Too busy to blog! A little catch up

 Regular readers will have noted that I've been relatively quiet over the last couple of weeks on the blogging front. Well there has been a good reason, I've been too busy! Last week I was away. Reular readers will know that I volunteer with a charity called HCPT, which takes people who need a degree of assistance to Lourdes in France. We actually stay at Bartres, which is about 2km outside of Lourdes and is in the foothills of the Pyrenees. I've been going with pur group since 2001. In that time my mum, who was housebound following a stroke and my cousin Tessie, who had Downs syndrome accompanied us. ince 2016, when Tessie became unable to travel. I've assisted others. I love going, it puts life in perspective and makes me realise just how lucky I am. Two of my children came as adult volunteers this time, both have been numerous times. They choose to go and I am proud of them for making the commitment and they were brilliant. Having damaged my shoulder recently, my ability to lift people was limited, although I did assist with lifts onrto the plane ( a couple of our VIP's need physically moving from their wheelchairs to their seat). I did a lot of guitar playing. The last night is always party night, where everyone has the chance to do a turn. I did a solo performance of one of the False Dots songs (with a rather long intro). The song is called Brotherly Love and is based on my experience growing up with older brothers, who used to delight in teasing me!

 It is a great experience and if you want to do something good and remind yourself of why we should value our blessings in life and appreciate everyone I'd thoroughly recommend volunteering woith HCPT or a similar charity.  

As tomorrow is my birthday, yesterday we had a rather special night out with friends. We took a luxury train trip around the Surrey Hills with friends, on a vintage train, hauled by a steam locomotive. We had a blast. We were due to do this last year, but the trip had to be postponed as I was having surgery for cancer. The company Steam Dreams are wonderful. I'd thoroughly recommend it as a special treat. 

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I must say that the food and drink on the trip is wonderful. It is a great way to spend a few hours with friends. We were sat next to a lovely couple celebrating their Ruby wedding and had a good laugh with them as well. It is a really relaxed environment.

Having taken a week off work, I had a weeks worth of work to do to catch up. My business was devastated by the pandemic. We shut completely for four months and the music scene has only really fully recovered this year. We went from being cash rich in 2019, to a position where we scramble to pa bills. Although the government assistance helped, the truth is that it did not even pay the wages and rent for the period. The comapny has gone from being highly profitable and debt free to just about breaking even and being saddled with debts. The first six months of the year were great, with us starting to pay off the debts etc, but the Euro's and the Olympics have been a major spanner in the works, as many small venues were showing football etc, rather than having bands on. This means less people coming  through. Whilst our takings had been 20% up on 2023 for the first six months, they were about 18% down from the start of the Euro's to this week. We have had to invest a lot of money at the start of the year to try and get the business moving, as we did little maintenanace since 2020 and it was starting to show. We now have a new website as well. It seemed the strategy was working, but football tournaments always hit us hard. I'm pleased to say that this week, with the end of the olympics, things have improved significantly, but as we have  a VAT bill, it will be a struggle. Micro managing cashflow has never really been an issue before, but there was a lot to be done to keep the show afloat. Our turnover will be around 10% less than it was in 2019 and our bills have gone up astronomically. We've done some sensible cost cutting, but things like electricity are hugely expensive compared to then. To be doing anything more than break even, we need about 35% more trade. It will probably take is two years to get there, even if our cost base stays the same. As we get busier our costs go up, and we will have to do work which has been postponed. It is a different challenge to the one we've had before. There is light at the end of the tunnel, but we have just about reached the end of the road for balancing books by cost cutting. What we do is vital to the UK music industry. No rehearsal facilities = no UK music industry, but we get no help at all from anyone. Having said that, we are on the right track and we have survived a calamity of unprecendented scale. If I'd not had my cancer scare last year, I'd have definitely taken some IT contract work to plug the holes in the budget, but I am glad I didn't and we are getting back on track. 

We are really hoping for a strong end to the year from here on in, but if I've learned anything since 2020 it is that man makes plans and God laughs. 

But I must add that my work with HCPT has also taught me to appreaciate what you have. This time last year, I still had stitches and a cathetar in. It puts it all in perspective. 

The Saturday List #413 - Ten days that changed my life

 Sliding doors moments. We all have them. Days where your life was changed. Days where you are a different person when you go to sleep to the person when you woke up. I am hellishly superstitious, this governs much of what I do. My Dad was similarly superstitious, he once said to me being lucky has nothing to do with luck. If he won a bet, he'd put some in the charity box we had in the front room. HE'd clobber us if we sung "The sun aint gonna shine anymore" by the Walker Brothers as he reckoned it would make it rain. If good luck ever came his way, he'd stay in bed for an extra ten minutes and say the rosary (Dad was a staunch Catholic). I once asked him if he enjoyed sayiong the Rosary, he said "No, that's why I do it, it is my way of showing God I appreciate the luck he's showered on me". And he was was lucky, he was in the RAF and survived being shot down over Romania, baling out of his plane with a parachute as it plummitted towards the ground after having been shot up by a German fighter. Dad told me that the experience changed his life. He said that he'd prayed that he could have his three score and ten and in return, he'd try his hardest to thank the Lord and the Virgin Mary every day. He also said that he would try and be a good person and make a difference. As he was a naturally mischievious person, that was not easy. He liked the company of rogues and employed many of Mill Hill's villains at his crash repair business at one time or another. He didn't try and reform them, but he gave them opportunities if they wanted it and gave a few a career in the motor trade that no one else would have. He told me that sometimes something happens and you see things as they really are. That changes you. I've never been shot down, but I've had a few life changing moments. I've always tried my hardest to take a positive from the experience. I thought it warranted a list.

