PuppyDog Tails.

Well, technically the dog in question at eight years old is not a puppy, but as this post concerns the tail part of the dog it seems an appropriate title. Note to any Canine friends reading this: If you must stop suddenly whilst leaving the house and cause your tail to be caught in the door thus skinting your owner in the process, please try to avoid doing so on the day before they go on holiday and try not to arrange it so you have to be at the vets at the same time you are due to be at the kennels for your own holiday.
It's the day before the Schnnar Family Holiday and we are all getting excited about going to Majorca. It's mid morning and things are going well. The packing is almost done, so I stop to do some clearing up. Just started washing up when I hear "Mum, I think Rio's bleeding." A look at the front lounge floor confirms that yes, one of our two dogs is definately bleeding. My daughter and I check over a dog each. Paws, mouths, no sign of any blood at all. Can't see where it is coming from. Then I notice Rio's long black tail. It looks like a paintbrush that's been dipped in the deepest ever red paint. Then I recall hearing a yelp as the dogs left for their walk earlier on. Thankfully he is now oblivious to his injury and is lying chilled out on the floor. My daughter strokes him and keeps him still while I fetch kitchen paper and a bowl of water & some TCP. I know that tail injuries can be serious and want to ensure it is free from infection as well as trying to stop the bleeding. We bathe it carefully in the TCP solution then wrap it in kitchen paper and raise it to stop the flow of the blood. We are also trying to keep Rio still to avoid him splattering more blood around the room as he's already got it on the sofa and floor. This is not too hard as he's a greyhound and is a real couch potato. But, if there's one thing that will get him on his feet with his tail like a crazy out of control fan, thus splattering blood everywhere it is the doorbell or the sound of a key in the lock. So we keep a lookout for Howard, who is due home any moment and plan to open the door quietly to avoid potential chaos. Despite our attempts Rio is up with his tail wagging frantically as soon as he realises his friend is home. By now the lounge and hall look like a crime scene with blood splattered over the walls, doors, windows, floors and pictures. Rio has no idea of the mess he has made and we eventually get him to lie still while Howard examines the tail and tries to re-wrap it in kitchen roll. We then fetch the first aid kit and manage at last to get a bandage round the tail. We've decided he needs to see the vet who agrees to see him an hour later. As it's Sunday and the next day is a Bank Holiday Monday it's an emergency vet, several miles away instead of the usual one round the corner. The bandage has amazingly stayed in place while all three of us start cleaning blood off everything. We disagree over what to clean it off with. My Mum's cure all for as far as cleaning issues were concerned, was (back in the 1970's)"Hot Soapy Water - that's they only way you'll get that off" The "Hot Soapy Water" of my childhood must have sank in (so to speak) on all sorts of levels because throughout the years whenever any mess or spillages have occurred I have always reached for a bowl of  Hot Soapy Water. So I reach once again for Hot Soapy Water. I am oblivious to any development in cleaning products which may have occurred over the last forty or so years and dismiss the need for the cleaning wipes and all sorts of chemicals which make my eyes itch and make me sneeze, which Howard thinks we should be using. The washing up liquid has it. Shame it won't work on other things: PPI harassment people? Dodgy polititians? People who try to sell you electricity in Sainsburys when it's so obvious you want to by food? Just slosh 'em over with Hot Soapy Water and you'll never see then again. Perhaps I could try a similar thing with my own child: "Learn Your Times Tables - that's what you need to do" and she would start to times numbers in the event of any mathematical dilema and save having to do all the dodgy counting on her fingers I often go through. Eventually, after using a variety of cleaning methods the room looks less crime scene and more like it's just time the carpets needed a really good clean. The Hot Soapy Water is now cold and grey with dog hairs floating on it and it's time for Rio's trip to the Vet's. The dog has stayed still and bandage is still in place until Rio hears his lead jangling. Then he's up like a shot and once more the room is back in crime scene mode as the bangdage falls of at the first wag. "Oh no, the mess..." says Howard, looking round in despair. "Just get the bleedin' dog to the vet's" I yell, as it is becoming a matter of time. We need to get him processed by the vet and on to the kennels before it shuts as we check in at the airport at 5.30 the next morning. Whilst getting Rio into the car, Fly, our other dog decides it's time to make a bid for freedom and has me chasing him up and down the road. Eventually I get him back in the house and renew the Hot Soapy Water and even use the cleaning wipes a little and get the place clean again. While this is happening Fly decides to eat a tub of margerine which was on the surface in the kitchen.
Thankfully all goes well at the vet's and Rio comes round in time to be taken to the kennels, with a very solid looking, should stay on as long as needed kind of bandage on. he's pleased to see us and unfazed by anything that's happened. The kennel staff are calm, sympathetic and unfazed by the additional instructions, bandage and antibiotics. I know he's in good hands but still feel guilty at leaving him there. After paying the bill for his tail to be sorted, then another op a few weeks later as it didn't heel very well, we conclude the dog wasn't the only one stitched up by the vet.
Rio has since made a great recovery and is quite happy with his somewhat shorter tail.

