Day 625 of Israel’s Genocide of Gaza

 Today is Day 625 of Israel’s genocide of Gaza. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath ever since that day back on October 7^th 2023 when Israel upped its apartheid on the people of Palestine and began their genocide in earnest. I’d been familiar with the apartheid there but knew a very simple view of the political situation.

Earlier that day, Hamas had killed over 1100 Israelis at a music festival. What wasn’t broadcast initially was that this was a retaliation after recent murders of Palestinians by the Israeli Defence Federation (IDF) as part of their continuing seventy five years of apartheid against Palestinians. The Nova music festival was being held on desert land outside the Palestinian concentration camp that the Gaza Strip had now become that Israel claimed was Southern Israel. The IDF retaliated and it seemed as thought there had started a war. And at this point, news broke into the mainstream and we could not we would not look away. As Israel is illegally occupying most of  Palestine this was merely the occupied fighting the oppressor. These were not the optics the Israeli government wanted. 

 We are learning that the USA and Israel are closely alligned and millions of dollars goes into feeding the media machine each year. Just look at The New York Times reports in comparison to The Guardian in the UK. There seem to be heavy restrictions on the way journalists are allowed to report. Many people no longer watch mainstream news unable to stomach the pro-Israeli tightrope walk that goes on in the UK. But many other countries find this too.

 

Like so many, I began watching journalist accounts on Instagram from Palestine; such as award winning journalist, Bisan Owda, 

 https://www.instagram.com/wizard_bisan1 

to ensure honest updates of the continuing genocide in Gaza. Her reports are dependant on Israeli allowance of internet connection, her most recent posts in May 2025 told us that Israel are only letting a handful of aid trucks through to deliver food which is now being distributed in Aid Distribution points run by the IDF where people queue each day, are turned away, some are shot and maimed or worse, killed. Bisan tells us 'this is a drop in the ocean' that’s being let through compared to the desperate need of the starving population and illustrates again this planned starvation and genocide of the Palestinian people.

https://www.instagram.com/owenjonesjourno?igsh=MWN4MThlaDRya3Q5Mg==

Certain journalists we’ve come to rely on such as Owen Jones are also shouting out the truth (into a void it must seem at times) on social media and with The Guardian. Owen Jones examines media reports and shares those that show Israeli bias and not impartial reporting. His interviews and guest appearances are the wake up call anyone needs who is not already angry and sick at the reality the West needs to wake up to.

 

Back in November 2023, our very own Sheffield City Council was the first in the UK to vote for a ceasefire in Gaza. While it was lauded as a bold act of solidarity at the time, the uncomfortable truth was that Sheffield was and remains home to arms manufacturers complicit with the international weapons trade. Sheffield folk have been protesting against this for years. But it is only recently that this information has been placed in the public domain. Protests against them continue. BAE Systems are directly implicated.

 

In February 2024, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) declared Israel’s occupation of Palestine ILLEGAL and that Israel were committing apartheid in their claims on Palestine and the treatment of Palestinians and had been doing for the past seventy-five years. Their occupation is illegal and has been for seventy-five years.

 

Israel has ignored every directive from ICJ then and since, increasingly occupying Palestinian land to increase the land given to them in 1947. (My post on the history will follow).

 

Francesca Albanese is an Italian expert on human rights and a legal scholar. She was appointed United Nations (UN) Special Rapporteur in the Occupied Palestinian Territories on 1st May 2022 and is the first woman to hold this position. This was renewed for another three year term on 1st May 2025. 

Israel's actions in Gaza, according to a report by the European Union's Domestic Corps, may have violated the terms of the EU-Israel Association Agreement. This is still under investigation. If this is proved to be true, the agreement will be null and void, and could include full suspension of trade between the EU and Israel or freezing Israel’s participation in EU programmes.

 

On May 1^st 2025, World Health Organisation (WHO) Head of the Health Emergencies Programme declared this as the ‘Gaza abomination’, stating that WHO are now complicit in the starvation of the people of Gaza as they have not been able to stop the Israeli blockade of food aid into Gaza. Palestinians are now starving to death due to this military blockade. Flotillas and marches to Gaza which attempted to open a humanitarian corridor for the trucks to be permitted access have been consistently blocked by Israel and Egypt.

 

There are protests across the world every day. There are boycotts of stores, restaurants and supermarkets with links to Israel, the boycotting of goods in supermarkets that are from Israel, we ring up and ask supermarkets not to sell Israeli goods. We march through the world’s city streets, we display Palestinian flags and we wear Palestinian colours. We send what we can to Palestinian families, Medical Aid to Palestine (MAP) and the great number of charities supporting the Palestinian people. Palestine is at the forefront of so many people’s minds. But the UK are still so complicit. 

