Celebrating the 26th of April – Part 2: Greenwich

I had a simply splendid time yesterday.  It was quite cold, and I was a bit worried that it would rain, but aside from a few short wet episodes that we dealt with by dint of careful timing of shopping etc it was dry.  Although there is much to be said for a clear blue sky, one populated with interesting clouds is perhaps even better for photographs, and as you can see I took many.

It was a long day.  I got up at six and only returned after midnight.  But I managed to cram in everything that makes a day wonderful.  Stimulating conversation with lovely people, lots of walking, discovery of new sights, a boat trip, and I even found a nice scarf (ancient Tie Rack, £15).  Also there was lots of great food.  And last but not least, I had plenty of time to reflect on the past and consider the future.  I am a very lucky person, blessed with good friends, interesting work, a stimulating and beautiful environment, and the talents and disposition to make the most of it.  And I have the 26^th of April, which I shall treasure as long as I live.

 

Celebrating the 26th of April – Part 1

Tomorrow is the 26^th of April, and I shall celebrate it as best I can, as every year.  Unfortunately I have to work on the day itself, but nevertheless it shall be a day of happiness and quiet reflection.  The plan is to get up a bit earlier than usual, have a long leisurely breakfast of bacon & Eggs and the Harold Tribune at Valerie’s, and then a peaceful day in the office, without any fuss, muss, or rough stuff, circumstances permitting.  After that I am due to meet A, like every Friday after work.  We are partners in selling Antiques & Stuff, a very necessary activity considering recent decluttering efforts.

And on Saturday I shall celebrate Part 2 of the great day, in London, as is befitting.  I am meeting I for breakfast and then S and K for a long afternoon of frolicking.  I haven’t seen I for ages, and expect to hear all sorts of adventurous stories about Exploits in China and Daring Dos in Brussels!  Then I will trickle down to the Club and meet up with some of the Ladies Who Take Afternoon Tea (not to be confused with Tea Ladies).  We are thinking about a riverboat cruise to Greenwich, weather permitting!  I am terribly excited about this!  We may also get to see S’ new mansion, and there might even be a dinner in the offing.  It promises to be a fun-packed memorable day!  I shall report on the Weekend.

I wish you a very happy and sunny 26^th of April!

At long last: Attic Decluttering!

Finally today I got around to decluttering the attic!  The lateness of this endeavour is not entirely my fault – the standing lamp that illuminates the attic had broken, and the little lamp I used as an understudy was woefully inadequate.  However, yesterday I finally managed to buy a new standard lamp (during one of my charity shop crawls, obviously), so I had no excuse to delay the decluttering any further.

I laboured for six hours flat!  I have to say that the Attic Clear-up was not so much a declutter as a tidying exercise – I only threw out several large bags of stuff for the charity shops, and one bag of rubbish for the bin-men to collect.  Mainly I sorted through old bank statements, academic notebooks and study notes, carpets and curtains, and Christmas ornaments.  I also stacked up empty boxes I want to keep and labelled everything up.

Parisian Adventures of a Coin Collector

During my recent trip to Paris I managed to discover a fair number of coins.  To be specific, I found:

5 x 1 Eurocent (plus 1, almost! See below)

1 x 5 Eurocent

1 x 20 UK pence

2 x 5 UK pence

3 x 1 UK pence



That little lot caused me all sorts of effort!  I am proudest of the one I found in the Gare du Nord.  It was located in the exact centre of a dirty, metal encircled hole (a sort of screw receptor), and presented two challenges:  (1) to notice that there was anything aside from dirt in the hole at all (the Eurocent was quite dirt-encrusted), and (2) to realise that the little metal disc at the centre was not a part of the structure but a separate object.  There are loads of small metal button-type hole structures on the floors of tube stations, and recognising that this one was different was very difficult.  I was so proud of myself!

The other ones I collected all over Paris, in the usual places, in gutters and crevices and near telephone boxes and cash machines and under coffee tables and at the bottom of stairs and (surreptitiously!) from the floor of a bakery and near a newspaper stand.

Strangely enough I never find anything in the seriously rich areas of town.  You would have thought that rich people lose the largest coins, and that one could find Euro 2 coins quite easily in the Rue St Honore, but sadly that is not the case. 

