Tyranny of the Poppy?!

I have read several news articles recently that address the "tyranny of the poppy". Whilst I have sympathy with the view that no one should feel compelled to wear one on or around Remembrance Sunday, I do take offence at some of the 'reasons' given. Yes, originally it did refer to the sacrifice made during the First World War, but that does not nullify the relevance to any warfare since. No, it does not 'glorify' war nor only encourage remembrance of the victors - who can even use 'victor' when you see the roll call of the dead? Nor is it's message confined to the military, nor does it exclude certain sections of the population.

Is it really too much to reserve one day of the year for considering the failure that war is without such nonsense?

Sighting a poppy makes me think firstly of  my paternal grandfather. A man who lied about his age in order to join his pals in enlisting in the army as an infantryman during the first World War. A man who re-enlisted without waiting to be called from the reserve list during WW2 because he did not want to see a repeat of the poor leadership that saw so many die needlessly in the first. A man whose medals read like a battle list of both wars. A man who managed to return from both wars with his body largely intact when so many did not.

My second thought is the recall how chilled I was when I was first told that there are areas of Europe upon which crops still can not be grown due to the level of iron contamination in the soil from the blood of the fallen.

My third is nausea from the images recalled upon hearing the one of my uncles was amongst the first Allied troops to enter Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. What thoughts must he have had as he peered out of his armoured vehicle?

At some point the grainy images of the Falklands enter my head; troops marching, shells landing on ships, the eloquence of soldiers and civilians recalling events to reporters risking all to tell their story. The lump in my throat as I watched the footage of families welcoming their husbands and fathers home in Portsmouth.

I also recall all those who stay at home whilst their loved ones place themselves in harms way. I feel their anxiety, their sorrow, their joy, their sacrifice.

Papaver rhoeas

Dismembered by land mine

Vapourised by bomb blast

Lungs dissolved by gas

Crushed via drone strike

Gang-raped to bring her man to heel

Tortured for believing

Shot for cowardice

Derided for pacifism

...

How can anyone say the blood red of the poppy discriminates when war does not? Ed Poynter says it well in his modern war poem, "Equality in Afghanistan".

Patrolling an Afghan Poppy Field.

Equality in Afghanistan

I wait. Impassive. Neutral. Buried.

The goat ambles. Hungrily. Confidently. Hoping.
The child dashes. Clumsily. Warily. Hoping.
The woman steps. Wearily. Warily. Hoping.
The soldier treads. Softly. Warily. Hoping.

I wait. Impassive. Neutral. Buried.
They’re all the same to me...

Ed Poynter

UK Abortion Limit

The UK health secretary, Jeremy Hunt, has said that he backs halving the legal time limit for women to have abortions, from 24 weeks to 12.

Mr Hunt and others like him who have been advocating this change are doing so on the basis that babies are surviving at much shorter gestation periods than they were thanks to medical advances (and despite increasing evidence that such neonates will suffer a whole host of disadvantages for the rest of their lives). 

Sooner or later we are going to have to create a legal definition of abortion that ignores the potential viability of the foetus or revert to not permitting abortion. 

Advances in IVF techniques and in the care of premature babies mean the time is soon approaching whereby it is possible that the majority of foetuses will be viable outside of the mother's body. I foresee that there will also be the possibility to transfer a foetus form one woman's body to another successfully. Trying to set ethical abortion parameters for legality against this scientific background is going to be extremely difficult, especially if you add in the dogmatic vehemence of those who feel a woman has no right to terminate a pregnancy and muddy the debate with the views of those who do not understand the science. This combination is a sure recipe for setting impetuous legislation that may see the return of the horrors of the back street abortion and, perhaps, even violent demonstration. I am pessimistic at our avoiding this with reasoned, calm debate but I pray that we do.

Tribunal Outcome

Well, the tribunal found against me. I now do not qualify for :

~ Job Seekers Allowance as I'm not able to take any job
~ Employment Support Allowance as I'm not crippled enough under the revised rules and despite having been found to have limited capacity for work under the old rules.
~ Tax credits as I have too few hours work per week (I do 10 currently)
~ Any National Insurance (NI) contributions benefit as I'm not paying (or the DWP paying) NI as I don't earn enough
~ Any income based benefit as I have too many savings
~ Discount on my council tax as I have too many savings.
~ Any discount offered by private companies to the disabled as I can't prove I'm disabled.

I was in continuous employment from age 17 until 3.5 years ago (I'm now 48) and did all of my higher qualifications whilst working full time and, indeed, paying for my tuition myself and without any favourably priced loans available to me.

Now, tell me again, what was the benefit to me of living a responsible life? No wonder folk lie to the 'Social' and go on the rob!

Welfare Reform Act 2011's Impact

The Guardian newspaper published an article on the impact of the disability benefit cuts as enacted on the first of April under the Welfare Reform Act 2011 today. My comment was as follows :

I've had a broken joint in my spine for three years. It went a week after I was made redundant. The DWP were forced to accept I was disabled after my first tribunal. Now, my ESA of £128 per fortnight is gone as I have been like this more than a year and still have more than 16k in savings. Despite this, my claim is still open as the DWP continue to pay one's NI contributions. As the claim is open I still have to attend a second tribunal in a month's time in order to contest a second medical assessment's ruling that though disabled, having a broken spine does not affect my ability to work. Given that I was already in the "limited capacity for work" category, I failed to see how this ruling was arrived at. Apparently the criteria have also been changed. If you can get yourself 100 yards by any means and regardless or whether you possess those means (e.g. wheelchair), you are entirely fit for work. 

I am now 48 and this is the first time I have been out of work since 17. I have applied for over 1000 jobs now and live in an area that, theoretically, has weathered the recession well. I have had 5 interviews in that time, 3 of which could not even be bothered to tell me the outcome. One other told me that in their opinion my previous employer had been under utilising my skills and that I should be seeking work in the 40-45k mark given my qualifications and experience. Those sort of jobs are not exactly thick on the ground in good times, let alone now. I have had zero assistance in getting back to work despite numerous requests for information on "work programmes". I have lost count of the number of applications whereby I have been told that I am not being called for interview because I am "over-qualified". I did have a couple of hours permitted work as a school run escort. I had to stop this as the rules only permit limited work for a year and then you have to either cease your claim for ESA for 12 weeks and then start a new one or cease working for a year! I am living on the monies I put by for my old age so I fully expect to have accusations of being irresponsible over making provision for myself once I get to pensionable age in addition to repeated accusations of trying to cheat the benefits system by certain politicians. Unsurprisingly I am depressed and anxious most of the time.

Ref:// Guardian article

Mindful Meditation

Honey I Washed the Kids

I promised that I would write more about the two health courses I went on last year and have sadly failed to deliver. In an attempt to redeem myself, I am going to share one of my Mindfulness Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) meditations;


Bees a'Humming or "Thanks Lush"

Sliver of soap sat upon my palm,
hexagonal perfection entombed within.
Each chamfered slab sharply cut
and laid against its twin.
One smooth surface a counterpoint
to sticky waxiness against my skin.
Cream flecked in golden mount
bringing Dandelion parachutes
drifting down to verdant lawn.
Heaviness of thought and limb,
breath falling into humming bees.
Memory surfacing of my father's hand,
across a notepad lined with summer blue.