Depression in the news

The tragic death of the Wales football mamager, Gary Speed, last weekend brought depression into the limelight.

Now I don't intend to speculate on any individual case, but some of what I read online over the next few days both encouraged and upset me because I think it generalised too much. 'Talk to someone' was the general mantra being bandied about the social media. Now I have no argument with this, CBT and counselling are widely and successfully used in mental health treatment and the Samaritans do a fantastic job. It would be wonderful if everyone with depression could confide in a friend or family member and be gently pointed towards the doctor as a starting point for timely and appropriate treatment.

But real life isn't like that. In real life a person who is clinically depressed or experiencing other mental health symptoms may internalise their pain and confusion to such an extent that they are unable to open up to anyone. In real life a seriously depressed person may be clinging onto everyday life with such success that their true condition is not obvious to even close family and friends. Most of us have an impression of a clinically depressed person as being unable to get out of bed and unable to function, but it isn't always like that. In real life depression can cause paranoia, even psychosis, and can be part of another disorder. In real life medication handed out readily by doctors can, in rare cases, actually make the depressed patient suicidal. And there are significant waiting times to see a psychiatrist on the NHS even after a referral has been made.

So yes, if you suspect someone is depressed encourage them to talk. But if someone is, or appears to be, having suicidal thoughts get emergency help for them. A visit to Accident and Emergency will enable a proper assessment to be made and can be a fast track into psychiatric services. It doesn't necessarily mean that the patient will be hospitalised, as if needed there are intensive crisis services operating in the community nowadays. But it might just save a life.

This week in London

I've lived in London for nearly 30 years and this week, for probably the first time, I was ashamed of my adopted city.

I'm sure there will continue to be be many inquests about what happened and why, but nothing can excuse the behaviour we've all witnessed in the media. The furniture store in Croydon, owned by the same family for nearly 150 years, razed to the ground. Young men clambering over roofs in Peckham (I believe). Not, as I first thought, to vandalise the buildings but to escape a ferocious fire raging in a shop below. A woman jumping from a window to escape flames. A young student, recently arrived in this country, physically attacked but then mugged by men who seemed to be offering him assistance. The video went viral but I find it just too distressing to offer a link. Looters stripping stores bare and running off with expensive trainers and electrical goods. Small shopkeepers staring at the wreckage of their livelihoods in tearful disbelief, families left homeless.

My husband worked in Camden for many years and we've both lived in Hackney. We know those boroughs well. Their quirky charm comes along with all the usual problems of inner city areas, but we've seen nothing on this scale before. The police seemed to be initially caught off guard when trouble kicked off in Tottenham and there was a total lack of political leadership in London for a few days. It is truly scary and saddening that the violence and looting spread so quickly to other areas and other cities in apparent copycat actions.

But some good has come out of it. The subsequent use of social media, not to incite riot but to organise clean-up operations, was impressive. Communities are pulling together and, thank goodness, the race card is not being played much. Perhaps the most impressive and moving response so far was the dignified speech yesterday by Tariq Jahan the father of one of the young men fatally mowed down whilst protecting their community in Birmingham.

Here in our borough there was heavy policing from Monday evening onwards. Shops and leisure destinations were closed early and I believe the main tube station was shut for a while. Any attempts at causing trouble in the town centre were peacefully repelled. We've had a lucky escape so far but the week has left a very nasty taste and an undercurrent of fear.

Tragedies

This weekend has been full of sadness.

We watched the news in horror as heartwrenching photos of dying children in Somalia were replaced by those of a bombing and a massacre in Norway. At present the death toll is 93, most of them adolescents attending a camp. As the mother of teens I can barely comprehend the enormity of this tragedy and its aftermath, it almost seems disrespectful to even write about something which will have such profound repercussions for so many families and my heart goes out to them.