Reader Licensing Service

Yesterday myself and ten others were licensed as Readers in Chichester Cathedral. "What's a Reader?" you might be wondering. I was given a card from some friends and one of them jokingly wrote: "Does this mean you've learnt to read at last?" What it actually means is that I am a member of the Anglican church who is not ordained as a Bishop, Priest or Deacon, who has felt called by God and been recommended by the church for training to lead worship, preach and teach within my local Parish. I joined with others from across the chichester Diocese for three years training, some of it studying together and at home and some based in local chuch contexts. It has been a great time of learning and preparation for our future ministries.

Yesterday was a really exciting day for all of us. Being licesnsed in the Cathedral was special because it becomes another event alongside all the many other new beginnings and occasions which have happened there. It is a magnificant building and centuries worth of prayer and worship have taken place within it's walls. We had all been there before during our residential weekends and many of us feel a special connection with the Cathedral.

The night before licensing felt a little like the night before my wedding - you know that the next day is going to be a "landmark" day within your life, to be marked by both solemnity and celebration; a day which signifies a new start.

My train journey from Crawley to Chichester was a chance for final thoughts, prayers and reflection before the licensing. And also for moments of panic as I needed to make a phone call and had to top up my credit but couldn't get a signal whilst on the train!

On arrival at the Cathedral we were directed to the Vicar's Hall where we were served  welcome tea, coffee and biscuits before being asked to put our robes and blue Reader scarves on for photographs. It takes a while to get used to the robes and even the scarf feels heavy when you first put it on, but you soon start to "inhabit" them and after a while they start to feel comfortable and certainly in my case I did feel very much as if I belonged in them, or perhaps I should say they belong on me! The sun shone brightly down and we all struggled to not close our eyes for the photos.

Next we had a rehearsal in the Cathedral, where we found our seats and skimmed through the Order of Service. Then it was lunch time. Most of us were too excited and a little nervous to eat a lot, but the soup, rolls and chocolate brownies were delicious and would keep me going for the afternoon. We enjoyed catching up with each other and various others who were supporting us over the meal.

After lunch we put our robes back on and were led to the Bishops Chapel were we had to read out our Declarations of Assent, the Church's documents which  have to be read and signed before we are licensed. They are to ensure that we will use only certains forms of service and stick to correct practices and proceedures as laid down by the church. They refer to historic formularies and I believe as much as anything they will ensure we won't for example start preaching that the world is going to end by Christmas or other wacky or obscure messages! That done, there were a few moments for quiet prayer and reflection before going into the Cathedral and getting ready for the proccession in which the Bishop, The Wardens for Readers, and various other Priests, Deacons and Readers all take part. Again, there was a similar feeling as at a wedding - the organ began playing and we all began singing the first hymn as we processed through the Cathedral, which was packed with people there to support us - families, friends and people from all our churches. It was overwhelming to see so many people there celebrating with us and we soon spotted people we knew, smiling and waving until we eventually arrived at the front of the Cathedral and took our seats for the licensing. The service itself was a moving occasion, with appropriate hymns, prayers and readings. There were serious moments as we answered the questions put to us by the Bishop during our Admission and Licensing and moments of joy and praise as we sung hyms and joined in prayer with hundreds of others present. We also shared in Eucharist (Holy Communion), the sharing of bread and wine in rememberance of Christ's death and resurrection. I enjoy watching people go up to receive communion - people of all ages, from all walks of life. Members of my own family, a special friend carefully carrying her baby grandaughter and friends from church among them. Babies and children are blessed, wine drank and bread eaten. More hymns were sung during the Eucharist, including one about God's calling for people to go out and share his love and serve those in need. The refrain: Here I am Lord. Is it I Lord? I have heard you calling in the night. I will go Lord. If you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart.
After final prayers, blessing and dismissal we processed out of the cathedral, singing the final hymn as we left. Outside we continued to sing, then gathered with Bishop Mark for another photograph (Note to self: Smile with mouth shut for photos in future!) After more informal photos with friends and families some of us continued our celebrations over drinks across the road before heading home after a truly amazing day.