1. November 2011 - Being diagnosed with Prostate cancer. I changed my diet and reflected on many things. Life is a journey and this has been a difficult part. At the time, I wondered what could possibly come out of the experience that was good? To my surprise, quite a lot. My blog gave me a platform to share my thoughts. It has been widely read and has inspired many people to get tested, some of whom sadly were found to have PC as well, but were caught early. The earlier it is caught, the better your options. I have had emails thanking me, friends in the pub saying the same. People have shared information and I've made new friends, who have supported me through my current challenges. When I woke up on that day, I genuinely thought they would tell me the biopsy was fine. Here I am 12 years later, facing an operation on Wednesday and battle with my health insurer. Their behaviour has given me a new fight. The procedure I am having is called Neurosafe. It gives a man a much better chance of avoiding impotence and incontinence. There is a stack of evidence, but my insurers have informed me that as it is not available on the NHS, it is not covered. Yesterday they informed me, this is a quote from their 'final letter' - This may come as a shock to many people who have paid tens of thousands over decades for cover, or like me are in work schemes "Private Medical Insurance is not designed to replace the NHS in situations when treatment is not available under the NHS." 

As you may imagine, this is something I think needs to be widely known, as if I'd put the cash I spent on the policy into a building society, I'd be able to afford the procedure and go to Australia with the change. When I have recovered, I will be off to see the financial ombudsman. This is not so much for me, but for all of the other poor mugs being taken for a ride, who actually have an option to choose a better company.

2. January 1987 -  I was woken by a  telephone call from my eldest brother at 7am. My Dad had unexpectedly died. It was a shock beyond comprehension. It took me a year to get my head around it. I changed jobs as a result, my boss had been horrible about me taking a week off to grieve and had told my co workers I was skiving, not mentioning my bereavement. In some ways it was the formal end of my childhood. I always felt Dad had my back and he was gone. But it did make me far stronger. I feel him with me.

3. February 1995 - My then girlfriend informed me she was pregnant. I realised that I had a responsibility. We decided to get married, I knew that for at least 18 years, I had to do the right thing financially, I had to get my head together and put someone else first. In many ways it was the best thing that happened to me. I will let others, especially my kids, decided whether I am a good or a lousy father. I am proud of them whateever and I doubt I'd be where I am without my good lady.

Manchester City win the FA Cup this year

4. March 27th, 1967. For this day, and this day alone, I was a Manchester United fan. I was four years old. My elder brother Frank is a Manchester United fan. He was back from University. He was 20. He asked me which football team I supported. I didn't have one. He told me I should support Manchester United. He told me that they were playing City that day. He told me that when United won, they would probably become champions, as they'd be ahead of City. He told me that they had the best player in the World, George Best and the Captain of England Bobby Charlton. What's not to love. I liked my big brother, I trusted his judgement. He went out with his mates. I got put to bed. I woke up at 6am and I was excited. I woke him up and, knowing little about football, I excitedly woke him. I exclaimed "did we win, are we champions". He was grumpy and hungover and told me to bugger off. When he finally got up, I asked again. He said "No, city won". I felt mislead and betrayed, He'd tried to make me a red, but it was clear that City were better. I insisted on watching the Big Match. I realised I was born to be blue. When I was born, I had the rhesus factor. I was a blue baby! Thank God for Bell, Heslop and Lee!

Despite the many ups and downs, I always felt far more comfortable at City. I prefer the humour, I prefer the ground. I prefer the players. I met Joe Mercer, the manager in 1969 at the football hall of fame. He is my all time favourite manager, although Pep is a close second. Tomorrow I will watch them at the Charity Shield final. They should really have played the City first team vs the CIty B Team as they won the treble. Arsenal are simply rent a mugs for the occasion!

5. 13th December 1980 - Until this point, my band The False Dots had not performed a gig. I started trying to put the band together with a mate, Pete Conway since 1977. First we had to get instruments, then learn to play. Our first rehearsal was 14th Feb 1979. There were numerous line up changes, we did a demo at Alan Warner of the Foundations studio. We were supposed to do a gig in August 1979, supporting the UK Subs in Derby. our drummer was thrown through a shop window and severed a tendon. The band split up, reformed, changed line ups several times, then I decided we simply had to gig, so I hired the Harwood Hall in Mill Hill. I hand made 150 tickets. We put 4 bands on. It was a sell out. But.....  Pete Conway who I set the band up with and was meant to be singing with us didn't show up. I have never felt so betrayed. We had the choice, go out and do it or walk away like mugs. We did it. I've never felt more proud of the band. If we hadn't done that, then it would have been the end of it. No False Dots, no Mill Hill Music Complex. God knows what I'd be doing now. Despite being rubbish, I really enjoyed it.

The first ever ticket for the first ever False Dots gig. 75p for 4 bands. I hand made 150 of these and it sold out pic.twitter.com/1n18se9cIG

— Roger Tichborne/Rog T (@Barneteye) August 5, 2023

6. August 1978. I opened up a letter and it contained my O Level results. I had left FCHS. I had got a job as a trainee gas pipeline engineer with the Gas Board. It involved a two year diploma course in gas engineering at Salford college and a three year degree course at Uni, all the while being paid a wage. It meant I could go and watch City every week. I'd been slung out of FCHS and I felt I'd landed on my feet. I opened up the envelope and I'd failed my maths O'Level. I'd passed four. I needed 5 including maths to do the course / job. My dreams and plans disappeared. I was bereft.  I didn't know what to do. I was fifteen, I'd been desperate to leave home. Manchester also had an amazing music scene. I thought I'd move up, get in a band and that would be that. I spent two weeks moping around. My Dad took me to one side and said "Why don't you go back and redo your Maths O'level, you will never get a decent job without it". I replied that I'd been slung out of FCHS, they'd given me a dispensation to go back to do the O levels, but I wasn't welcomed back and the idea appalled me. He then said "why don't you try Orange Hill School. Caroline went there and did well, if you buckle down and work, get the O Level, then the Gas board will have you next year". Then he added "they've got girls at Orange Hill". In that instant, I thought "why not, even if I hate it, I'm not doing anything else". I went there, loved it, made a bunch of new mates, found that there was a brilliant music scene. I took five O levels, including Maths and passed all of them. I went back to the gas board and they rejected me. I did another 2 years at Orange Hill, got 2 A levels and then moved to Sweden for six months, booking a tour for our band. It was amazing. The best bit of bad luck I ever had was failing Maths O Level.

