Another world

This blog post has been bugging me since I started it at about 8am this morning. "Started" being a fairly loose definition since what I actually did was upload this photo before heading into a day of cupcake research, scarf and blanket making, and the creation of two beautiful (yes, I said it myself) small boxes that will form part of tomorrow's gift offering...

The photo is of the first ever piece of quilting to bear my name. Literally in this case as having sewn it in full view of a not insubstantial crowd at the Craft and Stitch show yesterday I was encouraged to sign my name with a fabric pen and then offer it as a contribution to a (very large) quilt that is to be given to the Queen for her Diamond Jubilee. Judging by the number of squares being produced I suspect it will hang on a wall somewhere in Buckingham Palace, rather than being something she snuggles under while watching Corrie, but even so I confess to feeling a bit teary at the thought of this beautiful gift for an elderly lady who has served her job, and her country, well for sixty years. (For reference that is also my response to friends who question my politics...it's about the person not the position)

And the blog title - the only other thing uploaded this morning - refers to the Craft and Stitch show itself. Yesterday's visit was my first, at the invitation of my mum and her delightful friend. Those who know me will of course be familiar with my forays into card making, scrapbooking and knitting, even if the latter consists mostly of a production line of knit one purl one scarves. I thought I knew about crafting and stitching, and that the show would have a ring of the deja vu if not been there done that-edness about it. Let me tell you - I was so wrong.

Ladies - and gentlemen - this is another world. A world of knitting yes, of card making and cross stitch of course. But also of quilting that has produced works of art to rival those in the Tate, of decopatch and decoupage, of beads and banners, shiny sparkly things and wool so light and soft it could only have been produced by a herd of alpaca lovingly looked after in Cambridgeshire...

It would be oh so easy to be cynical or sceptical, to dismiss all of this as tools - or toys - for those who have nothing to do but lunch and leisure. As one of the stallholders said to me "I get to play all day - and it is wonderful". So tempting to turn one's nose up ever so slightly and retreat to the "real" world of the office, of sitting in front of a screen, checking emails, attending meetings, printing papers, reading reports, grabbing overpriced coffee and sandwiches, spending up to three hours - or more - crammed on the tube, eating dinner then collapsing exhausted into bed ready to start all over again tomorrow.

Of course the pay off for such a life - literally - is the cheque at the end of the month. But redundancy has a funny way of forcing you to reflect - after the shock, denial, guilt and anger have diminished - and it is possible to begin to view such a life as the one W.H.Davies was describing when he wrote, "A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare."

No easy answers tonight. I'm definitely not criticising or standing in judgement on anyone whether they choose to work in the home, the office, some other workplace or not at all. It's not for me to judge and I know from experience on Twitter this week that taking a controversial stance can lead to abuse I neither want or need over this subject which I am still thinking through.

In some ways this blog is like a diary, but as I recently said to someone who keeps their own handwritten journals, I do not live with the fear of it being found and read - it's already out there. It's also useful writing "practice" and for someone who wants to Write. Bake. Create. it is probably a necessity. In some ways Friday's revelation filled in the final point of the triangle - I have no doubt of my need to write, ability to bake and desire to create. But as I mentioned in passing I have actually put the "c" word into practice today in the making of the decopatch boxes and crazy embellished scarf.

More photos to follow, along with exciting news of publication of my first piece in local news magazine. Please comment - love to hear your views!

Write. Bake. Create.

I hesitated before writing that subject line. Wondering if perhaps I should first copyright it. Someone said to me today that it would be a great name for "my business" and I've been holding that thought ever since.

Reason I came up with it? That same person (you know who you are - thanks!) asked me a couple of questions about what I want to do in my working life and what I need to learn from this situation. In the midst of the stuff about flexibility, working from home, being my own boss, managing staff; and alongside the angst about whether I am actually not very good, or not as good as people kindly tell me I am, not as good as I was led to believe, or not as good as I had managed to convince myself I might be during those long months of rehab, three little words found their way onto the virtual paper. Write. Bake. Create.

I used to think I enjoyed writing. More recently it's become what I do and I've come to realise that a lot of the time the enjoyment comes only after its finished. There's something in the challenge, as you craft random thoughts into sentences and paragraphs, build a description, an argument, a report, that is akin to excitment - perhaps even enjoyment. But wrestling restrictive wordcounts, phrasing things in a way that will engage and hold the readers interest, making them smile, or respond in some other way, then releasing something so personal into the ether for others to catch and comment upon is a scary risky business and "enjoy" isn't necessarily the best word to describe it. But if it's what you do - who you are even - then you have no choice as if the words don't find their way out they continue spinning round and round in your head, begging to be listened to...

