A Navjote in New Zealand

Brilliant! a Navjote in New Zealand.

My Indian girlfriend emailed me that her grandson had had his Navjote in New Zealand where his parents live because his father couldn't get long enough time off work to travel to India. So IGF and her husband have gone to New Zealand until next July. IGF's son posted the photos of the Navjote on Facebook.

The photos I like best are where there are lots and lots of children and my IGF looks like a matriarch there, happy and proud. I looked at how she'd arranged her sari because I'd just been explaining saris at Toastmasters, so I wanted to know how she was wearing it.

Enjoy New Zealand - how nice to be able to stay for several months, and watch and be involved in her grandsons' every day life so that she gets to know them and they know her.

Wearing a sari

Last week, my always exquisitely dressed girl friend, AEDGF, said that she was going to a party, that she wanted to wear some Indian dancing clothes and produced a sari. I don't think sarees are very easy to dance in, particularly when it's a western woman dancing, and then I discovered that she didn't know how to put one on. So I showed her, and then got her to practise. It wasn't an easy sari because it was nylon and kept slipping.

In 1976 my Indian girl friend (IGF) first showed my Australia nursing girl friend and me how to pleat the folds. Most English women don't know how to do that. I have the photos of us in the saree shop surrounded by the most beautiful colours, hues, sheens. I bought two sarees, a turquoise one and a pink one with oil painted decorations, and there's a photo of me wearing the pink one.

AEDGF rang me over the weekend because we were going to meet at Toastmasters on Monday evening. Toastmasters is a speech making club, where we practise making speeches, and it is very interesting because you hear 4 or 5 short speeches, around 7 minutes, in an evening, and they could be on all sorts of different topics. Yesterday, one chap wanted to practise vocal variety, and told us a tantalising tale of Jack Landon's, then my coaching girl friend wanted to practise a presentation she was going to give to some sports coaches, and someone else spoke about her holiday in Cuba, showing us a photo of her being kissed by a dolphin.

AEDGF hasn't got a long slip to wear under her sari and wanted me to bring her one that she could borrow. And then I had the idea that I could do a demonstration speech on 'How to put on a sari'. I dressed for the part in my turquoise sari, struggling into the choli, eventually managing to breathe because it's a bit tight. I put on rather a lot of makeup, packed the pink sari, its slip and choli and went to Toastmasters. You must imagine the looks when I arrived because although it is Christmas and we'd said that we'd dress up, the 'dressing up' was a bit quiet. AEDGF had a Christmasy hat on her head, and a gold shiny polo necked jumper, and chief toastmaster had a tie with Father Christmas faces on it, but I was the most dressed. A couple of the women said I looked stunning, so that was a good start for my speech.

I started by saying 'Namaste', and what I was going to do, which slightly worried the men because they thought they were going to be subject to a bit of a strip tease, but then I pulled out the pink saree, spread it over the floor so that they could see how long it was, and while I was doing that, AEDGF was pulling the pink underskirt on over her trousers. I didn't give her the choli. Then I put the pink sari on her, made her turn round to show everyone, showed people how the pallu at the back of my sari was a different pattern and how far it hung, and that I could pull it over my shoulders or head. I put it over AEDGF's head, told everyone how a sari made you look and feel beautiful, and finished with another 'Namaste'.

I hope my IGF'd have been proud that I remembered her lessons from so long ago. I got husband to take some photos of me in the turquoise sari, and perhaps I'll put them on Facebook, or even here. I realise there are different ways of wearing a sari, and I could look some up on youtube, but I'll stick to the way IGF showed me. Thank you. It's good to have her as a friend.

Your favourite colours

Someone recently asked me what my favourite colours are. But it depends where you are and what you're doing, if you're wearing the colours, or sitting in a room of colours for example.

Wearing colours - I wear blues, all shades of blues, and other colours only if they are blue tones. I wear turquoise, navy blue, royal blue, sky blue, lilac blue, lilac and purple. But is grape a blue grape or a red grape? I'll wear reds with a touch of blue, so crimson red works but not scarlet red. Some pinks work, but not peach or apricot because they've got too much yellow in them, and I'll never, ever wear orange.