Last weekend I finally managed to buttonhole the owner of a shop near the Louvre who had been getting on my nerves for simply ages.  I took lots of photos, so you can understand what I am on about.  I have no objection to the shop itself, it sells nautical antiques, quite out of my spending range, but then everything is in that part of town except nasty little tourist gewgaws.  No, what bothered me was the fact that this shop has windows which reach to the floor, and when you stand in front of them it is hard to tell where the shop ends and the road starts.  Why is this a problem?  Because in the corners of the windows there are scattered loads of coins!  Coins which look as though they are laying in the street, ready for the taking, fair booty for any intrepid coin collector!  But instead they are behind glass and inaccessible!  This is more frustrating than I can possibly convey to you.

Usually the shop is closed, but this time I was lucky!  Just as I was glaring at the corner coins again, the owner and his mother arrived and unlocked the shop.  And as quick as you could say Knife! I was on to him and complained about the coins and the irritation they caused passing coin collectors.  In my horrible French.  He looked at me strangely and came out to see what I was on about.  ‘But these are just ordinary French coins,’ he said.  ‘Why do you want to buy them?’  He clearly had misunderstood my usage of the term ‘coin collector’ and thought I was trying to buy rare coins he didn’t realised he had for sale.

As usual in such situations I invoked Unca Scrooge, and explained that I was collecting coins by finding them, ‘Comme Unc Picsou’ (like Unca Scrouge) in the street.  Then his face lit up and he smiled.  ‘Of course’, he exclaimed, ‘how stupid of me!’  Then he told me that he had put the coins into the corners of his shop as a sort of talisman, he used the word ‘superstition’ (same in French).  At that I forgave him, and he seemed much gratified.  We parted the best of friends.  I was well dressed, if I had looked scruffy he might have called an ambulance …

But that was not the end of my coin collecting adventures that day!  Whenever I have to wait for a train in the Metro (or anywhere else for that matter) I pace up and down the platform looking for coins.  And on this occasion I spotted one - a Eurocent in the dirt, barely visible, next to the foot of someone sitting on one of those red seats.  Normally when this happens I hover nearby, and even sit down if there is a seat available, and wait for the stranger to move away.  Then I retrieve the coin. 

But on this occasion the stranger was a homeless person (clochard) and clearly needed luck more than I did.  So after some internal moral struggle I overcame my greed for coins, picked up the Eurocent, and gave it to the man.  ‘Look what I found at your feet,’ I said, ‘a lucky coin!  Good luck to you!’  But the man did not appreciate the superhuman denial and selflessness thus displayed by me.  Instead he held out his hand and asked for a Euro!  Well he did not get one.  That’s the last time I give away a lucky coin!  I mean, honestly, all this inner struggle and overcoming my collector’s impulse for nothing?

Bacterial Buddies, the Gut Brain, and Organ Transplants

The New Scientist had a very interesting article on the Gut Brain recently.  The same sort of cells that make up the brain – the neurons - can also be found throughout the rest of the body, the spinal cord being an obvious example.  What is less well known is that the human gut contains 500 million neurons – about as much as a cat brain.  This Gut Brain operates largely independently of the Head Brain, and I suspect is by far the older.  90% of signals go from the Gut Brain to the Head Brain.  When the connection to the Head Brain is severed, the Gut Brain can continue its work independently.  It plays an important part in repairing tissues and bones, and the signals it sends to the Head Brain have a strong impact on moods and desires.

I am not going into details, because they are technical and can easily be found elsewhere.  The important point is, in my opinion, that a person is a lot more complicated than we think.  We are not just a computer-like brain lording it over a car-like body.  Rather, the Head Brain is simply the biggest conglomerate of neurons in the body.  There are subsidiary centres in the guts and in the spine, and smaller outlets can be found throughout the body.  Including all our organs …

A further complication is that, as maintained in a previous post, there are trillions of bacteria and other micro organisms in our bodies, mainly in the gut but also everywhere else.  Most of them are not ‘foreign bodies’ who can be dismissed as free-loaders or aliens – they are in a symbiotic relationship with the rest of our body-cells and contribute to its success or failure.  Indeed, I think it makes little sense to view them as separate from the rest of our body-cells.  They are a part of us, just like all the other cells that make up the cosmos that is our body.