The BBC has consistently broadcast biased pro-Israel coverage. Our government sells arms to Israel and even trains the IDF soldiers. It’s sickening. We even have a situation at the moment where a group called Palestine Action who organise marches and events to show support of Palestine is now being discussed in government as if they should be called a terrorist group! Kim Johnson MP was opposing the potential proscription of Palestine Action in parliament yesterday (24.06.24) stating that of course, no, they are not a national threat. They daubed paint on a couple of fighter jets which is criminal damage but not an act of terrorism.

 

Roger Waters explained it perfectly:

 

“There is the oppressed, and the oppressor; the oppressed are the Indigenous people of Palestine, the oppressor [is] the settler Colonial visitors from North America and Northern Europe. The oppressors are murdering all the oppressed people so they can steal their furniture, and their houses, and their olive trees, and their hills, and their water, and their land, and their birthright."

 

And today 25th of June 2025, the United Nations warns that the children of Gaza may begin to die of thirst amid Israel’s 100 day fuel blockade. This is insanity. 

 

To date:

Over 62,000 people have been murdered including 16,000 children one in five children.

We will now be looking at a death toll in the region of 300,000 taking into account the bodies of men, women and children still under the rubble, and of those injured and mutilated who will never recover, become ill and die through infection and lack of food, water and medical care. 

 

Israel cannot continue alluding to killing members of Hamas hiding in civilian areas. Civilians are never legitimate targets. Israeli genocide is happening right now, livestreamed killing, torturing starving, bombing, shooting. However Israel does it, by whichever means, it's genocide. 

 

"We know too well that our freedom is incomplete 

without the freedom of the Palestinians." 

Nelson Mandela  

International Day of Solidarity with the Palestinian People, 

Pretoria, South Africa; 4th December 1997.

 

 So what can we do? We are chipping away and while sometimes it feels desperate, keep going. Palestine needs your love, support -financial and written, and we must bear witness to the atrocities that continue every hour and every day. For example, I do what I'm able to do: I have been writing letters, emailing MPs, signing petitions, writing more letters, wearing my keffiyeh on the back of my wheelchair, contributing to forums, discussions, sharing checked and verified information on social media. It’s not huge but all this tiny actions add up and apply pressure.

While my health keeps me from most of the street protests,  I hang a Palestinian flag outside my door to show solidarity with my Palestinian neighbours. It's proving to be quite the educational talking point for neighbours, window-cleaners and people delivering food (groceries) and parcels (usually books). Conversations are started as a result of seeing someone wearing a  keffiyeh (mine is on the back of my wheelchair)  and I sometimes share in those conversations. Be creative! Wearing a t-shirt or watermelon badge is just an easy way to tell each other we are fighting this together. Protests are the way forward and local groups in every town advertise weekly protests online.

All we can do each day is make sure that we do all we can to support  the people of Palestine and fight in our own tiny way against this continuing genocide. Palestine have been fighting this for 75 years. We can all do our bit.

Is it my ME or could it be something else? We follow the clues ...

 

Life has thrown a few sticks of dynamite my way again. But by overdoing it one night my flare-ups are consistent in terms of time but I’m very rarely knocked sideways quite so spectacularly.

A weekend in late August included going to see The Bowie Contingent at a local venue, The Cutlers Arms. They were amazing - the lead singer makes each song uniquely his but with Bowie-isms thrown in. So talented and then a sleepover with my dear friend, Chloe. I felt almost normal! CBD top ups got me through and we were given seats just by the stage so we felt safe too. I stayed up past midnight, drank my weight in herbal tea, then slept. I don't remember Chloe going home but we had breakfast and i seemed quite lucid. How does that even happen? I then slept all day Sunday and most of Monday. No alcohol so AF beer for me but I survived being sober. Trade  off to minimise seizure risk, trade off  to minimise pain.Trade offs are how it is now. I almost plan for it.

On Tuesday, I was booked in for an EEG to investigate my seizures a little bit more. Imagine, if you will, that Hammer Horror film where the guy’s head is wired up to a machine. Add in the spiralling lights from The Prisoner that would cause No. 6 to pass out and that’s pretty much what my afternoon was like.

It brought on seizures lots of little ones then quite a long one. Once I was unwired I apparently went into the waiting room telling anyone who’d listen ‘it was awful - I just need to get home!’ and my mum led me away from a rather horrified queue of patients. 

I slept Wednesday and Thursday - I annoy myself on days like these as I get dressed and come downstairs to sleep all day as a kind of normality. My flare-up normal, I suppose.

I have felt super-groggy since Tuesday, like my brain feels fried and I feel really heavy (more than usual!) so it has been ‘Tools down’, sleep and Netflix.