7. December 2000. I had a doctors appointment for a torn groin. As I returned home, I noticed an ambulance was parked outside my mothers flat. I assumed it was her neighbour who had been unwell. I went up anyway. What I found, horrified me. She had a major stroke, she couldn't move or speak. Her boyfriend was in pieces, an ambulance had been called. I had to call the family. It was awful, she'd aged 30 years in 30 seconds. She was never the same again. She was 75. She lasted anotehr 8 years, there were some good moments, but that was the end of an  era for me. It was the moment I realised my parents were no longer there at all. Now she was reliant on us. Most people drift into the situation, with small tell tale signs of dementia. We had a mother who one day looked ten years younger than her age, was going on four holidays a year and the next was twenty years older than her age and completely reliant on us. When it happened, I am ashamed to say I had wished it had taken her. Over the remaing years of her life, I actually learned how precious life is. My mother fought to be as independent as possible. She lived on her own, albeit with a lot of support. Never give up

8. 3nd July 1976. My Sister Valerie had a birthday party on this day. She was a nurse at the Charing Cross Hospital. She had her own flat and it had a big garden. She asked all of her friends and family. It was a proper Tichborne party, booze, music and shenanigans. I was 13 at the time. I was being treated for anxiety. I was an undiagnosed dyslexic. I felt like I was an alien from another planet, who somehow had ended up in some sort of strange body in a world I didn't understand, at a school I hated. But I loved a party. It seemed like the whole world was there. I was the youngest person though, I had no peers. Val was nine years older than me. Mum and Dad were there, doctors, nurses, brothers and sisters. As was the way in 1976, a big bowl of punch was made. I had a couple of big glasses, probably more. Suddenly a very strange thing happened. I felt what I imagined it felt like to be completely normal. I didn't feel shy. In fact I felt like the Holy Spirit had come down on me and given me the gift of speech. I felt confident and happy. I had the best night of my life. I did my best to chat up a few of my sisters mates, failing miserably as they were much older. But I was shocked that I could. The whole place was buzzing. A couple of days later, my sister came around, shame faced. She sat my parents down and apologised profusely. One of her medical student mates had spiked the punch with a large amount of Amphetamine Sulphate AKA Speed. If you want to know what this does, google a few videos of the Wigan Casino. To my sisters incredulity, my Dad said "Yeah, I guessed, we used to do that all the time when I was in the RAF, it kept us alert on bombing missions". My mother was horrified. She spent years telling everyone that someone had spiked the punch with LSD (which has a completely different effect). Dad thought it was hilarious. The effect it had on me was that I realised that if I took drugs, I could feel normal. I found that I could focus and I had confidence. I took quite a lot of them, until I went to Sweden. I didn't want to carry them through customs and when I got out there, I found my girlfriend there was very anti drugs, as were all her friends. They didn't really like alcohol either. I realised that I didn't actually need them. When I got back, I started to realise that people who were doing a lot of drugs didn't do much else. They'd stopped going to gigs and preferred listening to Pink Floyd albums whilst stoned out of their minds. I developed a big aversion to post Syd Barratt Pink Floyd.  But it also taught me why "Just say no" doesn't work. There are lots of kids who have no confidence who need a crutch. That is why I think drug policies that criminalise people going through bad times are immoral.

9. November 1984. I'd been through a very messy relationship break up, I had an infected polyp in my left ear that was causing my dizziness and required an operation. I was as miserable as I've ever been. I decided to take a holiday after the polyp was removed. I decided to take a few weeks off and walk around the cornish coast. I hitch hiked down to Cornwall. On the second night, the sun was setting and I was in a village near Fowey. I knocked on a farm door and asked the farmer if there was anywhere I could camp. He looked at me like a lunatic. He said "Look, if you help me for an hour with the cows, you can stay in our spare room and have dinner with us". I replied "I know nothing about cows". He said "Don't worry, they'll teach you". So it was agreed we'd get the cows in and I'd then help again in the morning before I set off. We had dinner, which was lovely, then he asked if I fancied going to the pub with him and his wife. There was a quiz and they were down a player. We went, won the quiz and I had a fantastic time. I got up in the morning, helped with the cows, had a hearty breakfast and then set off on my way. As I made my way to the next place, I realised that I'd had a brilliant evening. I was in a place I never even knew existed with complete strangers, yet I felt like a family member for those few ours. I realised that life is so much better when we embrace change, open ourselves up to strangers and have trust. I have always tried to follow their example. I doubt they would have remembered me a week after the visit, but their warmth and hospitality, something rare in London, was a life lesson. 

