tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18708965868937467952024-03-18T21:18:24.406-07:00the skin tradeTwo souls inhabit one body… one does not know how her will is in conflict with her biology… who controls her destiny?
I am a designer, naturopath, survivor of the rag trade - writing this novel to explore, express and share… how biology is destiny and knowing what is written in our DNA affects us; how to have value and be creative – despite infertility; the compulsion to procreate/avoid procreation which fashions our lives; the involvement of our own hormones/those imposed upon us…the skin traderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11287223144963263670noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870896586893746795.post-86525084342299356622012-07-19T10:04:00.000-07:002012-07-19T10:04:12.278-07:00<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">part four<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">shape-shifting for healing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><u><strong>Dirk<o:p></o:p></strong></u></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">She reminded me of
Stella.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess that was why I was
attracted to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I was just on
the rebound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They could have been
sisters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t normally chat people up
in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Art</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Galleries</st1:placename></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t chatted anyone up at all since
college so I’m out of practice anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were both looking at Botticelli’s Mars and Venus, on loan to the Uffizi
in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Florence</st1:place></st1:city>
from our National Gallery...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mars, God
of war is sleeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Look how calmly
Venus, Love, watches over him,” she said, turning towards me. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“She knows that as
long as he is safe with her she will triumph in the world and they will make
love not war.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She laughed, not in a
flirtatious way but with pleasure at the idea it seemed to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Long may he sleep?” I
said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It looks very inviting - I
haven’t been sleeping well recently.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She looked concerned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Is it those noisy vespas
keeping you awake?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They never seem to
leave the streets do they?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“No, a broken heart” I
blurted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had that listening look and
my story wanted hearing.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Sorry” I said, “Bit
heavy.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“You are in good
company here,” she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Look at these
stories - Sampson here, deceived by Delilah, throwing the stone columns down in
his anger - Agamemnon chasing his lost Helen, landing his fleet at Troy,
furious, jilted, jealous, avenging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
see love and war are never far from each other.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Which is your
favourite painting?” I asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted
her to keep talking to cover my embarrassment with her melodic voice - that
accent - was it Welsh?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, a bit edgier,
not Scots, must be <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">North West</st1:place></st1:state>
lilt - Stella’s part of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had
come to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Italy</st1:place></st1:country-region>
for a break and wham, the same voice greets me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">She was walking over
to the early renaissance section.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Renaissance means birth, rebirth,” she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m looking forward to that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, I try to be reborn every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s always something new about the world
to fall in love with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, here it
is.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">The painting was of an
angel… beautiful wings… and a girl who looks overcome… either the early renaissance
weren’t very good at arrested movement yet, or maybe it was one of those rare
moments in life which is of such overwhelming importance that it seems to go on
forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“The annunciation by Fra Angelico” she
said.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Wistfully I thought
that, she, Mary, has just been told that she is about to get, without even
trying, the life experience that Stella and I had been searching for a way to
make possible all this time, with the result that in wanting to take our
relationship to the level of sharing parenthood we had stopped being able to
share – each isolated by grief and obsession.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Mary” she said, “the
most important woman in the destiny of the world since Eve, but whereas Eve is
all about temptation and mortality, Mary is about innocence, virtue and
immortality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But their roles are very
similar: To saddle a man with a heavy responsibility - procreation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">As a bloke who had
rejected the idea of family as way too much heavy responsibility, and then,
being up for trying, felt destroyed – not by failing, but by not being able to
take the pain of failing away from Stella, this was a lot to take in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could see in Mary’s face what I saw in
Stella’s when she was going through the IVF - hope, fear, and so much intensity
I found it frightening and retreated from the subject so that we could no
longer share the pain and so it sent her mad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Would you like a
cappuccino, um, or an ice cream?” was all I could manage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked as though the painting was giving
her, too, more thoughts than she could handle.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Yeah, lets do that
café thing!” she said and we walked out into the sun together.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">We spent the rest of
the day walking the cobbled streets together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She came to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Florence</st1:place></st1:city>
often when she was in the rag trade she said, and knew some cool hidden places
- a little courtyard inside a side-street hotel with the most beautiful garden,
a perfect, classical pool and fountain, and great </span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sDEFrpWGRCnXV0qXIViStPzoDoZPNjg0ok1sEjSCytAreEJUW1hdCps7r6FrFP7WS6sUrdHbywSK2ongWesaIfHwt2B-_ALd5FFA31iCw0cZHcIa5PImGCYnJoxtBsbeWPIQMnWRDuYA/s1600/italy_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sDEFrpWGRCnXV0qXIViStPzoDoZPNjg0ok1sEjSCytAreEJUW1hdCps7r6FrFP7WS6sUrdHbywSK2ongWesaIfHwt2B-_ALd5FFA31iCw0cZHcIa5PImGCYnJoxtBsbeWPIQMnWRDuYA/s640/italy_NEW.jpg" width="424" /></a></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">tortellini - and a flea
market where she found, after rummaging and bargaining, a copper chandelier
dripping crystal tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll hang it in
the garden at home”, she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Very
Miss Haversham.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That way the copper will
turn that beautiful verigris green.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
savoured small pleasures like a cat, I thought, and had the same self
sufficient and slightly distant air, especially when, after prosecco and wine
with dinner I tried to kiss her as we looked down at the Duomo and the river
from where David stands, arrogant and vulnerable in his naked beauty.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Oh, you’re nice”, she
said, “but I make it a rule to kiss and tell that I don’t do relationships, not
sexual ones - too complicated, too second chakra darling!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She laughed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I’m trying to energise my higher centres - use my time and energy to
just be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t mind just being with you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a pleasurable meditation but if we bring
things down to sex - well”, she sighed, “all that stuff about love and lust and
commitment and babies”, and here she choked, “I still can’t say that word, you
see I’m infertile and I find that again and again that throws me on my own
outside so many people’s hopes and dreams and passions and so I find it less
painful not to go there.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">She laid her head on
my shoulder and we sat together in a moonlight meditation on dreams, hopeless
or otherwise, and I realised that what hurt her so much not to have the chance
of - I had had the chance of - and through fear - let go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thank you, Luna, for sharing your secret
with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I’m going to find a
girl - she’s like you a lot - and get down and dirty doing some second chakra
stuff with her - love and lust and if possible babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to be alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not strong and secure in myself as
you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need a companion and I’m going to
grow up enough to try to be there, all there, for someone I love.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She squeezed my hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well done you”, and tears welled in her
eyes, “perhaps I could stop escaping as well and find out how I’m going to play
this hand I have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As an artist I find
meditation appealing in its solitude but I can’t stay dreaming on the mountain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to come down and change the world -
redesign it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for that you have to
interact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trouble is, the way most women
do that is not available for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need
another way to affect the next generation than giving them boiled egg and soldiers.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“You are a healer”, I
said, “You have shown me things today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How to look, how to share -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
go on just being.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are a gift to the
world in yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t hide your light
- switch on that chandelier in a special place and invite people in to see what
you see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s what artists do - it’s a
vision thing.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“I just reflect”, she
said, “I hold up a mirror for you to see, reflected back what is already inside
you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><u>That’s</u> what artists do -
provide an image for you to reflect on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You bring your eyes, your heart, your experience to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You bring it alive when you pay attention to
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The observer does affect the
experiment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am Luna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no light of my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That silvery moonlight as we call it, is
sunlight, second-hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The moon is a
cold thing, waxing and waning in borrowed light, and a satellite, destined to
move round and round orbiting another body - and - do you realise - slowly
getting further away, as the universe expands, that moon goddess who controls
all our tidal surgings is leaving us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s symbolic of the increasing distance in relationships, as our
universe gets older and colder.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
shivered and I pulled her close and put my mouth on hers and this time she
kissed me warmly and we shared the connection of breath and moisture and being,
for a moment in time.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt;"><u><strong>Stella<o:p></o:p></strong></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt;">Dirk returned thoughtful and in
agreement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are so lucky that we have
been travelling at the same pace through all of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been supported every step of the way,
and grieved with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one time I did
conceive for six weeks, I saw from the tears rolling down his face as he looked
at the monitor to see whether one or two hearts were beating and saw none - I
knew it was over, and loved him more than ever for minding as much as I did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt;">We lie wound up in each other and in a quilt
covered with hair from the snoring dog who lies across our feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are talking about a Vietnamese film we
watched last night and about the Buddist belief in karma.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt;">“What is my lesson, that it was written so
clear on my biology from day one that I had no eggs?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That has to be destiny.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His eyes, six inches from mine smile
love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It is so you can look after other
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You help so many people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s a nice girl.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt;">I felt lousy with the hot flushes, tried HRT,
felt worse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><strong><u>Luna<o:p></o:p></u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Dr Jean and I were suspicious of this factory approach to hormones
– first the Pill, then HRT, all synthetic hormones dominating this very finely
tuned system of the female body – what was this doing to Stella’s health and
emotions? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><u><strong>Dr Jean Foster.</strong></u> <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Chapter 3.2.
How does this feel for the individual? <o:p></o:p></span></u></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“- Pressure of a
personality or group on an individual; a dominant or possessive parent, friend
or marriage partner; and certainly where there is intolerant religious
dominance.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- Pressure of circumstance or work such as
that suffered by people who have worked to exhaustion point over a period of
time, and seem to be incapable of recuperation,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- Pressure in adults of continued ill health
or slow recovery after recurrent or severe infection... glandular fever... post
viral syndrome... I always start by using Carcinosin, but add Folliculinum
if... (Carcinosin) does not achieve a lasting response.’ (Dorothy Cooper<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></sup></span></sup></a>).”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">There are parallels between adolescence and menopause; they are
both time of redefining our selves and times of major hormonal changes. The way
our selves are tied up with our hormones and vice-a-versa can bring us
challenges all through our adult lives. I feel as women our flexibility, our
ability to operate on many different levels is due to the flexibility born of
dealing with constantly shifting hormones which directly relate to the way we
experience the world. Puberty and menopause mark two of the biggest
transitions. They may appear similar in display and lead to different places.
‘Emotional displays, anxiety, tears, depression, sexual problems, instability
and loss of concentration: at the menopause, many women find these long
forgotten echoes of their adolescent selves. At both times, these problems are
created by the dramatic change in hormone production. Yet unlike the adolescent
who anticipates a rewarding womanhood, the menopausal woman sees only the
inevitability of old age waiting her...<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></sup></b></span></sup></a>’
as one author mused gloomily. This may be your truth, it may be society’s view,
and these are issues we women have to wrestle with as our role is still so
closely defined in the context of our biology.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">At the time when we start producing sex hormones we are
receiving conflicting messages around our sexuality and relationships. Natural
urges to find a mate and reproduce the species are strong. Our biological
blueprint for our species is to mate within committed relationships, yet
children are maturing physically at a young age within a society which does not
encourage early marriage but approves other choices like education and career,
and indeed these young people have not yet gained the emotional maturity to
make a commitment. Sex is seen as inevitable, so schools provide education on
the biology and on contraception, and the state pays for contraception, eager
to guard against teenage pregnancy and venereal disease. This process does not
include learning about the emotional impact of becoming sexually active.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Mixed messages can also be given on contraception; my biology
teacher clearly thought it was a dirty word, along with VD and sex in general.
Contraception has historically been a difficult issue for the authorities; in
1873 Congress passed a law prohibiting the mailing across state frontiers of
obscene material - birth control information and devices were specifically
defined as ‘obscene’. In 1962 it was still forbidden in the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region> to advertise
local authority family planning clinics. Abortion is illegal in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Northern Ireland</st1:place></st1:country-region>.
Add to these confusing messages from authority figures the question of
religion; the Catholic Church opposes the pill and abortion. This confused
situation leads to at the end of the 20th century, a church supporting a 12
year old having a child. Other countries have designed special chemical
solutions to their cultural issues with fertility: the ‘tricycle’ Pill reduces
the frequency of menstruation (still considered unclean in many parts of the
world) to four times a year. There are injections with a six month
contraceptive effect, not considered safe by most European countries; they have
been in large scale use in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Thailand</st1:place></st1:country-region>
for more than 10 years.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">So we grow up among conflicting messages, we are old enough to
have sex, but not to form lasting relationships. The permissive society is the
norm. A girl may have several sexual relationships and experience emotional
pain. She may resolve this dilemma by retaining the sex but avoiding the
intimacy. Her attitude may become harder, more promiscuous, more masculine and
aggressive in nature. Acceptance of a situation which causes emotional pain can
lead to loss of self-esteem and greater dependence on peer approval. Problems
like anorexia and drug addiction can arise. Illnesses like Glandular Fever and
ME can provide an escape route by making that dependency real and allowing a
return to a childlike state. The periods may stop or become very painful
reflecting the young woman’s fear and anxiety around her developing maturity.
Cysts may develop manifesting deep hurt and pain.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">A girl may be prescribed the pill at the onset of her periods,
as a contraceptive, or even to ‘help’ with painful or profuse periods, so at a
time when their bodies often have difficulty adjusting to the onset of adult
hormones a girl may be rushed through her own body’s chosen pace of ripening,
and on to synthetic hormones which may cause problems especially at this age of
susceptibility to dis-ease.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">‘Depression can be a fatal side effect of the pill.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></sup></b></span></sup></a>’
Research workers report dramatic rises in self-injury with the greatest
increases occurring in females aged between 15 and 30, with the steepest
increases in the 15 to 19 age group. Girls in this group have been pressurised
into taking the pill for its reliability and convenience. The <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Oxford</st1:place></st1:city> FPA study found pill users were four
times more likely to be admitted to hospital for attempting suicide than women
who used the diaphragm. In <st1:country-region w:st="on">England</st1:country-region>
and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Wales</st1:place></st1:country-region>
accidental poisonings and undetermined deaths increased 11 fold among males
aged 15 to 19 but 22 times in young women since 1960. I am not suggesting that
the only difference between these two groups is that young women often take the
pill, these statistics are indicative of the tremendous social pressures on
young people and particularly young women.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">In a woman younger than 40 problems with menstruation, cramps,
and PMS are classic indications that she is in some kind of conflict with being
a woman, with her role in the tribe, and with tribal expectations of her. Most
problems with bleeding and irregular periods frequently come from having too
much emotional stress combined with the belief that one has no power over one’s
life choices, that one’s choices are controlled by others. Bleeding
abnormalities are often exacerbated when a woman internalises confusing signals
from her family or society about her own sexual pleasure and sexual needs. For
instance, a woman may desire sexual pleasure but feel guilty about it or be
unable to ask directly for it. She may not even be conscious of this inner
conflict. Tubal problems and problems with fertility are centred on a woman’s
“inner child”, while the tubes themselves are representative of unhealed
childhood wounds or unused energy. The flow of eggs can be blocked because (she
feels) not old or nurtured enough... one part of a woman may remain in
pre-puberty due to her own unconscious indecision about her readiness to
produce life, if on some level, she’s not out of the egg herself.’’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">PMS is considered by some feminists as the only socially
acceptable expression of the anger that many women feel. The monthly cycle
brings these women around repeatedly to a point where they discharge their anger
and emotions, often demonstrating physically how angry they feel. Is this
hormonal in-balance, requiring treatment with progesterone, hysterical
behaviour requiring removal of the ‘hyster’ the womb, or our hormones trying to
create balance by exhibiting the dark side which is an unacceptable side of
woman in society. Nature may try to redress a drought with a flood; indeed she
is increasingly doing so. What happens to these women when their feelings are
buried with Prozac? Women can be turned into what society terms ‘lunatics’ at a
phase of their monthly cycle, as they wax and wane in time with the moon, and
monthly turn their dark side to face the world. At this time their husbands
cannot understand them nor they he as he is personified in the male god the
sun, from whom their face is turned away, as they look inside themselves and
see their anger and their hurt. This wilder side lives on through the month in
their psyche and is lived through their dreams; vivid, intense, disturbing,
amorous, euphoric... <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">This picture is reminiscent of the virgin huntress goddess Artemis
who was the twin sister of Apollo, a sun God; ‘Antiquity explained Artemis as a
personification of the Moon which roams in the mountains... Her most famous
shrine in the Greek world was the one at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ephesus</st1:place></st1:city>,
where she was integrated with a very ancient Asiatic fertility goddess.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn4" name="_ftnref4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[4]</span></sup></b></span></sup></a>’
In ‘Luna: a proving’ King and Lawrence discuss the legend her setting her dogs
on Actaeon who saw her naked; ‘One can... see in this allegory how the moon
guides the powerful forces of nature where they are well regulated and can be
seen as amoral in the kingdoms of nature (the rugged and wild home of Artemis),
but that when the human being is exposed to these forces within himself in an
unmodified and unsuppressed fashion, their power can over-rule his as yet
immature faculties of reason and mortality. Strong lunar forces in the psyche,
untempered by social morality and reason, can be seen as socially destructive,
a theme which is also suggested in the were-wolf stories.’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The Moon is associated with the water element<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn5" name="_ftnref5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[5]</span></sup></b></span></sup></a>
and therefore to the person who experiences life through feeling as opposed to
intellect, intuition or sensation. Such an individual has to suppress their
instinctive behaviour to survive in our society and at certain times of the
cycle this feeling flows out like a tide, often accompanied by a flood of
tears. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The moon is a strong force; beings as yet unborn respond to its
energy, as midwife and homoeopath Ms Tibble observed that clusters of births happen
around the full and new moon. Think of the individual who drowns them self in
hurtful protest, looses energy and slides into apathy and total detachment from
the world, replacing the creative side of the fertility cycle (the new moon)
with a total blank (the shadow moon)....<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“feeling a silence between me and the outside world... like looking
through a telescope and seeing what I’m focusing on, not worrying about
anything else.” - To me that is like an image of a ray of moonlight, a cool
small pool of light… ‘we don’t grieve until it is all gone, we grieve until
we’ve satisfied a need to discharge an energy, then we are free to turn away
from the place inside us that houses grief’; the bleed in tune with the moon’s
cycle as we shed an un-incarnated ovum is the physical manifestation of the
natural discharge of this grief. Lawrence and King concluded that there was a
theme of inner sensitivity with a deficiency of environmental awareness; it
evokes for me a heightened inner seeing like I feel in the dark; a compensating
for being out of self-balance by turning away from the male sun god’s world
towards a hidden feminine life<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn6" name="_ftnref6" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn6;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[6]</span></sup></b></span></sup></a>
with a resulting sensation of disorientation when the light is switched on.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The danger of HRT, the Pill or tranquilisers as a solution to
our problems is that these drugs suppress the language of our bodies as they
spell out to us that we need to change something in our lives to regain a
healthy equilibrium. For example there may be aspects of a mid-life woman’s
reality that do need changing, an unhappy relationship, boredom with her role
in the family or in her work; this can be a time of creative solutions which
will resolve her problem, but if she is diverted by society and by medicine in
particular to thinking her dissatisfaction is a symptom of the menopause she
may not take the right action, just pills. Dr Grant likens HRT which delivers a
constant level of oestrogen is like having a car stuck in a single gear, when
our bodies are designed to adjust our hormone levels constantly to support our
needs at any moment. The symptoms are there for a reason; for example hot
flushes at the menopause are suggested by some to be releases of sexual energy,
hence their other name of power surges. Does a woman on HRT experience
post-menopausal zest - the energy that comes from being released from some of
adulthood’s burdens and enjoying living in today, or does the artificial
continuation of the monthly bleed leave her stuck in the mind-set of mid-life,
unable to let go and progress ?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Women are physical examples of the on-going life pattern
becoming matter... women’s life cycle expresses a natural progression of sexual
energy. For most women... kundalini, or sexual-spiritual energy, begins to rise
naturally around the age of forty. As it rises it activates the chakras through
which it passes. Any unfinished business residing in the lower chakras will
make itself known during the pre-menopausal and menopausal years. .. blocked
kundalini energy or unused sexual juice, unused creative energy or creative
conflicts may also be expressed as hot flashes. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><strong><u>Luna<o:p></o:p></u></strong></span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">There is only my voice now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Stella is gone - she couldn't
face going on. Oh, life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">At least I got to meet her, to
know her, even to help her, in some way to make up for some of the damage I had
done with my obsessive need to have her procreate, to give me another route out
into the world. That was important for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">When I said good bye to Dirk in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Florence</st1:place></st1:city> he took my
business card. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Luna Body <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">HOMEOPATH<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">www.natural-balance.co.uk<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He needed to be with her and
accepted that she was still grieving for the incomplete family she felt they were. He was concerned that
trying and failing had nearly destroyed her, but he wanted to
be with her and she was fixed in this grief for being a mother and in some way this
was what he wanted too, to be with Stella and try to make it right . He told me
this over the phone when he rang to explain that although they had decided to make
things work and put themselves first Stella was constantly feeling nauseous and
the HRT seemed to be causing a lot of anger and violent mood swings. Could
homeopathy help? Could I see Stella and help support her body? He asked - Dirk
felt that Stella was physically and emotionally exhausted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYP8EpI7r5ZWjcKuuGPTJ7llOzHhcI2CIFwikRGchNvZ7tahJDWovhCKfHalGdu_HM8qbhg8PGXZpRMa43Wd4LJsr9xxiyKPfuSEiz5j0fizRTyFGl4sihlxMhfBXDVvXoTqzf9-4GcdK/s1600/phosphorus+and+hesperus%252C+Evelyn+de+Morgan.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYP8EpI7r5ZWjcKuuGPTJ7llOzHhcI2CIFwikRGchNvZ7tahJDWovhCKfHalGdu_HM8qbhg8PGXZpRMa43Wd4LJsr9xxiyKPfuSEiz5j0fizRTyFGl4sihlxMhfBXDVvXoTqzf9-4GcdK/s320/phosphorus+and+hesperus%252C+Evelyn+de+Morgan.png" width="232" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I said I would love to see her, I
was sure homeopathy could help, I had had good results helping other women get
their hormones balanced. You see it’s not just about chemicals. What makes the
body's juices flow if not the heart?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">So Stella rings the doorbell of
my practice. I run down the stairs past Dr Foster’s door where I hire this
upstairs room 3 days a week. my mobile phone is still jammed to my ear -
someone's kid is teething - as I open the door, there am I standing on the
doorstep - looking at myself, another version of me, someone with the same
biological challenges I have been working with for all my life - for God knows
how many lives - trying to work out the karma of being a woman who can't create
life. I smile and beckon, advise Chamomilla to the mother with the angry teethy
baby on the phone and walk up the stairs with Stella thinking that if like does
heal like she could have come nowhere better than to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">How can I help? I ask - I don't
know how much she knows I know and I want to hear from her in her own words
anyhow - that's how I work my art - spotting patterns in how she feels and
behaves which are similar to a life pattern as expressed by another living
thing - a plant, an animal, a disease organism, a mineral - yes I have come to
believe that our whole universe is intelligent in the way it creates form and
energy - and so in some way alive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She talks about how she is
feeling now. The awful dreams of these skinny embryos, all arms and transparent
jelly like eggs who she sees drying under the hot lights of a room which I feel
she has constructed from her unconscious experience of an operating theatre.