Baking is something else. Sieving flour, creaming butter and sugar, whisking eggs and releasing the essence of pure vanilla into the feather light misture is pure joy. Spooning the resulting mixture into beautifully crafted cupcake cases and then watching as, in the heat of the rangemaster, it rises into perfect peaks of soft sponge is like watching a miracle occur before your very eyes! And then the opportunity to unleash your creativity in decorating them with soft fondant, fresh buttercream and frosting - what's not to love?

When it comes to how to earn a living yet another idea is bubbling and brewing away. Something to combine blogging, books and baking in a cauldron of creativity - watch this space!

photo: victoria sponge baked by Sarah Anderson - must be in the genes ;-)

Busy busy...

Mmmmmm.... cupcakes! Most of you who read this blog know how I love to bake, and some of you may have been one of those friends who've suggested I might sell them. If that is you then thank you - you are way too kind.

Time off this week is perhaps a taster of what it will be like to have no permanent job to get up for in a few weeks time, and therefore also an opportunity to explore a few possibilities. One of them being to take the advice of Woman and Home magazine (ouch - that still hurts) and think about things I enjoy doing, that I'm passionate about, that I'm good at.

So today I've been thinking, amongst other things, about cupcakes. I've even gone so far as to create a website from which I could advertise and sell them. And a facebook page to use for marketing - heck tomorrow there will probably be a twitter account. croxleycupcakes ;-)

If nothing else I've improved my website building skills, and whilst online I've also explored how to self publish an ebook - lulu looks like the way. (I thought she was a 60's singer who famously appeared on a Take That song but seems she has other talents...)

Neither of these ventures are going to make me a fortune - well they might but I'm not banking on it. But if something along these lines were to succeed in bringing in enough cash to live on, at the same time allowing me more time for the other avenues I want to explore then that could be a good thing.

I've not yet spoken to one person who regrets being made redundant. Maybe that says a lot - many friends and colleagues who used the experience to take risks, explore opportunities, dare I say it have some fun and kick back a little.

And possibly eat cupcakes?

Change

Unusually I have started writing this post with neither a title nor a photo in place.* If truth be told I'm not really in a blogging mood - if there is such a thing. But having said I'd blog more often I feel I ought to do just that so here we are.

Not altogether sure what we're going to be sharing either - on the one hand my head's full of the usual myriad of ideas/stories/subjects/sentences. On the other I've nothing to say. Maybe today's one of those days when you just open the laptop, launch the browser, log into blogger and allow your fingers to wander over the keys, watching the screen to see what words appear and whether they in any way connect with what may or may not be going on in your head?

This weekend I attended the funeral of a very good friend's father. My heart goes out to the whole family but the service was lovely and a celebration of a long life very well lived which I hope brings comfort to them and his many friends. One thing that the priest said, seemed to say often in fact, was we must make the most of every day, spend time with our loved ones, go for it and have no regrets. That last bit may be my own addition but it's often been said that we regret the things we don't do far more than those that we do.

These words and that thought resonate with the experience of the last few weeks and bring a fresh sense of opportunity to my current situation. Perhaps too it wasn't a coincidence that Woman and Home magazine (contemplating deleting that -surely evidence of middle age? what happened to the Cosmo subscription?!) ran an article this month on the opportunities redundancy can offer, and how to earn money from your talents and be paid to do something you really enjoy. A Twitter friend said much the same to me this morning. Perhaps a lump sum that allows you to take time out from paid employment is in fact a God-given opportunity to breath, to wait, and to see what the next chapter might look like.

But but but but but - I have at least four job applications pending now. What happens if one of them leads to a job offer, to a return to full time paid employment and commuting? What if there is no time to stop and wait and breathe? Will the recognition that taking time out to do that might be a good thing be enough? Would it be foolish to turn down the offer of a job that would offer financial security? How do you discern the right thing to do when at every turn you can see signs and reasons and opportunities and openings?

This isn't what I thought this post would be about - but then again if you don't know what you're going to write about what can you expect? Time now to think of a title and find a photo ;-)

* the title and photo came to me after I finished writing - photo taken in Barry yesterday morning, and yes - that is Ness's slots ;-)

Everything changes...

Anyone else noted how I love to title my blog with a lyric or three from Take That? Not always a conscious decision if I am honest, maybe their lyrics have an uncanny knack of capturing the zeitgeist, perhaps they are drilled into my subconscious, maybe it's nothing more than chance that means my blog posts begin with words from the greatest band in the history of the world (discuss...)

Meanwhile, to change. Apologies for lack of posts recently - have been totally taken up with job applications. Completing forms, attending interviews, coping with rejection, feedback, disappointment. It's been hideous and I am not yet ready to blog the detail, I need to find a way of expressing the learning and understanding of how it is to feel hurt and rejected without sounding negative, critical, harsh or unreasonable.