Our group

10. August 2000.  One Sunday in mid August 2000, I was at mass. Our then Parish priest Fr Perry Gildea mentioned that he'd just returned from a week in Lourdes, France,  with a charity called HCPT and group of adult people with disabilities. He explained what the week had been like. They needed strong male helpers, who could drive, play a musical instrument, who were not worried about getting their hands dirty (and I mean that literally, as anyone who has ever cared for someone without use of their hands will know). I had been many times to Lourdes as a child, I fancied going back and I could do those things. I felt it was an itch I needed to scratch. So I signed up as a volunteer. I am not a Holy Joe type. Unlike my Dad I don't say the Rosary every day, if ever. I see the problems with the Roman Catholic church, but I also see the good things. I went thinking I'd "do my bit" and then move on. As mentioned above, my mother had a stroke a few months after I made this decision. When I went in July 2001, mum was still semi paralysed, unable to communicate and just out of hospital. I was angry about the whole thing. After about two days with HCPT, I was thinking "Why on earth did I do this, I don't know any of these people and none are like me". The only person I initially clicked with was Margaret, a mother of 10, who had been a folk singer in the 60's with The Spinners. She was an  elderly scouser with a wicked sense of humor and amazing musical skills. She was a natural mother and I think realised I was a bit lost. As the week progressed, I realised that I was getting more comfortable. The people I'd initially been cautious of were lovely. The people we were helping got huge benefits from having us around. By the end of the week, I realised it had been a transformative experience. I have been with the group 15 times in the 22 years since. I am a deputy group leader. I've roped many of my mates into going, as well as my kids and their mates. I went originally with many preconceptions. These were wrong. When I first went, I didn't really understand the issues people living with disabilities face. In truth, I didn't see their value in society. But when you get over the package the personality comes in, you realise that we are all the same, we all want the same things, especially love and friendship. They have the same fears, the same prejudices, the same dreams. For many though, society simply does not enable them to realise any of this. I am just back from our latest trip. One of our group, a new member, suffers from muscular distrophy. He was diagnosed at age 21. He had been a talented musician as a teenager. Now he only has limited movement in his arms. He can operate a computer and a wheelchair, but everything else needs.  He is in his 50's. Such things could happen to any of us at any time. He works and is a really bright guy. He makes the most of it and gets on with it. In truth, his example gives more to me than my efforts have given to anyone who I've had to assist. 

Life is a journey. Until it ends, there are always new challenges. For me, the big fear I have is that Wednesday may be the eleventh day. That is the day that I have a radical prostatectamy. I may be fine after. I may be impotent and incontinent. I never needed to be around my group as much as I did this last week. Seeing the challenges that some have had, since birth, makes me realise that whatever happens on Wednesday, I've been lucky, maybe too lucky. I hope and pray that my operation is successful and the side effects minimal. If it all goes wrong, then I will just have to learn how to cope. People have worse things to deal with. 

That's all, have a great weekend. I am off to Hadley FC this afternoon to watch some football in the rain. I may drive, I may get the bus, I may drink tea, I may have a beer. I may have a curry later. Life is full of choices for most of us. Be grateful for that. 

HCPT Group 560 - A week to change your life

I was away last week. Regular long term readers of the blog will know that most years, I go as a helper with HCPT group 560 to Hosanna House in Bartres, France for a week. The group enables people with various disabilities to visit the shrine of Lourdes in France. As a helper, I am there to ensure that everyone in the group has the best week possible. It is very hard to describe exactly what the week is like. The setting is absolutely stunning, this is the view that greeted me when I awoke every morning.

The view for breakfast

There is strong emphasis on building a feeling of belonging to the group. On the first full day we have a briefing. Helen, who has cerebral Palsy and uses an electric wheelchair and has come for many years gave us a rousing team talk. Helen is an inspiration, living independently in her own flat despite the issues that confront her. She was pleased to see me, and tell me how she'd visited South Africa for an extended holiday earlier in the year. Several years ago I asked Helen what she enjoyed about out group. She told me that it was because we didn't think adults who had disabilities, but were fully mentally competent were interested in basket weaving as a leisure activity. Within our group, there are some talented musicians (and myself) and music, humour and telling stories is a huge part of the package. The first time I went with our group, back in 2001, I went primarily to "do my bit helping other people". To my surprise, the person who benefitted most was probably me. The reason was that the previous Xmas,my mother had had a major stroke and I was having problems dealing with the reality of her disability. By the end of that trip, I'd realised just how lukcy my mum was. I also realised that there was no reason she couldn't come with us, which she did the next time I went im 2004. She went a further three times. After she passed away in 2008, I took my cousin Theresa, who has Downs Syndrom three times. Sadly Theresa can no longer travel.

Helen briefs the group

The two lessons were that the biggest challenge the disabled have is the attitudes of the rest of us. The second lesson was disability doesn't diminish our humanity. I would urge anyone to volunteer as a helper with a group such as ours. You may wonder about the religious aspect, clearly if  a group is going to Lourdes, having a degree of faith is probably helpful, although not compulsory. Ever since 2006, I've had at least one of my children with me. They are not religious, but volunteer to come as they get a lot out of the experience. On one occasion, my daughter was accompanied by a school friend who was Jewish. After we returned, he told me he thought it was a hugely positive experience. It helped him to understand his own faith and to also get a fresh perspective on life. Of course some of us would be put off by this. I'd say that if this is how youy feel, then why not checkout volunteering with a secular charity that takes disabled people on holiday. It is a really good way of learning to understand teamwork and cooperation. It also makes you value the gifts you have. For me HCPT works. Within our group, the mix is probably 50% Roman Catholic and 50% of other/no denomination. Most return, because it is rare that people don't get anything from the experience. There are no activities that are compulsory, so you are not compelled to do anything (apart from make sure the people you are helping are safe and happy).

