No Time Time

Today was a ‘taster’ day or rather an assessment of suitability for accessing adult day care for dementia Mum.

Providing Mum with enough mental stimulation is perhaps where I worry I can’t quite match up. We were never super close. She was always a glass half empty person. She never really had hobbies and the personal interests she did have now don’t appeal.

It’s hard to get Mum interested in anything much aside from looking at the birds in the garden. The rest of the time she bemoans the sheer pointlessness of her existence. But then that’s how she always was. Amazingly dementia occasionally gives her a child-like sense of wonder I’ve never seen before. But things turn on a sixpence (to quote a pre-decimal currency saying).

The fibre optic novelty light that held her transfixed can suddenly become something that’s “not up to much”. I can relate to these change of moods as they mirror the black cloud that can so suddenly descend on those of us who cope with depression. Out of nowhere a sense of pointlessness.17970644621_9c0886b852_z

As is the case with today’s flurry of mental stimulation. All laughs when I picked her up after her few hours sampling day care. Now she says “I’ll pay for this” and it was all too much. Good experiences often get re-experienced through rain tinted glasses. Pick-me-up experiences become pointless, distressing, nightmarish. Reality and the unconscious, the dream world and the imagined are all valid. You can’t tell a dementia sufferer that something is in their imagination because imagination is as real as the supposed ‘real’.

Anyway the specialist day care centre is happy to have her one day a week. Maybe it’s more about giving me a break than giving Mum a more stimulating environment.

What do I want to do with this time off? Sleep. Just sleep.

Image by Mexgolam under this creative commons licence

Inflated Vicar In The Recurring Dream

My recurring dream of very many years involves me filming a wedding, something I did for many years. Each week was a worry and starting out the day always had me almost sick with worry and nerves presumably akin to stage fright. Once I’d got going it was usually fine and I was on auto pilot.

All the World’s A Stage FrightChurch in infra red

That’s not to say that there wasn’t a lot to cope with as you were essentially filming a live event that you couldn’t stop  stage (unlike photographers who did just that). They were all a challenge and the majority meant that you were filming often from 10am until midnight, lugging what in the early days was very large and cumbersome equipment (near broadcast in fact) with large battery belts, microphones, tapes and be ready for the unexpected.

Your job was, as much as possible, to be unobtrusive and in the early days as video was gaining a foothold as a new option for marrying couples, subject to a lot of jealousy from photographers, some of whom could refuse to photograph the wedding if they booked a videographer (the wedding photographers worried that guests would buy copies of the wedding rather than their then £8 a pop photos).

Traffic Wardens

The clergy too were typically a prickly bunch. My often used opinion was that many of them had missed their calling as traffic wardens such was their hostile demeanor. The church used the emergence of video as an excuse to levy yet another fee on the pretext of requiring payment for the public performance of the organist (have you heard most church organists?) and maybe (if in attendance) the choir, which were already an additional cost.The church was as much as business as any of the other wedding services on offer. In addition videographers were required to purchase a copyright license to recird each wedding. Many churches did not allow video filming at all or worse charged the couple £80 for the privilege whilst making sure (& often will ill concealed glee) that the videographer had the most inappropriate filming position usually behind the couple and not allowing use of a radio mic that would at least allow us to pick the vows up clearly.

Christian Ego

One of my worst experiences came back to me in this recent dream. A vicar that became known to many of us on the wedding video circuit was a particular annoyance. He would shout at us that we were not to move during filming (and  mean not as much as move our fingers) which was from way back in the church , behind a pillar and just in front of a double life sized photo cut out of himself which occupied one side of the church. Yes this man’s ego was that large. The penance for daring to breath was a threatened stopping of the ceremony and ejection from your designated position of purchased privilege. It never happened to me but other videographers had experienced this action directly.

At the rehearsal he would tell us that he’d make sure we had an adequate filming viewpoint, from one side and revealing the back of the couples heads (thanks) but on the day would often motion the best man forward to block that view whilst slyly grinning and winking at us knowing that it would deliberately spoil the already appaling view that was available.

In the end I used to play footage to any potential couple wanting us to film in that church to show what was likely to happen. The winking and smiling at the camera as he pulled the best man forward to block a shot which he’d charged the couple £120 in order to secure was sometimes enough for couples to even cancel the church as their first choice for marriage though obviously this was not always possible but made me feel good that this man’s unchristian behaviour was exposed for what it was, just plain mean spirited.

Locked Out

I remember that once the ceremony had started he would always make sure the main church door was locked. On one occasion a Bride’s brother who had only just managed to get thew briefest time off from his Royal Navy tour of duty but who had not arrived at the church in good time was left deliberately locked out of the church unable to see his own sister getting married.

The last time I ever filming in that church the ego boosting cut out of this vicar had increased in size and now had arms outstretched with a ego-maniacal looking mixture of smiling and self obsessed devilment in the eyes.Watching you watching me

Over the years I and others were bellowed at and treated like lepers by some vicars and priests of this land. Over time the more extreme behaviours subsided and the introduction of ‘all in one place’ weddings where a civil ceremony could take place in the same place as the reception helped quell slightly the desire for marrying couples to use the church as a convenient backdrop. I could understand the churches cynicism at these couples who were mostly neither originally religious or after experiencing many of these clergy behaviour ever likely to return to regular church going.

Pain And Pleasure

I have very many related filming recollections like the priest who used to take great delight in stabbing me hard with a cane whilst I was filming the Brides arrival knowing I was less likely to interrupt my shot by crying out in pain or protesting at his worryingly sadistic actions.

These are the stuff of my most common recurring dream.

Weddings through a lens

Church photo by tricky ™ under this creative commons license

VideographerPhoto by thparkth under this creative commons license

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Throw Another Scapegoat On The Fire

Should Mums stay at home?

Is a mother's place at home?

Torturing myself reading the BBC’s ‘Have your Say’ is my equivalent of picking at an open wound but it’s a self imposed reality check that reminds me that an awful lot of people have some very dubious different viewpoints. This one is an exception in a sea of frankly worrying retrograde drivel. The question, in my humble opinion, is a loaded one as it just cries out for a scapegoat. I’m no defender of bad parenting but as this comment points out, we’re in danger of focusing on one small aspect of a society that forces all kinds of less than satisfactory life decisions.

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Reasons To Be Cheerful?

The phone-in host temporarily loses the will to live

Britain as a nation, or maybe just England it’s hard to tell from where I sit, is not a naturally happy entity. We seem to have talked ourselves via the media into a perpetual state of negativity. It was one of the main factors I tried to escape when I emigrated temporarily some years ago.

The grinding negativity can often get very wearing particularly if you’re prone to the dark clouds visiting yourself. It’s no great surprise that I ended up with a life partner not born into this culture and who was bought up in a somewhat more positive mental attitude environment (though I’ve done my best to drag said partner down to my level).

Network

Network

Don’t get me wrong, apart from the negativity, the sheer rip off high costs, the inbuilt small minded xenophobia inherent in much of the population, the Daily bloody Mail that stokes the fires of discontent, the blame culture, the ‘not in my backyard’ little Englander tendencies, the yob contingent, the obsession with celebrity and the inane, the growing divide between rich and poor and the return of class divisions, there are a few positives to living here (I just can’t think of them right now).

So it’s no surprise that as I settled down to listen to a phone in show last night the host had a minor Peter Finch-esque ‘Network‘ moment and just couldn’t face another night of moaning and negativity so abandoned his usual plans and asked for ‘reasons to be cheerful?’. It took a very long while for people to phone in with suggestions.

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