Her anxiety about the embryos who are in the freezer - what that does to
something which may live to be in a dark desiccating cold. She is in a state of
terror, her imagination running riot I see, her creative imagination feeding on
these images in a way which is destructive for her energy which is being burnt
up furiously. She needs some walls around her self - some boundaries to stop
her feeling so acutely the energy of these babies she has lost. What element -
I reflect - to myself has this capacity to inhabit any space, any situation,
without protecting itself so that it becomes diffuse and exhausted as the
imagination continues to burn so bright it sears. I sent her away promising to
send a remedy within the week, made an appointment to see her again in a few
weeks and switched my computer on to research my favourite materia medicas to
check my intuition that some Phosphorus would help calm and centre her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg43dYiqbJ0_IbvjZZ_apwYYG1UMWBihk0o3FHfi3YpKpRXEW93YOPWlLss4yjM9lx2sHAYQc-bv156v2ZUQ6TNGRnPutsBv418ACXEkNTnMnWKc61xdr3QCsLRecXcHg6qhwq3UnuB3iSw/s1600/phos.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg43dYiqbJ0_IbvjZZ_apwYYG1UMWBihk0o3FHfi3YpKpRXEW93YOPWlLss4yjM9lx2sHAYQc-bv156v2ZUQ6TNGRnPutsBv418ACXEkNTnMnWKc61xdr3QCsLRecXcHg6qhwq3UnuB3iSw/s320/phos.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">When I saw Stella a few weeks
later the nightmares had gone and she had lost that look like she wasn't of
this world - like you could look through her, she had more colour and her
energy seemed more solid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“How can I help?” I asked once we
had established that she felt better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Stella flushed…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Explained that she was angry with
her body<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">That it had failed her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Stopped her being a proper woman<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Made her feel an outsider<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Not able to fit with the feminine
image which was her ideal<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Her hopes of being a whole,
giving mother like her own mum<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">So she felt a shell<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">With nothing real inside, a lie<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It was important to her to look
like a woman, dress attractively like one of those yummy mummies - but they
glowed with energy and purpose, she said, whereas she had nothing inside her
now<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Just something broken<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">An ache where love used to be<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She felt so tired, everything
took her so long, and she was doing very little<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She felt unable to do anything
except alternately grieve and hope for her dream, she still had an impossible
fantasy of falling pregnant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She felt lonely for the person
she used to be<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The person she looked for in the
mirror and couldn't find.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCEQaO1RoZ2RVS6M8JcwBFmCKi60LM8y57Nt59KSD805UPpClXC-SVNueBiiqScz3qiXF8loxKR26i4FC9-0sv6iMy2zAJHF2DoPSBLVbaH8aZGElXGsp57L4HoKP3gs45tvwpZ3j12wYS/s1600/paintbox_0001_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCEQaO1RoZ2RVS6M8JcwBFmCKi60LM8y57Nt59KSD805UPpClXC-SVNueBiiqScz3qiXF8loxKR26i4FC9-0sv6iMy2zAJHF2DoPSBLVbaH8aZGElXGsp57L4HoKP3gs45tvwpZ3j12wYS/s400/paintbox_0001_NEW.jpg" width="317" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I asked how she spent her days…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She had been asked to contribute
some work to a friend's exhibition, using their paper made from plants<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She had been trying to make some papier-mâché
bowls, but she kept dropping them and the glass bowls she had been using as
moulds had smashed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She showed me a splinter in her
finger and described how Dirk had come home last night from work to find her
crawling around the floor obsessing about picking up every little shard and
sparkle of glass in case it should hurt the baby, her fingers bleeding from
sweeping the floor with her hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Dirk had got the Hoover out and
reminded her there was no immediate worry about a baby, while she pretended
that she had only broken one of the bowls they had had as wedding presents
while she knew she had smashed 3.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I don't know why I tell these
silly lies - I just don't want to be seen as a complete waste of time when I’ve
failed to do anything useful like make dinner, and also failed to do the
creative work I feel could help me feel better about myself if only I could get
it done, which I can't seem able to. I want to be seen as a capable person, a worker,
wife, lover and mother.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">My heart went out to Stella, she
did want to move forward but she was really stuck in this place she had been in
far too long, she needed a constitutional remedy. I said I’d send something via
the homeopathic pharmacy and arranged to speak with her in 2 weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Looking at my books that night I
was struck by how slow and fragile Stella's energy felt and how the image of
the glass bowl seemed to sum up so many things about her. She seemed shattered
and broken, unable to get her energy back together. She was using the little
energy she had to reflect an image of attractiveness while she was looking for
her self in the glass and not finding what she had lost. She was inflexible
like glass - sticking to a fixed idea about her future and unable to be
flexible. she was very clearly hurting herself, even physically with the
splinter, in her fixity about the dream of the baby, obsessing about details
with a gritty determination rather than feeding herself with what she needed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The rubrics I chose in my
repertory were:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">fixed ideas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">hunts for pins<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">liar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As these seemed to sum up the
shell her energy was engaged in creating around herself which was intended to
protect her but was stopping her moving on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I looked in the materia medica at
what homeopaths had to say about Silica, which came up in all the rubrics.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I had found Silica a useful
remedy for my friends from the fashion world who put so much energy into their
image as it has so many states, many of which reflect and present a beautiful
image - quartz, glass, silicone<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It is hard and brittle; flint,
given to splitting and forming 2sided structures, glass again, or small strong
structures, sand, grit… silica is one of the most plentiful minerals available
to life but has been little used by life forms as it is slow forming and
inflexible, although some plants and insects use it's strength it makes a
restrictive exoskeleton not useful for fast-growing flexible mammals, birds,
reptiles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Many remedy states lose sight of
their destiny and become fixed, but the depression of silica has been analysed
as loneliness for the self itself, like an outgrown exoskeleton the body and
mind is left knowing that the soul has gone, and unless it can be found, life
is over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">When Stella rang me 2 weeks later
it was to say she was feeling better - she had had a rotten flu (a detox I
thought) but was making some cards from the plant papers with pressed snowdrops
as part of the images.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Snowdrops - the first sign of new
life after the winter and a plant that uses a lot of silica to give it the
rigidity and strength to push its leaves through the frozen ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Stella’s recovery had a
surprising outcome, I never know what to expect from healing as health means
movement and can take your patients away in unexpected directions... this is
not a job where you expect satisfied customers to come back - they are too busy
getting on with their lives. In Stella’s case her energy took her to a retreat;
she accepted that a baby wasn't going to happen for her and felt the answer was
to study Buddhism to try to come to terms with not needing to leave the self in
the world in some way either as a mother or as an artist. She loved Dirk, she
told me, but felt he needed the right to be a father and as that could not
happen with her she was leaving him and - under the rules of the Buddhist
retreat could not be contacted - would renounce her ties to the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As Stella moved on to a more
spiritual state, scarcely present in the space she found it too painful to
inhabit, my energy grew more physical... I noticed subtle changes in our body…
the breasts flattened, waist widened, hairs grew in new places on legs and
around nipples which I found fascinating as I spread out and occupied my space.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Stella</span></u></b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> reflects <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Like heals like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nature is
there. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She speaks her language in all of
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are all patterns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She makes us show our nature in every growth
of our body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Truth will out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">In the moment I
took the Pill I doubled: Luna thought I had stopped listening to her but in
truth she went from being a part of me to become an outside voice – trapped in
my own reality I could hear her like a mysterious conversation on a crossed
line, she was not making sense to me and I tuned out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Read your Steven Hawkins for the
background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a void energy is borrowed
from the future to create matter and anti-matter which appear in the vacuum for
an instant – and spontaneously destruct. Glimpses of our future self, our
doppelganger, karma, destiny… division and creation, reproduction and
population - or fusing to one, one self, one soul, Gaia, one planet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Womb-twins, each
one alone, lonely for our soul-mate. Observing the world which is other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything is made from quarks and electrons,
we are patterns of energy. When I stand on this mountain we have the same building
blocks. Energy has made a mountain and an intelligent being to observe the
mountain. We move in different time frames. A mountain’s glaciers move slowly.
To his granite and ice and gnarled old trees my life is as brief as the storms
which rage around him for a winter’s night then disappear with the dawn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">My destiny;
biology is destiny – see the seed and you know the tree… the tree shows its
pattern in every leaf it grows, patterns of energy, everything dances. A
scientist said, when we describe the atom language is poetry;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The heart is a
foxglove to embrace the bee, digitalis, makes your heart stop…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The womb is a
daisy letting fall seed to grow a child, bellis perenis for our deep hurt in
our soft insides.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Energy medicine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The Pill…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Designed to free the flower people for free
love, there’s no such thing as a free lunch, in my polluted self the drug
tricks my body into believing I am permanently pregnant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My moon side comes to the fore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The planet, which governs our fertile tides,
gets all confused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My moon sign is
Taurus; the cow locked in a stall and fed oestrogen to fatten her up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her milk made available for man
artificially.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sweetness of sac-lac -
milk-sugar - the coffee creamer in a plastic UHT pot, in the free cup at the
Mercedes garage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pliant blonde in
the cabriolet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bridget Jones with Hugh
Grant eternally available.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sense has
gone out of the window and passion rises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The cow is put out to grass in the field.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The udders grow heavy and unappealing but
feed the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still the family dream
is unavailable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cow calls for her
calf castrated, aborted or killed before it can reproduce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kept in a box for blonde veal, while she lows
with pain in her field with the pain of nipples which are no longer sucked, now
udders to feed the milk mountain which Africa can’t drink from or our men will
miss out on the prison of company life/unemployment handouts/handouts from
Oxfam according to the continent which bore you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are bored and the fat cats lap the
cream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">So my Taurean moon
took me comfort shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The milk round
got me a job at the big corporate money machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So now I’m the childless rich lady who tries
to entice children into her garden with pretty things. Looks like destiny wrote
the script either way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find myself alone,
broken hearted, childless and yearning in the middle of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My shell has been crushed under the giant
foot and I feel scattered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do I get
my pattern, my vitality, my life force back together again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hide in my woods or my garden, dreaming of
other lives, my children’s lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
children I can’t have because I was born with no eggs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has taken me half my life to realise that
the basic need in every woman has to double, triple, square her-self into
seedlings to water and tend and grow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
howling cry to the moon for children cannot be answered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My womb is not fertile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">But I am
creative.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can still water
seedlings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I parent my own child
within.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And something does grow in my
creative space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bowl made of torn
paper when I was too angry to paint and wanted to show the world I could put my
fragments of shell back together again so my ideas could once more hold
water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then a painting of the sea, the
mother of all of use - la mer, la mere - from where we crawled from our shells
to find a place to breed safe from the big fish and felt the spark of
electricity as we earthed with the fertile land and rooted in the soil and grew
tall as trees and beautiful as flowers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am a flower, fragile and delicate, but strong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can push through anything hard as the icy
ground of the big freeze and flower, my delicate scent attracting the bees out
of their houses, all girls together as the snowdrop shows her cool, delicate,
beauty to anyone who peers into the shadows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Luna - the dark
side of the moon...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she is always there;
completes my whole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Man needs the earth
and makes a voyage around her, only landing on the moon does he see the perfect
whole of the earth bathed in sunshine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Moon, earth, sun, a perfectly balanced dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Man, woman, god, a triad made in heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An eternal dance but one that is
changing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The moon is moving away from
the earth by inches every year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Women
don’t want just to orbit their man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
want to travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To see the universe for
themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that fragile moon keeps
our tides washing the earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lapping the
feet of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Manhattan</st1:place></st1:city>,
man-hat-on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Washing the air of <st1:place w:st="on">Liverpool</st1:place> - a pool to live by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cleaning with rain the chimneys of Tate’s and
energizing with ozone the dreams of Lennon, Bainbridge and the baby
boomers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The babies of the baby boom who find
ourselves so fucked by the world that our fucking is sterile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That our fathers so fucked the world that it
already heaves with children, unwanted, women poor and abused, and
working.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To husband means to care for
and protect, or to farm and propagate this land with her produce, which now
sucks her udders dry until she will wash us away with her tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The rainbow was
God’s promise- never again the flood, but God is only as good as any healer
(doctors practice and patients are patient) and in the end the physician has to
heal herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we all need to see the
shadow side to be whole again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can’t
just seek the light, the blonde, the fair, the just; we also have the fallen
angel, who was too proud, and fell to earth, the seedling, man, from whose rib
woman came, to nag him, prodding in the ribs, and tickle his ribs to laughter
and ecstasy of companionship, love and sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Woman, the lioness, to hunt, butcher, and suckle and play with the cubs
while the sleepy lion on a full belly and tired loins keeps one eye open on his
pride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pride comes before a fall and
I’ll be the man who fell to earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Despite all the
days of wishing myself dead in my sleep I will delight when the sun dawns on
this windy night when I am howling for my Luna moon;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Auntie Barking - at the blue moon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t gone away. I am hiding in a secret
space inside Luna, in my old body. I love this place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m healing my broken heart with that
love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have the perception to see the
vision of a world which gives peace a chance and I am making peace with myself.
