Rämbles in the Weedy Shack

This is very self-indulgent and nerdy, but I can't posting a screen-shot of my Mac. My wallpaper shows a field of lazily grazing cows, chewing the cud under a big blue Norfolk sky. It was a lovely early September day, and I was out and about with a friend, checking out some medieval churches. On this, a bleak and rainy Sunday, it's nice to have this view to enjoy...

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Everyone has health - both physical and mental health. All too often resources and awareness about the physical aspects of health have been on the agenda, whilst mental health has been neglected. However, at long last, things are changing. A couple of weeks ago I was fortunate enough to attend a conference about wellbeing, entitled, "Five Ways to Wellbeing". 

As with the 'five a day' message for fruit and vegetables, this is an attempt to provide folk with a set of clear principles by which to maintain or improve the mental health of themselves and their communities. There are three main reasons I like the Five Ways approach - namely:

->     It is an empowering and positive approach, not a deficit model 
->     It is clear, practical and understandable
->     With this approach change is in our own hands. By beginning to make some small steps we can make a positive difference

Here are the five ways to wellbeing...

CONNECT
Connect with the people around you. With family, friends, colleagues and neighbours. At home, work, school or in your local community. Think of these as the cornerstone of your life and invest time in developing them. Building these connections will support and enrich you every day.

BE ACTIVE
Go for a walk or run. Step outside. Cycle. Play a game. Garden. Dance. Exercising makes you feel good. Most importantly, discover a physical activity you enjoy and one that suits your level of mobility and fitness.

TAKE NOTICE
Be curious. Catch sight of the beautiful. Remark on the unusual. Notice the changing seasons. Savour the moment, whether you are walking to work, eating lunch or talking to friends. Be aware of the world around you and what you are feeling. Reflecting on your experiences will help you appreciate what matters to you.

KEEP LEARNING
Try something new. Rediscover an old interest. Sign up for that course. Take on a different responsibility at work. Fix a bike. Learn to play an instrument or how to cook your favourite food. Set a challenge you will enjoy achieving. Learning new things will make you more confident as well as being fun.

GIVE
Do something nice for a friend, or a stranger. Thank someone. Smile. Volunteer your time. Join a community group. Look out, as well as in. Seeing yourself, and your happiness, linked to the wider community can be incredibly rewarding and creates connections with the people around you.

A pretty good set of principles I think!

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Here's a photo I took the other day - all these monuments out of kilter...

For about three months or so I've been locked out of this blog. Such is the lot of someone with memory difficulties. I mean, I did write down my password and details, but I lost them. Then, of course, I went and forgot...

However, the information was lurking deep in my noodle, for just a few minutes ago I remembered all my details. Anyway, if you happen to stumble over here and read this I do hope you are well.

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I was quite surprised today to find myself talking to Antoine, the urbane wasp. Usually, as you will know, wasps tend to be braggarts and boors, but Antoine; well, he has fabulous manners, and is such an amazing raconteur. Quite simply, he is a credit to his kind and his company has proved to be completely restorative to my health. Indeed,  today, having enjoyed four hours in his company, I find myself free of that accursed headache which has clubbed me into submission every other day this week. 

Now that I have met Antoine, my resolve to find a politically progressive taxi driver is restored...

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Note: it is a regrettable fact that the French cheese, Brie, smells like spunk!

 
I was walking through the dappled glades of Flirty Peter's Wood when suddenly I noticed a man skulking in the shadows. I realised immediately that it must be Keith... not so very hard to do, as every person on this planet is actually called Keith, even if they deny this truth.

Anyway, I hollered out to him -
"Keith! Come here Keith!"
But he did not come towards me. Instead, he stood quite still as a vast army of Keiths gathered around him. Eventually, they began to march towards me; slowly but relentllessly, tweaking their nipple buds and chanting, "We are Keith"

Actually, I was not firghtened as I knew it was all a dream and that I could bring this story to an end in a lazy cliched instant....

Once upon a cliche, Monty my wise weasel buddy sprouted two magnificently feathered wings. He flew here and there - far and wide... and then returned to us here in Sylvania. Oft times have I quizzed him about this, but he has vowed never to speak of the 'flying times'. I hope I too will sprout wings one day. If I do, I'll scare taxi drivers into making progressive political statements espousing tolerance and empathy.In the mean time I'll settle for a lovely slice of fickle cake!

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My fourteen year old daughter has recently had to endure a campaign of bullying (she's the little one pictured HERE). Some of it was conducted through a social networking site popular with teenagers. According to departmental guidance, her school have no responsibility to deal with this when it is outside of school time.

I asked one of the teachers this question: "If this very same campaign was directed at a teacher of this school, would you act?" "Definately!" he replied.

Isn't that interesting. There seems to be a discrepancy here between the human rights of a teacher and their pupil. He certainly couldn't give me a coherent explanation of the rationale for this.

In a wider sense though, why isn't bullying a crime? I think we're long overdue a law to protect us from this abuse. After all, if schools are required to produce anti-bullying policies (which they are), why isn't society as a whole required to do so.

The tower of a medieval church; part of the landscape, under a grey wide winter East Anglian sky - so atmospheric and evocative!

 
Here's a photo of a man who served in the Royal Australian Field Ambulance Service throughout the First World War. His name was Reginald Dack Baker, and he was pensioned out of the service in 1918, suffering from post traumatic stress ('shell shock'). Although he served in the Australian Army he was born in my city of residence, Norwich, and returned here in about 1928, having previously been interred in the Goodna Mental Hospital in Brisbane for three years.