Closing Ceremony Online "Party".

Our family always enjoy sitting down together to watch events of major importance - Royal Occasions, Sporting Events, Concerts. When our daughter was younger, as much as anything it was a good excuse to ignore the housework piling up around me and enjoy an uninterrupted two hours respite in front of the telly. Now she's older and wants to stay up. "Why's it on so late?" I ask my facebook friends. And as my cousin in Canada points out, it's a world event and it's not late for him, it's the middle of the afternoon. And he's right. Britain may have hosted the Olympics for just over two weeks, but that does not make us the Centre of the Universe! So we settle down in front of the TV, drinks to hand. What I love about these events now is that as well as watching the event itself, myself, family and friends are all online together, discussing the acts and proceedures as they happen. It's a wonderful online party, which I'm sharing with my friends who don't know each other and may well never meet and frineds of friends, some of whom I almost feel I know. Most of the usual suspects and a few new ones are online waiting for the event to begin. Whatever criticisms people may have of social networking, used well it really brings people together. The ceremony begins. After weeks of debate about sponsors, security, how women are portrayed etc, etc,  Daughter is in critical mode and starts questioning the authenticity of the medals themselves - "They look like chocolate gold coins..." I point out that they would have melted by now. A friend says they would break their teeth on them if they tried to eat them. How did I manage to bring up such a cynical child?! Next Prince Harry is up for debate! Are we sure he's really a Prince, he dosn't even look like any of the others?! I'm beginning to think it's a miracle she believes in God, but I'm glad she does. As the athletes are shown proudly displaying their medals I pick up on the excitement and almost wish I was among them, which is hilarious, as I can't even run for the bus without getting out of breath. An obscure singer is onstage. "Who's that?" some of us are wondering in bewilderment. "Elbow" a friend of a friend informs us. After what appears to be a delivery of some fridges, the entertainment continues. We all amuse each other with various comments about who is singing and wonder why the lighbulb hats - anyone know?! I love the diversity in our different tasts of music, which is sometimes gererational - it occurs to me that our age group are reminiscent of my Mum slagging off T-Rex in the '70s, having grown up in the days before 'pop' as we know it. We start wondering if this is what we really, really want as the Spice Girls dance about on top of their taxis. I decide that as the mother of a ten year old that on the whole their lyrics would be far more appropriate for her age group than other some of the other "music" which is frequently pushed towards them by the media. So I sing along to "Wannabee" while she sleeps soundly on the sofa. I'm transported back to the mid 1990s and good memories of my home town, which continues when Oasis appear as well, how wonderful is that?! The sleepy ten year old's not gonna be impressed at missing Jessie J, but a friend is recording the whole thing so she can watch it soon. Howard's unimpressed by the clothes worn for the 'Mod set' - where's the long green jacket or suit? He starts browsing mod gear on ebay on his laptop and eventually is also fast asleep. Why am I the only one in this family with any staying power? Jessie's back again, with 70s disco and then alongside Queen, which some of my friends find unbelievable and not in a good way. But I can't help feeling that while others of her generation will have fizzled out within a few years, Jessie's gonna be up there with the greats in 30 year's time.  Getting close to the end. The handover is worrying, from a health & safety perpective, surely they shouldn't be waving the flags so close to the flames?! It all looks amazing though and I have enjoyed it all, even singing along to songs I wouldn't normally play at home. A good time had by all & great fun sharing it all with friends elsewhere. Online Paralympic Ceremony Party, anyone?