Friday I went for coffee with Mum and our friend Helen at Cuccini’s (my local coffee place) where I do feel kind of safe - I’m not going too far at the moment. I was there in body but my brain was still wired up in that EEG room. Brain fog was off the scale.

Brain fog can make you feel as if your processes of thinking, understanding, and remembering are not working..

It can affect memory, including the ability to store and recall informationuse and understanding of language

• ability to process and understand information
• visual and spatial skills for drawing, recognizing shapes, and navigating spaces
• ability to calculate and work things out
• executive functioning abilities for organizing, solving problems, and planning

If one or more of these functions does not work effectively, it can be difficult to understand, focus, and remember things. It can lead to stress and mental fatigue.

Medical News Today

Claire Sissons June 12, 2019

 

 I slept until late Saturday and prepped lunch for my two of my closest friends - or should I say my brothers? They are part of my chosen family. We just chatted all afternoon and once we cleared up and they’d headed home I curled up to take more Gabapentin and rested. I’m avoiding my morphine and cbd just in case they’re adding to my seizures. I’ve been asking Dr Google and according to her, there may be some link to my hormones, as I’m in peri menopause which can start seizures. A drop in oestrogen can cause them.
 
But there is also a theory that some anti-depressants can cause them. There doesn’t seem to be a list of which ones so I need to ask about the safety of still taking mine.
With all this in mind, I also need to consider my use of cbd oils as there are possible links with, not the cbd itself but the chemicals that are added to some brands. This can also be through taking street versions and non-medical marijuana as chemicals are sometimes added to improve the taste. So by combining all my meds with cbd, this heady mixture might be an issue.  

Here I am coming back to my blog a month later. One of my longest flare ups. But I'm back and functioning at a rate that works for me. Slower than I'd like, my wings are clipped but the silver lining is that I've watched the complete boxset of Lucifer. Time will tell. Until my results come back, I'll be none the wiser. But wheels are turning. I'll know soon enough.

This is the Self Preservation Society: A Crash Course In Surviving Life with Chronic Illness(es)

One of my dearest friends travelled up to spend the week with me and to help me. At the time, I thought she had come for a holiday - but it turned out she had plans to get me out of the house, organised, get us all out for a day out and help me sort the house and food out. She was here to look after me. I'm not one for being looked  after. It makes me feel like I am less than who I was, which even typing this my brain is screaming of course you're less than you were - you can’t teach any more, you can't run for a bus, you can't go kayaking or tree climbing, abseiling or even do the gardening any more.

So my nearest and dearest over the years have trodden very gently around this notion of help where I’m concerned. I once couldn't cope with the idea I needed help. Even though everyone needs help sometimes, mine was compacted by the feeling of  'I am not enough.'

We are in a better place now. And by we I mean my circle. Even last year when I discovered changes in my health, I told noone until my new condition became too hard to hide that friends independently turned up, usually with cake to sweeten the event, and had stern words with me. I had to keep them up to date with changes from that point on. If not for me then for my lads. My circle needed to be kept informed so they could support the lads and me. I liked that better. It still sits awkwardly with me. I'm not quite there yet.

Another friend asks me how I am twice. The theory behind this is that we all answer ‘Fine!’ as a knee jerk reaction - it is only after a pause and a second direct questioning that we will open up to those closest to us. It kind of breaks a pattern, I guess.

Generally it works. Even if she gets a 'Yeah well, you know, just the same really' before a launch into distraction question 'Have you seen the Handmaids  Tale' etc, she knows she's half way closer to my truth.

I've had to do a lot of work on me. I've been a work in progress all my life and so I will always be. But not only in terms of my physical health. I've been working on my mental health - depression and anxiety are with me constantly - but also my psychological health, my sense of self, my ego - the other bits that I never really thought abought before. And my spiritual self. Catholic to Anglican to Buddhist to Humanist and all those colours threading through me now to create a religion all of my own. I’m reading my tarot cards daily. A friend of mine helps me by reading my astrological charts. They help me make sense of my world, just a little each day. My son, a physics and maths genius (he’ll kill me) has told me the probability, likelihood and something else (I forget) of it working is very unlikely. I guess I’d be described nowadays as ‘Spiritual But Not Religious’ (SBNR)

Another friend rang me just before my summer holiday and noting the despair in my voice, her spider senses tingled and she turned up - we got the house, laundry and packing organised - she really came to my rescue.

Routine is helping me. It helps with medication, regular movement, regular eating and drinking, keeping on top of things at home and also keeps me on track towards deadlines. Not all them but I’m trying.

