Tae Kwondo

I've got a grading soon, and about time too, since it is months since I took a grading. But I muddle the moves.

Each grade or kup has an associated pattern of moves. At my kup, I should know a pattern called Won Yo, which I do, but the earlier kup has a pattern called Do San, and the one before is Dan Gun, and for nearly two years, I've confused them. Now I'm finding that when I do Do San, I'm even trying to mix in moves from Won Yo. :(

But despite my lack of kinesthetic or haptic memory, tae kwondo makes me smile so I shall keep doing it. I play tag, like I did in the playground. The small boys, when I get partnered with them, wonder why I don't keep up the same! And they cheat. Even when I do tag them, they don't perform their penalty, 3 press-ups or a sit up or something, but the warm-up game still makes me smile.

And there was the time I was partnered with big cockney accent - lovely chap, twice my weight. We had to face each other in press-up position, and attempt to knock each other's arms away so we'd collapse. He won of course, but I just kept laughing.

Baby all right, and mother too

My mother skyped me to ask how baby was; I didn't know.

But then today, Sdaughter#2 rang to tell me, since she was there at the time and helped with the ferrying to the hospital 15 minutes away, and minding big sister. Her mother did stay in hospital with her, and fed her and looked after her in the children's ward, while her daddy and aunty minded BS. Hospital did various checks and scans, and found a cracked skull and a bruised brain, but nevertheless baby is perky again, and happily enjoying the attention.

I think her mummy and daddy are working out how to make the floor less slippery and hard.

Falling grandchildren

We've just had a phone call from son#1. He and family are coming over for lunch in a couple of weeks, but his younger daughter has just had a fall and been in hospital for two days! Apparently hospital was just keeping an eye on her, and I don't know the details because husband took the call. But son#1 is about to take family out - mother requires something stronger than a coffee. And I'm not surprised. I'd be worried about my baby daughter being away from me for two days, be demanding to sleep on the floor in the hospital next to her, and then worrying that the authorities would be saying I'm a bad mother. She's a lovely mother.

Watching the model trains

Grandparenting

Husband wanted to see the model trains at Seaton, Pecorama and thought he could take grandchildren #1 & #2, but it's more than a four-hour car journey, so needs a sleep-over somewhere. I rang mother-in-law #1 to ask if there were any places to rent but they were all booked up - of course. MiL#1 offered to have us stay, which is specially good of her when these aren't her great-grandchildren. May MiL#2 bless her from heaven.

So husband, daughter, GC#1 and GC#2 all traipsed down to Devon this week. On the way we visited Glastonbury, and climbed all the way up to the Tor.


GC#2 enjoyed throwing pebbles in the waves at Seaton, while we munched his sandwiches.


We had a lovely time. The children were cheerful, playful, fun to be with. The teenager was helpful and fun. MiL#1 was well and enjoyed our company, and husband didn't act stressed at all.

Here's MiL#1 in front of her house last month when the clematis and wisteria were in full bloom.

Freshers' Parents Lunch

We had an unanticipated invitation to Hertford College this month. It read:

The Principal and Fellows of Hertford College, Oxford
request the pleasure of your company at
THE FRESHERS' PARENTS LUNCH
On Saturday 12th May 2007
Drinks in the The Principal's Lodgings - 11.30 - 1.00pm
Lunch in Hall - 1.00pm

Son was pleased to meet us, and we had the chance to meet his fellow student who comes from the town where my parents now live. Husband and I had interesting chat with him and his parents. The meal was lovely, the wine appropriate, the company good. After the meal, son gave us a tour of the college, before we wandered off to the covered market to pick up something interesting for supper. What luck! How nice.

It seems that the university is making new efforts to open itself to the world, so others can better understand it.

'Twas on a Wednesday morning, the gas man...

Never ever give up, remember.

The man from British Gas came to do a service. Previous years we've had a local chap, but he's retired. The BG man first looked at the ventilation. It used to be 'not to standard', but Corgi have changed their ideas, and now the ventilation is 'at risk'. Why? Because the holes are too small.
The ventilation requires 33 square ins or 212 square cms, and these little holes mean we get only about 64 square centimeters so we will have to change this vent to a louvered one or make a bigger hole in the brickwork. Fail #1.

We also have a non-standard terminal on the chimney.
We need something suitable for a gas flue and over 150mil diameter, and what we have might have once been 'non-standard', but is now 'at risk. Fail #2.

Then the BG man got on with checking that the boiler actually worked. Yes. Hurray. and he changed the thermocouple. Good. Unfortunately, then he checked burner pressure which although clean, should have been 12 millibars, and the maximum pressure that we are getting is only 7.5 millibars, because the old gas pipes are too small, and this big boiler should never have been fitted with such small pipes and all the pipe work should be changed to something bigger. Fail #3.