Luna sleeps tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sleep then - jump!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><strong><u>Luna<o:p></o:p></u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“In other words she might as well
be dead,” said Dirk who had come to see me clearly sad and furious with me at
my part, as he saw it, in Stella leaving after he had been through so much crap
to give her what she wanted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">This was no basis to start a
therapeutic relationship - I was too much involved and felt that involvement
sticking to me like something I needed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It is a lonely job being a
homeopath… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">although you learn lessons all
the time about yourself from your practice, from the patient's point of view it
is all about them so it's not a place to make friends or lovers in the
consulting room and a lonely Dirk was something I had found very attractive in
Italy all that time ago. I said I couldn’t see him again as a therapist, said
goodbye and suggested a colleague for Dirk to get support from if he was
looking for that, then, my conscience clear at last caught my courage to ask -
could we meet for a drink?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<h1 style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></h1>
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<h1 style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt;"><u>Epilogue<o:p></o:p></u></span></h1>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt;">The two bodies were specks on the landscape;
moving along on parallel lines, occasionally coming together to support each
other over a rock, a fallen tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
last they stood on the summit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
looked down towards the sea in the distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She knotted a silk scarf against the wind, at her throat; he moved
behind her and crossed his arms encircling her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Look, you can see right back to where we started...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>how far we’ve come.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 11pt;">And I watched from inside the skin I’d traded
for an interior space, relieved from passion, want, need, hunger, hormones,
ego, visibility, love and pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Dorothy Cooper, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">British Homoeopathic
Journal</i>, April 1990.</span></div>
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<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Modern Medicine</i>, 1976.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Grant, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Bitter Pill</i>, 1985.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[4]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Grimal, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Dictionary of Classical
Mythology</i>, 1996.</span></div>
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<div id="ftn5" style="mso-element: footnote;">
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref5" name="_ftn5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[5]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">In the King/Lawrence study women<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>experienced dryness of normal discharges.</span></i></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref6" name="_ftn6" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn6;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[6]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">There was a masculine feminine issue - the males experiencing more
apathy/disconnected (perhaps these were not unusual feelings for the women),
and the women alone experiencing the sensitivity and tears (do men not have
this susceptibility?).</span></i></span></div>
</div>
</div>the skin traderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11287223144963263670noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870896586893746795.post-17777479485819927252012-03-02T09:08:00.000-08:002012-03-02T09:08:21.753-08:00<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">part three<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
silent spring<br />
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<h1 style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><span style="font-size: small;">Stella <o:p></o:p></span></span></h1>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">At
first I loved being at home, home-making, fixing things up for the family we were planning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha had
moved out of <st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city> in search of better schools
for her children and clean air for her asthma as she suffocated in the school
run grid lock of <st1:place w:st="on">North London</st1:place> so we met up
weekly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the summer we sat at the
check tablecloth under my apple tree and talked while her little girl chased my
chickens round the garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here I was in
gingham shirt and baggy shorts, doing the good life bit, digging up my garden
quicker than the rabbits that ate all my veggies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I was as happy as a child in a sandpit,
turning up those strange beetles which live underground, and collecting the
windfalls for apple cake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">My
uncle the plumber came to help us take down the Formica bathroom from the half
timbered hall and scrape the dark wood effect sticky back plastic from the
walls of our place, last decorated in the 70s: think lime green nylon carpets
and orange kitchen tiles with purple plastic cupboards - country cottage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My aunt sat in the old rocking chair we had
inherited from a sojourn in Scandinavia by some family member, and hourly
ironically enquired of Unkie - so named by my niece - whether he had finished
that job yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Aren’t you lonely in the
sticks?”she asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could I be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was the original Mr McGregor next door,
whose hobby I discovered the first day I opened my curtains to a beautiful
spring morning, to hear a shot whiz past my nose, and see a rabbit keel over
dead on our drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could always
enjoy a tea with Mr Mc G as he kept up his gun watch under the elder tree on
his veggie patch, or sit quietly with him and watch the garden grow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘What is this life if full of care we have no
time to stop and stare?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">There
was the Cancer Research Campaign committee which I had been hand bagged into
joining by the fierce lady who seemed to run everything in the village -
charity, conservatives, canvassing, country foot path maintenance, cake stalls,
council objections to green belt planning - all run from the little house on
the Green from which her world was under he watchful eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rang Sasha - “What do you wear to a Cancer
Research Committee meeting?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t” she
said, “don’t go there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll be
delivering guilt-inducing mail shots by hand and shaking cans outside Tesco
before I can tell you to save yourself.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Good advice, but I had not got my silver cross badge in Bible study for
nothing, so my conscience sent me to Oxfam where I found an Aquascutum tweed
skirt in which I could disguise myself - still desperate to fit in as a village
lady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any of the other committee members
could have been my grandmother and the meetings were far too long as most
enjoyed a little sleep at some point on the agenda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they achieved a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No local retailer would dare refuse the request
of tombola prize from the blued suited and blue rinsed ladies, and the
Christmas card committee put most retail ops teams I had worked with to
shame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had the counties covered for
orders of robins on twigs by August.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">And
they were kind to me, who was lonely for a peer group in this village, which
seemed to be God’s waiting room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
given cuttings for my garden and secret recipes for simnel cake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever a fashion victim I was soon sucked in to
the twinset and pearls which was smart and flexible for the county show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My other disguise, chameleon that I am, was
the ubiquitous fleece, jeans and green wellies as I struggle in and out of the
obstacle course of our cottage over the cement mixer, planks of assorted sizes,
paint splashed stereo, shingle and mud which now filled our kitchen as we had
the builders in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When not in court shoes
as a charity worker I was a welly-booted full time project manager, making tea
and deciding on where walls, lights, cookers and basins would be, when we again
possessed such luxuries… as that winter I was reduced to washing carrots in the
washbasin and making delicious but same-tasting stir fries in an electric
frying pan on the floor of the dining room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was a cold winter and the dining room had a temporary door shored up
with pages of the builder’s Sun scrunched into insulation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fridge remained outside this door and we
soon abandoned it as a carrier bag just outside the door in what used to be our
living room was just as cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were
roofless in December for the mulled wine and mince pies I made for the builders
and it rained on the Christmas tree I had put in the living room to cheer
myself up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Many
visits to the doctor later, I was still feeling lousy, “Can builder induced
stress stop your periods?” I asked him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He sent me off for a blood test for glandular fever as I seemed to have
less energy and I was sure my brains had given up working altogether.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was more miserable when I got a dodgy smear
test result and as we regarded the computer print out together, me worrying
whether it was even be right to try and fall pregnant (difficult with total
absence of periods to judge whether it had ever happened) when sure to fall to
cervical cancer. Dirk put his arms around my shoulder and standing in a muddy
kitchen-to-be suggested we should sort that wedding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we hired a marquee and after a month of
sunny days had dried up the mud enough to persuade me to risk decorating the
entrance with dried hops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their delicate
beauty was swept away by a rainstorm overnight and we danced the next day away
in the puddles on the happiest day of my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">That
was the Saturday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the Monday we had
an appointment at some BUPA hospital with a very smart white coated consultant
to review the results of my blood test.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He called me in by my married name which just didn’t connect yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laughingly told him we had only been
married two days. “Then I’m sorry to tell you” he said to my husband - as they
never seem to think women talk their language - that your wife is
menopausal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Menopausal - in my 30s!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My dreams crashed around my ears as I
remembered the hot flushes in my teens. “A bit early” my Nana laughed, and no
one had thought any more of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Glandular
fever had taken a couple of stones off me as a teenager and my absence of
periods was felt to be ‘ballet dancer syndrome’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All those years I had worried about getting
pregnant and ruining my perfect career when according to this guy I had
probably never had any eggs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I
was confident in the miracles of modern medicine though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How then can we have a child?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That, the consultant informed me, was not his
department.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he knew a man who can,
so a letter was written and we found ourselves in his friend’s office weeks
later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I have always wondered about
guys who choose to be a gynaecologist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I had a few dodgy cells on my cervix in my 20s I had nipped out in
my lunch hour for a biopsy from a guy who had his ceiling covered with cartoons
- his own - of self-portraits of himself disappearing between the legs of
luscious ladies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This troubled me
slightly and I was glad to need no follow ups from the man after a blast from
his laser ‘sorted it’ he informed me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">This
guy was the silent type.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had the
camera at my cervix before I could even get the words “Good morning” out as I
tried to remember that opening your jaw was supposed to have a similar effect
on your pelvis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When it came time to put
the embryos back in my pink cosy visualisation was interrupted by him: “Hey,
your cervix has really been fried”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
the second time, with frozen embryos, I suggested to his secretary it might
feel a more positive experience for me if he didn’t mention my fried
cervix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was lying holding my husband’s
hands and thinking happy thoughts when he entered all gowned up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I hear you don’t want me to mention your
cervix”. He said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Afterwards
the two weeks of not knowing whether the emotional roller coaster ride you felt
you were on was induced by pregnancy creating hormones, or just the stress of
anticipating another window without a blue line in another pregnancy testing
kit - I should get shares in those things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then the moment you follow the white coat up the corridor into a private
office to be told it hasn’t worked again and be offered tea, that very British
medicine for every eventuality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Luna<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">There
is no wealth but life<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Truly
seeing and sharing that seeing with others<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">It’s
a vision thing baby<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I
remember that day when the Doctor told Stella that the fertility treatment hadn't worked - I could not believe it - I had not even thought it could fail... I had waited for twenty years for Stella to get round to having a baby, had known for ten of those years what she did not - that she was going to need a lot of medical help to do that - but I was so convinced it would work. I had great plans for that baby - I would gently shape-shift into a new being who I could shape and share all my experience with. But now - failure - I could not see anything of how Stella was coping, I was lost in my dark side, gone out of
orbit, being sucked towards my own personal black hole </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">– no really madam, no matter how shit your own
personal hell is, you have life - beautiful as Disney Lion King, lump in the throat,
circle of life - and you can see your own progeny, getting your own tribes genetic
pool’s end up… lets go round again, maybe we’ll turn back the hands of time,
lets go round again one more time…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p>What is it all about? </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">It
depends if you see life as one of those etch-a-sketch where you strive to write
your story, create your image, before the divine hand of fate, Thomas Hardy
style reaches for the plastic-easy-facile button linked to the wire-noose-line
and wipes the slate;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">or
whether you buy in to that Old Testament style begetting that creates tribes
who can part rivers, or at least build hydroelectric dams to harness their
power – progress; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">or
maybe you’re a Pharaoh-artist saying I am dust which returns to dust but in the
mean time I’m going to make a bloody big mark on the landscape, move my own
mountain to show nature I’m a creator too; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">or
do you believe in the life as an investment trust, build your collateral with
God, don’t get caught without saying sorry Catholic style, submit to a greater
power and hope he’s got a soft spot for you – he knows best but you can argue
about the rule set in the tome in the Temple as well as the next man and my
son’s a lawyer he’ll be here soon etc.; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">or
do you accept you are in a permanent dress rehearsal acting your socks off to
get a better script next time and wondering if spiritual progress is towards
being prime minister or is life as a radish a higher state - a brief life with the sun
in your leaves before a gardener’s bite sends your spirit energy through a star
trek like device to transubstantiate as a bean sprout?; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">or
do we just never go away are we in limbo, a ‘field of dreams’ style invisible
crowd on the side-lines of life/death rooting for our team…. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">but
what if you do your best but don’t see providence on your side, don’t get the
hand genetic chance has dealt you, don't get begot, then can’t beget – why me - and then some bastard
or some trick of the chemical balance in your brain puts you in the pit where
getting out of bed is awful, you are not touched by anything, not beauty you
can’t draw, not love you can’t feel can’t even have a conversation with your
husband, not humour you can’t smile, for fuck’s sake (we need some new swear
words, surely post Tarantino it’s death not sex violence or the church which is
scary, unmentionable in polite company) you can’t even cry anymore you are a
dried up leaf dropped from the tree, worse than that you are a <u>dependant</u>
but you insist
on staying alive and you can’t contribute can’t show your worth in any way –
can’t reach anyone can’t reach yourself. You are a pet, a cat who walks alone, can’t give or receive kill the bird
take a bite and leave it eat your dry biscuit and a sip of water, sleep, nature
gone crazy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">What
do you believe then – believe nothing- seek unconsciousness, hope tomorrow
never comes and you don’t have to start being baffled all over again – why am I
still here when I don’t want to be it must be time for something -chance to
press delete, wipe my etch-a-sketch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">No.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">You
have to go on- say ok - better than last winter, phone Mum on Sundays say you
love her cos she deserves to hear it though you don’t love don’t hate feel
nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This
is a bit heavy, anyhow they think it’s a happy ending- for now- not a
silent spring – yet- don’t get started on that – what they want is to read the
story- your etch a sketch is still available to read, some people might want to
know why you’re still here and what was so bloody awful in the first place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ok.
It starts here, not with Stella but with her grandfather…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">So
you do think it’s something about tribes? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Well
all I have is my heritage, and it’s a good enough story, as is your story – but
hey - I’m writing and you’re still reading, I’m exhibiting and you are
seeing,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>so let’s share…lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip4ZkI7Qsprx__B8-ou4hQkEg2T0N8xbySdKE_tGbVLAa8O_6ieLts74tMswbynG16kiezRrO3kWrWVBR1DxrQ-4a-KbAaLndiQl_XFywEknQB0aBmUyVUndaqDzSAqHFyKvEbYQFqcivD/s1600/aran_0001_NEW_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip4ZkI7Qsprx__B8-ou4hQkEg2T0N8xbySdKE_tGbVLAa8O_6ieLts74tMswbynG16kiezRrO3kWrWVBR1DxrQ-4a-KbAaLndiQl_XFywEknQB0aBmUyVUndaqDzSAqHFyKvEbYQFqcivD/s400/aran_0001_NEW_0001.jpg" width="231" /></a></div>
<br /><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Cast
list<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Grandpa,
aran cardi, troubled by his past but capable of loving, a really nice guy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Our
Dad, his son, man of the sea, a traveller, a good dad sometimes absent, an
inspiration when he’s around - in fact like the sea -laughter on a calm day,
stormy when rocked by the wind, you’re never sure when the tide will turn<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">What
you want to know is the story; ok I’ll start with what I know about Grandpa,
what I’ve unlocked from my dad’s sea chest…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I
remember him buying us Twinkle when we were little girls, shown off on a
Sunday, but he went to live down south for his arthritis, away from the rainy
north west, ironic considering the flood plains of the sunny south started
being deluged and we found him in his mobile home in a large puddle like Noah
in his arc with his photos and his memories and the drowned cabbages he had
rescued from his allotment, served steaming with good Somerset butter and a
cake from the lady next door for the two little blonde girls thick as thieves
who ran through the puddles and made her well up as she remembered her own
siblings- one of 7 you know- all dead now- I’m the eldest, raised them all and
watched them all go – so much need to be loved in<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a victoria sponge you could hardly eat a
whole slice, the jam was so sweet it made your teeth ache.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Grandpa
trusted my dad on everything, although we had driven 250 miles if dad said he’d
be there at 3 the Princess would pull up outside at 3 as the tea cosy was
slipped on, though we’d parked in a puddle up the road to wait for 23 minutes,
and pee with our wellies on under a tree. The
little mobile home was so hot and we girls had to sit on a cushion on the
radiator so we could all sit down to eat together – that most painful and most
healing ritual of British families – roast meat and three vegetables. The tiny
dwelling like a glass house, the oven full blast, steam from 3 pans and the
gravy tin, the radiator which threatened to brand our buttocks when squirming
in the tension you could cut like a victoria sponge, seen but not heard, peas
eaten from the back of the fork<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>please,
the sweat on my father’s frown. Afterwards escape to the allotment, dance among
the prize winning sweet peas my favourite - so fragrant and no necessity to put
them anywhere near the back of a fork. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The aran was in place
good for a hug, the central toasty, and the advice consistent, we’ll be alright
if we eat enough.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And
we passed the hours in time travel tales of sea voyages to lumberjack in Canada
and war in Africa, road movie tales of long drives as a chauffeur in sleek fast
motors, violent tales of working as a bailiff in Birkenhead, collecting the
rent from the dock workers mutinous comedians every last jack, mike, mick,
shaun, paddy of them, oh the laughs and the fights we had lads, and the heart
core hard core story the one in the middle of all this the one that matters
most eats you up inside on these lonely wet winter days, the love story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Ed.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I want
to come in here, I might be dead already, but these are my stories, tender true
rib tickling finger licking heartrending…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">You were the first child I saw growing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am your
grandfather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your grandmother was the
girl next door, always my playmate, my confidant, my best friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were adolescents together in the Blitz of
a <st1:place w:st="on">Liverpool</st1:place> which traded sugar and soldiers
with a crumbling Commonwealth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got a
job loading at the docks and unloaded some beer one day, courtesy of some GIs
coming in to port and feeling charitable as they left sea sickness behind them
on that ‘smelly old ship’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So our street
partied that night and your grandmother and I walked late in the woods and
watched the wind blow a mist in over the <st1:place w:st="on">Mersey</st1:place>.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Inside the white of the mist we felt
there was no one else, just us two, and we shared the ultimate intimacy that
can be shared between a man and a woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When next day the mist had gone we both saw in each other a good and trusted
friend and nothing more, and we agreed to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>tell no one of what had happened between us that night by the moonlit
Mersey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We joked that it had a been a
magic mist full of fairies which had turned us mad for each other that night;
that or the American beer.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I got a chance of a passage to <st1:country-region w:st="on">Canada</st1:country-region>, via <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Ireland</st1:country-region></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would be taking on some cargo in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Dublin</st1:city></st1:place> and dropping off a
few passengers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw one of the passengers
on deck that evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were both
leaning on the rail and watching <st1:place w:st="on">Liverpool</st1:place>
swim into the distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned to
watch her as she gazed out to sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
was elegant, hatted and in a long black woollen coat. She noticed me looking
and turned on me the biggest brownest eyes I ever saw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p>N</o:p></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">ow this is doing to make me sound like a
real womaniser, but I fell for her then, and I have never looked at any other
girl since then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got talking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a singer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had been off singing for the troops, all
over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hard work she said, travelling in
awful conditions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now she was going home
for a rest with her family for a bit and then she was going to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city></st1:place> to work with a
company who would tour overseas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was
used to attention, I could tell, and easy to talk and laugh with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She felt very compassionate for the men away
from their families and “bringing some music and beauty” she flushed as she
said this; “into their day” was a way she could help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking back now I don’t know if she felt the
same attraction as I did or whether I was another boy away from home who she
was charming out of a desire to spread happiness and feminine grace in a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>world which had little time to think of
anything which didn’t involve the German armies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">When we pulled into <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Dublin</st1:city></st1:place> port I offered to help her ashore with
her bags and the Captain said I could see her home as we had some cargo to load
overnight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so proud as I escorEd
her through the port, all the Dockers and seamen must have envied me those
eyes, deeper than the <st1:place w:st="on">Irish sea</st1:place>, and much more
kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I watched a shadow cloud her face as we
arrived at her parents’ house in a terrace on the south side of the river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The house windows were dark with blackout
blinds though it was afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finding
no answer at the door we left her bags on the step and went to call next door,
just as the old neighbour was coming out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Oh Grace, I’m so sorry”, the old man grasped her hand; “you’ll find no
one at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Come in and have some tea
with me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grace was not going to take
tea anywhere until he told her where her family were, she said, and her eyes
flashed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Realising she thought the worst
the old man told her he had a key for her, her mother had left it in case Grace
came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had gone to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city></st1:place> to stay with Grace’s sister.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grace looked relieved and puzzled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why would her mother, who would not go to the
other side of town to see her daughter sing, suddenly take it into her head to
emigrate to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city></st1:place>?