Then there was the death of Amy Winehouse yesterday and as soon as it was announced the social media started to buzz about her well-documented issues. Some people had little sympathy for her. But in amongst this I started to think about her family, about how helpless they must have felt over the last years. Because addiction, whether to a substance or a person, is a destructive illness and like most mental health issues it is not something you can switch off at will, even with the best professional input. This seems to be a point missed by many. I know from personal experience that caring for and about someone with a mental health problem, knowing that there is little you can do to help, is one of the hardest things. We don't yet know the exact cause of Amy's death, but addiction and despair can hit anyone and they are certainly reflected in Amy's music.

So I don't think yesterday was, as some have complained, about the perceived value of one famous life over many young ones. It shouldn't be about glamourising or demonising addiction either. It should be about remembering both the numerous young lives lost before they'd hardly begun and a tremendous talent who will never be forgotten.

On the royal wedding day

I drafted a blog post this morning, when I wasn't intending to watch the royal wedding. I'd got rather fed up with the build up and how it took over the media, when there are so many other important things going on in the world. And those of us old enough to remember the nuptials of Charles and Diana in 1981 know that a fairytale wedding is no guarantee of a happy ending.

But somehow I got sucked in. I was in charge of Son 2 this morning and there is no way he would let me turn over from CBeebies, so I tried to watch the wedding online. I tried the BBC, ITV, Sky News and the Royal Channel on YouTube, but every feed broke up, so I only watched a few minutes at a time. But it was enough to see Kate arriving at the Abbey and to admire her classy dress. I heard little of the vows, but I saw them walk back down the aisle, William looking elated as if, right to the last minute, he really hadn't expected her to actually go through with it. I saw the carriages and the crowds, the balcony appearance and the fly past. I smiled at the relative simplicity of their going away, which I only caught due to feedback on Twitter. It somehow reminded me of how Hubby and I simply walked away from our own wedding reception.

I wasn't expecting to get so involved, but I've lived in London for nearly 30 years and these occasions are what London does so well. The Brits are perhaps some of the best in the world at putting on and appreciating pageantry and if it raises our profile and attracts more tourists to these shores it can't be all bad. Just don't expect one happy day to make things right. It didn't cure a recession in 1981 and it won't now.

And the blog post I originally drafted? I'll save it for another day.

Authors for Japan

I've known Keris Stainton online for several years now and have been constantly inspired by both her writing and her enthusiasm. So I shouldn't have been surprised when she felt compelled to do something to help alleviate the current suffering in Japan following the earthquake and tsunami.

But what she has achieved in just a few days is mind-blowing. Authors for Japan is an auction where readers can bid for signed books, manuscript critiques and even the chance to have a character named after them in an author's next book. Some items will appeal especially to writers, others to anyone who loves books. All the above, and many more goodies, have been donated by the huge number of authors of adult and children's/young adult books who responded to Keris' plea for help.

Authors for Japan is currently listing 150 items. Bidding starts at 8am GMT today (15th March) and will end at 8pm GMT on Sunday 20th, full details of how to bid are on the website. All proceeds are to go to the British Red Cross Japan Tsunami Appeal.

What are you waiting for?

Feeling grateful

The last few weeks have been difficult, to say the least. On top of the ongoing financial worries, we are having to start planning for son 2's future, for a change which will be very difficult for all of us. As might be expected in these uncertain times the goalposts keep moving and we fully expect that to be the case for the next two and a half years. As part of the process we have had to open up our home and our lives to the scrutiny of social services, something which is never easy, even though we have nothing to hide and indeed got praise for what we have achieved with son 2.

But sitting here in front of the BBC News Channel, watching pictures of the tsunami sweeping in across Japan and listening to warnings for the whole Pacific area, I realise that for all the difficulties that the UK is facing at the moment, we have so much to be grateful for.

My thoughts are with everyone affected by the earthquake in Japan and the tsunami.

On libraries

A few months ago I had lunch with an old schoolfriend who happens to be a librarian. We see each other rarely, but almost as soon as we sat down at the table she was keen to ask me whether I use my local library.

The answer was yes, but in a different way to a few years ago. We are lucky to have a very local library which is small, but modern, cosy and well-stocked, particularly in comparison to a larger library further down the road which I've always found somewhat uninspiring. I enjoy going to our library to read and research, but I realised that it is so long since I borrowed a book that I'm not even sure where my library card is. I tried to justify why this might be.

