Stop’d Blog

I was a grammar school boy so am I in favour of selection?

November 24, 2016

In 1964 I was 10 and had moved to Colchester three years earlier with my parents. My brother, who was 4 years older than me, had passed his 11+ and had started at the ‘Royal Grammar School’. Now it was my turn to sit the dreaded exam.

I was in my last year at Old Heath Primary School which was situated in quite a mixed area of Colchester with about 80% council houses and 20% private. Each year the school produced a handful of children who passed the 11+ and went to one of the three local grammar schools, one mixed and the other two single sexed. The majority went to the local secondary modern, Wilson Marriage School, a school with a very poor reputation. Most children were lucky if they came away from there with a CSE or two and very few went on to any form of further education.

My parents were not the pushy type and, although they had just moved out of council accommodation in Bury St Edmunds to their own house in Colchester, they were not well off and it was a struggle for them for a number of years. In today’s terms they were JAMs (just about managing). They made no big deal of the 11+. They would be glad if I passed, but if I didn’t, ‘que sera, sera’.

It was me that wanted to pass. I desperately wanted to pass because the reputation of the tough lads that went to Wilson Marriage scared me witless. Their ‘gang’ was feared around the town, where rivalry amongst the secondary moderns as to who could be the toughest was rife.

Blue Tits

August 2, 2016

No sooner do we get two new cats than we realise that our bird box is regularly being visited by parents carrying food.

Desperate measures were used to make sure that the cats couldn’t climb up the tree, which is what they were trying to do.

Cardboard defences in place and we watched in awe of the two little birds, endlessly toing and froing with creepy crawlies.

Eventually a little beak was seen looking out to the big wide world.

Two days after the video was taken it had fledged. What a wonderful sight.

Cali & Desi

July 28, 2016

In January we said goodbye to our lovely old cat, Hermie or Hermione as she was really named. We adopted her 10 years ago when she was 6. She had been very arthritic for sometime and was getting quite frail. A very sad occurrence but, in many ways, better for her as she was beginning to suffer.

After about two minutes I realised that a house without a cat is not a complete house. So we started looking at the local cat rescue websites.

Did we want a kitten or an older cat? What colour should it be? All other similar questions were asked and left unanswered.

Eventually we narrowed it down to three, all on the RSPCA’s local website and we made appointments to see them.

This is why people hate insurance companies

March 10, 2016

It was a shock when we learned that my mother-in-law had terminal cancer and was not expected to live for much longer. Could be a few days or a few weeks the doctors said.

It got even worse when a few days later, as my wife was about to come home from the hospital in Norwich, someone backed into her rear bumper. Not too much damage – no one hurt – annoying, but as the car was still drivable, no real problem.

The priority was mum, but the insurance company were informed. They were all very nice and as it was a “no fault” claim suggested we went through a company that deals with ‘no fault’ claims as we could get a much better hire car than the one we were insured for.

We contacted the company and all went well. They were very obliging and agreed to have the hire car delivered the day before our car was taken to the garage so that my wife didn’t have to miss a day at the hospital.

All sorted.

Next day I went and picked up the hire car, a Ford Focus estate, and drove it home. The next day my wife would have a nice car to do the 200 mile round trip and our Mazda 6 would go in to be repaired.

Imagine how I felt when, later on, my wife phoned – she was in a terrible state – somebody else has driven into the back of her whilst she was stationary on the slip road between the A12 and the A14.

Again there was no injury and the ‘bump’ had only compounded the damage done by the first car. The Mazda was still drivable and my wife was OK, after the initial shock.

The funny thing was, both the cars who had bumped into her were insured by the same insurance company.

When she got home we phoned our insurers to give them the bad news.

Then ALL HELL LET LOOSE.

Cancer – Part 3 – Recovery

August 4, 2015

Well I have achieved my goal.

15 weeks ago I was in hospital having had my second major operation in the space of two months. Now I am just finishing a two week cruise onboard the Celebrity Eclipse, after touring the Baltic Sea having visited Germany, Estonia, Russia, Finland, Sweden and Denmark.

This cruise was booked last October when we were on the same ship cruising around the Canaries when I was in the best of health – or so I thought – and celebrating the end of my first year of being retired with our new-found friends from the USA. How things can change in such a short space of time.

Once I had left hospital and started my recuperation my goal was to get on this cruise ship and be well enough to enjoy the holiday. Tick. Achieved!

My fight with cancer – Part 2

May 10, 2015

I was on my way to hospital to face the biggest challenge of my life.

The pre operative assessment, including CT and MRI scans all looked very positive. The consultant reported that, after the chemo, there were few signs of the tumour and the lymph glands looked clear. All Was now set for the surgery.

On April 13^th I attended my local hospital for elective surgery. I love that term. It somehow implies that I am looking forward to going under the knife and it is totally my choice willingly to do so. The reality I know is that if I don’t the cancer is more than likely to return and carry on where it left off.

From this point on and for a number of days everything became surreal. Initially caused by fear and blind panic and then by copious amounts of morphine.

I had been well briefed by the consultant and the anaesthetist as to what to expect and what sort of pain I would be in but they hadn’t warned me about what was to happen as the bed I was in was pushed into the pre-operative room.

There stood two very large men, both masked, capped and gowned and one with an absolutely enormous syringe in his hand. I had entered a Hammer Horror movie and not even had a drop of the morphine yet.

Luckily I could still see the funny side of this and my humour was not numbed. “What sort of welcome is this”, I asked?