I finally took early retirement from teaching 4 years ago at 44 and was lost. I have relied heavily on meds and cbd over the years and as my reliance and tolerance of meds change, my meds have to change. It’s a constant balancing act of tolerance, reliance, efficacy and then change. But I have balms, oils, lotions and potions and I’m slowly learning the wisdom of resting, repairing and recuperating sometimes many times on a daily basis. I am finding a way to manage my illnesses but I take it hour by hour when I need to. 

I have a routine everyday and it’s fine if I don’t do everything on that list. My purpose is always changing and I’m always trying to help others, read, write, listen to music, watch films and box sets at points in the day. But not all at once. If I manage one thing, I give it a tick ✅.

There is always a way forward. Always.

Through the night in A&E: Rotherham Style

Currently, the government are doing their damnedest to reorganise the NHS taking away local powers and bring healthcare in the UK to its knees. They've already cut budgets over and over again for a decade so the NHS is not running at its best, rather limping on as best it can with its staff holding it up by their fingertips. Without local management of the NHS, it is likely that our government will use the new structure to bring in privatisation by the back door - Tory's friends' companies being drafted in to do things without the local insight to ensure a good fit. I dread to think.

The British Medical Association (BMA) has “overwhelmingly” voted to oppose the Health and Care Bill ahead of its third and final reading today. The group, which is the main group representing doctors in the UK, called on MPs to block the bill, warning it poses “significant risks” to the NHS.

OpenDemocracy.net 

As I was blue lit up to hospital to see what on earth was happening to me ( my complete short-circuiting if you remember my last post) I was constantly put at my ease even though I wouldn't lie down and insisted on sitting in a seat - panicking my little socks off quite frankly. The paramedics were so well trained and chatted endlessly to me taking ECGs and blood pressure regularly. One male, one female, both utterly brilliant as nerves got the better of me sending my worry into overdrive. They read the room and kept reassuring me. I couldn’t thank them enough and apologised for the drama in the middle of a pandemic. It’s the response they were hearing a lot from Rotherham folk at the time not wanting to add to the NHS burden.

I was wheeled in to A&E into the fast track section, meaning my need was more urgent so would see the triage nurse slightly quicker than the non-urgent cases. A couple of hours later, nothing. The place was so busy and there were many patients in my section. 

Life in A&E is just a sight to behold. And that night was no exception. I saw vulnerable people brought in, and regardless of illness, addiction or injury, despite the behaviour of some patients as they worsened through fear, pain or need, the staff in that building treated each person with the utmost respect and kindness. I watched such inspiring, compassionate workers sit with vulnerable people such as  a young man in crisis who a nurse addressed by name and quietly talked him down from a point of extreme distress; then a teenager with a footballing injury to the ankle shouting out in pain for help, being moved to a bay (which were very rarely free) with his mortified mother apologising for his outburst and being reassured that people in pain react very differently and sometimes out of character. This nurse switched from one to the other seamlessly as he moved them to a side bay. I saw a girl brought in after being injured at a party incredibly distressed and having taken substances unknown was out of it and noisy. A doctor walked swiftly through and sat down with her, calmly extracting some basic information about what she had taken and planning next steps. Elderly patients were regularly chatted to and gently encouraged them to contact family members who would need to come to the hospital. 

It was a delicate dance of kindness, experience, determination, teamwork and community while still giving care, love and respect to their patients. Yes of course there were moments of chaos as new cases were brought in but the way everything settled again was reassurring. 

When I was seen by my 12 year old doctor (just kidding - he was about 26) he was also incredibly patient and respectful. I'd already expected a more frazzled consultant but if he was, he hid it well. Because I was frightened and convinced I’d had a brain tumour or a stroke thanks to my appointment with Professor Google, I initially told him exactly what I thought had happened, me of course being the expert of me. By this point I’d had bloods taken, regular blood pressure and temp checks all the time sitting in a cushioned hospital wheelchair - you know the ones you stick to - and feeling exhausted with zero sense of humour. I’m not even sure I was fully awake even though my eyes were open so I can't recall my tone or delivery of this outpouring. The rest of me was numb. The doctor listened patiently and explained he was trained in neurology and found my case fascinating. (Do I now add 'fascinating medical condition' to my dating profile?!) I was impressed with his cool dismissal of my many Professor Google theories in a dry yet reassuring tone.

I was to stop Nefopam immediately. That and the Oramorph were reacting together. I would possibly experience nausea, anxiety, panic attacks, and continuing tremors which was going to be fine and would not cause lasting damage. I would notice them lessening but they were to continue for some time. A appointment with Neurology was booked for me in August.