Three strikes and the boiler's out! His instructions, and to ensure he is being responsible, are to switch off the boiler and put a safety notice on it, which he has done. It's not locked off and it's not immediately dangerous, but we are going to have to do something about the b* thing.

I can see some expense coming on. It'll be a hundred to get someone to come and sort out the ventilation, hundreds to get the scaffolding up to change the terminal, which BG man says is the priority, and I suppose thousands to sort out the pipes. And there was me thinking I might spend some money going to India for the first time in 30 years!

Never ever give up.

Mindless destruction

On Sunday morning we took an early stroll around the public open space near our house. This is what the young people had left after their Saturday evening.

A neighbour heard them at one o'clock in the morning. Ten of them, boys and girls were kicking the wall attempting to knock it over, and ignored his remonstrations. He called the police but they didn't come. It took the teenagers an hour to knock down the wall, but in that hour the police didn't come.

Now the local newspaper knows and so does one of the local radios who interviewed our neighbour about what he heard. It was broadcast on Tuesday morning, the day I took off to paint our garden wall with anti-climb paint.

Daughter is 17

Her birthday today meant a quiet celebration because she went bowling last weekend with a couple of friends and seems quite content with what she has. Aunty L sent her some nail varnish. "Ooh! I don't think I've ever had red nail varnish" she glowed.

Her SDad took us out for an evening meal. He nearly fainted when he saw her bright red nails. Here they are.

Model trains

Husband's hobby is building model trains.

Sick smelly cat

We have a cat called Dinka. But she is old, very, very old. We reckon being at least 17 years old makes her the equivalent of 88 human years old, and she moves and walks old. She used to scratch the mites in her ear, but she doesn't do that very much any more, thank goodness because the bits flew out over the sofa, cushions and carpets. Unfortunately she is totally deaf, so jumps when someone comes up behind her.

For the last year she has being having epileptic fits. Sometimes she doesn't have one for weeks, at least not when we are in the house to know. She had one last week at ten to nine in the morning. My mobile beeped as I got a text message:

"Dinka has had a fit on the new carpet. Where's something to clean it?"

And now, this last week, she has started to stink. She still cleans herself a bit, but her wind is horrible. Poor old Dinka.

In the above photo, she had been watching her territory out of the window. There's a young and bouncy tom that lives in our garden. He appeared at the bottom of the garden, near the rented houses, about a year ago. Husband and he got on very well together. Husband is a soppy thing for cats and started to feed him, delighted with his response to the interest and his purrrrr-rr-rr. Originally he fed him only once a day, but over the winter it got to be twice a day, and at the top of the garden and the cat (Whisper or Jack Flash - we can't agree his name) moved into the laundry house. So now that spring has come, Dinka notices Whisper out on the patio in the sun. Her patio. Here's a photo of him peeping in at the conservatory door, like he does the moment you go in there.

Family bliss (not)

This morning A got up to find the cat stuck in the dining room with the doors closed. We dashed out to work, leaving teenagers in bed. We weren't too happy when we came home to find the b* cat had deposited something nasty on the dining room floor. Husband grumpily cleared it up, and I snapped at him to eat something, and stalked off.

I informed teenagers that if things didn't get sorted out, the right doors locked or left open, then they were going to have to be in their bedrooms before we go to bed. Consequently son sulked all the way through his supper.

Bah! Families! Who'd have 'em?

Older teens

When they get to be teenagers we have different night-time problems.

This week, our-nearly-19 son went babysitting, and since I mustn't now worry about him, we went to bed before he came in. He unlocked the door, noted that the lodger's light was still on, and so he went to bed. He left the door unlocked. All night. It was still unlocked at 6 o'clock in the morning when we got up. Fortunately we were not murdered in our beds, and unfortunately son did not learn his lesson as no one burgled the house, crept in and stole his laptop. Bah! Pity. but probably just as well.

On the other hand, last night, step-daughter #3 hadn't been seen. We hadn't seen her come in, nor heard her. Mind you, she doesn't say anything when she comes in, no "hello!", she just tramps upstairs to her room. So we wondered if she were home or gone to Bristol a day earlier than she had planned. Father stuck his head round her door late at night, and found her tucked in and fast asleep in bed. Not so fast asleep unfortunately that he didn't wake her. He reminded her in the morning, gently chiding her for not acknowledging his existence in the same house and not letting him know that she was around and okay. "I was confused!", she complained.

Pain in the neck

Busy day I planned for today. Having been not too successful in finishing what I meant to finish yesterday, today I intended to:

• go to the market
• write up yesterday's notes
• prepare a paper for the afternoon tutorial
  
• get to work in time for group photos for the web site
• attend the systems seminar
• be at the B852 business research methods tutorial
• Tae Kwondo this evening.