<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">The old man realised he had made the news too
soft to spare her, and I saw the pain that flashed across both their faces as I
watched him tell Grace that her father had been killed, not by a bomb or an
army, but a silly night time fall down the stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her mother had not felt safe here on her own,
the neighbour’s face made clear he felt <st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city> a
lot less safe than <st1:city w:st="on">Dublin</st1:city>, whether because of
the blitz or the fact it was the capital city of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">England I</st1:city></st1:place> didn’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Grace could find the rest of her family
there when she went over to meet her company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Exhausted by emotion the old man pushed
the key into Grace’s hand and shuffled off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Grace watched him go silently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
took the key out of her hand, unlocked the door and led her inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opened a blind and sat her in a dusty pool
of light by the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I fetched her
bags in and got her a cup of water from the scullery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She drank the water and sat silently, tears
rolling down her cheeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took the
empty cup from her hand and taking out my handkerchief dried her tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She started to sob quietly and shiver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put my arm around her shoulders and stroked
her sleek dark hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She turned towards
me and held me around the waist, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bent down and put my coat over her knees
and she put her hands up to my face and pulling my eyes to hers said, “Don’t’
leave me alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please stay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t bear to me on my own.” And so I
stayed and comforted her stroking her hands and arms, shoulders and back, until
her shaking stopped and she turned and kissed me on the lips and I stroked her
breasts and thighs and secret places and made love to her with tenderness and
joy and sorrow until she slept. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
dawn I woke her and said “Goodbye” and
made her promise to let me know, in Canada, her address in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city></st1:place> as soon as she got there. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">It was
late afternoon when the ship left dock and after he could see <st1:place w:st="on">Liverpool</st1:place>
no longer Ed went down to the dining room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The waiter directed him to the Captain’s table where Ed proceeded to eat
his way through the menu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In expansive
mood he entertained his fellow diners, all older than he and amused by the
swagger of this young man, ‘till he turned white and staggered across the
dining room to his bunk room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There he
stayed for the five days of the voyage, reeling the darkness of his curtained
room, sick ‘till his insides felt torn apart.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">A more
subdued Ed left the ship for the three day train journey to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Winnipeg</st1:city></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was the only one to get down from the train at the station and the
only man waiting on the platform, impossible to miss at 6'6'', enquired “Mr Glover?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ed was driven the 25 miles to the ranch in a
buggy with two horses that reared straight up on their hind legs when the tall
fellow touched the reins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the
only time he was to see the station.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
train sped through the ranch’s land, so if you tipped the driver he would slow
down long enough for you to jump on or off.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">The farm
was 8000 head of cattle with the rest of the land laid to grain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ed’s first job was with the horses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In this vast land you operated with your
horse like a partner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You had to handle
him like a wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were two stable
boys, himself and an Italian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was the
only English labourer he knew of all the time he was in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Canada</st1:country-region></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone called him ‘that damn
Englishman’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day began with a race
with the Italian to get down to the stable. Last down mucked out the
stable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ed could not understand how the
Italian, normally slow, was always before him in the stable ‘till he realised
he did not stop to lace on his ankle boots but went down in his slippers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But one of the horses was suspicious of
anyone who crept up on her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ed always
talked to her as he approached from where she could not see him or the whites
of her eyes would roll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So one morning
the Italian padded up to her in his slippers and she tossed him into the
manger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was the end of Ed’s stint
mucking out the stables. He worked with the cattle day after day, drove to the Post to pick up mail - rarely for him - how exactly had he thought Grace would get a message to him here?</span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I sailed out of <st1:city w:st="on">Dublin</st1:city>
for <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Canada</st1:country-region></st1:place>
that morning; my heart full of love and I never saw her again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went back to that street in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Dublin</st1:city></st1:place> many times and
couldn’t find her or the old man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
been down to <st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city> every year and seen every
new show there and in Liverpool, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Manchester</st1:city></st1:place>
and many overseas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I never found my
dark-eyed lover who taught me what pleasure and pain mean.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">When I got back from Canada, after what
was for me the longest passage ever made - so impatient was I to return cargo
to Dublin and watch out for my Grace - when I got back home all hell let
loose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your grandmother was three months
pregnant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her parents and mine were
mates, and they were all hopping mad with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I did the decent thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was
too good a friend for me to let her down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I told her about Grace and that I was in love and that this was the love
of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told her I would marry
her, if she would have me, and then I would join the army and disappear, send money regular.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew she had to be married to give the
child a respectable start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So she said
yes, she would cope on her own and she did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I always got reports from my family, as I wrote home from Africa, <st1:country-region w:st="on">India</st1:country-region> and occasionally, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city></st1:place>, as I made an army career and won all
those stripes.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">By the time your Dad was married I felt I
was never going to find my Grace again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had been so ashamed of dropping out of his life like that I dared not
show my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He surprised me one day by
tracking me down at the port as I was passing through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reckon his grandmother had tipped him
off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was so angry that I didn’t
recognise him, this proud young man, my son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anyhow, I got invited to the wedding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He had found a lovely girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
she was the family type.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Always having
me for tea and lunch and thinking of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So you arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And your
grandmother died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My good friendship
with her, her good company and all we shared I had sacrificed for the shadow of
a great passion I felt for a girl I had known for one day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had left her to struggle with the poverty
and the gossip and the hard work that comes when you have to raise a child on
your how, without a husband around for support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And now I wasn’t going to miss out on seeing a child of mine growing up
for the second time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so I got to
know you from the first day you got home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was waiting on the doorstep when your father fetched you and your Mum
from hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your Dad didn’t know how
to take it, me being around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But your
Mum said it was alright and here you are, a grown woman and visiting me in an old
people’s home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I have on my wall a poster of Grace for a
concert I missed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You always asked me
who the beautiful lady was and now you know the story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You tell me now you want a child of your own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hang on to what is given to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In life we often yearn for what we think we
want and don’t love enough what we have been given.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Stella<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I
now had the perfect house, three bedrooms and a big garden for children to run
round in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would our dream ever come
true?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I closed the doors on two new
rooms and cried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so lonely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then I met the third love of my
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At an RSPCA kennel in Potters
Bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has the most beautiful brown
eyes edged with black as though she is wearing kohl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her Mikado mask markings on her long forehead
and nose give her a slightly oriental appearance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Black and tan with a creamy lower half she
wore a red collar the first time I saw her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Girlie, my dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My protectress,
sent by heaven in my hour of need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">My
husband was unsure about her adoption until we stopped to sit on a wooden bench
on the side of the field allocated for our test walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She climbed up beside him and put her head on
his shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was putty in her paws
after that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I scarcely breathed until we
had passed the ‘are you fit to adopt a dog’ inspection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From then on we were his girlies
together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She rubs him with her scent
arching her back like a cat to lean against his thigh as he crouches to greet
her after a day away at work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I had a
blue day I would stay in bed and she would like on the duvet next to me,
pressing her spine against mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
gave the best comfort, watched over me while I slept and worried away the
hours, and dragged me out of bed for a walk in the woods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wore the same clothes, day after day, not
having enough energy, enthusiasm or imagination to pull on anything but my mood
indigo denims and layers of fleeces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
I always felt cold, cold from the inside, depression Sasha diagnosed in her
cute denim dress and sandals as I shivered in my furry boots and the anorak
which she said made me look like a tourist from <st1:place w:st="on">Yorkshire</st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t care what I looked like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t care about myself, didn’t know who I
was anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My self had gone away
somewhere and left a shell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wished she
would come back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I
was as lonely for my self as I know my Dirk, my family and my friends were as I
found them unreachable across the chasm of loneliness across which, isolated on
the wrong side, I could get no word, no message out at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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</div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i>She’s my sister and I gave
her the most precious gift money can’t buy…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not here in this country, yet I’m glad to say…a human egg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have shared all our lives so it seemed
right and we shared the excitement and the anticipation and the pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For me - the physical pain of the hormones
ovary swelling actions and the needles which punctured my follicles - the
emotional pain of it not working out, us not being able to raise our children
together - the pain for me, whether it
was because of the mess my hormones were left in, of not being able to conceive a
second child for years after, so at my daughter’s school sports day when they
called the big brothers and sisters race she was the only one who couldn’t join
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stood at the start line and she
asked “When can I have a little brother?”...</i><br />
<i>Now I will be glad when my bossy
sister of old organises my life again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When for so long she has had no appetite to live her own.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Luna</span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The
palm reader told me…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I’d
like you to hold both of your hands together…you can see for yourself that you
don’t have a matching pair - you may already have been aware of this but a lot
of people have to have it pointed out to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If the palms matched it would mean you had not learned anything from
your early experience and the experiences of others so you’ve come quite a long
way because the differences are quite distinct.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">This
hand takes over from maturity and you are responsible for everything on this
hand and if there is anything that you don’t like on this hand you can change
it and lines on your palm change all of the time but so subtly that it might
take 3 - 5 years for it to show in a reading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>OK?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t need that hand
anymore so if you rest it and give me your right...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">…….
and the island means something quite specific on this hand it’s to do with your
girlie bits and it does indicate that there is a problem – you are aware of
that are you, I’m glad your biology isn’t a secret from you especially for such
a large island but despite whatever else you do I don’t think you can change
that, it’s a very deep mark and it radiates to your love line and your head
line – you are always searching for the thing you are missing here, the search
splits you in two, but you do join up again here and things curve off lovely
towards the end of your life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">You
have a developing line which is only to here but will ultimately finish up here
and this is your line of intuition - all that wonderful psychic ability that
you had as a child is and always has been with you but you didn’t listen to it
for a number of years…well this is normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What happens in childhood…puberty…you’ve got all sorts of pressure to
choose subjects that we’re going to specialise in at school, noticing the
opposite sex,.. there’s so much going on at that time, not to mention the
chemical changes that your body is going through there’s no time for psychic
ability, for intuition and it kind of gets forgotten…ignore it for quite a
while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when we start to listen it
totally kicks in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
line…developing…right up to here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
I’m sure you’ve learned the hard way as we all do, that when you don’t listen
to your intuition you get a kick up the bum - we don’t want a series of events
where we think, O my God, I knew I should have done something about that and
wish I had….now doing something about your gut feelings….if you feel it with
your head it maybe contaminated with logic but that’s not<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>right; if you feel it in your heart it may be
contaminated with emotion but if you feel it with your gut - if you get that
burbly tummy, its really a message that you need to listen to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Your
head line is every bit as strong and as straight as it was on your childhood
hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what I have noticed is that
there are two little islands that are in your past now because you’re about
here actually there’s a third line which I’ll come to, which refer to times
when you are distracted because you are emotionally low - depressed and
depression is something which you suffer from periodically…it comes back and
there is a reason for it and as every cloud has a silver lining the silver
lining to the depression cloud is it is because you are a creative and open
minded person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People who aren’t don’t
suffer from depression don’t allow themselves…and you see them and think it
must be easy being you – everything’s black and white but in fact their life is
so narrow and so limited perhaps they don’t allow themselves to be vulnerable
which is what really allowing depression to happen is and unfortunately we have
no control over it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its not reactive it
happens every few years and I you go right down but you’re very<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>blessed to have been born at a time that you
can heal yourself….there’s lots of things we can do to get through it when we
understand its to do with the fact that I feel things very deeply and very
passionately…. A very feeling person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When you’re down there that makes no difference at all……and on the way
back up it becomes obvious and you will find a way back - and there’s always a
way to join your broken pieces back up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Stella</div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I had started to dread seeing
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hid from Mr Mc, who kindly left
courgettes on my doorstep and a pig’s ear for Girlie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cried off the Cancer Research Campaign, no
longer so sure of modern medicine and resentful that physical pain could be
fixed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While nothing could be offered me
except Valium, I tried it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt like
cotton wool, less painful at the edges but more remote from reality than
ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still didn’t know how I would
get<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>through the rest of my life, but I
was sleeping nights now, the hot flushes were receding and the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>start of each day seemed no longer like a
spiteful curse of more hours of existence until I could again get some sleep -
never enough -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the sleep of unconsciousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<i>I know you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are my granddaughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have watched over you - you emerged from that cocoon of grief, of bed sheets you did not have the
energy to change, I watched you change from a pupae to a moth, watched you
grow, share your grief with your lovely man. Watched you grow up, little moth
never mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is that the only thing
which we women were put here to do, to birth another generation?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wondered that as your grandfather left me
to raise your father alone and isolated, pennies in the jam jar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Feed him and watch him grow up enough to
leave me, as he too went off on a ship and, my work done, I died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><o:p> </o:p></i><i>But we have to travel our
own path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re born to be alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have a gift of beauty, making beautiful
the lives of those around you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes it
can be an obsession and can seem like a curse when you cannot rest till you
have restyled my daughter-in-law’s kitchen shelf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bits of things you made…a clay sculpture self portrait of the brave
little girl in the blue pleated pinafore, head on one side like a bird, looking
up at life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The silk cobweb like colours
you dreamed in at college, draped there on the shelf next to the photo of the
career girl in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Singapore</st1:country-region></st1:place>
while your mother told her friends, “My daughter, she’s off again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know where she gets her energy.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The snowdrop card you made her, a brave
single flower which had pushed through the frozen ground to open up to another
spring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed an image of hope to
you when you found your energy and lust for life almost gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A picture of the beloved dog who came to play
with you and your partner, to remind you that life is good, the world is there
for walking in, when you felt your lives were all but over, felt older than
your years compared to your busy friends always chasing their children around
the park, the shopping precinct, the career path to perfection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>I cried with you this Christmas,
I know it seems hard to face another children’s festival, the Christ child sent
with the innocence of a baby cuts to the deep hurt you feel at not having a say
in the next generation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you will
live in the hearts of your nephews and nice nieces as Auntie Stella the dreamy
moon gazing girl who covered the walls of their homes with colours and
painting, who made her mark in their minds.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Without words to exorcise my feelings I took up my
paintbrush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hardest part about not
being able to be creative in the ultimate way and create life, was that it had
left me exhausted of any creative feeling; always I had expressed myself in
colour and image.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now the impulse had
left me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Feeling dry and broken, unable
to speak to Dirk - he encouraged me to paint the inside of my
head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took a day to come and a pot of
indigo ink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The inside of my head was a
blue whorl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grief and failure endlessly
repeating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A vortex of feeling
blue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mood indigo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Luna<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I hear you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know your pattern.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silica.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All the world in a grain of sand, fragile, yet strong enough to stand the
ceaseless beatings of the lunar tides on our beaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the ebb and flow of the sea, la mer, la
méré, mother of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silica as flint
fractured to form arrowheads and cutting tools to feed humanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silica became glass through the alchemy of
fire, to fetch water and beautify shelter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Many evolved enough to have energy left for grooming used silica to
adorn his image, quartz for jewellery, silicon for implants to change her
shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is the remedy of retail detail
- the fashion victim hunting for confidence in herself among the racks of
clothes and seeking to soften that brittle feeling with stacks of cushions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stubborn, yet yielding like a sand hill
underfoot these children are capable of standing strong and sparkling like
crystal, but then can remain broken on the beach feeling isolated from their
other parts which the weather of life has scattered about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silica will be your medicine; will help you
to be strong again my child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will help
you be like a glass recycled to be filled to the brim once more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Stella<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I’d just managed to be brave enough to get through
breakfast with Dirk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I was managing
lunch with Sasha again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i>Groucho Marx said that wives
are people who don’t dance enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I, Sasha, used to dance cos I feel so good I'm going to break some body's hear tonight... Now </span>I
dance with my babies in the five minutes I have to do something irresponsible
every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As that tune from children's TV at 5 pm
reminds me that another day is nearly over and it won’t be long
‘till I can open a bottle of wine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
lap recently vacated by number three will be occupied at once by my opportunist
cat, and we will curl up together and wait for our provider to get back from
his client so we can down some pasta and head for bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too much red wine and I won’t get to call my
body by own until well after lights out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ll get some sleep before number three comes crashing down the corridor
to climb in next to me and affectionately drag her toenail up and down my leg
until the alarm raises us for the next round.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I felt I had to do something useful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Work was a way I had always defined
myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I considered helping at an old
people’s home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the classified ads in
the paper were for real Hertfordshire was becoming a suburb of sheltered
accommodation and nursing homes seeking more staff to help people keep their
bodies clean and healthy while they wanted to leave them behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“No way” said Sasha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I will absolutely not let you apply for
‘self destruct scheme no 4.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No
way.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this time I listened and took
a job as a classroom assistant in a special school so I could help some
children I could never call my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
first time I took one of our wheelchair kids who had no speech, could not take
food by mouth and seemed designed for a life with no fun I took him out of his
chair into the pool the parents had raised money to pay for, for some
physio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I cradled him in my arms, his
thin body and his withered legs, he laughed and laughed for joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hoped no one would notice the tears rolling
down my cheeks and tried to cover their splashes as I swung him round and round
in the water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the first time for
four years I felt happy to be here, alive and useful and very touched by the
giggles of the happy boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tickled him
as he swung around in his blow up chair, in his element, kicking his legs in a
way he can’t when like a fish out of water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The pool was in a cheap cover like a crop tunnel, but to cheer it up
someone had painted the one wall at the end with blue mermaids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone had told me about the indigo children
who had chosen to come back to earth despite facing huge challenges here to
heal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With Josh, my indigo child, in the
pool that day, I felt whole again, joined up and in touch with myself,
deserving love in my old cossie with the lycra half gone so it threatened to
disappear into my bum every time I moved I felt so good I made a promise, to
myself to go shopping for a new one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah
life choices…now lime green one piece, or snakeskin print bikini.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I deserve both and years of swims with
children like Josh and sunny days away on holiday to wear them out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Of course, we wanted to give IVF another go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s like an addiction when you start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gambling…this time my number could come up in
the 15% chance of success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We found a
new holistic practice with a lovely fellow who counselled you for hours before
he asked you to put your feet in the stirrups.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We thought long and hard about which of our friends we loved enough or
little enough to saddle with the responsibility of our wilful teenager asking
about the genetic material they donated as an egg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We decided we could wish it on no one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<i>You live in my parish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I married you and Dirk the church was
crammed with fruit and vegetables to symbolise the fertile marriage you two wanted
to have - fruitful with progeny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
congregation tut-ted on the Sunday that it looked like harvest festival, bit I
loved it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are a bit conservative
and having a ‘lady vicar’ has been a bit of a shock for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was shock for me to be called like that on
the divine telephone and given the message that I should make the change from
human resources (inhuman resources I felt the department should be called; all
we ever seemed to do was make people redundant), so a pay cut, fancy dress on
Sundays, though the rest of the week will mostly find me in gardening gear at
the vicarage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I meet a lot more of my
parish over the hedge than I ever do in church!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It seems to me a woman’s job - births, marriages, deaths, they have
always been women’s work, to labour, to raise children in a Christian environment,
to celebrate marriage, to mourn our fathers, husbands, in wartime our sons, to
pick flowers for weddings and christenings, and tend graves, to break bread and
offer wine and a shoulder to cry on, all these are women’s sacraments, and I
honour them as such.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a feminist,
too busy following my education and career to ever consider marriage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I now find myself the big fellow’s
handmaiden!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is a demanding boss,
always giving me something new to think about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Like you.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>You came over the churchyard
last week and spoke to me through your tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I started to think I had that effect on people, but it goes with the
territory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People share their dreams and
sorrows with the vicar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are nurses of
the heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I call in the great doctor to
give me a hand with the healing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We make
a good team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I didn’t know how to
help you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You asked me to network on
your behalf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You were looking for a
woman to donate some eggs so you could have a baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could I ask around in the parish if someone
could help anonymously a couple who would love the chance to be parents?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You explained it would be uncomfortable, you
would not be allowed to pay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A truly Christian
act is what you were looking for - someone who could share what they had been
given with someone less fortunate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
sounded text book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said I would see
what I could do.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<i>My heart leapt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What an opportunity!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a woman like any other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People don’t see a woman of desires and urges
with the title ‘vicar’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never married but I have
loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Men, women - and what of
children?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My biological clock is
ticking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It tells me I do not have much
longer if I am to fill this need to procreate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I could give you my cells, freely given, that is not a problem he
intends you to find a way around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t
ask me why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He doesn’t provide a crystal
ball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think that is his point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are supposed to work it out for
yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is why we are here: to
learn our lesson and be what we have the potential to be. <o:p></o:p></i><br />
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<i>Einstein once asked ‘How
much choice did God have in constructing the universe?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did he create because he is the creator?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did he get an option on being a meditating
spirit who could just be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was the drive
to create, like my biological clock, an imperative he would struggle to
ignore?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did he make the world because he
was lonely, because he saw how beautiful it could be, because he wanted it to
realise its potential?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All for good
reasons for wanting to have a baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
know you feel them all.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>So here we are on an
expanding universe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scientists tell
us it is in a perpetual inflationary state which mimics my weekly bill at
Waitrose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Particles, being, stars,
galaxies moving on and on through space, time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Expanding and cooling until the end of time, or until gravity reverses
the process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the universe expands the
distances between its components increase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With increasing distance comes separation, with separation loneliness.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>When I was young the
extended family was the norm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Grandparents, aunts, cousins all local and in contact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then came the nuclear family and as the atom
was split we not find one in 4 marriages end in divorce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The number of single parents in my parish
increases.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some mothers and children
abandoned or choosing to cope alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
will this end?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With units of one?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each of us spiralling off into a cold lonely
universe?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How will we have children
then?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By cloning our own egos as we buy
out ultimate need - ourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have it
all here in my parish - wealth, homes and gardens, cars and holidays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How will our children find themselves when
they have it all already and have nothing to go and look for?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How will they find a partner who will treat
them like their indulgent parents do?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>All this wanting and getting
and having.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The beautiful
lifestyle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cult of the
individual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With no moral code, no
cultural glue, no bond strong enough to hold them together as a couple, family,
community…so such thing as society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
pray for a future in which they will still manage to commit to each other,
connect, relate, and procreate.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Suffer the little children
to come unto me and I will teach them that love is the kingdom of heaven -
touching another’s heart and being touched.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I was invited to tea at the vicarage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I admired her roses over a cup of Earl Grey
and then she got to the point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Fellow on the other end of the telephone, as she put it, felt egg donation was
making things more complicated than he intended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Acceptance was a hard lesson to learn, she
said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She talked about the dark night of
the soul and I stared at the roses nodding until I could go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The funny thing was when I thought about what
she had said as I drove home I felt a weight had been lifted from my
shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t have to keep banging
my already bruised head on this particularly brick wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think Dirk felt I had bought what she said
because she was an authority figure - and I didn’t really know what I
felt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We wanted to give it our best
shot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To feel we had done all we
could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to pray for success but
I didn’t know who to pray to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’m
not sure what success is anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">We feel very alone in this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are in physical pain the State takes
care of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for the endless
emptiness of infertility you have to find your own answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Success equals happy families, that was my
fantasy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was used to being
successful, getting results.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a buyer
I had learnt that with the right resources - money, expertise - you could
expedite, overcome difficulties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now
results meant a blue line on a test kit, and I couldn’t get there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have it all: the cottage, roses round the
door, bedrooms with patchworks ready for children to grow up in a ‘country
living’ fantasy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it is empty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m on the film set waiting for the actors to
enter, children playing, happy voices, tears, family dramas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scenes of my childhood played again with
me in the leading role of mother this time around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the actors don’t arrive and I am left
alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we are not loosing ourselves
in work our lives had an order and peace which would be the envy of most
working parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We look at each other
and say we feel that our lives are over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What else will happen?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More work,
more holidays, retirement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ultimately
what is the reason for being here if we are passing time?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Not so my parent friends who discuss with me what
nursery, brownie pack, primary school, secondary school, university, job,
relationship is their expectation, hope, dream, fear for their child, or just
the latest funny/naughty/clever thing their youngest/eldest did/was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I want to belong to that club where I can
look forward and see a whole new life happening with me involved, and then
grandchildren.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so I, and the things
I care about, would go on and on into the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My children would say, ‘of yes, my mum is
very stylish’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘She would love this’ my
grandchildren would say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘This dish
belonged to grannie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember when she
used it for those delicious roast parsnips’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The things that give me so much joy would have continuity
or someone would hate them and would rebel in true teenage style and refuse to
wear the cardi I’d picked out, but at least there would be energy there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A sense of belonging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Belonging with the exhausted mums who gulp a
glass of wine in the kitchen at toddlers parties, the reliable mums who turn up
for reading practice, the fun mums who teach the actions to the songs at
holiday club, the bitchy mums who gossip in cliquey groups at school gates, the
competitive mums who drive the horse boxes to gymkhanas, the worried mums who
are in the PTA, the perfectionist mums who make the cutest Christmas stockings,
the achingly proud mums who snap the prettiest daughter in her prom dress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve considered all those occasions as a
design brief, organised the photo shoot, sold the perfect outfit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A psychologist said to me when I was
depressed: “so then you decided you wanted to play happy families?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know they are not always happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some people tell me I’m lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their son/daughter is their nightmare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that case they are their lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s why they’ve been sent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s what I believe: a karmic
connection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We
wanted to learn, to grow with our babies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Dr Jean Foster. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">How do we move forward? The
next Generation.<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">I said in the section on
synthetic hormones and cancer, and it is worth repeating that</span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New";"> looking at this from the homoeopathic
paradigm we can say that there is a miasm here, a predisposition in an
individual to a pattern in susceptibility around oestrogen and cancer. For
individuals with the propensity to produce a cancer picture, oestrogen may be a
maintaining cause. Increasingly that sensitivity will already have been
developed before birth. So why cancer, and what is the miasm? Auto-immunity –
the body looses its ability to distinguish a threat, turns against itself. Goes
into mass production of cells which are a danger to the body… they are all the
same, do not function in a benign way, loose the human ability to respond and
be flexible, become overgrown masses…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Hahnemann
(founder of homeopathy) noted that it is impossible to cure fundamentally and
permanently a chronic disease unless the underlying miasm is prescribed for.