Night time activities

As to the type of things you do as a helper. For me I was rooming with a chap who simply needed to be pushed when we went out. Apart from that he was fine. My daughter and a friend also came this time. They roomed with a teenage girl with Downs Syndrome. This was the second time she'd been with this young lady and the friendship they've built is a joy to behold. My son also came. He didn't room with someone who needed helping, but was involved in early morning tea duties, pushing people in wheelchairs, setting tables and assisiting people in the bathroom etc. Our group had two nurses, who were on hand to assist with any medical issues.

As a fit helper, you have to do a lot of pushing people in wheelchairs!

One of the mistakes we make is to make assumptions about people with disablities. One of our group, Katie, who has cerebal palsy, graduated last year. For her, she felt that passing a degree course was vital, as she believes that it is vital to prove that there is no reason why people in her situation should be overlooked from partaking in a full education. She is now far better educationally qualified than I am, so I think she's got nothing to prove.

And we don't tuck people up early and then go to the pub!

One of the best things for me was a week with limited access to social media. I didn't look at Twitter at all for most of the week. I was too busy and where we did have wireless access, I was desperately trying to read important emails. I'd recommend a social media detox for all!

I must also mention the food. As we were in France and the house team are French, the food was absolutely fantastic. As I don't do dairy, sadly I missed out on the cheeses and some amazing looking desserts. Lunch was two courses and dinner three. There was an ample supply of wine to be taken with dinner (sadly as I was on driving duty on occasion, I couldn't always partake as HCPT rules are no alcohol when driving).

A lot of table tennis was played as well, a lot of guitars were strummed, a lot of songs sung and a lot of fun was had. Our group has a tradition of a talent show on the last night. As ever it was hilarious. My contribution was to lead a group performing the Ewan MacColl. I was lucky enough to have Margaret singing and Fr Pat playing the tin whistle line one the recorder! I was determined that my song wouldn't suffer the same fate as the previous year, when Gordon, who has cerebal palsy, dismissed my rendition of  Perfect Day by Lou Reed as "RUBBISH!".  My son used his slot as a perfect opportunity to wind both myself and my friend Paul up as best he could, much to the amusement of the wider group.

You may wonder what sort of people volunteer? Our group had a fascinating mix of people, a couple of actresses, a former head of light entertainment at ITV (I think that was the role), a retired professional sportsman/commentator, a banker, some teachers and some retired teachers, a few teenagers at school/uni, a policeman, a trainee CofE vicar, a couple of C priests, a retired doctor and me (apologies if I missed anyone). As a group, I think we bonded pretty well. This was the 11th time I've been with the group, but I am still learning things. I always come back feeling recharged. This has been a difficult year for me personally. In January, regular readers will know I had a procedure to treat my Prostate cancer. One of the questions which one of me rather cynical mates asked was whether I was going "to get a miracle". For me, I'm not interested in miraculous cures. The thought never crossed my mind. Of all the disabled peopel I've spoken to, who have ever been with our group, only one ever went seeking a miracle cure. Sadly he was disappointed. For me, the people who really need the miracle are those of us who have got so obsessed with the goodies on offer in our materialistic world, that we miss the great things we get for free. These are love, friendship, the natural beauty in the world and the joy of sharing meals and a drink with friends. We are si obsessed with "stuff" that we overlook these. I consider the biggest blessing I have in life is that I appreciate this and my weeks in Lourdes, remind my of the gifts I do have.

As a little footnote, I got back to find the Olympics in full flow. We had no telly at all for a week, so it had largely passed me by for week one. An interesting thought occurred to me. Elite atheletes are bringing us huge pride and joy with there efforts, honed with years of training. The Olympics really are a truly wonderous celebration of human achievement. I do however think that the challenges some of my disabled friends have to surmount every day pale them into insignificance. Imagine if every single thing did, getting up, going to bed, eating, going to the toilet, washing and even cleaning your teeth, required a helper (or two).  If every person you met assumed you were an idiot, because of the way you look. If every new person you met talked to you in a childish voice and asked you to repeat yourself six times as they didn't understand you. To put up with that and still be cheerful and good fun is perhaps a supreme achievement.

Please note that all comments/views expressed here are personal and in no way reflect the views/ethos of HCPT or anyone else apart from me. Some names have been changed for privacy.

Consideration for disabled people when travelling

Sunset over Bartres

Most years at this time, I travel to Hosanna House in Bartres in France with a group of disabled people, as a volunteer helper with HCPT (please note this blog is written totally in a personal capacity and does not necessarily represent any view or policy of HCPT). I have written about this before, as I personally find it to be a fantastic experience. In our group there were 36 people. Approx 1/3 have some sort of disability. Some have Downs Syndrome, some cerebal palsy, some are just a bit old and rickety and can't walk too far. I've been a member of the group since 2001. In that time I took my mother, who was housebound after a stroke, on five occasions. When shen passed away, I took my cousin, who is my age and has Downs syndrome on four occasions. Unfortunately she has deteriorated and the views of the care home where she lives is that it would not be in her interests to go.

