Walking Thoughts

  Ann was robbed of her teddy bear who had been her life long support as she lay dying in the hospice at thorpe Hall. Ann was not given her medication for her bipolar disorder so her last two weeks were marked by the return of her suffering from bipolar without the balancing effect of her lithium medication. Ann died in a shared room.  The other woman in the room died first. This was most distressing for Ann, As it brought home the reality that she was to die herself very soon. Ann Experienced this distress without the buffer of her lithium, so she experienced it with the full force of her bipolar. This was very distressing for everyone, For Ann, and for me. Ann was sedated on ketamine for the last 2 1/2 weeks of her life. So ann died of starvation under sedation, Not of the cancer which was killing her. She died without her beloved bear, Donald, Without the MEDS that controlled her bipolar disorder, And without food. That is why I do not support the sue ryder hospice at Thorp...

  I make this biography for my mum. Could you make a similar biography for Dorothy L Sayers That's a lovely format. It reads almost like a museum exhibition panel—concise enough to absorb quickly, but detailed enough to tell the story of a life. Dorothy L. Sayers deserves exactly that treatment because her life was every bit as interesting as one of her mysteries. Here's a version in the same style and chronology. Dorothy L. Sayers Author Scholar Playwright Translator 1893 BORN    AGE 0 Born on  13 June 1893  in Oxford, England, the only child of the Rev. Henry Sayers and Helen Mary Sayers. Raised in the rectory at Bluntisham, Cambridgeshire, Dorothy received an unusually broad education for a girl of her generation, learning French, Latin and music from an early age. 1912 OXFORD UNIVERSITY    AGE 19 Dorothy won a scholarship to Somerville College, Oxford, where she studied Medieval French. Although she completed her degree with first-class honours in 1915, Oxford did not...

  While on a week’s leave I read  Surrounded by Idiots. I hoped   it might explain why, every now and then, I leave work wondering if I've accidentally wandered onto the set of a sitcom. The book's answer is both simple and valuable: we're not surrounded by idiots at all. We simply communicate differently. What feels obvious to one person may never occur to another because we process information in different ways. That insight genuinely helped me. But it also made me realise something else. Musing on it I realised my frustration wasn't entirely about communication;  the feeling of being "surrounded by idiots" can have several different causes. Communication style is one. But so are differences in conscientiousness, curiosity, experience, the willingness to think critically, and the confidence to speak up. Recognising which of those is at play helps me respond better - and be fairer to the people around me. And sometimes it's something different altogether:...

  For most of my life, anxiety has silently accompanied me. At school, it stopped me putting my hand up in class. At university, it forced me to forego tutorials. Throughout my career, it limited networking opportunities, held me back from conversations I wanted to have, and required me to be more resourceful and diligent to deliver the same results and ambitions. Outside work, it narrowed the travel, adventure and exploration I imagined for myself. For years I viewed anxiety only as something that limited my life and took things away. Lately, I've started asking a different question. What if, alongside its costs, anxiety has also shaped some of my greatest strengths? Because when you've spent a lifetime noticing who feels uncomfortable, you become very good at seeing the people others miss - or dismiss. In meetings, I consciously leave space for quieter voices. When I'm leading teams, workshops or projects, I try to hear from the people who haven't yet spoken - not bec...

  Tomorrow would have been my mum Ann's 80th birthday. Ann arrived in 1946, into a Britain that was still busy putting itself back together with optimism, tea, and an alarming amount of concrete. She was raised in her grandfather's house on what was then the largest public housing estate in the country. To those who had come from London's poorest streets, it might as well have been a palace. Not because it had chandeliers - although a reliable indoor toilet can sometimes feel like one, but because it represented something almost magical: the belief that ordinary people deserved decent homes. Three generations lived beneath that roof, together with enough relatives to ensure that nobody's business remained exclusively their own. Her grandfather had served in the First World War. Her father's own father never came home and still lies in Gaza over a century later. Her father lived separately with his mother until Ann was fourteen, when the family were reunited in new s...

  Yesterday, I went to Letchworth WRC it took me back to the place where I had my first job after graduation. Fairfield Hospital was a psychiatric hospital and my role as a medical administrator was to support the team of psychiatrists psychologists and psychiatric nurses. It introduced me to symptoms, diagnosis and treatment plans for mental health. I also encountered the social and personal cost of living with a mental illness. I met with the patients both on the ward as part of their Treatment plans but also socially with those that had freedom outside of the secure ward. When I last visited the area To implement predictive maintenance local pumping stations found that the hospital had become a health club. Yesterday, I was visiting to implement The first phase of capital delivery for environmental protection. And the area again has grown with large housing development. He just gave me so much food for fought for my professional and personal journey. What was your first job and ...