Ridin' into Town.

Having had three small successful rides around the local roads, I  decided it was time to venture further afield. My daughter and I decided we are ready for the next big challenge. The Ride into Town. So we aim to get up and out of the house early (well, just after 10am). We prepare a rucksack with essentials for our journey. Purse - check. Phone - check. Keys - check. Diabetes management kit & snacks, check. Headache tablets & plasters, check. Sunglasses & cycle helmets - check. The rucksack's all packed up, and with the build up I am putting into this occasion, you would think we were going off- roading in some particularly hazardous countryside. In reality we are going along a cycle path which we join at the end of our road and leave at the town centre. It's a fairly flat ride with one or two slopes and the subway. But it is our first time out without another adult and it feels like a big adventure. I decide to be brave about the subway slopes and stay on the bike going both down and up, using the pavement for the uneven bits, which they really should fix. We peddle like mad in the subways then make it quite easily up into the middle, down into the second subway and up the otherside. It's easy - in fact a lot more easy than getting off and pushing. I've decided if I don't want my daughter to be a wuss about these things I'm not going to be one either. The rest of the journey is straightforward. The cycle track runs in between the bus lane and the pavement. Whoever planned this has done a really great job as everyone can get safely into town in their own space. It's quite a busy road and there's no way I would attempt it without the cycle lanes. We cross at several lots of traffic lights, arrive safely in town, ride through the park and I grapple locking both bikes and helmets up at the cycle park. Sounds daft, but these things are all new to me. "You won't forget the code, will you Mum?" says my daughter anxiously. The code is easy to remember. I walk away from our bikes feeling like a bona fida cyclist rather than a bag of nerves on wheels as I would have done a few years ago. The ride back goes well too and we have saved £6.00 on bus fare between us. I don't think I'm ever gonna make the Olympics but I'm proud of  my acheivements.

On My Bike!

I've got my bike! No time like the present, so we decide to go out for a ride straight away. I put on my safety helmet and we adjust the seat, which comes up to my waist! We plan our route - nothing too ambitious for my first ride, along the brook to the garden centre for a coffee then back again. I practice by riding up and down the road. Suddenly I feel 10 years old again, riding around the estate on the boy-next-door's bike which had 1 white and 1 black wheel. Luckily our road is a cul-de-sac. People only drive down here if they live here or visit people who live here. So there's no traffic and I feel confident. Then off we go down to the brook.I almost collide with someone's conifers then when we arrive at the brook I really focus on trying to avoid the brook on one side and stinging nettels on the other. This great, I love it! My daughter amazes me with her own skills. She's so confident on her own bike now and whizzes along happily, stopping occasionally to make sure I'm OK. We pass some pedestrians and I ride confidently past them. Years ago I would have stopped until they had gone past. We at the garden centre and enjoy coffee while daughter has an ice lolly before cycling home. Now I'm working out new routes and thinking of how much bus fare I'll save as the cycle paths go all the way into town. I love my bike and can't wait to get out there again!

Omnipod Update

It's been 5 days now since our daughter first got her omnipod. And I have to say it's amazing! Her blood tests results have improved phenomenally and not having to inject any more is wonderful. On Sunday we changed the pod (which lasts for 3 days). This was a simple process. We had a slight mishap on Monday when she climbed a tree in a nearby park and manage to knock the pod off, but she came home and we put on a new one. I was surprised it came off as the rep had assured us people play all sorts of sports including rugby and they normally stay put! This did remind me of the importance of the need to carry a spare pod and insulin if we ever go any distace away from home. But after 8 years we are used to carrying all sorts of diabetes management kit around, so that's not really an issue. Apart from that one incident it's going well so far and our daughter has adapted well to the new system and is confident in using it herself with supervision. Result!