Rooms of colour - I love the colour yellow. I may not wear it but I'd decorate every room in my house in yellow because it's so cheerful and bright. When I was a little girl, I knew blue was for Mary, and brown was for Saint Joseph, or that blue was for boys and pink was for girls. But I had a yellow mug and said that I liked yellow because it was the colour of the sun.

I like deep browns, but now I understand that brown is a colour of the seventies so I'm not allowed to have it. Well, I wouldn't wear it (not to mention that one of my school uniforms was a light brown), but I could have a yellow room, with a few dark brown oak pieces of furniture, couldn't I?

What are your favourite colours, and why?

Breast cancer women 'stop drugs'

** Breast cancer women 'stop drugs' **

"About a third of breast cancer patients stop taking medication because side-effects are more severe than they expect, researchers suggest"

says the BBC here.

I'm not surprised. Last time I saw a specialist doctor, he listened only to the first side effect that I mentioned, then he launched off into a spiel about the side-effects only being in the first three months, while I went through another side effect that minute. I watched him and thought perhaps after three months you just get so used to the side effects that you think them normal. But after reading this BBC article, I realise that you just don't bother telling the doctors because they aren't going to listen anyhow. If the doctors aren't going to listen, then you have to do your own thing to deal with the side-effects, and if that means stopping taking the drugs, then so be it.

I had an interesting email from Cancer Research UK about the causes of cancer that you can control, with a wonderful graphic that I recommend downloading and printing. In breast cancer, the fifth most important cause is inactivity, not something you might have accused me of. However, since I last saw that doctor, a new side effect has attacked me - creaky achy joints. I need supple joints so I can kick at tae kwon do, so a side effect that prevents me being active in order to prevent cancer is a very unhelpful side effect, to the point of being contradictory, and therefore the cause of the side effect should be avoided. The cause is the drugs so stop taking the drugs.

I'm a jam sandwich

Step daughter #3 gave me a hug, and her partner joined in. I felt like I was the jam in the sandwich and just as sweet.

Bowling together

Bowling together [1], not alone, demonstrates friendship, networks, and links.

My girlfriends, together with their partners or child in some cases, along with some very close members of my family went ten-pin bowling for my birthday. Some friends came from very close, being neighbours, and others from miles away, people I knew when our children were small, friends from the Open University, and friends from tae kwon do.

Unfortunately friends from belly dancing and toastmasters couldn't make it or we could have had some performances and speeches.

Husband made a wonderful cake - the best tasting he's made yet, and he bakes good cakes. He iced it with numbers

00111100

People gave me wine, flowers, smellies, chocolates and books, so I'm having a week of luxuriating in the bathroom. There's sparkling Saumur left to share if you have the time to come and visit me.

I don't know who gave me a dozen pink scented roses - they're beautiful. Thank you, friend.

---

[1] Putnam, R. D. (2000) Bowling Alone : The Collapse and Revival of American Community, Simon & Schuster, New York ; London.

Sixty reasons to cheer

Sixty soon and sixty friends and sixty things to do - what a long list compared to that of a six-year old - did I have a birthday party when I was six? I might have had. I know I didn't have a party when I was seven, because instead my baby brother was born, and they told us (my bigger little brother and me) in the playground at school that we had a new brother, and we went home and saw him in bed with our mother.

Following the example of a colleague who was fifty recently, here are my sixty reasons to cheer in my sixtieth birthday.

Successes!

Today has been a good day

1. Step daughter #2 had a mortgage offer
2. Son earned his Masters degree with distinction

Cancer statistics

Did I have cancer? Am I a survivor because that routine mammogram in February found the tiniest lump, diagnosed it as cancer and I had local treatment (operation & radiotherapy), followed by systemic treatment (these nasty anti-hormone tablets). I reasoned that it was such a small lump that it wouldn't have been feel-able for at least a year, and then some. So with treatment at that stage I'd certainly have lived longer than five years from last February. Now I've had the diagnosis and the treatment, of course I'm told I'm likely to survive five years and the survival statistics would look good, but I would have survived those five years anyhow!