A body is a supremely integrated mechanism, where all parts constantly interact with each other.  Any change will affect the entire system, even if this is not always immediately obvious.  Just as a change in diet will affect mood, sleep patterns, skin texture, concentration, etc, so will a change in mood affect sleep pattern, desire for particular foods, etc.  To focus on one aspect of the body/person to the exclusion of all others may be a convenient approach to a particular problem, but will ultimately fail because of its reductionist nature.

Personally I find it absolutely amazing how all the different bits of me, cells and neurons and bacteria and other assorted micro organisms work together so well, despite all having their own unique individual life-goals and objectives.  They are like the citizens in a state, all working together for the common good. 

In light of this it strikes me as ridiculous to decree that when the Head Brain no longer functions everyone else, all the bacteria and other micro organisms, not to mention the various subsidiary brains and organs, can just be cut out and implanted in another, equally complex, human body.  These are not spare parts, to use in any way a medical team sees fit.  It is all very well for the Head Brain to sign up as an organ donor, but s/he is donating something that is not hers/his to give. 

It seems much more dignified, and kind, to let them all adjust to the new situation after Head Brain has died.  There may be a period of mourning, of letting go, and then some micro organisms will also die and others will leave the body and join another one, when they are ready and as they see fit.

Lastly, the argument I keep hearing is that it is selfish not to donate one’s organs to save or improve someone else’s life.  Well, and what about donating one’s money?  If it is silly to love one's body even unto death, surely it is much sillier to love one's material possessions?  

PS  I appended this post with the following Reader's reply to a newspaper article, which I found very moving:

'Everyone and every situation, is different... For some, it helps them through the pain, for others it does not...

Until you have actually been in a "survivors" shoes, no one can really understand all that is involved, both emotionally and physically. As opposed to what the article is talking about, the one who has died, or is dying, is NOT the real issue (in my opinion) with orgran donations.

Twelve years ago, my late wife and I were either organ donors, or had discussed it and knew that both of us wanted it done. It sounded like a great and honorable thing to do. We knew nothing about the actual process involved...

One evening, my wife suddenly, with no warning, suffered a massive stroke / burst anurism (sp). Rescue came and we were transported to the closest hospital within ten to fifteen minutes. They were unable to do anything for her, other than to "keep her alive" and transported her to a major trama center by life-flight. I was driven by a friend.

An hour later, we made it to the hospital and were told she had a 1% chance of survival... Essentially, none. She and I had never discussed "percentages", or who and or what makes that decision. While waiting for our daughters to make it to the hospital (one was on her honeymoon), I was approaced by the "organ harvest team leader". Since my wife and I had discussed this, I said yes... What do I need to do...

I was presented with 17 pages of documents I had to sign and "pressure" on the time... Every minute / hour eliminated the possibility of anyone using more and more organs. I simply "HAD" to wait for my daughters to arrive, so they could say good-bye. The machines kept her body "alive".

The "process" that would be involved was "scary"... The Dr. said there was only the slightest of chances for survival... but they can never say, no chance. We would not know, for sure, until her heart and breathing actually stopped, after turning off the machines. BUT... if you are doing organ donation, they do NOT turn off the machines, until all the needed organs are removed. A big "empty" question-mark hit me, like a ton of bricks.

If we go with the organ donation, we will never know if "we" killed her, or if she had already (actually) died. Given everythng going on, at that moment, none of us could say "yes"... We "had" to know if she was going to make it, or not.

"I" turned off the machines at 8:17 in the morning... Her daughters stayed for awhile, I stayed throughout. It took 23 minutes for her breathing and heart to stop... I stayed, holding her hand, talking to her, for the longest 23 minutes of my life.

Within 5 minutes, the "organ harvest team leader" was back with me to discuss tissue transplants, since they can not use organs, after the patient has officially died. Again, I discussed it with our daughters and we said yes... up to the moment they explained that it would take up to a week to accomplish and there would be no funeral, etc. until afterwards.