I think I stopped borrowing fiction when son 2 was small, when he had an uncontrollable compulsion to tear up any books and I had difficulty snatching even a moment to read due to his challenging behaviour. Another reason is that for many years our income was good enough to be able to buy books without really thinking twice. As I tended to purchase faster than I can read, the stockpile of paperbacks will keep me going in these more difficult times. And now, of course, I have a Kindle and I am buying books for that.

But I've continued to use the library as a place to work for a couple of hours when I need to get out of the house, a place to research or just to sit and read, especially children's fiction now my own boys are grown up. I love that the library offers not only books but also internet access to those who do not have them. My elderly father, who will probably never have a computer at home, has recently put his name down for a computer course at his local library. He just wants to be able to occasionally look things up on the internet in the library, where help is at hand for a technophobe.

Libraries are still a valuable resource, even if their services sometimes seem to need a little tweaking to keep up with changing communities and times. Whilst waiting for an appointment I recently spent a few minutes in another branch, situated in a community centre alongside a cafe run by people with learning disabilities. Easy access to a library and food and drink. What more could you ask?

So when I just read this post by Nicola Morgan I found myself nodding in agreement. We need libraries to give equal access to learning and culture. We need them to help encourage our young children to read through their activity sessions and to provide a space for older children to do their homework in peace. We need libraries to provide large-print and audiobooks for the disabled. We need them to serve whole communities, perhaps linked in somehow with the teaching of English as a second language. We need them to broaden our own reading horizons.

There have been a lot of (often justified) complaints about the state of literacy and education in this country. How on earth is closing libraries going to help?

(For anyone who knows where I live, I'm not aware of any planned library closures here, they seem to be cutting library staff jobs instead by increasing automation. But a neighbouring borough is apparently due to close up to 50% of its libraries and it is a nationwide issue.)

A ray of light in the gloom

Time is running away again. The to-do list is growing, I seem to add several things every week but feel happy if I can cross just one item off. And now it's half term again. Where did those six weeks go?

Last week the doom and gloom of the economic crisis, both national and personal,was temporarily lifted by the rescue of the 33 miners who'd been trapped underground in Chile for 69 days. I shed tears at each and every emergence I watched on the news channel. Thinking I was stupid and, it has to be said, hormonal, I turned to Twitter where I found many others were doing the same. It was a triumph of hope over adversity, caught for posterity in pitch perfect media coverage.

I'm not writing much right now. But I am researching, looking at photos and reading about some pivotal movements in twentieth century history, trying to integrate hope and despair into the new novel. The coverage of the miners brought home both emotions in such an immediate and visual manner that I felt inspired.

And now back to work, it's going to be hard enough to snatch time to write during the next two weeks of school holiday...

Post-election musing

So we did our civic duty and voted, knowing perhaps that none of the options were what we really wanted. And we are left with one big mess, it appears.

On a local level, I'm happy that our MP was re-elected and control of our local council has changed. I'm also happy that the neighbouring electorate delivered a resounding verdict on one of the worst expenses cheats.

But I fear for the future, for the services that we, our elderly parents and our children will one day need. I fear that son 1, who voted for the first time with such enthusiasm, is already becoming disillusioned.

I have no idea what the solution to the mess will be and I don't think the politicians do either.

First time politics

Don't worry, I'm not going all party political on you. In fact it's just a quick post as our internet connection isn't good at the moment and often won't let more than one computer online at a time. In fact I'm having to use my mobile broadband dongle (why does that word always make me snigger?) to get online now, as both the boys are home.

But I thought it was worth noting that Son 1, who is eligible to vote for the first time ever, is showing an intelligent interest in the election. As Son 1 is not a great reader (I know, I know, we tried our best), the reason for this is, I'm sure, the televised leaders' debates. Son 1 has watched them with us. He has been intelligent enough to form his own views and independently remarked on last Friday morning's biased print media response to the previous night's debate.

If he has become this engaged by the TV debates I wonder how many of the other young first-time voters have done the same and what difference, if any, this will make?

