Not Old

That's youth.


The Youth Of Today.

While I'm at it in full grumpy old woman mode, don't you just hate the youth of today? Lurking. Wearing hoodies. Skulking on street corners just waiting to mug some unsuspecting passerby. Vandalising our cars, shops, streets. All on drug-fuelled crazy rages. They're frightening!

Not really.

As with all sectors of humanity, there's some nasty little oiks around. But I'd like to sing the praises of much of our youth. They're fun. They're full of enthusiasm. They think they know it all which can be hugely amusing as they don't, but they most certainly aren't stupid. They work hard for the most part. At school we test them year after year. They study, they revise, they sit exams. More and more frequently. They like loud music and didn't most of us as teenagers and young adults? Some of us still do even though we are no longer young.

Being a mum, I've gone through the education bit from playgroup to nursery to school to university. SATs, GCSEs, GNVQ's A-levels and on to degree level.

The vast majority of YOUTH I meet are well, NORMAL. Yes, they may wear hoodies some of the time, but under that scowl, the teenage acne and angst lurks a human being that wants to get through education with good enough exam results to go on to a decent university, get a decent job and have a bit of fun. The ones I have met due to the fact of being a mum have been, for the most part, a likable bunch and no hassle at all whenever they've been round at my place. They've been a good bunch of mates to each other. They've not been in any sort of trouble. They've got interests in all sorts of things, but not in wanting to get smashed out of their brains, get into fights or cause mayhem wherever they go. They're all too busy growing up, studying, working, worrying about student finance, getting a job...

And they're fun.

Old

That's old people. Wrinklies. People past their sell-by date. We don't really like them. I mean look at them, they are ugly, wrinkly, watery-eyed, fragile, losing their marbles (if they haven't already lost them), a drain on society. Now why can't they just stay at home, behind closed doors and not be seen in public! Or better still, just die quietly without fuss, without wailing about it.

That's how we, as a society in the UK, seem to increasingly view our elderly population. It's as if they are a reminder of our own mortality that we'd rather not be reminded of, thank you very much. And it's a damn shame. It really is something we should be ashamed of; this way we allow our elderly to be treated. In our society youthful superficial beauty is celebrated. There's nothing wrong with taking a joy in our young. There's nothing wrong with admiring a beautiful object. But has it now gone so far that anyone who does not match this ideal of youthful beauty and who specifically reminds us of how the majority of us are going to be in a shorter time that we want to acknowledge is treated with indifference or contempt?

And when someone brings this to public attention as a nurse did in some undercover work for the BBC to highlight the appalling way we treat our elderly in hospital, the nurse was struck off by the Nursing and Midwifery Council which said she failed to "follow her obligations as a nurse". That speaks volumes about where attitudes to treatment of the elderly lie if that is reported correctly. And the volumes it speaks do not put that governing body in a good light.

Regularly in the media we have stories of how the elderly are suffering. Pensions are not sufficient to cover basic requirements. Elderly people are missing meals as they can't afford to buy the food they need and we're not talking caviar and quails' eggs, we're talking basic staple foods. People are not able to afford to heat their homes in cold weather. Elderly people being denied medical treatment, being treated with contempt in hospitals and care homes and of being physically abused.

This is wrong.

My life at the moment brings me into contact with quite a few elderly people. Almost without fail, each is a joy to me. Yes, there are some cantankerous old farts out there who I don't wish to mix with, but there are cantankerous old farts aged from 16 to 96 I suspect. The people I have most contact with give a lot to me in terms of friendship and their outlook on life. The stories of their lives are fascinating. The way they deal with the challenges life throws at them are something I draw strength from in order to give a sense of perspective to any problems I have: lessons of life learned and passed along. I come away, every time I meet them, with a smile, laughter, new knowledge of something learned from a different point of view. In short, they are just ordinary people like you and me but who have been around a bit longer and we should not treat people with contempt because of that.

Cats

I have three.

Love the little blighters to bits. Two are rescues and one came 'free to a good home'. Now they are all elderly but hopefully have a fair few years in them yet. They are great on 'rodent patrol' in the garden. And they are very good as stress-relievers and blood-pressure-reducers and there's nothing quite like the sound of a contented purr when a cat is the object of gentle fur-rubbing. It's the only sound that soothes when I'm suffering a monster migraine. It's very calming when one is in pain. My cats have saved the NHS a fortune in medicine bills. Well, sort of!

Each of my felines is very much an individual with his/her own personality, likes and dislikes. They show emotion, such as joy, contentment, excitement and "hurry up with that sachet of cat food, human!" amongst many. They also respond to human emotion. They seem to know just when I'm in need of a bit of cat therapy.

The one in the picture is my feral rescue. He's a character all right. If there's somewhere he shouldn't be, that's where you'll find him. If there's something he shouldn't be doing, he'll be attempting it. With a "Who, me?" expression when caught out. He's my "Bad cat!" and I wouldn't change him. Now an elderly cat, it's only taken over ten years for him to realise that a human lap is okay to sit on after all. He has a very loud purr which can be heard to best effect at feeding time. He's not the brightest of felines, having only one brain cell. That brain cell is devoted to all things edible. In the matter of locating and eating food, he is a genius. He's never forgotten his feral origins in that he is always on the lookout for food. It's as if he still can't quite convince himself that there's no threat of starving, so he had better eat anything and everything that may be edible to a feline. He's a good hunter, having caught rabbit, pheasant and rat alongside the more usual mice, voles and shrews.


Mind you, he can send a fax, so perhaps he's not completely stupid after all.