Our Group

This year, as I have in other years, I took two of my teenage childen. They have been going for many years. I do not force them to go, they opt in. What do they do when they are there? Well they don't have TV or easy access to broadband. They go to mass every day (HCPT is a faith based organisation and the focus of trip is around the shrine of Lourdes, which is about 4km from Bartres). My children do not attend mass in the UK regularly. Although they were raised in the Roman Catholic tradition, like many teenagers, they are not overly keen on going. Apart from Xmas and Easter, requests  to attend mass are usually politely declined and attempts to force the issue are met with furious argument. When they are away, they attend without fuss and my son plays the violin at mass (something he would never do in Mill Hill). I suspect that the daily mass is not the reason they attend. It probably sounds like hell for most teenagers, from the above description. I consider my kids to be quite typical teenagers. Whilst I love them to death, they are very typical in their lifestyle and are no saints. They do however find the week to be a brilliant experience. In their everyday life, they don't have much contact with disabled people. On the trip, they spend every waking minute in the company of people with issues and challenges. If you haven't had much contact with disabled people, it may or may not come as a surprise that many are highly intelligent. They have exactly the same wants and desires as the rest of us. They don't want to be patronised. They are not particularly keen on basket weaving or other activities which are often part of activities that they are asked to partake in. They want to have some fun. One of our group, Helen, who is severely disabled with cerebal palsy and is confined to an electric wheelchair, requiring lifting with every activity that can't be done when sitting down, is one of the most funny and intelligent people you will meet. Several years ago, on a trip, she shocked a rather "holy Joe" pilgrim who asked her what the NHS could do to improve the quality of her life. The answer "Get me a male prostitute" was not quite what they expected. Helen can be hard to understand, but it is always worth the effort. When HCPT remodelled Hosanna House, she advised the designer on what they should do to improve accessability. Some of her suggestions were acted upon and have made a huge difference. Some weren't (annoyingly for Helen when she is in a bedroom, she can't get out without help as the doors open inwards).

My elder daughter was assigned to care for a teenager with Downs syndrome (along with a friends teenage daughter, who also attended). This was a huge challenge for my daughter, who has not been a "primary helper" previously. The young lady in question was lovely, but also rather mischievous. Basically she needed to 24 hour companionship for a number of reasons (not least because she was rather keen on winding everyone up!). My daughter found the experience to be a very rewarding experience. My son, who is younger was primarily involved in tea making duties and pushing the elderly members of the group around on trips. He spent much of his free time playing table tennis with another teenager. Again he had a great week.

Often people assume that such groups as ours are all very religious people seeking redemption. I can only speak for our group, but I think this couldn't be more wide of the mark. The group are primarily driven by a desire to help other people and HCPT offer a great way to do it. I've no idea how many of the group are regular church attenders, but I'd be very surprised if the total was above 50%. Various faiths have been represented. After Roman Catholics, CofE are the next most well represented group, but we had Methodists, Church of Scotland and Evangelical members. There are also quite a few people who dont ally themeselves with any formal group, some who are no faith at all and a few people of Jewish and other non Christian traditions. In the group, none of this matters. We are a group. HCPT has an ethos of doing everything together. This means we eat together, we socialise together. It means at meals, we try to sit with different people every day, so little cliques are avoided. our group has a strong musical ethos. As I mentioned my son plays violin, I take a guitar (this is the only time I play guitar in mass, being primarily a punk rocker), and we had a clarinetist and an organist. As  well as music in mass, every evening we have a bit of a sing song. One of the group, Margaret is  a folk singer of note, playing regularly in York. Her speciality is risque ditties. She's 80 next week and her party piece this year was "Teenage Dirtbag".

One other thing which must be mentioned is the food at Hosanna House. Jean Bernard, the Basque chef ensures that we feast like kings and queens. The food is delicious and all freshly prepared. Fresh salads, regional delicasies, finished off with the finest cheeses. Meals are accompanied with a glass or two of wine, for those who partake.  Before I first attended, I assumed the meals would be of school dinner quality. They are actually some of the finest meals I've had. My kids have developed a liking for duck, Coquelles St Jacques and many other foods which previously they would have point blank refused. As there is a lot of physical activity, you get hungry and there is no choice of what you get. As it is all delicious, this isn't generally a problem (if you have a special dietry requirement, this is catered for).

It is impossible to describe how the dynamics of how ther group works, or why it is a joy, not a chore. It is also impossible to describe how much personal joy I get from the experience. My view is that anyone who has a heart and who likes the company of other people would get something from the week. I'd strongly urge anyone who cares about people to consider volunteering as a helper. HCPT is not for everyone. There are secular organisations who do equally great work, although I've not been with any. I did however speak to some of the disabled people. I asked one guy, which he preferred, his answer surprised me (why I don't know). He said "I like both, they are both different. Wouldn't you get sick of steak if you ate it every day". This guy was someone with no religous affiliation. I asked him if he enjoyed the daily mass. He said "It pulls the group together". He also highlighted something I hadn't appreciated. Many disabled adults have seen many friends die. They've also lost family and for them, the section of the mass where we are encouraged to say prayers for specific people and intentions are perhaps a highlight. Often people will break down in tears when they say their bit. At first I thought this was a bad thing, but when I discussed it, it became clear that for many it was a massive help in dealing with the grief of loss. We have a service which simply consists of lighting a candle for someone who is ill, troubled or passed away. Some just say a name, some tell the story. It is moving. Many past members of groups, some who died decades ago are recalled. It is a very powerful emotion. I wonder how many of us bottle suchg things for years/

So far I've spoken of the upside. Now for the downside. For me I feel highly conflicted. I always come away having to deal with some very negative emotions. For me this time, for some reason, I was more troubled and in mental turmoil than ever. This was almost to the point that it ruined the trip. Having been many times, I know the routine, I love the expereince, but from the moment we arrived at the airport, to the moment we got back home, I saw a barrage of casual ignorance, intolerance and in some cases sheer selfishness of my fellow man towards the disabled members of our community. This time, in a way I've never felt before, this really got to me. There are the little things, such as the fact people always talk to the person pushing the chair, rather than the person in it. I should state that this is not an issue in our group, who "get it".

When we arrived at Stanstead, the first challenge is boarding disabled people onto the plane. This is always traumatic. Airlines take no account of how you load disabled people in design of aircraft. They make billions, but there is not design consideration at all of how how transfer a heavy adult into an aircraft seat. In short, this makes it a dangerous and stressful operation for both the disabled person and the people moving them. Just consider how you move an 18 stone dead weight into a seat, where you have to bend your back because of overhead lockers and where other seats, armrests have to be navigated. Even worse was the way the airline have abolished their policy where people in wheelchairs have to be loaded first. To transfer a quadraplegic person can take up to ten minutes. It involves 3-4 people to lift the person out of their chair, into an aisle chair. They then have to be hauled out of the aisle chair and into their seat, then slid along on a slider blanket to a middle seat.