This doctor really knew his stuff. Of course he did. He'd sent me for every test possible before he explained what was going on. He'd done this at 2.30am incidently. I find it difficult finding my glass of water at that time in the morning yet he'd sifted through god knows how many possibilities to find my best fit. I was having myoclonic seizures and that none of my results pointed to epilepsy or the onset of a stroke. The doctor explained how they can be a part of ME. I went home reassured. I too, had been talked down from quiet hysteria, soothed, educated further about my illness and treated with a no-nonsense kindness which we’ve all come to know of our A&E over the years. 

Our NHS is incredible. We must treasure it. Healthcare for all is essential to a civilised society. And while the government continue to threaten its very existence, privatising by stealth and distracting the public away from these essential discussions, fights, protests and petitions - all the while pushing for the UK's wants and needs to be overturned - I wonder how we’ll survive without our NHS? We all find ourselves vulnerable sometimes. We all get older and more frail if we're lucky to make it that far. Just food for thought.

After The Last Post …

I've been away for a while! In my next few blog posts I’ll tell you what's been going on in my world since I last touched base with you. 

Are you sitting comfortably?

Then I shall begin.

For a number of weeks before my last post, there had been a few adjustments to my medication. I was getting bad migraines due to my codeine so had to come off that which was effectively my bone pain meds. The challenge now was to trial a few options. During the week of my last post, I had started having seizures. Small ones at first which just felt like a judder or a long cramp but were diagnosed as a possible reaction to a new medication the doc was trying me with. Nefopam. At first i thought it was a wonderful painkiller, my migraines stopped as i came slowly off the codeine and I was starting to feel a little brighter. My pain was still there and at night i was prescribed Oramorph which, again, seemed to be helping. 

My own novel redraft began in earnest, I had small spurts of energy but then I would spiral down again in to sleep or fatigued. I was managing longer on chores and admin than I was used to. I was enjoying the ups but the downs? Not so much.

I started getting organised: Me and Mum made our first official post-Lockdown trip to our local opticians and organised eye tests, new glasses/contact lenses. I now need to wear sunglasses in bright light as my eyes are becoming more sensitive due to ME. As it was our first outing to a shop of any description we thought we’d treat ourselves each to a soya latte at the Costa Coffee next door. There were three tables - two taken with tables of workmen so we took the third.  Just as we started our coffees the heavens opened and all the men ran for cover. Me and Mum rather coolly popped up our umbrellas and carried on chatting much to thewaitress’s amusement who ran out to clear the redundant crockery. As we sat there, the rain persisting it down, we decided that it must have been our many English summer camping holidays over the years having made us such tough cookies!

But that night I had a small number of seizures. More noticeable now, more violent. One seemed to ricochet through me like a bullet and caught my breath. The next day was worse and these judders were at least six an hour. I was also beginning to see figures, not quite in my line of vision, not quite there but would make me turn to see them. I rang NHS 111 in the end as I felt so ill. After talking through symptoms and meds, the doctor told me that I seemed to have had a number of seizures. It wasn’t a stroke thankfully. My own doctor was referring me back to the pain clinic and neurology. My vision was becoming more blurred and my head dizzier than ever.
By Tuesday, I was booked in with my doctor and the Pain Clinic both over the phone to discuss next steps. I felt as though we were finally getting somewhere. But the next day I was having small reactions and seizures in quite quick succession.

Wednesday was quite the day. It twirled double time. So bizarre. My doctor and the pain clinic seemed to be on a loop while they organised me. I was being referred to neurology for an MRI or CT scan and they ran a meds review, discussing and agreeing on my new medication regime! Immediate retraction of Nefopam, in case it’s that that’s causing the seizures. Continue Gabapentin, which is my nerve pain meds but is also great for epilepsy so win, win! Also, I had to wean myself slowly from Oramorph as that’s not great if you’re having seizures.I’m going to miss my Oramorph. Is that terrible?! 

I found out that a symptom of ME can, in some cases, be small seizures called myoclonic seizures.

‘Myoclonic seizures are brief shock-like jerks of a muscle or group of muscles. They occur in a variety of epilepsy syndromes that have different characteristics. During a myoclonic seizure, the person is usually awake and able to think clearly.’
Epilepsy Foundation.

This was most likely explanation for some of the seizures but the more severe ones caused black outs which didn’t link to ME or Fibromyalgia. So, at this point, we were looking at epilepsy or a stroke. Not quite what I was expecting!

That evening after working on the first edit of my latest novel, I was watching TV with my youngest when I lost consciousness and had a series of seizures. When I came round, he described what had happened and recalled details about the location and duration of the seizures. Also, the fact that I felt exhausted, could be related. My lads were amazing - very little fazes them where my health is concerned. They’re quite incredible. They sat with me, rang the paramedics who arrived in record time and then calmly explained what had happened. Apparently I was handing these amazing human beings (God Bless the NHS!) copies of my books to say Thankyou! I was then whizzed up to A&E, where I spent the night. 