Ashes to ashes

Watching and reading reports about the travel chaos caused by the cloud of volcanic ash from Iceland, I have been forcibly reminded why we just don't travel with Son 2 nowadays.

I used to love to travel. I've even lived abroad for a while. But anyone who travels regularly will know that from time to time difficulties will be encountered in the form of delays, breakdowns, missed connections or even, as in this case, a totally unpredictable 'act of God'.

Over the years I've had my own share of travel difficulties. A missed connection in Germany while travelling alone at the age of 17 necessitated spending hours on Cologne station in the dead of night. A broken-down plane enforced an extra 24 hours in Hong Kong when all hotels were fully booked and the airline tried to book us into a brothel. A delayed ferry meant ultimately spending an uncomfortable night on Victoria Coach Station. And of course there have been many more frustrations in the form of traffic jams and vehicle breakdowns.

But Son 2 couldn't cope with any of that. Like many people with autism he needs life to be totally predictable, because he has a constant high level of anxiety. There is nothing he loves better than the security of home and he just doesn't 'do' holidays. If he is stressed and unhappy, we are stressed.

For years we did go on holiday, because we are lucky enough to have family living by the sea in a beautiful part of the country. But for the last few years staying in that sort of 'home from home' has not been possible, so we have stayed here.

Of course, not all people with autism are like Son 2 and I have friends who do travel successfully with their autistic offspring. But trips have to be planned like a military operation and recent events have left me wondering how they would cope if stranded abroad by a flight ban, or cooped up in a stalled Eurostar train for hours on end.

Perhaps I am being overly negative in worrying about such things. But I used to return from even our straightforward trips with Son 2 feeling mentally and physically ill from the stress of trying to prevent him doing damage or escaping the building. It was never, ever a holiday for me.

Frankie Boyle - social media strikes again

I've held back from blogging about this for a few days, because it's a subject upon which I know that, due to my family circumstances, I might not always be objective. But having given it thought over the weekend, I'm now sure about where I stand.

On Thursday morning I logged into my Twitter feed to find that a blog post was being retweeted. I duly read the post and was horrified.

We have watched Mock the Week for a long time and I'm well aware of Frankie Boyle's humour. He is the sort of comedian who takes his material right to the boundary of bad taste and often beyond it. Sometimes he makes me laugh a lot, but just as often he makes me squirm in discomfort. So I wasn't really surprised to read that he thinks that making a string of jokes about people with Down's Syndrome is acceptable. That laughing about people who will almost certainly neither understand the jokes or be able to fight back is acceptable. To me it is definitely not.

But perhaps what shocked me most of all was the way he treated the blogger and her husband, the fact that he said he didn't 'give a f*ck' that his material had upset her, even after she had calmly explained why.

The power of Twitter worked, as it did in the case of Jan Moir's remarks about Stephen Gately. The story was soon picked up by the mainstream media. India Knight wrote an excellent column in yesterday's Sunday Times. A blogger who just wanted to make sense of a confusing situation was plummeted into a media whirl she neither wanted nor expected. But hopefully it has made at least a few people think.

I wonder if Frankie Boyle gives a f*ck now?

Poetry Live for Haiti

For anyone in or near London, who hasn't already heard about this event on 30th January, these are the details as sent out by The Poetry Society:

The Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy and Poetry Live have invited 20 of our leading poets to perform at Westminster Central Hall on Saturday January 30th 2010 at 2.30pm in a fundraising event for the people of Haiti.

Poets include Carol Ann Duffy, Roger McGough, Andrew Motion, John Agard, Dannie Abse, Brian Patten, Gillian Clarke, Imtiaz Dharker, Grace Nichols, Elaine Feinstein, Daljit Nagra, Ian Duhig, Lachlan Mackinnon, Owen Sheers, Glyn Maxwell, Jo Shapcott, Robin Robertson, Colette Bryce, Maura Dooley and Robert Minhinnick, along with the musicians John Sampson and Andy Roberts.

Tickets are £10. Telephone 01497 822629 or go to www.poetryliveforhaiti.org to book tickets.

