health

It’s not difficult to get my dad talking about the past and the first story he remembered about times before flush toilets was a tale about his brother and his friend who snuck round the back of the earth closets in their Lake District village. Via the back entrance they took delight in brandishing stinging nettles at the backside of some local character named Mad Jack!

The Transition Companion provides 319 pages of wisdom  (if you count the index) on the various stages of the Transition journey but only one of them is headed

It’s 8 am and a youngster from up the cul de sac is riding a bike up and down the road.  Soon to be off to school, on a new bike I guess, shiny and sleek.  Nothing odd you may say, even if you know only a tiny per cent of children ride to school.  But this is a nine year old girl, she’s wearing proper cycle shoes and she’s clipped in.  She is clearly one of those people who

I began thinking about Personal Resilience this morning at about 4:30, twenty minutes before my alarm is set to go off. It’s like that when you’re way too stretched, way too many things going on, way too many commitments. I’ve volunteered for everything and now there are expectations, obligations, commitments.

About ten years ago I was employed on a food project based in an area that had one of the highest levels of social deprivation in Northern Ireland. The project “lets call it project X” was “Cross Border” and ”Peace Funded” which in local parlance is usually greeted with a snort of derision.