It was simply impossible for anyone to agree to, at that time. None of us, not myself, our daughters, my father, her sister, or cousins, etc. knew any of this, knew what was involved, or how it would feel to those of us, left behind. To all of us, right, or wrong, the funeral was important, the laying to rest, essential for saying good-bye.

Today... I am married again. My current wife and I have discussed all this and I "may" react differently, this time, should a similar situation come up. At least we have "said" we would.

So... Until you have been there, until you are sitting there, holding your wife, or husband, who you have loved dearly for 12 years, in your arms, as they slowly pass away, please do not get all "preachy" towards me about what is the right, or wrong thing to do, with their body. Until you do so, you will have no idea how you will feel, at that moment.'

Judging by other comments this experience is neither unique, nor universal.  But it shows the disrespect we have developed for death and the dieing person.

The Stickiness Continues …. and what about the Slave Trade?

OK, so you are bored with my interminable attempts to sweeten the world by turning perfectly good fresh fruit into sugary sweetmeats, but what am I supposed to say?  I do all the work!  Alright, so I get to eat most of my creations as well …

Anyway, it all started back in January when I made orange marmalade.  Orange marmalade is made from Seville oranges, which are only available early in the year, so no one can blame me for buying a few more than I needed – after all, if I ran out I would have to wait for another year to make more!  But after having made about thirty jars of the stuff – and keep in mind that I only eat about three jars of jam a year, including non-orange marmalade ones – I decided to call a halt to the proceedings and utilise the leftover oranges for making candied orange peel. 

Since I love candied orange peel and eat as many as I can get a hold off this was a sound plan.  Unfortunately when I was finished I had about a quarter pot full of very thick sugar syrup left, which I stored in the fridge where it set solid.  So I couldn’t just use it up by putting it into my tea.

So when I discovered two weeks ago that Waitrose had organic oranges (normal, not Seville ones), I decided to make more candied orange peel (I had almost eaten the ones I made back in January).  I made lots!  It is extremely toothsome!  Following the advice of my friend MG, I cut the candied peel into strips and dipped them in 75% chocolate – delicious!  Simply delicious!  I did an excellent job, even if I say this myself, and now have enough to last me until Christmas, especially if I don’t give any of it away.

Unfortunately once again I had some very thick sugar syrup left.  Now what?  Buy even more oranges and candy enough to supply all my friends?  I was getting sick of my sticky kitchen!  Plus it is hard work candying orange peel!  So I came up with a new plan.

I bought some plums, cut them in half, removed the stone, and popped them into the heated syrup.  The plan was, I would just leave the plums in the syrup to slowly crystallize.  No more of this constant heating of syrup and removing of fruit and boiling up of the syrup again – just dump the plums into the syrup and one week later they would be candied and ready for eating.

Oh well.  It didn’t work like that.  Plums have a lot of water, a lot more than orange peels.  You can guess what happened.  The plums released all their juice into my nice thick syrup, shrank by half, and watered down my syrup – too thin to candy anything!  So once again I had to take out the fruit, boil up the syrup to reduce it, put the fruit back into it, etc etc – I am so darn sick of it all!  Mind you, the plums turned out to be delicious!  I ate four of them before they even properly dried.

But there are plenty more where they came from, because I am now saddled with not a quarter pot full of sugary liquid, but half a pot full of the stuff!  At this rate I’ll be candying non-stop between now and Christmas …

But lest you wonder, I have not spent my entire spare time last week candying fruit and dipping them into chocolate.  All these sugary endeavours reminded me of a heavy tome of a book about the trans-Atlantic slave trade, which I unearthed from a dusty shelf and have been reading all week.  The sweet tooth of Europe was directly responsible for the slave trade, because slaves were needed to grow and process sugar cane.  It was people like me, addicted to candied orange peel and similar vices, who caused untold misery to millions of abducted Africans, but I have to admit to my shame that even after having read the first 400 pages of the weighty treatise I have not foresworn sugar.  As a matter of fact, I was drinking tea and eating candied orange-peel-sticks-dipped-in-chocolate while reading the book!

Kick me, someone!