Tickets will be available at the door on the day for cash only.

All proceeds will go to the Disasters Emergency Committee’s Haiti Earthquake Appeal.

More on Haiti

I've just read this and found it very moving.

When words are not enough...

Sometimes things happen which change our view of life.

They make us appreciate that the things which annoy us about this country are not so troublesome after all, that we have so much, when others have nothing. They make us appreciate our lives, whatever sadnesses we may have.

Although I'd obviously heard of Haiti, I have to admit that until last week I knew nothing about it, geography never having been my strong point at school. Now I feel I know almost more than I want to about a nation which is suffering so badly. For every triumphant rescue of a child, there are countless losses of life and unless food, water and shelter are urgently provided, there will be many, many more.

Please, if you can, donate something to help the survivors of the devastating earthquake in Haiti.

Just so you know...

...last weekend I finally fell out of love with musical reality TV.

Yes, I'm talking about The X Factor. Now I'm not stupid. I've always known that these programmes are about manipulating the public. Sometimes, of course, the public like to get their own back. Remember Gareth and Will? The first series of Pop Idol produced possibly the most successful reality winner in the UK, but it wasn't the one Simon Cowell wanted.

This year, however, The X Factor has just got nasty. The very personal insults thrown at Danyl by the judges and the press, from week one of the live shows. The whole Jedward phenomenon and the audience heckling of them every week. Simon Cowell's inexplicable actions last weekend.

Sometimes I think the judges (and audiences) forget that many of the contestants are just teenagers. None of them deserve the sort of crap they have been getting. The music business can be tough, but this is a baptism of fire.

Sadly, I bet I'll still watch it on Saturday, though possibly from behind my fingers. What I won't do is vote this year. Not even during the final.

The Berlin Wall

Seeing the television picture yesterday of the celebration to mark the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, reminded me of perhaps one of the most scary and foolhardy things I have ever done.

In 1981 I was 21 and studying in Northern Germany, along with two fellow students, as part of my degree. It was getting towards the end of the academic year and although we had done a lot of travelling, we hadn't been to Berlin. Two of us decided we had to go and booked train tickets and beds in the youth hostel (which was often fully booked). At the very last minute my friend caught a nasty virus and couldn't travel but, wanting to seize the moment, I decided to go alone.

We had often seen the fortified border between West and East Germany when travelling by train, but this would be the first time I had crossed it. The train stopped at a dedicated border crossing and heavily armed East German guards got on. They scrutinized passports thoroughly, with no discernible facial expression, then stayed on the train as it crossed the dreary East German countryside without another stop.

On arrival in West Berlin I could have been in London or Paris as I took in the shops, a modern art gallery, and McDonalds. But there was always the spectre of the huge wall, heavily graffitied on the Western side, which divided the city between communism and capitalism. The little museum at Checkpoint Charlie told of the fate of those who had tried to escape from East to West.

On my last day in West Berlin I decided to travel into East Berlin. On my own. Access was via the only underground station on the Eastern side of the wall which was still in use, and once again I had to go through rigorous passport control to be allowed a day visa. A mandatory amount of hard currency had to changed into the East German currency, Ostmarks, and this could not be brought back out of the country.

On finally getting out of the station I was shocked by how drab East Berlin was. Much of the architecture was of modern Soviet design, there were no advertising billboards and I could see no colourful paint. I headed towards the famous television tower and beneath it found a shop. I hoped to spend most of my Ostmarks but could find little to buy except a few dull postcards, because there were few consumer goods on the shelves. I then decided to walk towards the Brandenburg Gate, the big triumphal arch of Berlin which lay right beside the wall itself. But as I walked down Unter den Linden I felt my every move scrutinised by the armed guards patrolling the area. About halfway down the avenue I spotted a tiny bookshop in a side street and thought I could spend some more of my money. But the shop was full of Marxist propaganda rather than the East German literature I had hoped for. I bought a couple of pamphlets and a book of statistics about East German society and fled.