The miasm is an inherited or acquired weakness which predisposes the individual
towards an identifiable pattern of illness. Five basic miasmatic types are
recognised, each producing a tendency to manifest certain types of disease and
behaviour; they are, Psora (fear), Sycosis (greed), Syphilis(self-destruct),
Tuberculosis(disease of the urban poor), and Cancer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Prescriptions
are of the appropriate nosode (potentised products of the disease), or an
anti-miasmatic remedy e.g. Sulphur for Psora. An active miasm may present
symptoms which recur in spite of homoeopathic treatment. The active miasm may
interfere with well-indicated remedies acting curatively at all or for any
length of time. The appropriate nosode is given, often intercurrently with the
remedy that has previously acted in order to reduce the activity of the miasm
and increase the scope of the remedy prescribed so that fundamental and lasting
improvement may be achieved. Another situation for use of a nosode when indicated
remedies fail is when a patient lacks the vitality to throw off an acute, e.g.
Clarke found Tuberculinum the best remedy to clear lingering influenza.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">An
exposed miasm dominates the presenting picture of the patient so that the
mental state, food desires<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></sup></span></sup></a> etc.
are characteristic of the remedy. In this situation the nosode is the indicated
remedy and would be given as the sole and potentially the first remedy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">A
dormant miasm may be discerned in the patient, indicated by family history or
medical history<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></sup></span></sup></a> of
the patient, but may not currently be active. Treating it with the relevant
nosode may reactivate it and careful thought should be given to whether this is
in the best interests of the patient, which it may be in the long term, only
provided the patient has the resources to cope with it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">It
came to Melissa Assilem that she may be seeing a new miasm;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">‘It
soon became clear that many women had symptoms between ovulation and menses,
and most of them had been on the Pill at one time or another... Another amazing
thing to emerge was the fact that many young women were having these problems,
who had not been on the Pill but their mothers had been on the Pill before they
were conceived. Remember the Pill has been available for thirty years now. At
first I confused the picture with symptoms such as early sexuality, urinary
infections, spaciness, etc. but as I got to know the Folliculinum (the Pill
nosode) picture better, it began to dawn on me what the causation might be... <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></sup></span></sup></a>‘<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">We
have seen the link between oestrogen and cancer, this is reflected in a link
between folliculinum and Carcinosin, the breast cancer nosode, oestrogen
stimulates cell growth > cancer gets stuck in cell overgrowth; both are syphilitic,
self destructive. Dorothy Cooper relates that she starts by using Carcinosin
but adds folliculinum if she does not get a lasting response...the remedies are
so similar around overgrowth of cells, receptive, wanting to please,
controlled, history of domination. Carcinosin can also be controlling,
perfectionist, look like arsenicum. Folliculinum can look like lachesis, huge
sensitivity, ‘excitation alternating with depression; extreme sensitiveness to
tough; symptoms > discharges... folliculinum lacks the laterality, and the
aggravation by sleep; folliculinum has aggravation during ovulation.’ (Julian).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">What
about the next generation, will they be able to choose NOT to take hormones?
Look at the hormones in the beef and dairy industry. We have a new miasm, the
taint of the synthetic hormones. Individuals can choose homoeopathy and acquire
the knowledge, if they are lucky, to look after themselves, but as a society
can we choose against the vested interests? I have come to the conclusion that
we have to do it in small ways, if enough people make healthy choices the money
and the media will follow. We can not go on burying our body’s symptoms with
synthetic hormones, denying ageing with cosmetic surgery and HRT, trying to
keep our bodies alive in a life which denies their ability to respond and move
– like a fly preserved in the amber trap.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Ed<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Ed’s eyes were on Grace’s photograph
when he was disturbed from his musings by his door opening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An old lady stood in front of him
trembling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What is it”, he asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m frightened”, she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What, what do you want?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why are you frightened?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I want to go to the dining room.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, go in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Its lunchtime.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m
frightened.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why? Who of?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They won’t let me sit down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
say it’s not my place.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ed took the
shaking lady to the dining room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
was a spare seat at a table where three old ladies sat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he approached they waved their arms at her
like crows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Not here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s not your place.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ed
ignored them and sat her down then raced for his own seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How unlike him to be late for lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This anger had taken his out of his
sadness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How dare they pick on that old lady?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He remembered her as one he had seen in the
corridor, eating the sand out of the plant pots.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><em>After lunch Ed set off to find Matron, told her about the old lady who was being bullied. Oh, Lucy, said Matron, yes, those other women don't respect her cos she has no visitors - silly lot- their every sentence starts... my son the Doctor... their children give them status and identity and they can't see that Lucy has any in their world - she's better off without them. Well, sit her with me then please, said Ed. We can swap stories, I didn't invest enough in my son<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> so both of us missed out on parenting, Lucy and I can talk about something else.</span></em></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><em>In the hall he was distracted by the warm
sunlight flooding through the open doorway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ed decided to take a walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
local shops were ten minutes walk along the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ed could buy a paper and enjoy the
sunshine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He grabbed his binoculars and crunched down the gravel
path and felt his spirits rise with the sense of purpose and fresh air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He regarded the building, a two storey red
brick house with a double bay window front, surrounded by gardens laid to lawn
with paving paths winding around the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And in the shadows behind the windows he glimpsed or sensed ninety pairs
of palest, steely grey eyes intent on nothing.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><em>At the gate Ed saw there was no pavement on this
side of the road and watched two cars pass then walked across the tarmac.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the other side a hedge ran along the side
of a field of Friesian cows grazing the emerald grass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their bulk gave them a significance and
solidity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were everlasting life and
the season themselves wherever you had been in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">England</st1:place></st1:country-region> over the last years there
had always been cows in fields.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And they
would endure. Plenty of birds here...<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
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<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><em>Ed was disturbed from his thoughts by a shout from
the drive opposite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the young
nurses was running towards him, her hat askew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ed walked quickly to meet her, concerned at what of import could have
happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You can’t do that!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ed realised her concern was directed at
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You can’t go out on your
own.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ed stared at her in
incomprehension.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We have to supervise
you at all times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re responsible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I haven’t got time to go out walking with
you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, where are your heart
pills?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ed reached for his pocket and
brought out a small brown plastic bottle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The nurse was not satisfied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Anything could have happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This road is very dangerous.” Seeing Ed’s face drop her voice
softened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come back in and soon there
will be a nice cup of tea.”<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><em>Ed followed her back into the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All his pleasure in the still beautiful day
gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did not go after the nurse in
the public lounge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He turned the handle
of the fourth door along the corridor and went into his room. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><em>He sat on the chair and stared out of the window,
no longer seeing the warmth and colour of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So this is what it has come to, he
thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can’t even walk to the paper shop
on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have to spend the rest of my
life being supervised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve travelled
all over the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lived in dangerous
Africa and wild <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Canada</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And now sunny <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Riverside</st1:place></st1:city> is too dangerous for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out of bounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Curfew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Confined to barracks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His sadness
outweighed his anger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He saw the full
circle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Helpless baby, cared for and
cosseted; daring youth; mature adult, provider and carer, to doddering old age,
supervised, waiting for God to deliver him to heaven where he would sail the
skies on a cloud and cavort with a cherub girl.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
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<br /><br />
<br />
Stella<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">We had one more try – got the hospital to place an
advert for us in the local paper, trying to find the right words to ask someone who didn't even know us to go through an invasive proceedure and even pain to help us, was hard… first draft:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Maybe you have children and would like to help a
couple who long for children of their own by becoming an anonymous egg donor?
If so, contact the medical secretary on….”</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
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</div>
<br />
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<i>I don’t know you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I answered an advert you placed via a
hospital asking for an egg donor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your
words stopped me and held me and touched my heart as I looked through the
classifieds on the tube that any day morning, on a short break ashore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something like “Maybe you already have
children and would like to help a couple who so much want to experience the joy
of raising a family…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I have no
children, and family rising isn’t something my tribe go in for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We just seem to muddle through as friends,
exchanging parenting to mother, daughter, and grandmother as trauma
dictates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I kind of like the idea of
some genes of mine having two whole parents… my tribe live like gypsies, we go
where the work takes us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Songbirds we
call ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandmother, mother and
daughter we sing harmonies together on cruise ships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We appeal to three generations of punters and
the cruise companies like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Old guys
still get bewitched by my grandmother’s big brown eyes and their wives coo over
the likeness with her descendants as we wear matching red silk and sequins and
strut our stuff as the passengers half time drinks.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>The sea, says my grandmother,
Grace, is a very romantic place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
where she fell for my grandfather between Liverpool and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dublin</st1:place></st1:city>, and after as he comforted her, on the
saddest and happiest day of her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, I have seen the Irish Sea and I prefer the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Maldives</st1:country-region></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he must have been a nice guy, even if men
do think mostly with their willies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
waiters we have on our cruises think exclusively with their’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She only met him the once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that was all it took to get landed with
my mum, Gran says.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seems to me it was
her sister got landed with my mum as Gran hopped off on another tour to croon
her love songs and moon over her lost love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mum repeated the tradition by learning the difference between girls and
boys from one of the waiters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so we
were three.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t think I’m
grumbling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve seen the world, at least
three times, being brought up on ships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And I was as cute as Shirley Temple in broderie anglaisé, the kid all
the Saga tours liked to spoil as they showed Gran photos of their
grandchildren.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She doesn’t do much
singing now, mostly reclines on a chaise longue centre stage and smiles that
sweet smile, while her still brown eyes always seem to be searching the
audience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We tease her rotten Mum and I
- still searching after all these years - will you recognise him with grey
hair. If he has any?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I don’t think
she would recognise him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is an
ideal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever young, tender, caring as he
was then in that story we have heard over so many G & T’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She never had to see him drunk and
leery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i>And I suppose this is what
this is about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ideals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This couple want to play happy families and I
want to think, as I pull out of port for another escapist trip on another
cruise -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gran’s last, she say - in a few
weeks time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to think I’m leaving
a part of me behind in rainy Blighty, to grow up - under these grey skies, in
these crowded streets, horrid houses - and have a normal life.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i>Music, beauty, escape to
sunshine and glamour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all want it, we
want to make ourselves beautiful, have lovely lives, the forever young, and
eternal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are our own only
creations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We want to be what we
want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We consume all these clothes,
holiday, and travel; experience all these parts of our selves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are consumed by being consumers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want something more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to know in my secret thoughts as I
settle down in my bunk that somewhere in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">England</st1:country-region></st1:place> a child with big brown eyes
knows they have a home. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I was pregnant for six weeks and as I watched the
tears roll down Dirk’s cheeks at the scan I knew it was</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"> over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
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<i>She is my daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For Christmas I bought her a book ‘The Gift
of Story’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two weeks later before
Christmas she got the results of a test which were not what we all had hoped
for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The story I gave is called ‘What is
enough’.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i>The author is one of the
‘keepers of stories’ - for her Hungarian people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A very important role for it is their belief
that stories can heal individuals and strengthen communities.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i>The story told very simply
of a couple whose country has been ravaged by war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are very poor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two precious things they have are her
beautiful head of hair which hangs almost to her feet, and his old watch passed
down from his grandfather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
Christmas and they long to buy each other gifts. She sells her hair to buy him
a watch chain and he sells his watch to buy her combs for her hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the sorrow of discovering the futility of
their loss they each realise the strength of the other’s love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Two
weeks before Christmas we lost the hope of children’s laughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we found out how much we each want to
share this with each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps that
is enough.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Luna<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I
couldn’t stay put to watch her self-destruct – I found it easy to be a
spiritual healer – patients were just dimly aware of me as a presence – they
were so lost in their own pain – I just let them channel it away through me…
the palmist could see that Stella had the potential….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>You
have here medical stigmata, a very arty-farty name and it doesn’t mean you’ve
got to dash out and be a doctor or a nurse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This tells me that you’re a natural healer and that you were like that
before you decided to be a homeopath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You have the natural ability to heal people through either talking to
them or listening to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is
something about you that makes people feel better about themselves which is
what healing is about not pills and potions and bandages and sticking a plaster
over something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its about getting to the
bottom of things and you have got two healer marks and two developing healer
marks which tells me that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>actually you
may well<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>be doubling your healing
potential in the not too distant future because these lines are developing
which heal others and through that process heal your whole self…holistic
healing.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>Your
teacher mark is still very distinct, very deep and I want you to consider the
possibility that a part of your future is to teach another so you may
….everyone’s entitled to your opinion…but I think as well this makes me think
of life-coaching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I certainly feel that
you being with special needs children is right for now and it’s certainly a
step on the ladder but ultimately there’s a life coaching element here as
well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t mean in a corporate sense…it’s
not like that at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s about
redressing the balance or about helping people get balance in their lives.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>Well
this is a much firmer hand and I feel you have overcome your childhood
inability to let things happen, let things come out, to express your feelings
and your opinion and you<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>are now very
open indeed which has to be to your benefit and if we start off with on this
line it tells me there are issues in your core that to this day are unresolved
and there’s only one way to resolve them and that is to drag them back and look
them in the face and only you can decide if that’s going to be worth it ‘cos
its going to be hard journey, you will make a sacrifice, I can see that
… you need to decide just when in your life the timing is right for
you…. when its appropriate for you to do that.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
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<em>
</em><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Stella</span></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Through all this my energy had suffered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t depressed any more although ripples
of grief came up like gentler and less frequent waves as they rippled away from
the stone that I had felt had been cast into my very being.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know whether it is the grieving which
takes so much energy, for so long, you release just as much as you can cope
with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I was very tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time I had finished fertility treatment
I got menopausal symptoms and I was able to give my friends a decade early
warning on what it is to have hot flushes - handy to warm you up in winter -
always dress in layers that you are forever taking off and putting on as the
hot lush is followed by a cold damp feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had lost the confidence and energy to shop and spent four years in
indigo jeans, layers of t shirts and a navy fleece.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t go shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn’t the energy to consume.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even the supermarket bill was halved as my
appetite on every level was affected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And shopping took so much energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I spent hours in there, agonising over every decision - which tea, which
brand, organic or not, special offer get-on-free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every decision tipped by fragile energy
reserves into negative.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was running on
empty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">We decided to look at adoption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went for the course with the Social
Services, were shown pictures of the sad, brave faces from break ups and the
disabled or hyperactive kids whose parents couldn’t cope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were advised on the hoops we should jump
through to get one and the level of intrusion into our lives we could expect
from the lovely, hearts-of-gold, doing-it-for-the children care workers, who had to
make sure we weren’t mad, bad and dangerous to know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We accepted that as much contact as possible
with the natural parents would be best for the kids, that most adoptive parent
relationships don’t last beyond teens, that anger and acting out with us as the
punch bag was healthy and to be hoped for. We just didn’t have the energy or
emotional resilience to contemplate committing to that whole process for the
next fifteen odd years. It felt like the end of a dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Luna</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Wasn't sure about the adoption idea - someone outside family may have boundaries that would not admit me... Or maybe I could try to shift into anyone.. mmmm - what would I choose... beauty, power.... What makes an individual? How seperate is anyone from their time, their collective subconcious? What makes a life?</span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Let’s
go round again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe we’ll turn back
the hands of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s go round again,
one more time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Strange, rare and
peculiar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I make an exhibition of
myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When my energy is big I want the whole world
to notice me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they do I want them
to love me, to praise me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t take
criticism, but I need to be out there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
am a victim of myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I make it
difficult for myself and for everyone I love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I mix it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thrive on
energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make it easy on yourself, baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make it easy on yourself.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Palmist<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The creativity markings quite
contrarily…I’ve got to ask because this hand - its all backwards: mirrors and
reflections, a twinning, equal and opposite - were you born naturally
left-handed and somebody encouraged you to use your right hand because there’s
a lot on here that should be the other way round but none-the-less… people
used to do that, they don’t do it any more thank goodness if you’re left handed