Life Beyond the Chalk Face: Chronic Pain, Mental Health Challenges and Self Care

I want to share the following blog entry with you. I wrote it in May 2019 but I didn't want to publish it back then. Unbeknown to me at the time, I had Fibromyalgia and ME, depression, the early stages of arthritis, I was peri-menopausal, I had regular migraines and somehow had  two slipped discs. I was living on codeine and ibuprofen, sugar, caffeine and carbs, running myself down even though I thought that feeding myself in this way, quick low calorie fixes so I could get back to work, was the best way.

 

Looking back, I was just too tired to make myself lunches and proper meals so would opt for cup-a-soups, toast, noodles, coffee and sweets each day. I was not looking after myself very well at all. I had regular headaches, poor sleep and my digestive system was all over the place with stomach ulcers popping up here and there. I know I was not in a minority. I've talked to friends over the years who have left their high-stress job after becoming diagnosed with immune system related conditions such as M.E. and Lupus. One friend developed epilepsy, one had a stroke, there were many whose mental health suffered, causing serious issues and conditions. This obviously doesn't just relate to teaching, but to any high pressure, high stress career where you invest so much of yourself, you lose yourself along the way. 

When I started working, I had no idea how my working life would progress and I certainly had no set plans. I suppose I drifted, responded to the needs of the school, filling curriculum leader posts that came up, not necessarily ones I'd ever really considered but I always enjoyed them and gave them my all. I had no game plan. I worked as hard as I could every day and evening, making sure I was prepared for the next day. But I've spoken to others who worked in this way. Some are still working and are healthy. Some are not. I have no real answers as to why my health faltered and other people's didn't. I imagine it's because of my underlying health conditions, my age and now what I recognise as depression.

Anyway, this is the blog entry, written the same year I left teaching for good.

Today I failed.

I attended an interview and served my heart and liver on a plate yet it wasn't quite enough.

I won't go in to the details but the evidence was there to suggest I was perhaps too old, too expensive and may I say it, a little too deviant (in terms of following lesson plans) for the head teacher's liking.

I altered my lesson during the observation to accommodate the fact that students were not secure in the prior learning I'd been assured they had already worked on and so I increased the time allocation of my introduction and multiplication warm-up before moving on to the fun investigation I had planned, adding ten minutes to the session.

That cost me the interview.

You may argue - as did the head teacher - that I had twenty minutes to prove my worth, not thirty. And so I failed.

However, as a previously senior teacher who has sat in on this process many times, the usual procedure is to allow staff to teach and then reflect on the lesson - as I tried to today before being shown the door.

Hmm.

I wonder if I am missing something here.

The class went on to enjoy the investigation once they were secure in their understanding of multiples of 3 and 6.

I kind of wish I'd just bulldozed ahead and taught the lesson showcasing my fun 'how many aliens can you fit in a space pod' investigation without too much prior warm-up.

But that's just not my way.

Then I go to thinking - is the problem me? Do I need reassurance from the children that they are secure in a skill too much?
Would the children have just come along with me eventually and 'got it' and should I have just ploughed ahead regardless?
There seems to be a school of thinking that we now teach to the middle and more able, hoping that the rest will catch up, a theory totally at odds with my philosophy. I always hope I'm bringing the majority with me by the time i get to the main activity, not just 6-8 students.

I am cast adrift I fear. Is it my age? Early menopause? Is my arthritis setting in? I'm exhausted all the time, tearful and light headed a lot. I might be anaemic. I do seem to be eating pain killers like smarties. I'll make a doctor's appointment. 

So, I came home to peruse the job listings once more in the vain hope that one of the adverts says - Kate WE NEED YOU! (And I also made that appointment)

But, I'm no longer even sure what my USP is. The skills I have which I feel are hugely relevant no longer seem important or at least favoured; my differentiating for students with additional needs, my child-centred teaching, my behaviour management and SEN training, my music, etc.

I know I can teach, differentiate, support, assess, move children forward, work as a team, plan creatively, work late in to the night, run a home and be a relatively successful single mother, but I don't fit the most recent E-fit for the perfect teacher. I'm no longer a SENCo from next month so trying to move back in to the classroom when it seems the whole way of teaching has changed is quite daunting. Moving schools might be a step too far. This definitely is.

Bugger.

I either stay where I am, which is a lovely school, but I'll be in class full time, or maybe supply teaching beckons once more. I really don't think I could manage the work load in a full time class, even though I've been told I just need to work smarter not harder. I have no clue how to do that! Lord above. 

Watch this space.