I was too frightened to go any further towards the Brandenburg Gate, so I turned back and headed towards the antiquities museum. On the way I passed soldiers goose-stepping scarily outside the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in the Neue Wache, which was then known as a Memorial to the Victims of Fascism and Militarism. It seemed that as a lone woman out on the almost empty streets I was very conspicuous and, even though I spoke German, I did not want any entanglement with armed guards.

Once inside the museum I felt a little safer. I spent some more Ostmarks on a guide book but still I had not got rid of all my currency. I was too scared to consider going into a restaurant, even if I could find one. In the end I decided I'd had enough. I walked back towards the underground station and found East German citizens outside, begging very discreetly. I handed my last change to one and dived inside the station, ready to go through the border patrol once again.

Getting back to the West was a huge relief, I have never in my life felt so vulnerable as I did that day. But I'm glad I did it, because I've never been back to Berlin and if I did now I would find a completely different city.

I don't have photos from East Berlin, I was too scared to take my camera in, but this blog shows pictures of the Berlin Wall in 1981, the very year I was there, and is almost exactly as I remember it. It also provides some interesting history so is well worth a read.

Hateful journalism

I never was particularly a fan of Boyzone. Like Louis Walsh's other band Westlife, they were wallpaper music to me. Never offensive, I liked a few of their songs, I even knew the names of at least some of the band members, but that was as far as it went. So when I heard of the sudden death last weekend of Stephen Gately I was sad, not so much because Stephen Gately himself had great meaning to me but because any death at the age of 33 is a tragedy.

So I was disgusted on Friday to be led, via lovely Twitter friend Keris, to the most odious piece of journalism I think I have ever read, written by Jan Moir in The Daily Mail. I was not the only person to feel disgusted by this piece of gutter journalism. Over 1000 complaints were made to the Press Complaints Commission (including mine). The PCC website crashed. At some point during the day the Mail changed the title of the piece from the original wording 'There was nothing 'natural' about Stephen Gately's death' and advertising on the web page was removed, presumably at the request of the advertisers who included Marks and Spencer.

So what was it about this piece which offended so much? Well it was clearly homophobic (though Jan Moir, in a subsequent statement full of self delusion has denied this). It was inaccurate. Yes, apparently healthy young men can just die suddenly, it is medically recognised as Sudden Adult Death Syndrome and such heart problems apparently ran in Gateley's family. It gratuously brought in the recent death (by suicide) of another young gay man who had been in the public eye but whose passing had nothing to do with Gately. The whole piece intruded on the dignified grief of family and friends and was even published the day before Stephen Gately's funeral.

I've been thinking a lot about journalism recently, because I am considering dipping my toe into the water of that area of writing. I know that writing for a paper or magazine is not as straightforward as it might look and opinion journalism must be particularly difficult. The challenge to find, on a weekly basis, something that will grab the attention of the public and sell papers, without offending a large minority must be difficult. But this piece managed to offend in so many ways and this was recognised by so many people. It is even being reported today that a complaint has been made to the Metropolitan Police.

We do, of course have free speech in this country, but the flip side of that is that those who express strong opinions in such a public fashion must be able to take the consequences of others also expressing their views by putting in formal complaints. This was no organised internet campaign, as Jan Moir suggests, but the result of a large number of people who were offended by her column taking action and discussing the issue online. The result of free speech in the digital age.

Let's hope it makes a difference. But don't hold your breath. One of the leading lights of the PCC is Paul Dacre, none other than the editor of The Daily Mail...

Normalising autism

I've just read this article and found myself nodding in agreement.

Autism is certainly much more acknowledged and much more diagnosed than it used to be, but services haven't kept up. We too will be faced with looking for an adult placement for son 2 in the next couple of years, and even now it is hard to see where he will fit in. He is severely autistic, but not as challenging as many and could be very vulnerable amongst bigger, more physical severely autistic adults. Yet at the same time he is nowhere near able enough to be amongst high functioning autistic people.

I'll stick my head back in the sand for another year and hope that services haven't had all their funding cut by the time I pull it back out again...

Say it in jewellery

I just love that Hazel Blears was wearing this brooch yesterday.
The lady has a sense of humour.