your going to be left handed but the creativity markings here are broken when
you were maturing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very often on the
adult hand they’ve got an ‘I’ve got a mortgage to pay’ attitude and leave all
the creativity behind … with the mood swings…. But you are undoubtedly a
creative person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re still going to
have more creativity on your adult hand than your childhood hand… they’re
all creative things but in terms of palmistry that would show as creative markings
but there wouldn’t be more of them….. strange, it’s like a multiplication by
two… perhaps you are naturally a left handed person and that you’ve been told
to write with your right hand and do things with your right hand because this
would originally have been your childhood hand not the other way around…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Can I ask did you get suicidal at some
point in your life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did you actually try
to take your life?……….I’m pleased to say you’re not going to be thinking about
that ever again but it does show that you had those dark thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m very glad that you don’t have them the
way you did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s almost a yardstick of
how strong a person you are.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Do you have any children?… because
there are lots of children on this palm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They’re not yours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So you’re very
involved and a lot of little people really matter …….there’s lots of little
girls mixed in but see these two long deep vertical lines there these are boys
and then there’s a series of boys and girls…they’re twice the length of girls
and those are very much more strongly defined than the rest which are quite
faint lines - you’re involved in their lives and come and go out of their
lives..<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could be good for all of you….<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There’s not a whole lot more that I can
give you from the palm to be honest except you really are on the right path and
I wish you well and hope you will continue with it….. your lines get joined up
and the suicide thing here and the fact that its all broken up here tells me
that the ordeal is no longer there and is not going to be but you are more
level, probably more level than you’ve ever been in your life - there will
still be swings because you have a heart…and that’s understandable, there’s
nothing wrong with it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The creativity is still there with you
- I think that always will be and the other good news is your head line ends in
a complete and utter dead end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
means that even if people think you are crazy ‘cos you are different you are
never going to be ……it is a comfort to know that sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">A lot….expressed in your hands There
are some developing lines still happening – I feel that you are gradually
learning as you’ve gradually learnt how to separate matter from emotion…and it’s
all good stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want you to put value
on the fact that you’ve done this yourself<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I’ll finish with an Angel card for
you:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Adventure - life is an
adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be ready for the unexpected
and make the most of all opportunities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The angel wisdom suggests you should get out of any habits in which
you’re stuck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do things that are
different and face life with a sense of wonder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If the path seems dark do as you would if you were exploring a dark
place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ask your angels to light up the
way and watch for the signs and signals that tell you where and how to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Explore the new with excitement and
courage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These magnetic qualities will
attract others and add zest to relationships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The angels are inspiring you to look forward with anticipation,
expectancy and hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Affirm to yourself
and face the adventure of life eagerly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A lovely one to finish on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><span style="font-size: small;">Stella<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I
went to a coffee morning in the village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was in aid of the orphanages who take in the girl babies who are left
in carrier bags on train platforms in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">China</st1:country-region></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just for being born a girl or one too
many.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The anger against biology matched
my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had to try to help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was ringing agencies in <st1:country-region w:st="on">America</st1:country-region>, orphanages in <st1:place w:st="on">Kurdistan</st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything took so long and so much
effort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed some clarity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A friend told me about a medium.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She would be able to tell me where our child is so finding her would be
quicker and easier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no time or
energy to waste.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">She
didn’t look like a witch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blonde, mother
of two, with rabbits in a hutch outside the kitchen window and paintbrushes in
the sink while she made tea on the aga.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I told her she needed to scan the globe to see where that child who was
notched on my palm was waiting for us to rescue them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She touched my shoulder and it was like an
electric charge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“It’s
not for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the love you feel could
not be crammed into one child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would
be a bottleneck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If would not be best
for the child and would destroy you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Many children will come to you, as teacher, healer, you will be pivotal
in their lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will love them all
without possessing them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is because
you will share your energy with them without tending their every need that you
will help so many. This will feed your energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You will thrive on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Give up
the wanting to possess and hold that love in your heart for all those who
come.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I
got back in the car in shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many
times did I need to be told?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know
when you know something to be true, but would I listen?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha lived nearby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I drove through my tears to find her and her
three kids sitting on the sofa under a blanket with a bucket to be sick in
between them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They wouldn’t have passed
the £5 test.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If a £5 note had been just
out of reach they wouldn’t have moved to pick it up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was only as the hearing engineer was there
(third time that month - such are the joys of oil central heating) that someone
could answer the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I
told an ashen Sasha what had happened, interrupted by her youngest, my adored
god child throwing up on blankie, her comfort blanket which hand crocheted or
not was going in the machine on cycle one directly she would let it out of her
tight little fists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha agreed that
this was a bit of a bummer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had
already been sorting Helen’s old baby clothes for the impending arrival of
Chinese triplets to play with her three kids, cat, 2 guinea pigs a rabbit and
one lizard, being the current size of the family, and hopefully to stay that
way unless the guineas turned out to have been sexed incorrectly (they did) as
hubby was being sent for the snip as soon as she could book him in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn’t seen Sasha throwing up since her
last pregnancy, when she did most days, long after the third month, when you
are supposed to feel better, and the present experience was reminder her she
wasn’t ever going to do that again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
she was incapable of keeping her legs crossed after a bottle of red wine
measures were urgently needed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Why
me?” I sobbed, “when I have ten nephews and nieces now, why can’t I have just
one of my own?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha tried to look
sympathetic and just managed to look bilious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nausea had suspended her scepticism in this whole medium thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She needed to get through counselling me so
she could go and shout at the central hearing engineer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ‘S’ had fallen off the logo on his van so
it read ‘hell direct’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He seemed to have
moved in for the week as he had been there three days and the boiler was now in
more pieces that a difficult jigsaw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha
offered the ultimate in TLC, a cup of tea, if I could just go to make it
myself, only there was no water as the system had been drained, of course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I
took myself away, promising to return with a flask of peppermint tea for
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dirk was slightly baffled by yet
another hysterical plan, he had been supporting me for so long in this it had
become our relationship… I just couldn’t see another way for us to be together,
we shouted, pleaded with each other to share each other’s vision of a way
forward – I took some time out at my sister's ashram to try and make sense of the voices
I was having in my head like almost constant radio noise, when I came back he
had gone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Now we had had 2 tries
at IVF and I wanted to try again. Dirk wasn't sure this would be good for us. The
excitement of trying had gone over the last year to grief and exhaustion yet
all my dreams of our future were about us and our children. I saw us again and
again running into the garden together, a girl and a boy with Dirk's eyes. Dirk
had started to talk gently about other futures - travelling, even emigrating,
having that business I’d always wanted - a shop to sell clothes by students
from the fashion colleges - to help them pay their way and learn the business. Now
he had come to tell me he couldn't go on grieving again and as that was all I
could think of he felt it was best if we had some time apart. He was going to
stay with his parents in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Holland</st1:place></st1:city>
for a bit - he could work as easily from there. He’d come back anytime I was
prepared to start to move on - without knocking my head against the same brick
wall. I was numb - couldn't take I what he was saying. He was looking for me to
realise he was serious - that he would walk away rather than carry on as we
were. I was angry - how could he abandon me when I was hurting so much, but the
next day saw him get into his car and drive away. I rang Sasha - cried down the
phone - where was I going to get the sperm to try again? That, said Sasha, is
the least of your problems - and until you see that I think Dirk might be right
to stay away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAlpZEmL53TFV_8gFElYrHMnn6_98Wt4P1-LxmY2SR2pesaZVMMyn9_hinXG2xnmffYTQp5T40ttCKKm9Yf9IxplIkXpxf-qTYznTV25ZMcwzCX2JpXJrVXRdsP_cZO6q1jGT9Admb_8M/s1600/seeds_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAlpZEmL53TFV_8gFElYrHMnn6_98Wt4P1-LxmY2SR2pesaZVMMyn9_hinXG2xnmffYTQp5T40ttCKKm9Yf9IxplIkXpxf-qTYznTV25ZMcwzCX2JpXJrVXRdsP_cZO6q1jGT9Admb_8M/s640/seeds_NEW.jpg" width="490" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Luna <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">No I can’t let you do this. I see I was wrong, I’ve
tried to force you to find another life for me for far too long and now you are
trying to find yourself you have lost the best thing in our life – Dirk… just a
bit of shape shifting… I can get him back…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<br />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;"> Indicating
the metabolism.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;"> Cancer,
diabetes, mononucleosis...</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Assilem, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Folliculinum: Mist or Miasm? The
Homoeopath</i> 11.1., 1991</span></div>
</div>
</div>the skin traderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11287223144963263670noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870896586893746795.post-29823162138631645192012-02-23T08:58:00.001-08:002012-02-23T08:58:24.627-08:00<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">part two<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Stella strove<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">A tall
imposing presence loomed over my desk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
didn’t know why I would need a desk this large or who would ring me on a phone
with that many lines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you know who I
am?” the presence demanded, a bullying voice… fear, the worst nightmare come
true of being shown up the new girl who knew no one, didn’t yet understand the
rules - my next - the rules - what were they - searching for the witty reply
that would gracefully disarm and charm him, or at least give me a point for
being an individual, a human, not a pleb, wimp, stone crawler-underer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I was rooted
to my salary-girl chair wishing for the castors to slide me backwards into the
huge filing cabinet behind me, just file me under student trainee, girl from
the north, know nothing, clearly in the wrong place in a posh cut and thrust
buying office in London’s west end in the ladies’ hosiery department who supply
the Royal Family and the Prime Minister with their 10 deniers. </span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">A miserable
second passed before he - for it </span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">was always a he - had informed me of his name,
executive rank, and the advice that I should know who he was, with the implied
threat of being chaperoned out of the building if I didn’t greet him
appropriately next time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he turned
on his heel and exited to prowl the corridors and not waste any more time on
silly student trainees when he could be playing with the boys who fight over
budgets, warring for territory on the shop floor so their girlies could fill it
with the pick and mix of crimplene trousers and polyester blouses that was
early eighties middle-of-the-road retail, any colour you like as long as it’s
navy or beige, so that the boys can crow over how perfect their budgeting is
and how they should be rewarded with more pocket money, personally and
departmentally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">Luna felt<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">I still dream of Head Office as a permanent school assembly
in the huge caverns, halls and staircases of that building with some
headmaster/executive/paternal god-like person barking down - for they like a
podium - a stair, a stage to stand on to five their bullying egos extra
confidence, feeling we were the outsider, the girl from up north who said
‘dinner’ - not lunch - “oh, you sound so provincial”… learning that the rules
demanded a veneer of sophistication to hide and protect the day-dreamer who
wore her heart on the outside of her homemade clothes, I felt her lack of
connections in The Family acutely even before I realised that they felt that if
I wasn’t one of them then I must be against them if I didn’t share this
religion, this dating agency, this theatre, this business, that was their whole
world and Head Office like a submarine where they planned their next campaign
to sell more knickers and yoghurts as they viewed their competition
suspiciously through their periscope. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS";">For this was the 1980s-Maggie
Thatcher-rising-buy British.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before we
had everything designed by Conran & Co., when you bought a good quality
all- round- pleated skirt to last from John Lewis or M & S because
black/grey/navy/brown/red/green were always what you wore in winter, and in summer you
wore pastels - even if you were too old for baby clothes and too young for bed
jackets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAuvYeyjAHoOw64BdnVfiwmx4okpZZVLNh0W9JO9uhOjTM0HG6LSpQAQivWDmKSD8oyh5gRXrGZdK_pGMKOLBu-3LcciLA6MRcz_0-4wvnmgU0BtgUTWu8tdZLBKQ7JTRCAhqgy4EHVDUx/s1600/birkenhead_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAuvYeyjAHoOw64BdnVfiwmx4okpZZVLNh0W9JO9uhOjTM0HG6LSpQAQivWDmKSD8oyh5gRXrGZdK_pGMKOLBu-3LcciLA6MRcz_0-4wvnmgU0BtgUTWu8tdZLBKQ7JTRCAhqgy4EHVDUx/s400/birkenhead_NEW.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I was
studying textile design - I dream in colour, and luxuriate in texture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart sank at the acres of old lady
trousers with elasticised waists, shiny acrylic knitwear, the taxi drivers’
cardigans sold with the suede patches already on the elbows so they could be
worn for 30 years, in colours to match the tea stains and grubby nicotine, the
uniform neat polite sexless court shoes, American tan brown tights… - how did I
get here?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love colour, natural
fabrics, the knit of an Aran taught by nana, the turquoise silk my Mum bought
in an Indian shop on a day out in Liverpool, the favourite yellow and black polka dot dress, the
clashing cerise, orange and reds of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the
fabric stalls of <st1:place w:st="on">Birkenhead</st1:place> market. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I dressed
dressing-up-cupboard style in junk shops finds, antique 50’s lace and new look
silhouettes I stitched with patterns from Mum’s post war coming out
dresses inspired by my dance class and the American movies we watched on Sunday afternoons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here to grey respectable W1 to
guys in suits running the best market stall for the aspirational housewife with
the choicest wares from Leicester, Mansfield, Glasgow, Northern Ireland and
Israel, all in our best selling new shade of navy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The easy
answer… money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to work for the
chunky hand-knit people, silk and cotton, 3D texture and colours like a
butterfly’s wing – artworks of clothes that made my heart sing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They looked at my work - said, “We’ll hire
you but we can’t pay.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Pay desperately
sought by the girl from Liverpool where shipping and sugar were closing down -
I fell into the arms - literally, for I tripped over the doorstep at my
milk-round interview - of a grey suited Manager who, he later confessed, was
charmed by my pink hair and hand frayed Paul Klee colours pinafore and
enthusiasm, enthusiasm, enthusiasm, (the 3 rules of presentation).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So for £4Kpa I sold out. I stayed at a hostel
near Notting Hill with telephone numbers on the wall for anyone lonely for
cheap love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I saw were the market
stalls, colours and the freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I soon made
friends with the secretary in yoghurts who shared with a Sloane-y girl always
wearing jodhpurs soaked stinking in the shared bathroom. My lovely, homey, big hearted
secretary friend bought home free samples on which I subsisted, my 4K being
just enough to pay for the box room, tube fares, a sensible skirt, and evening classes
at St Martins where I could go and print my invisible soul in big colours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Luna reflects<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Do I sound bitter?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We spent a year measuring
tights on surreal plastic legs to check the suppliers weren’t stinting on the
nylon and looked over unwashed wearer trials of ladies’ stockings to calculate
how many wears make a hole while the princesses applied their make up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found them spoilt in their princess worlds
- we would never put lipstick on or order a leg wax in front of the man at the next
desk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That would not be nice girl
behaviour, but I would tell anyone why I could change the whole industry if
they would listen!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw a place with so
much money and slack it would pay for a team to go to the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">US</st1:country-region></st1:place>, first class, to buy a pair of
socks, but would patronise British designers who were starved of funds and
inspiration in their dust filled studios off the quiet corner of the
factory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I resolved never to buy in to
that isolation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw an industry
struggling to change - a lovely quality-end sock knitter who went to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Florence</st1:place></st1:city> to the yarn fair
and came back excitedly with a supplier of yarn in colours other than navy and
grey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What are they called?” our queen
bee demanded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Filati” they said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">They never found the company name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Filati is Italian for yarn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My queen bee was a brave feminist who
wouldn’t put photos of semi naked girls on the front of hosiery packaging and
instead commissioned lifestyle shots about comfort/colour/image and purpose
until the floor bully caught up with her and made her progressive opinions
history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Stella
survived… <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">My ally was
a Polish technologist with a sense of humour, too old or usually too high to
care about politics, who feel asleep in meetings and smoked weed at the office
party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a worrying moment with him
in a car in <st1:place w:st="on">Sherwood Forest</st1:place> when he cursed
that he had forgotten the supply of meths he needed for tonight, before he
explained he restored antiques for his escape plan of a shop, we fast became
firm friends and fellow dreamers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
travelled a lot to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Northern
Ireland</st1:country-region></st1:place> together and giggled at the armed
soldiers searching his luggage of used ladies’ tights at the airport
checkpoint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t high pressure
unless you were the secretary correcting the maths of the incompetent merchandisers’
(pre-computers): she had a cockney heart-of-gold and a weak bladder so would
sit wriggling in leg crossed agony while the documents were typed for another
round of budget negotiations.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i>I remember you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was your protector.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember
the white-faced girl coming into the office with her sensible skirt and her
home knit sweater.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You looked fragile
and fierce as I told you were going to spend 3 months looking at holes, snags,
runs in tights - your face said, “I’d rather die.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But your Protestant ethics showed as you
delivered an intelligent report which I knew no one would read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i><br />
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<br />
<i>I </i><i>remember your 21<sup>st</sup>
birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You were as green as the
avocado you had never tasted before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
took you out and got you drunk on pina coladas in St Christopher’s Place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You usually took a sickie on office lunch
party days but we all knew you just couldn’t afford the bill and were too proud
to say so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As proud as the tulips I
chose for you from the flower stall at <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Finchley Road</st1:address></st1:street>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Should I have bought daffodils trumpeting
their fleeting beauty, springtime flowers from an old man?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have watched too many tulips fade here -
get plucked by one of the barrow boys, curl back their petals to show a heart
so open, then get cast aside to droop and bend their stalks once strong and
firm and feminine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have come to
appreciate old things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things which will
stand the test of time - and see me out - from my retirement to an antique shop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where I massage beeswax into the cracks and
crevices of old dried up pieces which will grace a Hertfordshire kitchen and
support generations of fairy cakes, scribbles and wine glasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<em>What was my favourite colour, I remember you asking
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“White for Rolls Royce, black for
women” I replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You giggled and I
resolved to make you laugh again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all
deserve to enjoy life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s what I have
learnt during my time here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My god is a
jealous god.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He promised <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Israel</st1:country-region></st1:place>
to us and only us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How like a man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all want to possess beauty, security,
riches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sell those dreams daily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And my oak tables will hold the places for
the birthday parties, the binges, the tea and chats, the cheese rolls of
christening, weddings and funerals, and see many sales, re-possessions and
legacies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My legacy to you is
experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yours to me was
innocence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As transient as those tulips
- as you pay for experience of your own.<o:p></o:p></em><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The bosses did not
have ‘engaged’ lights on their office doors for private and delicate staff
appraisals of the written type only.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
found I had seduced someone without trying when I naively invited him back to
my hotel room for a coffee while travelling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His face fell as the hotel out the kettle, cups and instant,