Wow. What would I have told my 2019 self if I could have travelled back to give her a pep talk? I'm not sure she could have done anything differently except perhaps ask for a referral to an M.E. Clinic - I didn't even know there were such things back then! I'd probably tell her not to freak out but she'd find herself not teaching in the not too distant future, and that everything was going to be okay. Her difficulties were linked to her health mainly. Maybe teaching methods were changing and if she'd been healthy enough she might have decided to work in a different, less stressful job like a library or a book shop instead. Or in school with less responsibilities, I'm not sure. I'd tell her to eat properly. Woman can not live on cup-a-soup alone. Eat more fruit and veg, eat more beans and pulses, drink more water. Drink less alcohol. Try not to worry. Worrying changes nothing. And don't forget to make time for self-care! Whether that's swimming, meditation, Tai Chi, starting a journal or listening to your favourite music. You are important too!

A Musical Tapestry in the Making

 

As a baby, I was introduced to the greats: Carole King, Bob Dylan, The Beatles and Leonard Cohen to name but a few. Mum would dance me round the kitchen to ‘So Long Marianne’ and ‘Blowin' in the Wind' while my Dad would play me tunes on his guitar that I would, in later years, hear on the LPs crackling on the turntable and realise he hadn’t created ‘Like a Rolling Stone’ or ‘Hey Mr Tambourine Man’ just for me at bedtime.

As a toddler, my Mum had some of Dylan’s albums as she’d had many of her LPs stolen some years before when she was away at college. I remember looking through the album covers, committing Dylan and Cohen's faces to memory and wishing I was that young woman staring out from the Tapestry cover knowing one day I'd sit by a window with my cat watching the world go by. 

There was a constant soundtrack in our house over the years tastes evolving to Simon and Garfunkel, Dire Straits, Rod Stewart, Joni Mitchell, then Mum's Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush phase. The Kick Inside, if I'm remembering correctly was the only album Mum had and a Greatest Hits type album much later. The record player was in the dining room and i'd often sit alone with headphones on, cross-legged late in to the evening playing through my small but significant collection.

My Mum's friend introduced me to Talking Heads and Paul Young, Kate Bush and Tracy Chapman and would copy cassettes for me, writing out all the lyrics by hand. Every visit, he'd have another selection for me and my musical tastes became rather eclectic. My first ZZ Top album had me from the first listen although Talking Heads' Remain in Light and the Eurythmics' Sweet Dreams became my go to collections.

 That Christmas I received my first walkman so I could listen to the full No Parlez album in my parents' presence, blushing furiously while the track named 'Sex' played out, Paul Young's attempt at funk, punk or pop - I really wasn't sure. At least they couldn't hear my silent rebellion.

As I reached double figures, I would wish for my parents to be as cool as my best friend's mum and dad who had a constant Radio One soundtrack in the background, where I first heard Toyah, Blondie and Adam Ant.

We would spend our days walking around our estate with one walkman between the two of us, listening to albums on cassette, often made up in the style of Toyah from Smash Hits articles. Sarah loved Wham while Adam Ant and Sting were more my style. Unfortunately, I could rarely get my hands on the latest cassettes as they were always out at the library which meant I had to listen to Wham unless I could get to the library early enough on a Saturday morning to be in with a chance.

George Michael had his moment though. At the age of twelve, my group of friends would hang out at the bus stop just outside the local general store, nipping in for cans of Shandy Bass and 10p mix-ups. A few of them smoked by then, but I was just not very good at it and my £1.20 pocket money didn't stretch far enough to support a cigarette addiction. This one particular night that Spring, we decided to call it a night as dusk fell and we all had to be home before the street lights came on. As we went to cross the dual carriage way, a bus pulled up and we carried on walking, my head full of my usual daydreams I continued on straight in to the path of oncoming traffic. It wasn't looking good after five days in intensive care as my induced coma was helping my battered body and brain recover. My best friend, Sarah, brought in her Wham album on her precious walkman and subjected me to the torment as she knew they had to stop playing the soft classical music and Bob Dylan and The Beatles. The only way I would wake up was if I was made to listen to George Michael's sultry tones. It worked. So despite our musical differences, he will always have a special place on my musical timeline.

As a teenager, I brought home The Who albums and Elton John classics such as Goodbye Yellow Brick Road and David Bowie's Hunkydory from the record fairs at the local leisure centre, all on vinyl, some without even listening to (there were some close calls with albums chosen more for their album cover than their music), and most of them much to my Dad’s dismay. 