Now there's a debate about routine mammograms resulting in over-diagnosis, consequent over-treatment and survivor stories that encourage greater take-up of mammograms. Here's the original research from America, in the Archives of Internal Medicine. Note that the authors, Welch & Frankel conclude:
"Most women with screen-detected breast cancer have not had their life saved by screening. They are instead either diagnosed early (with no effect on their mortality) or overdiagnosed."

Perhaps I don't need to keep taking these horrid tablets. I shall certainly argue this point with the oncologist at the next meeting in January. Perhaps it would be reasonable to stay on them only until the next mammogram in March shows that there are no more lumps. Last time I saw an oncologist, he said that if new lumps appear, it tends to be within the year or eighteen months after initial diagnosis. So perhaps I can come off the tablets after a clear year to eighteen months, instead of staying on them for five years.

BIG birthday

I have a big birthday coming up and I would like to celebrate it. I'd like to celebrate:

1. with sixty girlfriends,
   
2. take them to a spa for a day,
   
3. with a nice lunch and
   
4. lots of bubbly.
   

Realising that around a dozen girlfriends had commented supportively on my Facebook page when I talked about my radiotherapy, I wondered if I had sixty girlfriends, so I counted them up and reached over seventy. Seventy girlfriends collected over the years from school, college, work, hobbies, and neighbours, and my lovely female relatives.

But, first I couldn't find a suitable spa for us all, although daughter and I did go and test run a couple. ;) And secondly, some of my friends live too far away, maybe only in another county, but some live in the States, or Australia or Spain or New Zealand or somewhere in Asia.

So I'm planning a smaller get together of my local girlfriends with a few important men friends as well for luck.

I've asked Husband to bake me a big fruit cake, and last night the kitchen smelled of spices and fruit, so that's promising. I've found a venue, and started to invite a few people.

Now, I need to organise the nibbles and fizz. How shall I decorate the room? Any suggestions?

Young nuns

The BBC recently had a production on young women contemplating becoming nuns. I knew it was on having seen a review of it in The Tablet, but I hadn't realised until son pointed it out that one of the young women was someone I have known. Though I haven't seen her for more than ten years, I've talked on the phone with her mother nownthen, and son has been in touch with her more recently and has time and respect for her.

It's good to know how the youngsters have grown up.

Bureaucratic messes

I sent off my tax return a month ago, to town A, as tax man asked. Now, a month later, I get a letter from tax man at town B, saying he wants my return! So I've sent him a copy of the return I sent the first tax man, together with a covering letter. Friend who's an expert on tax says that all HMRC post now goes to a central system that allocates it round the country to offices that have capacity. So the fact that I sent something to town A doesn't mean it actually went there - it may well have gone to town Z! It should however have reached them and been recorded so the implication is that they have managed to lose it. Typical!

Daughter's university accommodation wants to be paid on a card, and with direct debit but the account needs two signatures so it doesn't have a card, and the accommodation organisation has mislaid or lost the direct debit we set up in April. They've agreed, reluctantly to accept a cheque. So I've written a cheque, and a covering letter.

Messes come in threes. I've managed those two but I can't manage the pension letters I get from Barclays. I can't make head nor tail of their jargon, their numbers, their variation on dates, annuities, instructions and policies. I wish I'd never bought the bloomin' policy because the effort is just not worth it.

Versailles kir

Nice trip to Versailles with nearest and dearest to finish off my PhD with a celebratory glass of kir at the Open University degree ceremony.

That's my third trip to France this year.

Herbie's blog

Husband's new grandson arrived at the end of July. He was a couple of weeks late, but making up for it with his own blog at http://herbieharford.blogspot.com/.

Hotel service

As part of the Ramblers tour, we stayed four nights at the hotel in Foix, which was in the centre of an interesting old town.