What I would like to place on record is the sense of freedom and liberation there is to be found if you can move beyond the disappointment, rejection, hurt and anger. I'm not saying that all is well - put it this way I am still thanking God for waterproof mascara. But I am beginning to see the openings and possibilities, one of which was the agreement today that I will write for our local news magazine on a monthly basis. This possibly and perhaps makes me almost a journalist - woo hoo ;-)

Money - lack of it - is clearly going to be an object. Massively. I've yet to see how we'll manage with that one but know many who do. Increasingly "Less is More" is the refrain in my brain and I'm excited to see how this works out in practice.

I'm planning to blog more and would value your comments and feedback, feels like there is a lot to learn and looking forward to it.... x

We want the same thing

What the hell is wrong with you tonight?

I can't seem to say or do the right thing

Wanted to be sure you're feeling right

Wanted to be sure we want the same thing

Anyone remember those inimitable words from the legend that was Joe Jackson? Meant a lot to me as a teen/twenty something, and I was reminded of them this morning.

I was privileged to attend the memorial service for John Stott at St Paul's Cathedral this morning. Tube delays meant I was rushing to the cathedral through the Occupy LSX camp ten minutes before the service was due to start, but even in my panic I found myself looking at the tents and thinking "What would Uncle John make of all this?"

The service was outstanding in every aspect. Archbishops of York and Canterbury were joined by Bishops of London and elsewhere. Music from the All Souls orchestra and choir literally sent shivers down even this fused and fragile spine. As they rounded off the service with Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance you could almost feel Uncle John looking down with a wry smile at his choice of final music - and the impromptu and rapturous applause confirmed the congregation's approval.

When Mark Greene from LICC spoke he began with a reference to the camp outside, asking the question "What would Uncle John make of it all?" I agreed with all he had to say, but also had an overwhelming feeling that it would be totally wrong to come to St Paul's (a very special place for me throughout my life), attend the service and walk away. Touched by the music, prayers and tributes but not by the reality that is the Occupy camp.

How to engage with the movement didn't really cross my mind other than it was an imperative. I left the cathedral in search of caffeine and having heard that many of the protesters frequent Starbucks headed in that direction. Passing the library tent I stopped briefly to say hello to the young woman sitting on a stool there - introducing myself as from Christian Aid and mentioning that only this week I wrote to about 4500 church ministers with an update on our response to the Occupy movement.

Immediately she asked someone to cover her position and suggested we go on a tour of the camp. We chatted for probably an hour - during which I was given a steaming mug of tea from the well organised kitchen, and made comfortable in the welfare tent (pictured).

There isn't time or space to document our conversation here. But I understand better her vision of an alternative and equitable society, and her frustration at trying to change things from within that has led to her anarchist beliefs. She was interested in Christian Aid's new strategy which will focus on addressing power imbalance as a major cause of poverty. We talked about literature from Lord of the Flies to Brave New World and laughed over similarities with The Borrowers. We agreed on recycling and freecycling, on the hideousness of a disposable throwaway culture, and debated the welfare state, education and healthcare, and who exactly is the "they" that this movement is railing against.

Within the space of three or four hours I had experienced two deeply spiritual experiences. Both of them left me with plenty of food for thought and writing so expect to see more on here in the coming days. As ever thanks for reading - it's such a privilege to have this blog from which to throw a few thoughts into cyberspace and I never cease to be amazed at how many of you take a look - thank you!

Hi everyone,

Huge apologies for the recent silence. I won't try and explain or make excuses as if you know me well you'll know why it is. If you don't and want to get in touch that would be great but I don't want to bore you!

I've just written an article for Backbone - the SAUK newsletter. I'm reasonably happy with it and have sent it over to them tonight, but thought that posting it here might also be helpful. I'm very conscious of the number of people I know that are anticipating surgery or recovering from it and if anything I say or write can help someone then I want to get it out there!

I will write more on another subject soon but for now here is the Backbone article - along with my love and best wishes for a very Happy New Year.

I clearly remember being asked to bend over and touch my toes. I don’t remember exactly what happened after that but it was obvious that something significant was wrong by the reaction of the school nurse and my mother.

I’m not sure exactly how old I would have been – around 12/13 I guess – and the occasion was a school medical. Back in the days of nit nurses, sight and hearing tests and BCGs for all – already you may have guessed that I’m not a typical two year post-op scoliosis patient! That medical was probably four decades ago now, and just the beginning of what has been a long and winding road. Much like my spine.