Then daughter got up for breakfast. She came down complaining about a pain in her neck. "How long will it last, Mum?" "Oh, until about bed-time!" I cheerily assured her. "Ow!" She got herself some milk, and sat down for her porridge. "Ow!" I decided I didn't want to listen so left the table and went to the sink. "Ow!" and then, "Help, Mum!", and she collapsed side ways, breathing stentoriously, which kind of scared me. I thought of meningitis, and rushed over to her. Her eyes were open but odd, and her body twitched as I pulled her up, banging her head on something. "Ow!" she complained again. We had some discussion about whether she had fainted, blacked out, knew what she was doing, and then she lay down on the floor and refused to get up. Mind you, she was as white as this page, so that fainting bit was quite genuine.

We couldn't move her with the stiff neck, she wouldn't get up, I couldn't get her to the doctor, or in my car, so we called an ambulance. The paramedics and nurses checked her (pulse, blood sugar, eyes, nerves) and found nothing. When we saw the doctor, he was concerned when we mentioned that she had fainted before at Tae Kwondo, so he ran hemoglobin tests (ok) and ECG (ok) on her, and said that she's got to come into cardiology clinic sometime to test her on a running machine.

She's sort of all right now, back from A&E, a bit pale and had the rest of the day off school.

Consequently, I didn't get to work till lunch time. Off now to kick someone at Tae Kwondo, without daughter.

Proud to do what I do

Yesterday's experience made me proud of being a mother, a step mother, a twice happily married woman. I think I'll rewrite my business cards to announce these as my qualifications, along with my voluntary unpaid experience in the public sector. There were a couple of women yesterday who were a bit diffident about what they did. Unlike the majority they were not bankers or involved in finance. One insisted sternly "I don't do anything". With patience I found out that one had left banking and now runs her own bespoke jewellers, and another not only has raised a family but has worked as a magistrate for so long that she is on the advisory panel for recruiting new magistrates. And I met another recently through the schools appeal panel, who has been a local councillor for over twenty years, but insists "I do nothing." It is a sort of contrast with those who identify themselves by their career experience. I think I'll create a scrap book or a web pages of such women who do nothing.

E J H

mother, step-mother, wife

ex-Community Health Council member, school governor ..

Clay pigeon shooting

I've had a fantastic day. I occasionally tend to write to or talk to interesting people but people I've not been introduced to. About a month ago, I cheekily wrote to just such an Interesting Woman and she unexpectedly invited me to go clay pigeon shooting with 75 other women, and I have loved the experience.

The format of the day was:

• train from London
• arrival, coffee and bacon rolls
• lessons in groups
• coffee
• competition
• lunch and fashion show
• carriages

Walking along the platform to the train at ten to eight in the monring, I knew that I'd find other women who were going, and around the middle carriages of the train, I spotted a lively group. I got into the carriage and turned right, with the lively group on the left, and heard chatter, chatter, chatter for the whole of the journey. Later someone mentioned St Trinians schoolgirls.

On the train, over breakfast, on the ranges, during coffee and lunch people chatted, shared information and interests, usually starting with a question about how we came to be there, and what our connection was with IW. Some knew her through work, one has a child in the same school as one of hers, someone else edits on the paper she writes a column for and her sister was there. Sister doesn't shoot much, unlike our host, but I think everyone enjoyed the experience.

Out on the ranges, despite the sleet and hail, I learned to shoot a little, though I mostly missed. I must put my feet in a short L stance, weight almost all on the left and front foot, leaning forward into the position with my right check on the cheek of the gun. It seems that men and women see in different ways and that women should perhaps close their left eye if they shoot with their right hand.. Certainly, I did better when I close it. I kept the gun close into my shoulder but still bruised it from the recoil. The technique seemed to vary depending on what I ws trying to hit: a "rabbit" bouncing along the ground or a bird flying across, towards or way or into the sun. they all seemed to need something slightly different.

At lunch we were asked to donate to a charity, which Sarah Brown came to speak about and ask us for donations. I am very happy to donate to any charity that supports children.

As for our host, I'm most impressed because she seems to be one of the nicest people around. I'm honoured that she invited me. Such pleasant experiences encourage me to keep talking to interesting strangers.

Where I’m up to in my research

In my non-domestic, other life, I’m researching public accountability for the use of external consultants. That is, I want to know something about how public services use, justify and account for employment of consultants that are bought in from outside. They could be independent consultants, or people from a big consultancy company.