But the three winners which were played on the downstairs record player were always Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen and The Beatles. Oh, and John Denver. We can't forget him

All my Learn to Play Guitar books were songs by them so I couldn’t help but know all the lyrics by these legends by the age of 15. I had to secretly learn The Who songs and the delights from the various Sting and Bowie guitar books I'd borrowed from the library, with my bedroom door firmly closed to escape any derision. I wanted to be a singer or a musician in a band and so friends joined together and we played The Who, Dylan and Beatles songs in a teenage tribute way. I think we even covered a Wham song. We thought we were great but we never dared play for anyone so my musical career was short lived. And my parents wouldn't buy me a parka so my styling was off.

As a young teacher living in London I had very little spare cash and all my earnings went on living and working there. I was surrounded by amazing gigs which I could never afford but I believed I would catch up with all my favourites one day, when my finances settled down.

 Instead I would spend my Saturdays in Tower Records, discovering the back catalogues of great Blues musicians, discovering Janis Joplin and Fleetwood Mac and building my Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, David Bowie and Jimi Hendrix collection. I would raid the bargain bins often taking advantage of 2 for 1 offers. It was there I discovered Buena Vista Social Club and sparked a lifelong love of  that style of Cuban music. 

As my 30^th birthday approached, little did I know that a dream long buried was about to come true.

‘Tickets to Bob Dylan,’ I read. ‘Oh my god Mum! Tickets for Bob Dylan? Really??!!’

I’d known my Mum had seen Dylan in Newcastle circa 1966, that memorable tour when he had brought on an electric guitar and stalwarts booed and yelled that he was a Judas, a traitor. Mum just wanted them to shut up so Bob Dylan could play. She quite liked the electric set and her friend who’d come with her really didn’t know what all the fuss was about. But for early Bob Dylan fans, it was a step away from folk as they saw it and they’d never forgive his betrayal. Mum thought they were all being a bit precious.

Mum said he was progressive, a poet, one who pushed creative boundaries so she thought it was all good and only to be expected really from such an artist. Life went on and Bob Dylan now played electric guitar. And the world still turned.

I don’t know how old he was when we saw him, he was visibly smaller and older but his voice and piano playing was spine tingling. I barely remember the details as I just froze when Bob Dylan walked on stage and don’t remember breathing again until after the encore. 

My mum gave me his music and took me to a Bob Dylan concert to fully feel his presence. He was magical and enigmatic, shy, belligerent and genius all in one package.. As I tried to explain myself afterwards, my mum agreed. There were no words to truly explain what we'd just been a part of. Now, we just wanted to go and do it all over again.

Mum sent me on my way, attending the gigs of the musicians I loved, not just tagging along with my then husband to see repeatedly his favourites, Howard Jones and Erasure. I warmed to them, I guess, over the years although I was known to curl up and sleep through maybe our third night of the same tour. His dedication was exhausting! I found my voice and used it. Live music was exhilarating and I needed to weave my own tapestry. 

He sometimes came with me to my gig choices and quite liked some of them, others loudly talking them down on our way back to the tube. I didn't care as I was building my own musical tapestry. He enjoyed Suzanne Vega, Beth Hart, Annie Lennox and took a real shine to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, as well as Belle and Sebastian. But Paul Weller was a step too far. He went to the bar instead while I danced at the front with a gang of very tall Mods. Noel Gallagher also made an appearance that evening and so there I discovered Oasis. 

But without him, I wouldn't have discovered Tom Waits. I am steadily building up my Waits collection again. That Edinburgh gig was one of the best I'd ever been to. Some you win, some lose. And of course, having our boys has been the real added bonus.

I still attend my favourites' gigs when I can and usually stay quite local these days. As a wheelchair user, I'm becoming quite brave at the front left of the stage with my gig buddies - we have a selection of local musicians we support and love their music. The lockdown brought a different gig experience paying to view gigs from home - we danced and sang along to Bellowhead, Bang Bang Romeo and Suzanne Vega from our living rooms. 

And of course, the one and only Nick Cave blew us away with Idiot Prayer, live-streamed from Alexandra Palace. As the world opens up, we will be able to attend gigs, sitting at tables, socially distanced and maybe choose between watching from home or attending a gig in the flesh. That arrangement would be much more inclusive - I'd never have attended Alexandra Palace to see Nick Cave as my health wouldn't have handled it at that time. It would be good to have the option. Between Lockdown 1 and 2 we saw our friends play as Led Zeppelina, a female fronted Led Zeppelin covers band from Sheffield and that was the last gig I went to.

 I feel my musical taste is becoming more eclectic than ever! I may have to look on eBay and see which albums I need today after reflecting on the gaps in my music collection. My boys think I'm old fashioned, with my music on vinyl and CD. We have a family Spotify account and so much of their music is collected on there. But I mourn the loss for them of holding a vinyl cover, reading the lyrics from a dusty paper insert and placing vinyl on the record deck. They just see that they could have played a track by the time I've set an album up to play. They have a lot to learn.