On the Tuesday, we moved to the Hotel Bristol in Carcassonne. The room was airy, with a nice view over the canal, but therefore noisy at night, or quieter but hot if you closed the windows. I needed a pillow but to my surprise the pillows in the wardrobe had no pillowcases on. I had to wait until Wednesday, when the chamber maid put a pillow case on and in the afternoon I came back to a nicely made and comfortable bed.

On Thursday, I touched up my nails with new light blue nail varnish, then dashed out leaving the nail varnish in the bathroom (I think). Yet, in the evening I could not find the varnish again. Weird. I moved the furniture around, which revealed how dusty the carpet was. I left it like that. On Friday morning, the room was thoroughly vacuumed and the dusty carpet looked really clean but I never found the nail varnish.

Tired on holiday

I thought on this, the last day, I would walk a bit, but I've woken too lethargic to be bothered to eat breakfast. Today's walk, despite starting gently, finishes with a long walk and no-get out clause.

Nevertheless, this week I've walked round Foix, and the village of Montsegur, visited Mirepoix and Carcassonne and its old city - I went up there on the navette train, and I've met some interesting people amongst the other ramblers.

I spent a happy couple of hours yesterday on the Canal du Midi, on a boat trip from Carcassone up to the lock, l'Ecluse de Ladouce. At the end of the nineteenth century, the tow paths, used by tow horses were eroding, so they planted plane trees to protect the bank because these trees have a strong root system. However, the problem now is a fungus that is attacking the trees, which may need to be replaced.

Walks in the foothills of the Pyrenees

Our holiday was here in Cathar land. The Cathars were a heretical sect that flourished in these foothills in the 12th and 13th centuries. The sect built some of these romantically sited castles, some ruins of which still exist on rocky desolate mountain tops.

Husband walked and explored them. He took these pictures.

Lastours - group of 4 'castles' in the Montagne Noir north of Carcassone

On the path to Montsegur - well into the walk but there's a big climb yet

Peyrepertuse Lower - looking down on the lower part of the castle perched on a ridge of rock

Queribus from Peyrepertuse - then on to the next castle to look back




Queribus from Cucugnan - having walked down from the castle to the nearest village

Roquefixade from village - we're going up there!

Montsegur

I visited Montsegur with the group. They went walking; I went on the bus down to the village, chatted over coffee in French with the driver, visited the museum and all but fell asleep in the sunshire. The others came down from the castle covered in mud, smelly and dirty and they loved it.

From Foix to Carcassonne

We been on a week long Ramblers tour in the foothills of the Pyrenees, landed at Toulouse on Friday, the last day of my radiotherapy. I had the last treatment at 8.30 in Oxford, and we caught the plane from Heathrow at 2.30.

We spent four nights at Foix, and four at Carcassonne, stopping en route at the picturesque village of Mirepoix, where I had my usual espresso and glass of water.

French colonies de vacances threatened

Today's French paper says that fewer children are going to colonies de vacances - a holidaying tradition of the French for decades, perhaps for nearly a century. These camps, lasting three to four weeks , are organised and run on a day-to-day basis by moniteurs and monitrices, themselves young people on the cusp of adulthood, people who love children, love enlivening their holidays with games, crafts and songs and are willing to spend 24 hours a day, seven days a week with them for all the holiday, eating with them, sleeping in their dormitories. The only break the moniteurs get is a half day off once a week.

It's hard work, and you have to enjoy it. If you're English, you get a unique opportunity to live and speak the young French culture. I know. I did it in the 1970s. Watch "Nos jours heureuse" for a reflection of the episodes of frustration, worry, joy and love that being a monitor on a colo can bring you. Excerpts of it are on YouTube and it was a hit movie in France in 2006.

But now fewer French children go to colo as more parents take them on more exciting trips.

An even bigger threat is European employment law that requires minimum wage (SMIC) and longer breaks.

It's arguable that the provision of board and lodging makes up some of the wage, but even so, it is appallingly low for the 24/7 job that monos do.

Worse than the wage, to my mind and memory is the time off - hardly time to go anywhere (if you had the transport, money or remaining energy) or to sleep (if it were quiet enough). But the French 35 hour work week might put paid finally to this unique tradition.