On Yer Bike

Today was another first. I've been thinking for a while I'd like to get more exercise. I'm not really a sporty person although I do enjoy Aquafit sometimes. The rest of the family enjoy cycling and them and some friends have been suggesting for a while that I might like to join them. I've been thinking I might not as I am a little nervous of being in control of anything on wheels (well, apart from a shopping trolley). But riding along the brook on a lovely sunny day does have it's appeal, as does the idea of feeling a little fitter. True, I've not cycled for around 6 years and hate cycling in traffic, but there are lots of cycle paths and wide pavements around here. And I did OK at Centre Parcs, so why not give it a try? So off we go to the bike shop. Apart from the kiddie's ones all the bikes looked huge, with massive wheels and the ground looked a long way from the seat. I begin to have doubts about this idea. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this yet...." I mumble. As my Howard my husband points out, "If you're not ready now, you'll never be ready." He replys. "How about a folding bike?"
Folding bike??? No way on earth! It might fold while I'm riding it. We look at some others and eventaully find some with pink & mauve painted frames. Obviously the ladies bikes. "Ask If you can try one" says Howard. What, and wobble all over the shop making myself look stupid in front of the assistant who looks possibly young enough to be my son. "Don't worry, they're used to people like you" (whatever that means)! We asked the assistant.
"I'll be with you in a minute, just got to find my stapler," he says, looking all round for it, eventually finding it and stapling whatever it was that needed stapling. We asked if I could try some of the bikes, which were all connected together by a cable for security reasons. "OK, just got to find the alarm key" Don't they know where anything is in this shop? Meanwhile, our daughter is busy trying on cycle helmets and finds a nice white one with flowers on for £30.00. The assistant eventually finds the key and gets out one of the bikes I want to try. "This one? It needs tightening, just got to find my spanner." They really don't know where anything is. Once that's been done I sit astride the bike and peddle with my feet on the ground to a wider space. I need a lot of space in order to balance for long enough to get both feet on the peddles at once and don't want to crash into the deplays of cycle helments and reflective clothing. After a few failed attempt I get both feet on and cycle the length of the shop. This is fun!! Suddenly my fears are gone and I can't wait to get out & along the brook, into town or anywhere really. I try to have a sensible conversation with the assistant about how I might need to hire the seat after I become more confident, while daughter messes about standing behind a flourescent jacket pulling silly faces in the background. The assistant tries to sell us a warrenty "Puncture repair as often as you need for £30.00 for year" As Howard points out, a puncture repair kit costs £1.00 in the Pound Shop. We decline. Surely even I won't manage 30 punctures in a year. Then we choose a cycle helmet. The two she likes are white with pretty flowers for £30.00 or a white one with a smashed skull with blood pouring out of it for £19.99. We opt for the pretty flowery one and leave. My bike's being delivered tomorrow!

The First Day.... No More Needles!

Today was a significant day for our family. Eight years ago, shortly after her second birthday our daughter was diagnosed with Class 1 diabetes. So for the last eight years she has been using insulin injections to control her blood sugar levels. We have recently been exploring the possibility of using a pump which automatically issues the insulin - no more injections! After doing some research online and discussing our daughter's needs with our healthcare professionals we attended a session which included a demonstration of the Omnipod. Our daughter was gripped by the concept and we were very proud of her as she asked lots of intelligent questions. She was full of enthusiasm and wanted to try the Omnipod as soon as she could. A few days ago it arrived in the post much to our excitement. Today we went back to the hospital and for a hands on session, learning how to load the pod with insulin, set up the monitor and finally use it. The pod sticks onto her skin by adhesive and delivers insulin by wireless when you programme the amount needed into the monitor. So there are no tubes and the pod is quite small and can even be worn during sport or swimming. Even I can understand it and I'm not too good with anything technical! This evening at home we programmed it ourselves before our evening meal. Later we will test her blood sugar levels and see how things are going. This is an exciting new start for us all and I hope and pray that it will go smoothly and keep her sugar levels under good control. NO MORE NEEDLES!