thoughtfully provided me and I realised how naivety both protects and exposes
you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The
stories of what others had done were part of the mythology of the
industry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fashion trade invited a
look at what was attractive, but also seemed temporary in every aspect of its
collections of clothes, people, and relationships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One queen bee saw me admiring her diamond and
ruby rings and scowling told me she had looked at a lot of cracks on the
ceiling to get these.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<h1 style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luna lives<o:p></o:p></span></span></h1>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Most politics and people spotting, including the dating agency bit for the princesses went on in the dining room where we would spend half an hours having tea and crusty rolls with butter and marmalade in the morning about 9.30am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you were travelling this ritual was transferred to the first class dining car of the 8/8.30 St Pancreas to Leicester where the boys ate kippers or fried breakfast - the works - but if you were a girl it was only seemly to have tea and toast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The latter was £4 and the breakfast was £7.50 and there was a hierarchy in what you could get signed off for your expenses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hierarchy was most transparent in anything to do with dining.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you were a pleb you went for lunch a block away for warmed up TV dinners - fish and potatoes followed by a thick and creamy yoghurt was pretty good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, if you were a big, clever, important and therefore short of time you were promoted to the downstairs dining room and you could see and be seen the other mover and shakers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Getting out for lunch allowed me to indulge my hobbies, especially when I was returned as a graduate on the riches of £10k pa to shop the whole of <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Oxford Street</st1:address></st1:street> and metamorphose into the best new self-image Top Shop/Miss Selfridge or the classy new Benetton could offer, especially if you had a review coming up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p>Reviews were meetings where the girls got to show the boys the clothes they had poured heart and soul - or as much as was politic - into for the last 6 months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were a chance for the bullies to put their feet on the table, swagger, and chat up the girls who were wearing what would make outsiders think this was a cocktail party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One selector was notorious for getting my range passed by the opportune wearing of a see-through blouse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if you did not buy into this you were still fair game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I showed a £5 million baby wear range for the first time in my career, terrified in sensible investment black ‘all round’ pleated skirt and smart shiny new silver and white striped blouse the, very handsome, exec. On the front row of the massed ranks of our 20 strong buyers department and hangers on asked me “You are a nice little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you wearing suspenders?” - Again, the fear, embarrassment, anger and wordless search for a witty reply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only way to save my dignity was to stick to my script - “This year we are planning to introduce a new line in extra soft white matinee for the high spending first time mother to swaddle her precious new baby…the handle of these garments is dreamily warm and tender for baby’s skin…would you like to feel…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The sexual tension in those offices was palpable, from ladies’ hosiery where the merchandisers flushed as the resident and necessarily shameless models walked round in 30 denier super sheer support and we examined the crutch fit, to men’s underwear where the hints made my best mate shiver as she adjusted the fly on their boxers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flirting was a weapon in our armoury if we wanted to use it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shameless eye batting and button fiddling earned a colleague of mine an unassailable relationship with her budget rolling executive.</span> </span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This wasn’t working for us
– time for an alternative universe - So I took my spirit off and hung around St
Martins to see if there were any paid design jobs going for her and fell for a
fashion student going places… maybe he could take us there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had a contract with Pierre Cardin to
design sportswear for the youth market.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bright colour blocking in man-made fibres with the sheen of a couch potato’s
bottom was what was wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We bought
the pantone pens in the colour palette and made up pseudo designer names for
them as we coloured in piles of variations on the shell suit:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>putrid
peach<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>vomit
yellow<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>medallion
man maroon<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>street
crime black<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>neon
orange<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>shit
brown<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>vile
violent violet</span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">High on solvents from inhaling too much marker pen we
worked prolifically to three in the morning, then realised the tubes had shut
and it was a long walk to the suburbs from the room over the shop in St Christopher’s
Place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We made pot noodles and drank
beer and designed lives of rags-to-riches for the boys and girls we had been
sketching, mixing up the neatly segregated piles of girls wear/lads wear as
Sharon met Steve, they opened a kebab shop together, then a chain, she had
hopes of moving out of town but he blew it all on cars, so she bought a one way
ticket to Marbella and never came back.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We talked about having our own collection inspired by the poems of Dylan Thomas which we discovered we both loved; as we sketched out ideas in my sketchbook, in my head I was making up names for his gorgeous
skin:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>crème
caramel<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>tan
velvet<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>mellow
yellow<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>chocolate
coffee milk shake<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was starting to ache in places which reminded me
that they weren’t supposed to be going to have sex as the whole conversation with
myself about what is mating for if it does not lead to commitment and children
would be way to scary for her in her blessed ignorance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he passed us a beer and she melted and they
had to redo several sketches the next morning as the beer/noodle, secretions
combination made the colours run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
worked together a lot after that and I was amazed at our ability to mingle work
and pleasure and be so productive, although productivity of a more personal
nature was never far from my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As family was obviously so important; when we sold a
collection to Whistles we cut out the lay of fabric on the sun bed at his
mother’s hairdressing salon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a
baptism of fire by chillies in her supper - they all laughed as Stella turned
pink then purple - I was part of the family and could turn up anytime, have my
hair cut, be fed, get laid and make my own contribution to sorting out the
swimwear franchise in the shed or stitching wedding dresses in the backroom.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I was
enjoying belonging so much; made a friend of his menopausal mother whose thrifty therapy was to go to M&S, buy 3 outfits, put them away and gloat over
them, then take them back next week and get 3 more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was constantly re-inventing myself
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got a reputation for helping with
hair colouring in the Salon and soon boys skateboard-ed the suburbs with rainbows
over their left ear.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I was
obviously in the wrong place in my home-made clothes and wearing my dreams - intoxicated
by my fashion friends at St Martins, wanting so badly to design.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in the wrong place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Passed over for promotion again, subtly sent
on a team-building course for being an unchangeable 100% stubborn super-plant
and hearing someone observe I was the only gentile in that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>department.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was outside the loop.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I called a
lunchtime cappuccino conference (hobby no 2) with my mate Sasha, a fellow
design graduate who flirted better than I and had got promoted, and my cynical
student trainee Fiona.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scene: small
coffee house off <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Baker Street</st1:address></st1:street>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That’s the way the cookie crumbles”, Fiona’s
immortal, existentialist offering on my observing that my delusions that I may
change overnight and be seen as a good ‘fit’ with the system had again been
shattered by the arrival of a new boss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Miss efficient ex-secretary who had an affair with her exec and had me
double filing and cross referencing all my style files.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What’s
occurring?” asked Janet of Socks, the generous Australian - generous with her
men’s socks and with her cleavage and her laughter and hence a favourite of my
boyfriend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I explained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Janet countered that I had no business
worrying as I had a nice life and should enjoy it, as she knew how to
party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had just received a letter
from her Bank Manager pointing out that in view of her £2K overdraft £27.67 at
the Finchley Tandori last Friday night seemed a little excessive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did have a nice life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">But I wanted
my patch, to make real in fabric and stitches anyway, all the pent up colour
and design in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes I had a good
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I travelled a lot with my job; was
wined and dined by people in the industry about which I felt a real
passion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OK salary, non-contributory
pension scheme, carriage clock,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>job for
life (if you were really awful you got moved into broken biscuits or staff
uniforms), company doctor, dentist, a head-swelling acre-age of desk, but no
soul.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Then I got
some horrid itchiness and whether it was an allergy to the chemicals at the
Salon or just too much sex decided to take myself to the clinic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cervical cancer and I was firmly in the
sympathy seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tears and I blurted it
all out to his Mum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were
lovely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Took me to the hospital in <st1:place w:st="on">Soho</st1:place> and afterwards bought me loads of pistachio pastries
and glub-jums… exactly the sound you make when you swallow one of those syrupy
dumplings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Onomatopoeia… it sounds
sensual, sexy. I couldn’t bring myself to have sex for ages and when we did I
had no feeling in my lasered inside places and things cooled.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And family was everything to them, so strong you
could build empires on its Anglo-Indian foundations, and family was something we
couldn’t do for him, for them, a son to take over the shop and look after gran.
My guilt was eating away at her and making me edgy. She quit again, took the
cowards way out and wrote a Dear John letter. He wouldn’t accept it, lets just
fuck – you’ll feel better he said. But I couldn’t trust myself to feel better
and not let him down.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Years later he sent us a photo of his firstborn -
envelope postmarked <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">California</st1:state></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was glad he had made it over there, in
every way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A son to pass it all on to
seemed so much part of his destiny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
maybe that was just my prejudice or pride.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I felt wounded and too hurt to risk that loss
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a series of flats, cats
and design jobs and I started listening out for healing stuff - homeopathy,
spotting patterns - textiles and remedies were both about spotting patterns -
and I was looking for a miracle cure so she could be whole again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I wanted us to research our genealogy -
where did that hole in our DNA come from?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was looking for clues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why were we born without all working parts?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had had glandular fever in our teens - that
can make your periods stop - I remembered it was a pleasant time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Us lying around on the lounge carpet playing
Mum’s Beatles, Stones, Simon and Garfunkel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A wistful, spacey, sexy soundtrack to our adolescent longings. Homeopathy
said that every disease had an emotional/spiritual manifestation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did my sister we spend our teens in a throw
back music world instead of punk rocking with our peers as we were unable to
face making a stand outside the pack?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our alpha-male was certainly dominant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And he had strong views about sex before marriage and babies out of
wedlock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were a church-going
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there was more to it than
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remembered first grope-ings at
teen parties… out of her head with cider and guilt. Did we - could we - shut
down my reproductive system as she was so shit-scared of getting pregnant?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I knew there was an issue in my Dad’s family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We weren’t close on that side like my cuddly
huggy nana with her apple-pie goodness and my poor granddad dying too young
from liver cancer like others at the lead paint processing plant he cycled to
every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I didn’t have him for long
enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were so happy together.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They cuddled up and ate fish and chips in bed
as he convalesced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She told me your
belly button was to hold the salt…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Her sister Lucy came to live with Nana after
Granddad died (our little sister sent her a cheer-up card with granddad a pin
man in a hospital bed like a dead bug with legs in the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Straight to the point, and hilarious, tears
and laughter - so close).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Lucy</span> said
Granddad was adopted from a girl who was the maid at the big
house and had the cliché bastard by the randy son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That explains the buck teeth and high
foreheads that mingle with the salt-of-the-earth <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Cheshire</st1:city></st1:place> salt miner’s features in our
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">So unfortunate fecundity there, and there was
certainly no problem breeding on my nana’s side as she was the youngest of 10
brothers and sisters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Lucy</span> didn’t
have children but she said men made you do terrible things and she would give Stella
extra pocket money if she didn’t do them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was the extent of our sex education along with plant diagrams and
looking up ‘rude words’ in the dictionary with my cousins, until a gentle biker
in black leather showed her which bits fitted together and ever since I have associated
the smell of burning rubber with that anxious dry pain and understood why
seemed so relieved that widowed by the war she could stop doing those
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But with practice they became
less frightening and juicier although I never like the rubber smell.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">There was a different relationship on my Dad’s side -
a distance, a sadness, not explained, only by a male parent’s lack of a
vocabulary as underneath it I could sense a real hunger for family love, a
desire to hold on to his daughters and never let them grow and go.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Into my life walked Dirk, my love-at-first-sight across <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Baker Street</st1:address></st1:street>, in the pink kickers and
pink mohair sweater of a past punk rebel, I recognised a soul mate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked him to dance next time I met him, at
a supplier do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in homemade Chinese
batik pyjamas, my design, and John Lennon glasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Four weeks later we got to be more than just good friends over a bottle
of Dad’s homemade blackberry wine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
did the Andy McDowell telling Hugh Grant how many guys she had slept with
conversation in a nice restaurant and still he seemed to think I was OK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a rolling contract renewed on
birthdays and Santa Klaas - Dutch Christmas - and I was as happy as an ambitious
dreamer could be when a square peg in the round hole of a big office, bug ego,
big money, small fry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“What do
you think Sasha?” I asked in the café over the cappuccino.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha; the other enduring love of my life - spiky
hedgehog hair, another northern soul, another flaky creative, another angry
young woman, another knit with a sense of the ridiculous – she made me feel
less mad, more real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We trembled
together under the tyranny of a fearsome pussycat pretending to be a tiger in
Men’s cardigans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha was in tears over
a 0.5mm error on a size chart which was felt to be the worst crime against
natural order since the war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We consoled
each other over crusty rolls. We would be friends for life, I hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha’s gift of an infectious giggle with an
ability to drink most guys under the table made her a good ally in the after
office pubs where she could be relied upon to get the inside story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">She was
hotly pursued by many but found her-self unaccountably falling in love with the
lodger form hell who had broken the washing machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A recent divorcee he did not know to use one
having been possessed previously of a first a mother then a wife to take care
of domestic technology.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He finally
proposed when he tactlessly bought<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha
a table for her new flat when she was doing the cool independent woman bit and
he was taken in by the ploy too much ‘till she burst into tears at the
house-warming gift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The house was never
warmed and they now live with the surfboards and the barbeque and his sister on
Muswell Hill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Either you
sell out, get a see through blouse and learn to down more pints than the next
guy while talking pocket money with the boys, or you move somewhere they want a
girl who has a unique sense of style which even her mate cannot predict from
day to day”, said Sasha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I bought the
Drapers Record in the newsagent across the road and saw the ad: Buyer,
children’s wear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rose Hedges
international retailer of printed dresses and furnishings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Double my salary, develop international
product ranges for this new venture by the queen of florals and frills.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luna is angry</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: small;">She doesn’t know, she’s
getting on with that career and wasting our time… I was shouting at her- you
have no eggs – you need to get help. Now! While you are young! Make life...You
don’t know how much you need to make life. You are so careless of ours. You
won’t talk to me like you did when we were a child. Now when you hear me you
reach for a drink… time to shift my spirit, what would the doctor say?<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p><i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: small;">DOCTOR<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Dear Mr Patel, <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">I am referring this patient, Luna Spirit, whom I have
been seeing throughout her student years to you at your <st1:place w:st="on">Soho</st1:place>
Women’s Practice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An interesting case;
premature menopause, unusual in one quite so young.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have prescribed HRT as she is underweight
and I fear osteoporosis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would be interested
in your comments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Yours sincerely,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Doctor Jean Foster.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Jean
is writing a thesis on alternative approaches to hormone management. I spend
less time with Stella and more time with Jean and her thesis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“In the traditional
African Community someone who is sick or troublesome is considered to be
bearing the ills of the community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Healing the individual is to heal the community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A sense of the disease and disquiet with what
we see around us is almost universal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
we could see the distress of others as the responsibility of us all we would
begin to hear the message.”</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have been reading this text by J <st1:place w:st="on">Snowdon</st1:place>
and wondering what is the message.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
don’t just hand out birth control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my
village practice I see girls maturing sexually at a younger age, and I see
increasing incidence of female cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
see emotional illness with men made redundant becoming sexually impotent as
their sense of their power and hope goes limp and lifeless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had out pills and provide a listening ear
but I want to understand more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have starEd
a thesis on the sex hormones with the Research Department.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The funding, of course, is from the Drug
Company but I feel uneasy about limiting the body’s sexual expression and
cycles to the simple chemistry of a pill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As a feminist I feel our hormones are a large part of who we are and
give us qualities society should value, not suppress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why are schoolgirls maturing earlier and why
are some patients reaching the menopause earlier or more traumatically? - This
girl is an extreme example of the two processes converging.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Conventional
wisdom –that is research paid for by the drug companies – says that a woman
after the menopause is deficient in hormones that maintain her bones, keeping
her strong. So a patient like Luna would need Hormone Replacement Therapy,
especially as she is of slight build, so her bones would not be naturally
strong from carrying a lot of weight around. I made the appropriate
prescription.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“How
do you feel?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Lousy a lot of the time.”<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Really
– what have you noticed?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“My moods fluctuate. I’m not in control of what I’m
feeling. In the second half of the month I feel irritated by everything, and
irrational. I can get really angry and take things people say to me way too
personally. My anger comes out like a rash. I get all touchy and snap at the
slightest thing, at nothing at all, and feel like throwing things. With alcohol
it’s even worse, I feel trapped in my head like I’m going to explode.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“That
doesn’t sound like you.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“That’s what I’ve been thinking – it’s not me, it’s
like I’m possessed. Something takes me over, intrudes on my life, my
relationships, my personality. I feel drugged, out of touch with myself.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">I
looked at her intently as she was telling me this. Her shoulders were tense,
held high near her jaw. Her skin was spotty. She had put on a bit of weight.
Her eyes were lightless.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Not
a good report” I said. “I’m sorry to hear this from you. But its early days…”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Early days! How long is long enough to feel like
this. I want to feel how I do naturally, not be programmed by some pills for
the rest of my life just because some drug company found an angle it could sell
on some chemicals it was messing around with.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">I
sighed; Luna had highlighted one of the shortcomings of modern medicine. “Let
me have some time to do some research. Leave off taking this prescription. Come
in and see me again in a couple of weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Luna was pleased. She really liked the Doctor. She
didn’t act like she had all the answers. She trusted her to really think about
what to do, meanwhile she was going to look for some answers of her own, if her
biology was her destiny, then could someone read the map of her palm and tell
her what road to take?.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Dr Jean Foster. Notes. HRT</span></i></b><i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">‘HRT is one of the worst blunders of the 20th
century... Any benefits have been demonstrated to be statistical sleight of
hand. When you look at the data, the supposed protective benefits fall away.’
(Lynne Mc Taggart of What Doctors Don’t Tell You.)<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Fifteen years ago Dr.
