket was a difficult and uncomfortable manoeuvre. The train journey was no different as just outside London the train stopped. We were informed that an air raid was in progress and it was then that I began to have doubts about leaving a comfortable home and a reasonably good job.

At Euston station we were met by a representative of the Women’s Voluntary Service who had arranged accommodation for Una, Joan, Norah and myself. We were taken by underground to Oxford Street by a Mrs Slator.  Standing at the top of the escalator looking down at that moving steel animal I was petrified. ‘ Be sure to step on, don’t catch your foot ‘ advised Mrs Slator. I can still remember the fear and that stayed with me for almost a year after I arrived in the war-torn, doodle bugged London.image

We had promised our loved ones that we would stay together and we were lucky. Motherly Mrs Slator escorted us to Muswell Hill and into a big comfortable bedroom containing a double bed and two stretcher beds. We must have been asleep for hours when the dreadful drone of the air raid siren awoke us. Mrs Slater was yelling for us to either go to the garden shelter or scramble under the stairs.

My kindly old aunt had given me a small Pond’s cold cream jar filled with ‘holy water.’ It had been a source of embarrassment to me when I opened my case for security when getting on the boat. At three o clock that morning it became a comfort to all of us, the Slater family included, even though they were Church Of England.image

The following morning we took a bus to Marble Arch and walked to the side entrance of the Grosvenor House Hotel. The Americans had taken over the back portion of the premises. We entered a reception room where there were quite a number of other girls. Una and Joan, being older and more sophisticated, were delegated their duties quite early. Norah and I waited and waited and to our horror we were informed that a miscalculation had resulted in an over recruitment of personnel. I felt absolute despair for the first time in my young life.

Is your journey really necessary?   This was the slogan we read as the stations flashed by. We were en route to Manchester. For two weeks we had slept under the stairs or out in the shelters as merciless flying machines crossed over Muswell Hill. It would take too much space to relate our misfortunes, suffice to say we all had suffered enough.image

How we got tickets for the train remains a mystery. There was a ban on travel  – no homeward sailing from the Mainland and only a distance of sixty miles from London. We arrived in Manchester at 12.30 a.m.having missed our connection at Crewe. The other passengers, mostly Army and Navy personnel, disappeared quickly leaving us girls standing on an empty platform in the middle of a city were all transport ceased at 11.00pm.

Una remembered that her mother had sent a Christmas card every year to an Uncle Frank who lived in Blackley. We were rather tentative about turning up on the this man’s doorstep but decided we had no option. Listening to our conversation, an elderly lady porter interrupted. ‘ Not tonight dears, you will have to do with the night shelter.’

She walked with us to the entrance of the shelter and we followed her up a bare stone stairway. We paid one shilling each for a bed and were shown into a long stone covered room, much like a dormitory. The four of us occupied one cubicle sitting on our cases and hoping we would still be alive in the morning. We imagethought of home and how arrogant we had been when we had been cautioned about our undertaking. It was the worst night of my life. We were offered numerous swigs from bottles of what we presumed to be wine. When we refused we were admonished for ‘ being too good for the likes of us’

We left at six a.m. It was almost dawn. After a wash in the station washroom and as it was Sunday, like good convent girls we looked for a church. We sat at the back, noting that it was full of soldiers. A priest was delivering a sermon in what we took to be Polish. In the comfort of the church, knowing that here we were safe, we all fell asleep.

I was awakened by an old Priest shaking my shoulder. He asked were we were going so early in the morning. imageUna told him we were heading for Blackley and asked him if by any chance he knew a Dr Frank McGlade.  ‘ Is it Frank you’re looking for? Sure I know him well. Doesn’t half of Manchester know Frank.’ Within the hour  we were driving up to Old Road, Blackley and into the motherly arms of a silver- haired Scottish lady. Dr.McGlade was friendly but a little distant. Next morning we were quizzed about leaving London. After hearing our story, he rose from the table and rang the authorities in the Grosvenor hotel in London. They admitted that the two of us had been overlooked and that they had tried to contact us to see if we were safe.

It was then that the stern Irishman who had fought in India became a second father to four exhausted Irish girls. We were unable to travel home so we were offered accommodation with this lovely couple and we set about finding jobs. As I had been a law secretary back home I began work with Howard Pink and Co. Solicitors.

It was November or December before the ban on travel was lifted. We immediately applied for tickets but with the demand out weighing the supply we had to spend  Christmas in Manchester.  In the first week of 1945 we sailed for home. Ironically we were treated as ‘ heroines.’ Only our families were told the true story of our wild adventure. Letters were censored in those days so they never knew the truth until we arrived home.

Broadcasting House London Broadcasting House

Three months later an advert appeared in the now defunct Northern Whig looking for secretaries for the BBC in Belfast. I was interviewed and three weeks later received a letter asking me to present myself at the BBC in London. This time my mother insisted that my brother accompanied me to make sure that both my job and my accommodation were secure. I spent four and a half wonderful years in the Drama Department of the B.B.C. in Broadcasting House,  but that is another story. I was also on the Mall in front of Buckingham Palace on VJ day. There was much laughter and singing as the country celebrated being at peace once again.

 imageimage