This research follows from my study 14 years ago of the use of consultants and the market for consultancy services in the NHS. Since the 1990s, consultancy services have boomed from £3.7 billion in 1998 to £8.7 billion in 2005 (MCA) and the UK market is the largest outside the US. In 2005-6, central government spent £1.8 billion on consulting (NAO). Yet there is little obvious explanation or public justification for this use. After the event, if something has gone wrong, then the newspapers publish how much was spent, how over budget a project is or what a new system can’t do that it should have been able to do. There may be a public enquiry (e.g. tax credits) and perhaps a government department will write some new guidelines, but it seems government ministers and managers will still be able to ignore those guidelines. At least, that is what the media seem to say, at for example the transcript of a File on 4 programme on management consultants in 2006. It’s a problem because if it cannot be justified, then more money will worthlessly.

However, I want to find out if at least some public sectors have managers who are able to account for their use of consultants.

So what I am doing is:

1. Reading up the literature on accountability and consultants to make sure that I know what is already known and discussed
2. Looking for managers in UK public services (e.g. councils, fire services, NHS) who are willing to share their experience of using and working with external consultants.

I don’t know what uses will emerge. There may be several findings:

1. Evidence that accountability does exist for such use of consultants, so there’s no story
2. Evidence in some form of accountability but not specifically for the use of consultants
3. No evidence of any sort of any accountability.

These findings could mean:

1. that my volunteer managers are a self picked bunch who want to prove that they’re good, and to justify their decision making
2. the lines of accountability don’t cater for use of consultants
3. there is some accountability but I just haven’t found it.

So there may be few lessons from all this effort and it’s a waste of time.

No - I remember: "Never ever give up". I'm writing this now because I'm half way through writing the literature review and finding it difficult, so on the basis that any writing is better than none, I'm telling you (family and friends) what I'm doing and where I'm up to, even if I'm not up to where I want to be. Yet.

Affy's first visit

Africa Elizabeth is to be baptised in a couple of weeks and we have a lot of champagne suitable for wetting her head so her parents are visiting tomorrow to collect it. It will be the first time she'll have been here. I'd put up photos but they are so much better on her own web site.

Children around

We had a couple of the grandchildren for a sleepover last week whilst their parents celebrated their wedding anniversary. I was reminded of the time when our male au-pair gave 6 year-old daughter the green paint. "Can I have the paint?" she requested, pointing at the pot on the top shelf. Ever willing, he passed her the pot and went back to watching Wimbledon (he had dreams of sporting fame) and 6 year old painted the kitchen table, the work surface, the drawers, the floor, the wall, her clothes, face and hair.

Last week eldest granddaughter wanted Marmite sandwiches, and grandson wanted Ribena. The Ribena glass somehow missed the table and still half-full, smashed on the floor. His sister was so absorbed in other things that the Marmite missed her bread so I'm still finding it on the chairs, dresser and cushions. Then, grandson desperately wanted to find the dymo to check how it worked, and pulled out the stationery drawer so far that it fell on the floor.

I must appreciate my now 16-year old daughter being so tidy, clean and unsticky.

Grown up children in need

Daughter went back to school. Although she is in lower sixth, she still has to take public exams, and had her first one last week. I got a text:

"Mum, I've forgotten my candidate number, and my statement (for extra time). It's in my draw[sic] in ..."

So what am I supposed to do? I'm twenty miles away at university studying my own problems, and can't get back to sort out hers. She managed.

The next day I have a tutorial, but Son says that he has to be back at Oxford between 9 and 12, not later in case he has an exam, and not allowed in earlier. Tough. I'm not missing my tutorial, so I say that I'll come the next day when I'm more relaxed, or even better, I'll come on Saturday when I'm in Oxford anyhow for work. So Son packs his bags, leaves most of them in the hall and taking a backpack with his laptop, a suitcase and some other bag, toodles off on the bus. Come lunch time I get a text message:

"Mum, I need my stuff today. I've got exams first thing tomorrow and on Saturday but there's a rumour that we take collections in sub-fusc and its in the big suitcase...."

That, translated, means that he has to wear special academic dress to be allowed into the exams room. He can't sort that out by himself and I have to go over there. Why didn't he know he needed sub-fusc! I knew. Youngest step daughter (YSD) knew! and neither of us have been to Oxford. So YSD and I heave everything but his bike into the back of my car, I drive over, unload, he buys me a smoothie, I buy him supper and spend money on books. I go over again on Saturday after teaching, with his bike and spend more on books. So I've plenty to read now, both detective (Rankin and Paretsky) and PhD (Reading Critically at University).

So far we haven't had any urgent texts from YSD, who went back to Loughborough on Saturday. Yesterday we had a text just from Middle SD (MSD) to say that she was safely back from skiing.