This is hard enough, but when people are barging past and trying to get "the best seats" it is almost impossible. It was bad enough going out, coming back, I saw the most diabolical thing ever. A group, supposedly on pligrimmage with their parish arrived early. They boarded first. When we arrived, we had two people who needed "heavy lifts". This group refused to move from seats with moveable arms, and one took issue with me for "not arriving earlier" (we arrived in ample time). This particluar nasty individual said "we have disabled people too", failing to realise the difference between someone with a walking stick and a quadraplegic who needs manhandling into a seat. She then proceeded to get one of her group to video "what we were doing" on her mobile phone, to demonstrate how much of a pain in the arse we were with our disabled people, for their "well organised group".  I informed the said individual exactly what I thought of her, in a way that did not contain expletives. It gave a tad of reassurrance that members of her own group expressed disgust.

As a result of her intransigence, we had to lift a severely disabled person over an armrest. This may sound as nothing, but for her and for the helpers, an operation that is difficult had extra risks and was even more painful and distressing than it would be otherwise. I cannot tell you how disgusted I was. As I didn't want to inflame the situation, I stepped back, but I found it hard to contain myself as she berated another member of our group for "thinking HCPT own the plane". We simply asked for four people to change seats, so we could let two severly disabled people be moved on in safety. She said we "walked on like we owned the plane and simply were looking for the best seats for our group" I found this horrific. I've done this many times and have never seen another group put their own interests, before those of a disabled person before.

For some reason, this time I was far more acutely aware of this casual discrimintation. It is vile and in many ways it negated a lot of the good which a week of calm reflection had done. So can I sign off with a simple request. If you are travelling and you have a nice comfy seat, please give it up without needing to be asked if you see a disabled person or someone with greater need. Sure you may need to have a minor inconvenience, but I have seen first hand the issues disabled people face every day of their lives. Some cannot be avoided, but few cannot be negated with care and consideration.

A lesson in life

So what did you spend the last week doing? Watching the Olympics? Enjoying the summer holidays? Maybe you went abroad for a week and were on holiday. Maybe you still are. We ALL need a break from the routine of our life, a change of scenery and the chance to unwind, recharge our batteries and have a break from our normal routine. There is nothing I like more than getting away with family and friends, sinking a few beers and catching up on my sleep. Most of all I like a few days of not blogging, it does get a little bit draining.

So you may wonder, what was I up to last week? Well yes, I was away. I asked for a few guest blogs and I've been inundated. So much so that I've a load for next week as well. I wanted to enjoy the Olympics, so I did ask for some, so I'll be restricting my blogging over the next week (unless something really needs addressing). But that wasn't what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to tell you about my holiday. I went away with someone very special who I love very dearly. She's a beautiful woman and she's not my wife ! You will (hopefully) be pleased to know that Mrs T gave the arrangement her full approval and I took two of my children and adopted another one for the week. Who was the woman? My cousin Theresa. Theresa is a few months younger than me. She lives in Barnet, in the care of Barnet Council and is a very special person. This picture is us enjoying a drink in the Riviera Sol Cafe.

My cousin has Downes syndrome and this is her holiday for the year. We went with HCPT (a charity) and stayed at Hosanna House in Bartres, which is three kilometres outside Lourdes. Our group consisted of 40 people, nine of whom needed some form of help and assistance. I give what talents I possess to the group. My role includes a fair bit of driving (not after I've drunk any alcohol, I hasten to add, as there is a zero tolerance for drink & driving - the picture was on my 'day off') of minibuses. I also use my small talents as a musician to try and entertain the group.

My cousin loves visiting Lourdes with the group. The group is inclusive, with everyone doing all activities together. It is impossible to describe what the experience we had was like. Although a pilgrimage to Lourdes has a strong religious theme, with our group this is based on practical help of every member of the team and reflection on ways we can be better people within our own system of belief, whatever that is. My 'adopted' son for the week is Jewish. He came because he wanted to help with the group (strapping lads who can lift and push wheelchairs are at a premium). He confessed to me that before travelling he had minor worries that people in the group would not necessarily accept him because of his faith. By the end of the first day, his worries were dispelled. It wouldn't surprise me if one day, he would make a very able rabbi (although I don't think that's on his plan right now).  He was rather relieved to find that we didn't say the rosary once during the week (although in the past we've had one or two who have felt their wasn't a big enough 'Catholic' element within our particular group). The overwhelming view in our group is that our expression of faith is more based on the practical and the sense of brother and sisterhood we develop during the week.

The reason that most of the helpers come is because they get a huge amount out of helping people, who otherwise wouldn't get a holiday to get out and about. Hosanna House is specially equipped for dealing with handicapped people. This means that there are hoists to lift people, nurses and doctors within the group and everywhere is wheelchair accessable.

One of our group, Helen, who has spent her life in a wheelchair spent an hour with the CEO of the HCPT trust explaining why the rooms are not fit for purpose. It amazes me that resources such as Helen are never usually consulted. The practical things such as ample room for helpers to get someone on  a toilet, push button door openers, rooms laid out to allow hoist access. I asked Helen why she likes this group as she's not particularly religious and she explained that most activities for the handicapped involve activities like basket weaving and being patronised. That doesn't happen with our group.