He came to me via a rescue organisation known as PACT, the People For Animal Care Trust based in mid-Norfolk. Why I like PACT is that if you ever visit there it's pretty clear that their main focus is on looking after the animals in their care and NOT flash premises that look nice to the human eye with a modern visitor centre. The emphasis is on their animal charges. An animal coming into the care of PACT is never euthanised unless there is a medical reason to do so. I like that reasoning. So if you're out and about in Norfolk and you see a person collecting money for PACT, please consider parting with some of that loose change in your pocket as all donations are gratefully received and are used for the benefit of the animals in their care.

Cacti

They used to be the only thing I could grow. I like cacti. Prickly on the outside, tending to plump up, yet inside they are full of surprises which occasionally come to public view in the form of gloriously scented beautiful flowers. Bit like me really.. Yeah, right..

The flowers in the picture are from the most ugly cactus, yet without fail it produces loads of these fabulous flowers every year. The bloom opens to the size of a tea saucer in the evening and fills the air with a heady perfume. Big is beautiful but short-lived, as the flowers only last a couple of days at most. On the plus side, the plant produces lots of them over a couple of months or so every year.

The Joy Of Hens

Hens.

I have two. Anode and Cathode, a couple of ex-battery hens. Yes, that was a feeble attempt at humour in the choice of names.

If you have the inclination and a bit of space I heartily recommend getting a couple of hens to provide hours of fun and the side benefit of eggs far more tasty than any supermarket egg.

Have a look at The Battery Hen Welfare Trust which has a nationwide network of people who link with willing farmers to make some 'spent' hens available for re-homing instead of going off to slaughter to make stock cubes.

If you're any sort of human being with a sense of empathy for other living creatures, you'll understand why battery farming of hens for eggs should not be allowed. It is an utterly inhumane way to treat another living creature.

Hens can live up to seven or eight years of age. A battery hen does not see daylight in her short life except for the journey from battery shed to slaughter at about eighteen months of age. At that age, a hen is deemed 'spent' which means that she doesn't produce enough eggs to be profitable from a commercial point of view. I'm not surprised the laying drops - the living conditions of a battery hen are hell on earth.

When I got my two, almost a year ago, when they arrived they were terrified, feeble things. They had bald patches all over their bodies. What feathers remained were in tatters. Their combs were pale, swollen and floppy (not a good sign) and they could barely stand up. They certainly couldn't make it up a short ramp into their new henhouse - I had to lift them in.

A bit of TLC , seeing to their needs and giving them space, and oh what a change! They grew feathers, developed proper hen behaviours, adore rolling in the earth of the flower bed.. chasing each other for that juicy worm, snail, beetle...

And hens adore spaghetti.

Then there are the eggs. In the year I've had well over 300 eggs from my two hens. More than ample for my needs. And the taste of a truly fresh egg is something that makes such a simple ingredient into a gourmet experience.

Not everyone can keep hens. But please, when buying eggs, don't buy the 'value' or standard produced eggs. Please buy free-range or even better, organic free-range eggs. I'm not an organic bore, but it is true to say that the welfare standards for organic free-range eggs are the highest of the standards for mass-produced eggs.

Better still if you can't keep your own hens, if you've a local small-scale egg producer, where you can see the hens, buy local!

Oh, and if you happen to be in Norfolk, there's a battery hen rescue based at Newton Flotman called Little Hen Rescue so you can always try there too!

Gordon Brown and electric cars

Forgive me whilst I fall about laughing. I didn't realise our esteemed leader had such a great sense of humour. Let's face it, he normally comes over as well... miserable. Very miserable indeed.

This here electric car scheme? Does he think we are stupid?

Sorry - don't answer that - of course he does.

Now I'm a bit of a middle-aged sort of greenie. I mean I've got low-energy bulbs in all light fittings, I ride a bicycle more than most, less than quite a few others, I have a couple of hens to provide some eggs, I grow a bit of veg, when shopping for food I worry about air miles, pesticides, I recycle, freecycle and the like. In short, I read the Guardian. Mind you I also read the Telegraph, Times, Independent.. and occasionally, in the odd moment of madness, dip into the Daily Wail, so I'm not entirely deep green. More a sort of pale apple green that's rather fetching is a bit wishy-washy at the moment.

But even I can grasp that no, Gordon, electric cars are not green when they are powered by electricity produced by burning fossil fuels.

So the plan is just another hype of "we are doing our utmost to meet the challenges of climate change" greenwash that smacks of actually doing nothing at all whilst pretending to do so with great public announcements.

Then whilst falling about laughing at this lovely morsel of greenwash from Gordon, I wondered ... what was announced in more quiet tones that Gordon doesn't want us to realise is happening?

And before I forget... The UK is rapidly heading to the situation where we WILL be having rolling blackouts, as part of our electricity production network is coming to the end of its life. We simply do not have in place the replacement production. And our attitude to any renewable scheme is fraught with NIMBYism on top of the long-winded planning process. So just where is all of this electricity coming from to power these electric vehicles, Gordon?

p.s. I apologise unreservedly for occasionally casting a glance over the Daily Wail. At least I avoid the Express, Sun & Daily Star..

Good grief, I've got a blog

Good grief, I've got a blog!

Seems I've joined the growing hoardes of those people who wish to share their thoughts with the rest of humanity that have access to the Internet.

Why "The Cat's POV"?

I like cats. I have three. So it seems relevant. As relevant as much as pretty much anything you find on the Internet.

It could have been "The Hen's POV" as I have hens.

It could have been "The cyclist's POV" as I have several pedal cycles.

Or it could have been "The cactus's POV" as I have a few of those and manage to get them to flower each year.

But I am, at heart, a cat.