The diagnosis of adolescent idiopathic scoliosis – AIS – was confirmed at the Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital at Bolsover Street. The following months – or was it years – seem to blur into one when I look back and remember the appointments, x rays, measurements and eventually the decision to go for surgery and hearing it would be a wait of around three months.

I’m not absolutely sure why the operation never went ahead. I guess my parents decided the risks outweighed the benefits. I seem to recall the doctors emphasising the dangers of surgery at that time. I wasn’t in pain – I hadn’t even been aware that there was an issue. Once it was pointed out though I did of course become aware of the rib hump, and increasingly self-conscious. I stopped wearing skimpy tops or vests, or bikinis, or horizontal stripes, or anything that drew attention to it. Underwear didn’t fit properly and straps slid off my shoulder.

No one will ever be able to say for sure that the two were related but is it altogether surprising that I went on to develop an eating disorder that resulted in three months hospitalisation? If anorexia is related to self-esteem and how you view your body then there was enough going on to keep any psychologist in business – though sadly at the time no one seemed to make the connection and self-starvation took precedence over spinal curvature.

One very vivid memory from those teenage years is that of the visits to the osteopath. I’m unsure if they were intended to help the pain – which I don’t actually recall – or an attempt to correct the curve. What I do remember is a dark and –to a teenage girl – evil smelling room lined with shelves of herbs and embrocations. Stripping to my underwear in order to be swung around by a middle aged/elderly gentleman was something I hated with a vengeance.

Fast forward to my early twenties and I married the man who was to be my husband for thirty years last time I looked! The very first wedding dress I tried on had a lace “cape” that fell from the shoulders to my waist perfectly disguising the hump I was now so conscious of as I stood at the altar. And that was to set the pattern for the next twenty something years, as life would be about avoiding, disguising and denying my scoliosis.

Over the years I gave birth to four children – natural drug free deliveries, two at home. Having been told an epidural would be problematic I made sure I was well prepared. Back pain was by now an on-going and increasing problem but visits to my GP usually resulted in a prescription for painkillers and perhaps a few sessions of physio. Plus one painful and unsuccessful attempt at acupuncture!

A significant turning point came at the grand age of 50. For some time I had experienced problems with my breathing and I was a regular user of both “blue” and “brown” inhalers. A particularly bad “episode” led me to seek medical advice and co-incidentally I attended an SAUK conference at around the same time. I asked for a referral to a scoliosis specialist.

Some weeks passed and I wondered if I would ever hear anything. When I did however it was exactly what was required. My brilliant GP had successfully bypassed the orthopaedic surgeon at our local general hospital and I was to be seen at Stanmore Orthopaedic – a centre of excellence.

My first appointment was incredibly positive. I had a severe – but correctable – curve and was sent for MRI and bone scans with a view to corrective surgery. This came as a huge shock after so many years and not having considered the possibility of a correction, but initially I felt quite positive especially when it came to the cosmetic improvement I could expect.

The scan results were less encouraging - when I went to see my consultant again he spelt out the risks in no uncertain terms. My 66 degree curve was progressing rapidly and would require two surgeries a week or so apart. I could expect to be in hospital for a month, with possible side effects including chest infection and paralysis. I left the consultation in turmoil, unsure what to do, but decided a second opinion was the sensible way forward.

And that was the best decision I ever made. Stewart Tucker reviewed my notes, surveyed my scans and concluded my curve “does not look too daunting”. He would operate in two weeks time, anterior and posterior surgery in one day, and I should be out of hospital in two weeks.

Details of what happened next can be found on my blog www.lookingforlinda.blogspot.com

I made it my mission to write something (almost) every day – from the angst over whether to undergo surgery through the hospitalisation to recovery and beyond. I really hope that you would like to join the many people who chose to join me on the journey by reading the blog, but if not then I’ll try to summarise in a sentence or two.

Scoliosis surgery was the biggest challenge of my life. I’ve heard it said that the only surgery more difficult is a heart and lung transplant and can well believe that. Having given birth to four babies with just a whiff of gas as pain relief I have never known pain such as that post op. Thank God for the wonderful nurses, and the drugs, that can control it and help you towards recovery.

Almost two years post op I feel as if I am finally “getting my life back”. Pain is no longer the single uppermost thought on waking and throughout the day. The post-traumatic stress is receding. I absolutely adore wearing dresses and have bought way too many over the past months!

Suddenly life is stretched out before me in a way it hasn’t been for some time. This time last year – and the one before – I welcomed the New Year with tears. This year it will be with a smile. I’d love to talk to you more about scoliosis if it’s something that affects your life so please find me online. Lindaaanderson (Twitter) or Lindaanneanderson (FB) – and do check out that blog!

Lindaaanderson@hotmail.co.uk