I have been going with the group most years since 2001. I used to take my disabled mum. When she passed away in 2008, I started taking Theresa. One thing which has become clear is that for many of the people within the group, the cuts imposed by the coalition are starting to bite. It also appears that less people generally are going away due to precious money being needed for day to day living. As I said, we all need a break. For people with disabilities, living in hostels or care homes, this is especially necessary. It is easier for disabled members of society who belong to faith groups to go on holiday. The Catholic church, for all it's faults, does look after people and most churches have appeals to send people to Lourdes, which are well sponsored. It disturbs me greatly that people of different or no faith, who don't have such a support network, are in effect financially excluded, because they don't have a machine to raise money for their holiday. HCPT do not discriminate against people who are not Catholic in who goes and who gets financial assistance. Having said that there are many people who our trip would not be their cup of tea, so many will completely miss out.

I go to Lourdes with our group for many reasons. The sheer joy which I saw on Theresa's face for much of the week was reason enough. We are the same age and were born six months apart in the same bit of Barnet. Probably 99.999% of our gene's (being cousins) are the same. Sadly the .0001% which gave her Downes syndrome, has meant we have had very different lives. We as we walked down the road or sat in bars that .0001% defined how we are treated and regarded.

Perhaps the saddest irony of our week in Lourdes is that in 1944, Lourdes was under Nazi occupation. This shrine where millions of sick and disabled people have visited was controlled by a monstrous regime who's policy towards people such as my cousin was one of instant death. They would have considered Theresa to be a worthless life, one with no purpose and they would have executed her. All of the joy she brings to the world would be lost.

As far as I'm concerned, anyone who discriminates against my cousin, because of that .0001% genetic difference is as much a Nazi as those evil bastards who sponsored a state execution of her ilk. Once you  start walking down the road to saying "These people" and reducing their status as human beings you are on the rocky road back to gas chambers. The disabled were the first victims of the Nazi repression.

I look at the arrogant, smug policies of the rotund politicians, some of whom in Barnet live in flats provided by charities and I despair. I  often wonder just how you can get through to people who really don't give a shit about their fellow man.  What especially disturbs me is how David Cameron, who had a disabled son, can preside over cuts which so disadvantage my friends who I travelled with? I genuinely thought that his experiences would make him a different kind of Tory. The stories I've heard of the effects of cuts in the last week have convinced me that Cameron is perhaps even more callous and heartless than those who have not had such a lesson in life. It had never really occurred to me before, but it is rather clear that some of us can attend a lesson in life and totally ignore it.

One final thing I must say. When I get back, a few people usually say to me 'Oh, you are so marvellous taking your cousin away'. Not a bit of it. I had a complete blast all week. It was great.

Have a great Sunday. I'm now off to open a beer and watch the Olympics !

Do you think like a Nazi?

Just a note to say a few names in this blog have been changed.

I've just got back from a week in France. I went with two of my children, my cousin and a group of other disabled people and helpers to Lourdes in France. We didn't actually go to Lourdes, we went to Bartres where HCPT have a house set up for people with special needs. My cousin Tess, who accompanied me, is exactly the same age as I am and has Downs syndrome. In our group there were several other people with the same condition, as well as a few people with other challenges. With Downs Syndrome there is a wide spectrum of how it effects people. One of our party who is affected by this condition is a successful actress. She has appeared in Eastenders, Casualty and Hellboy to name but a few. On the final night we had a talent show and she danced for us. It is fair to say that she's far more accomplished a dancer than I could even dream of being. Last night I was discussing with my wife and children how the trip went (my wife was at the National Swimming championships with my eldest daughter whilst |I was away). My two youngest children were amazed to hear that Jo had a condition, having spent a week in her company. They had assumed she was a helper (for want of a better label). They asked "what is wrong with her?" I replied "Nothing is wrong with her, she's just a bit different". However you may or may not perceive people suffering with Downs syndrome, she breaks the mold completely. her parents never accepted the concept that she was different and enabled her to follow her dreams and aspirations. She's an intelligent and accomplished young woman, who I feel privelidged to have spent some time with.

Having said all of that, just to base our views on the fact that someone is a high achiever rather misses the point. At the other end of the scale we had Max. He suffers from a range of conditions as well as Downs. His vocabulary is rather limited. Food is "Om" and there are a range of other noises which tell us when he's happy, sad, irritated or otherwise. He's confined to wheel chair for virtually the whole time and due to other problems, even moving him has issues. If you saw him and didn't know him, you may form all sorts of opinions. Once you get to know him, you realise that he's intelligent, a bit of a comedian and a bit of a troublemaker (rather like most of my friends). It is fair to say that he's probably the star of our group and if he couldn't go, I think we'd all desperately miss him.

We all go as helpers for our own reasons. I find it helps me to stay grounded and realise how lucky I am with the hand I've been dealt. You may think that such a week is for pious do gooders. You'd be wrong. Our group has people from all walks of life. As well as the doctors, nurses and teachers, we've got actresses, a TV producer, a holistic therapist, a shop manager, a Michelin starred chef (to name but a few). At a guess, at least 50% of the group aren't Roman Catholics and some are not of any faith. Bartres is up in the foothills of the Pyranees. It is a beautiful, peaceful place and is one of my favourite places in the world. HCPT run a fantastic operation. For many people it is the only holiday they get and it provides respite for families, who know that their loved ones are in a safe, happy environment.

One thought always chills me. During the second world war, that part of France was under Nazi occupation. Had our group visited in 1944, then at least 8 of us would have been taken away and gassed for being disabled under the Nazi policy of Eugenics. There are some of us today who still have such views. One of the reasons I take my children is so they can learn that we all have worth and value. From our conversations since returning, I think they've learned.

I would say this to anyone who dismisses the worth and value of the disabled. Go with a group as a helper. You might learn something