I have six of his incredible scrapbooks in my possession, and have set up a blog to tell what I know of his story. If you are interested in finding out more, click HERE

Thanks ~ Colin

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If things had gone to plan, and I had acquired my lovely brand new shiney Mac, among other diversions, I'd have set up a blog featuring the deranged outcries (in Stephen Hawking voice) of a man trapped in a giant vacuum bag. This would be called 'Thoughts from Gerry Bunt's Vacuum Bag'. The scenario was thus: back in 1977 a genius inventor who pioneered the development of cyclonic separation was whacked on the head by his business partner, one James Dyson, who incarcerated him in the aforementioned vacuum bag. His rantings would be a combination of the surreal and the banal. This would explore the effects of being confined in a vacuum bag for over thirty years. I love the thought of this man struggling to communicate with the modern world, but damaged by his confinement and bitterness against Mr. Dyson.

However, for now it remains a recording on my digital recorder which I sometimes play to my more understanding friends. I love the look of utter bewilderment on their faces. I think that I have only got two mates who really 'get it'.

All the best to you - don't melt!

Postscript: I've done it! Click here to hear Gerry Bunt speak...

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Once upon a time there live a Great Dane called Tiptoe. One day Tiptoe walked to the park. There he saw the beautiful Princess Abbadabba Kneebiscuit. He immediately fell in love with the beautiful shitzu. As he walked up to seduce her the boxer terrier, Shoulder Blade, jumped in front and said,
"She's my sack of door knobs, not yours! Back off!"
So Tiptoe smiled and took his banana hammock and made it into a karate belt. He then gave Shoulder Blade a giant wedgie and carried on walking towards the love of his life - when, all of a sudden, a saucy Siamese came up to him and said,
"How would you like me to eat your hot dog?"
Tiptoe smiled and pulled out another banana hammock and made it into a bandana and, once again, gave her a wedgie too.

As before, he walked towards his love until a shitzu puppy jumped in front of him. As he was so bummed off with all the distractions, such as the boxer and the hooker, he pulled out another banana hammock; put the shitzu puppy in it and shot him into the air. Then Princess Abbadabba Kneebiscuit said,
"Oi! That's my son you just shot!"
And with that, poor Tiptoe cried all the way home...

Later he decided to become a bisexual. Ten years after this he died of chronic indigestion....

The End

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Until a couple of days ago I hadn't been able to upload photos to this blog. I found this incredibly frustrating and got a bit downhearted. Hence, why I disappeared for a while. However, now the technical difficulties have been over come and I am able to bring you a picture of an old lady holding an incredibly large key...

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Oh I'm a doughnut, and I just can't blog consistantly... never mind.

Anyway, I had a pretty good day today. Did a presentation to a group of people recovering from drug and/or alcohol addiction. It's always a bit of a nerve-tingler walking in 'cold' to a group like this. My ideal is to break the ice; win the group over; let them know that I've known some fuck-ups; tell them about what I do (develop adult education in community settings); open it up to discussion. I'm glad to say, that this time that's exactly how it transpired. We ended up having a right good chin-wag and I think that most people got something from the experience - I certainly did! People can thrive in the light of positive expectation.

A few months ago I was thinking that I'd be all kitted up by now with a brand new Apple, and that I'd be able to go all multi-media on you. However, grim reality got in the way. I got my fingers badly burnt when some freelance work I'd been counting on fell through (I was shafted - but that's a whole other story!). Since then I think I've been a bit in the doldrums when it comes to blogging. I'd been so looking forward to playing with my Sylvanians and videoing them and recording stoopid music and songs. Never mind, for now I'm stuck with this chuggy old piece of crap. At least I've got a computer though...

Whoops, gotta go now, Mr. Bitt has just stolen Aunty Moo Moo's dolly leg collection and there's one hell of a rumpus to sort out!

Colin

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Arbitary picture of a discarded font, prob, 15th century... I took this about 3 years ago now...

Today was the funeral of a friend of mine. I can't remember if I've ever mentioned this before, but we were seperated by a twist of fate. Only a few years - and the Thames - between us, we both had the umbilical cord wrapped around our necks whilst inside our mummy's tummies. My mum's midwife realised this, and turned me, thereby releasing the potential stranglehold; B's on the other hand, did not. As a result B was born with severe cerebral palsy.

B died of cancer a few days ago, and the world is not a better place for his passing. He was one of lifes good guys for sure - kind, compassionate, considerate and funny. I will miss him....

Colin

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Today, walking through a local heath I found a prehistoric stone tool. It's a stone scraper, and I'd date it at about 15,000 years old. It's all a bit trainspotterish I know, but I'm excited about this find. Not least because, for a while now, I've been arguing that the low yield of finds on this site is partly due to a lack of identification skills among the people who walk it. I'm currently involved in training up volunteers with the requisite skills to find lithics (stone artifacts) themselves.

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This afternoon, I was walking along a busy-ish street, when I suddenly experienced an awareness of fatal/fateful steps. It went something like this -
"If I walk along the pavement, instead of across that carpark there I might get bowled over and mangled by an out of control vehicle..."
... and so I decided to walk across the carpark...
"But what if a piece of a jet engine happens to fall onto the carpark, when I would've been safe on the pavement..."
And so I returned to the flippin' pavement.

This went on for about ten meandering paranoid minutes, and that I laughed inwardly and exclaimed (once again, inwardly... I am English after all!) - "fate do your damnedest!"

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