Grant wrote of a disturbing trend in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">America</st1:country-region></st1:place>: “While it is becoming
increasingly acknowledged that pill use is dangerous in the reproductive years,
hormones at the menopause are still being heavily promoEd. The idea is that as
hormone levels drop they lead to an excess of adrenal catabolic hormones
causing upsets in calcium metabolism... unfortunately giving pill hormones to
fifty year olds increases the risk of cancer...”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Today this worrying
trend saw a sales total for HRT in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Britain</st1:country-region></st1:place> in 1989 of £10 million,
double sales of 2 years previously. It was estimated that by 2000 a quarter of
British postmenopausal women would be using it<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[1]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>. My
consolation is that the drop out rate for HRT is so high (20 % of women aged
50-64 are prescribed HRT but only 7-8% continue longer than a year<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[2]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>)
as women find the ‘cure’ worse than the ‘disease’.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">The principle of HRT is
that it supplies us with hormones when our own production slows down. Thus we
can avoid the hot flushes, night sweats and other symptoms associated with the
menopause. The consultant who prescribed it for me after I was diagnosed
menopausal in my 30s sold it on the basis of how embarrassing it would be for
me and my husband if I had to go and visit the toilet between courses in a nice
restaurant, (oestrogen helps keep the sphincter muscle at the base of the
bladder tight, as oestrogen declines it can become weak). With that one message
he introduced the spectres of aging, lack of control and loss of
attractiveness.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">I was also advised that
it would protect against osteoporosis, a risk that I choose to manage by
lifestyle choices outlined later, and that it would protect me against heart
disease. It was like being told, if you don’t take this you’ll die. Oestrogen
is thought to have a beneficial effect on blood cholesterol metabolism which
could account for our much lesser risk of heart disease than men, an advantage
which lessens at the menopause. (As homoeopaths we can speculate on the
relative health of the heart chakra in men and women of child rearing age, as
well as massive differences in lifestyle, aurum comes to mind for the partner
still most frequently carrying the main burden of the financial
responsibility.) Researchers tried to test the theory that oestrogen protects
against heart disease by giving men oestrogen to see if it prevented a second
heart attack, the study had to be stopped because of the dramatic increase in
heart attacks among men given the hormone.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[3]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a> (See
note for a different view on why women are protected from heart problems by
their monthly discharge<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn4" name="_ftnref4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[4]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>).<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Despite the slight
basis for HRT’s claims to safeguard women’s health the take up rate was massive
as women and their doctors were and still are influenced by the evangelists of
the new elixir; titles like Estrogen: The Facts Can Change Your Life: The
Latest Word on what the new safe estrogen replacement therapy can do for great
sex, strong bones, good looks, longer life, preventing hot flashes), by New
York’s Nachtigall and Heilman, now sound ironic, if not tragic, given what we
know about unopposed oestrogen. In the UK The Amarant Trust, named for a mythical
never fading flower, has been influential, as have writers like Wendy Cooper,
with her book No Change: A Biological Revolution for Women. In 1988 a study of
over 3000 British women showed that 25% had read this book and 48% identified
friends/family or the media as their first sources of information about HRT.
21% had initiaEd a prescription from their doctor<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn5" name="_ftnref5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[5]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>. So we
effectively have society making a diagnosis and recommending a prescription to
suppress any mid-life female individual’s symptoms and emotions. As Dr Utian
says ‘menopausal symptoms have included virtually any complaint a middle-aged
woman cared to take to her physician... clinicians were... truly in the dark as
to causation of symptoms and were inevitably forced to treat effect on an empirical
basis rather than ‘cause’ on a valid scientific basis.. The majority of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>clinical features ascribed to this period in
the human life cycle were therefore mere assumptions and could have been no
more than coincidental features in a generally aging population.’<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn6" name="_ftnref6" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn6;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[6]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>
Like this case of a 48 year old woman, still having regular periods and
suffering from exhaustion for 10 years, her doctor suggested she was peri-menopausal;
‘now they’ve discovered I’m actually anaemic and I’ve improved vastly with
iron, but it probably cost me my marriage’.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Alternative research
shows that only 3 symptoms can confidently be attributed to the menopause;<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">menstrual
changes<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">vasomotor
effects - hot flushes and night sweats<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">loss of
moisture and elasticity in the vagina.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Most women cope with
this without the life crisis much talked about in the media, and are glad to do
without the menses and the worry of contraception. These signs can be easily
managed by diet and herbs, and if they are causing anxiety a remedy will get to
the root of the problem. Contrast the supposed cure... <o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">The Physician’s Desk
Reference the standard text for Doctors in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">US</st1:country-region></st1:place> lists the side effects of HRT
as:<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">endometrial
cancer<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">undesirable
weight gain/loss<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">breast
tenderness/enlargement<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">bloating<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">depression<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">thrombophlebitis<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">elevated
blood pressure<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">reduced
carbohydrate tolerance<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">reduced
glucose tolerance<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">skin rashes<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">hair loss<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">abdominal
cramps<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">thrush<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">jaundice<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">nausea<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">vomiting<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">cystitis-like
syndrome<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Women also report
feeling ‘not all there’. New information suggests that post menopausal women
with higher oestrogen levels experience greater cognitive decline<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn7" name="_ftnref7" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn7;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[7]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>,
while advocates of HRT claim that it reduces the incidence of Alzheimer’s...<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Long term HRT increases
the risk of breast cancer<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>according to a
1997 review of data by Dr. Beral of the Imperial Cancer Relief<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fund, however, she told The Times that the
cancers involved are smaller, localised, easy to treat; this remark shows the
medical paradigm that the cancer charities are stuck in, and it drives those
with an alternative view to an angry response..<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘When they have a cure for breast cancer, maybe then they can say it’s
not dangerous, as long as it’s a disease that claims thousands of lives its a
spurious argument’, responds Lynne Mc Taggart.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Some doctors are not
waiting for the menopause to rush to our rescue with HRT, Robert Wells, Prof of
Obstetrics and Gynaecology at the University of California writes that, ‘woman
can be a victim of menopausal changes.. Do not have to have stopped menstruating...
to qualify for treatment... a physician who waits for a patient <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">To complain of terrible
hot flashes has missed a golden opportunity to help her.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn8" name="_ftnref8" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn8;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[8]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>’ And
they, the male doctors, consider us an ungrateful lot (we lack compliance is
their way of putting it), I can hear the pique in the comment by Studd,
consultant gynaecologist at <st1:city w:st="on">Chelsea</st1:city> and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Westminster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Hospital</st1:placetype></st1:place>... ‘in spite of its benefits
(HRT) and evidence that she’ll live 1.7 years longer, a woman will still ask -
will I put on weight - or - will I get breast cancer’, it is up to us to decide
what quality of life we want and what risks we will take for longevity. <o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Xenoestrogen pollution.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">“We plant trees for
those born later, but what’s happened has happened and poisons poured into the
seas cannot be drained out again... poisons poured into the seas cannot be
drained out again, but what’s happened has happened, we plant trees for those
born later.” Poem on the Underground.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizKGCNZTaTZCFnCO8gg2k84_2D4hOhL_SHhO8-Si8vln9FfZ_zNELbT0nweR29bDfbBels4m-s65jewVFcWhil3Hv2xCkTM0iZxRy6ZttXFTzyAHB4MMc8Va9hq8KOGb_EKZ5VU_jQ6BG6/s1600/poison_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizKGCNZTaTZCFnCO8gg2k84_2D4hOhL_SHhO8-Si8vln9FfZ_zNELbT0nweR29bDfbBels4m-s65jewVFcWhil3Hv2xCkTM0iZxRy6ZttXFTzyAHB4MMc8Va9hq8KOGb_EKZ5VU_jQ6BG6/s640/poison_NEW.jpg" width="420" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f">
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<o:lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit">
</o:lock></v:path></v:stroke></v:shapetype></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">One does not even have
to order the hormone cocktail; it is served up to us through our food, water,
and man-made environment with devastating effects on fertility and health for
humans and wildlife. Animals are raised on synthetic hormones, oestrogens,
progestogens and testosterone, to encourage weight gain; the animals become
heavy, mostly due to fluid retention, even if they eat less: cows are given
female hormones to increase their milk production. Synthetic oestrogens tend to
accumulate in fatty tissue and so this problem runs right through the food
chain. We also get hormones through our tap water which contains residues from
the Pill and HRT. In the West it is thought that men’s sperm count may have
dropped by 50% in the last 50 years and there is speculation around the impact
of these chemicals added to by the discovery that high levels in some rivers
were causing male fish to develop female characteristics. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">This is making news in
The Guardian, 31.8.99: “In 1996 in the <st1:address w:st="on"><st1:street w:st="on">British Medical Journal Dr.</st1:street> <st1:city w:st="on">Irvine</st1:city></st1:address>
claimed that sperm counts have been declining by about 2% a year for the
previous 11 years... It has been suggested that sedentary jobs, high stress
levels, tight underwear and spending too long in the car could all be to blame.
Other factors could include the use of hormone mimicking chemicals, such as
phthalates, in plastics, food packaging, exhaust fumes, pesticides and
detergents, and increased exposure to oestrogen, used in the female
contraceptive pill... Pesticides and pollutants not only affect sperm counts,
they also affect sperm quality and fertility... It could be a real concern to
us and for the next generation. Our children’s sperm-producing ability could be
affected... If... the causes of these changes reside in inter-uterine exposure
then what we are looking at in the population is the consequence of exposure 30
years ago... There is potentially a huge problem.” This is not, however, front
page news, the government has banned some pesticides (which are still on food
we import), but this is not as newsworthy as banning beef on the bone, why?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Our environment is polluted
with these xenoestrogens, substances which have an oestrogenic effect on the
body. These substances are nearly all petro-chemically based and can come from
packaging, plastics, foods and pesticides. These products are endemic in the
West, we are talking big business. Studies have linked these chemicals to the
increase in breast<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn9" name="_ftnref9" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn9;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[9]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>
and testicular cancers, and to endometriosis. That a by-product of the plastics
industry, bisphenol A produces oestrogenic effects in humans became alarmingly
clear when some male workers in the industry developed breasts after inhaling
the chemical. A theory gaining in credence is that of oestrogen dominance, that
we are all bombarded by the sea of oestrogens we now live in, and that this is
causing changes in our bodies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
particular hormonal imbalance is obviously a risk for those choosing hormone
supplements, but it is one which is becoming harder to avoid. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">What about are
children, are the reaching puberty earlier due to better diet, or is it because
that diet is loaded with the sex chemicals that their bodies would not have
chosen to produce so early? It is known that use of synthetic hormones by the
mother can affect the next generation, a large Jerusalem study found a
significant increase in vascular skin malformations in children of pill-users<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn10" name="_ftnref10" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn10;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[10]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">
</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Stella <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">So, from
the mafia to the taffia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were
either ginger men with freckles or dark haired with bears and business was done
in pubs, in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place>,
after last orders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I didn’t know
that the day I went for an interview in a converted bus depot in Fulham.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a hot day under the corrugated plastic
roof which I later learned made telephone calls with suppliers impossible when
the rain drummed off it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today’s
sunshine made it a green house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Waifs in
flowery dresses sat with their feet in buckets of water under their desks to
stay cool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My new boss was clearly feeling
happy and generous for recently enjoying a very boozy lunch and I was hired on
the spot.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_QqSgDXWi3Sw3fL-c9OvNMMvKYGRTxDfaOeLmcJztL_L7Tp4XDXrdb0AY4BlXAPmre-RJP1o2YwRM1VOtgtibOXj_cMSvsfNGcXqYYzh3VIeYc4dHHkh0uq0vzJvNgT6VwUHNsj0Gz6Y/s1600/jungly+entrance_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_QqSgDXWi3Sw3fL-c9OvNMMvKYGRTxDfaOeLmcJztL_L7Tp4XDXrdb0AY4BlXAPmre-RJP1o2YwRM1VOtgtibOXj_cMSvsfNGcXqYYzh3VIeYc4dHHkh0uq0vzJvNgT6VwUHNsj0Gz6Y/s640/jungly+entrance_NEW.jpg" width="444" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“It was heavenly” I enthused to Sasha
on the way to the Tube.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There were
roses round the car park, a jungly hanging basket had taken over reception and
nymphs in prints were padding around in bare feet under the sunny glass
ceilings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My potential boss was wearing
linen shorts and a white pique soft shirt.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sasha appreciated these details as only another fashion victim repressed
by a mega store giant can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We decided to
take refuge in Jeeves for more chat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
waved at the barman and retreated past the execs in pinstripes to our leather
clad refuge snug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He appeared
efficiently moments later with our regular order of two large gin and tonics
(easy on the tonic) and nibbles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“So did you impress them” asked Sasha
between slugs, lighting a cigarette and inhaling without even looking which
always terrified me as she frenziedly waved the flaming match around to
extinguish it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha had been involved
in daily consultation and three shopping expeditions re. the interview
suit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a shop suit breathing
success from the shoulder pads down to the slightly short skirt which said I’m
comfortable enough about being a career girl to wear fashionable things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Actually I think I looked slightly out of
place”, I confessed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had realised that
when I saw the redhead receptionist with ponytail tendrils in denim chambray
behind the antique desk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So I rolled my
shirtsleeves up, draped my jacket casually over one arm hiding my Fendi handbag
underneath it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was tempted to pluck a
rose from the arch round the door and stick it in my hair but then decided I
would look like a Hawaiian call girl.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“But did she like you?” asked Sasha
waving at the barman for refills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">"</span>Well, I think so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She smiled ever such a lot and I don’t think
she spotted the little ‘lie’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha
raised her eyebrows enquiringly and murmured “oh no” sympathetically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, I didn’t mean to but I think the
agency had got the wrong end of the stick when I was telling them how I ran the
ladies gloves single handedly, and they had provided this organisation chart
with me as chief prima Donna and I just didn’t like to disappoint so I added a
few details about my buying trip to Florence last month.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“What, when you went with your boss “for
inspiration” which turned out to be her buying three Benetton sweaters and shagging
her new knitwear agent?” Sasha had worked this out from my account of them both
going to her room ‘<a href="mailto:to@look"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">to look</span></a> at swatches’ after
dinner…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well I gave them the briefest outline so their imagination could fill in
the details.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Sasha looked shocked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She tended to blush to the ankles at the
merest hint of an untruth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact her
Art College Head told her she had taken her on for her sense of humour when she
had stood up half way through her interview and said just forget everything
she’d made up till now and asked if she could go out and come back in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t have time to hear her real
academic history but thought she was ‘a sweetie’ worth having.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Well, I must have got on ‘cos I got
to meet my boss’s boss and she was very relaxed.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Sasha took another drag, “How do you
mean?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very casual?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Well, actually I don’t think she was
very well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My boss had a sofa in her
office and she came and curled up in a little ball in the corner of it and kind
of propped up her head on a few cushions.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Funny” said Sasha, “I’ve seen male executives do that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t pat the cushion next to her
invitingly?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“No, she just closed her eyes and
murmured a few questions then said she’d look forward to me starting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, then I had to see the Personnel
Manager.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“I expect she gave you a camomile tea
from a sprigged tea cut to soothe your nerves?” asked Sasha, who had clearly
got the measure of the place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Well, no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her office was all black leather sofas and
those Habitat black wood desks and bookshelves with angled lights and she had
on some kind of tight strapless top and a very short skirt with a blond bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Needless to say my jacket was straight back
on, legs crossed to show my black lace tights, a sample from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">New York</st1:state></st1:place>, handbag on knee like a shot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She also cross examined me about just what
career moves I had made to get to be big wig with a £25m budget in 3 years
since college.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Oh no”, Sasha tuned in and waved
again for refills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“I don’t know whether I’ll hear from
them again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do so want the job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My boss said it would be like having my own
business - you know, complete control, not just polishing paperclips.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Sasha sighed sympathetically and lit a
fourth cigarette.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I joined a team of three buyers
compared to the 3000 I must be leaving...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One was cute - there since the start - and wise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She did knitwear and whisky with the Scottish
Border boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other new girl with me
wore alarmingly little and tilted her pelvis towards you as she spoke in a way
which suggested curiosity and a voracious sexual appetite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She did swimwear and sheer fabrics in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Portugal</st1:country-region></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sasha soon joined us in sunglasses and cloche
hats as she too found men’s underwear too much to bear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I hired Fiona as my assistant as I was
in danger of drowning in orders from the <st1:country-region w:st="on">UK</st1:country-region>,
US, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Japan</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Australia</st1:country-region>, <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">For the word ‘buyer’ was a
misnomer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were there to take orders
from the merchandisers/shop girls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
now I learnt some lessons in International politics.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">These British were atypical of the rag
trade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In an industry where you were
always working on a collection for a least a year ahead the dress code among
the in crowd was to show a healthy disregard for this year’s colour/style,
unless it was directional, read expensive, or a vintage classic - or a good rip
off of the above.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hence the fashion
editors’ enthusiasm for sleek dressing in black for all occasions showing you
knew better than to waste your hard earned on the frivolous throw-ways we were
selling to the hoi polloi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">But in the power dressing 80s, think
shoulder pads and brief case and the pathetic ploy of dressing more manly than
the men, the Rose Hedges girls were wearing frocks!</span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">In their puff sleeves and lace
collars, lawn dresses sprigged with flowers, implausibly teamed with navy
blazers and BMWs they descended on our design office like a county wedding
party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This group uniform looked strangest
of all on their size 18 boss who fired memos like missiles from her Maidenhead
office to the depths of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place>,
the import/export guys at the Port, the Sloane’s of
Fulham-not-quite-Chelsea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For it was
soon clear to me that if you had been there at the beginning when the life
style cult of Rose Hedges had been launched by the brave lady by Bala lake and
her ‘Ill have an empire wherever the sun shines’ husband, you got to set up an
office wherever you wanted to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
those eccentric and improbable couplings in cities tastefully etched across the
glass windows of the shops - Carno and <st1:city w:st="on">Cairo</st1:city>, <st1:city w:st="on">Belfast</st1:city> and <st1:state w:st="on">Berlin</st1:state>, Poole
and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city></st1:place> were
descriptive of the every day culture clashes in the company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were the football in the middle, the
designers and product manager, buyers and technologists, pattern cutters and
order administrators.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For it soon became
clear that our lovely factories in Wales could not supply a company hungry for
expansion to justify the popularity of the stock market launch which had seen
punters queuing to buy shares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Now we had the power struggle after
the death of the first designer manager whose name was her brand and her vision
of a simple, pretty, comfortable country lifestyle - country living for the
girl about town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the design office we
had a vision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so did everyone
else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The scary Americans fast talking and
Gucci handbag bludgeoning us into doing things the Texan way, the New York way,
the mid-west way - for they wore the cult of the individual as their
constitutional right and never agreed with each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The chic Europeans who intimidated us
by their sheer style into delicious colour combinations which we would sell no
more than 2 units of - for themselves to wear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The inscrutable Japanese who would
never tell you what they wanted as it would be impolite, as it may put you in a
position where you were not in agreement with them, which could not be as they
did not know what they wanted anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The fun loving Australians who said it
was all super and asked if you could supply it just for them in a beach neon
palette of shocking pink, lime and orange.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">And the British, with our innate
snobbery which does not deign to explain why we know better than any foreigner
how things should be as that is just how it would be best. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">So we stood and showed our beautiful
children’s wear in tasteful translation of the new coral from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Florence</st1:city></st1:place> cleverly teamed with cunning
chambray prints - not too pretty for an 80’s child to sneer at, not too
contemporary for her grandma/aunt/mother to fondly fork out for their nostalgic
vision of the perfect, innocent, untroubled, country childhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Could you first remove the frill to
make it cheaper? Demanded the Brits. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Could you add a frill for our shop in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state></st1:place>? Quizzed the
Europeans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">‘I’ll take it in candy pink’ asserted
the American fruitarian, delicately picking at the single strawberry which was
all she ate daily, despite the protestations of our Maria (a super pasta chef
who made our lunches a carbohydrate addiction,) that she needed feeding
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was surely a danger than she
would slip between the spokes of her exercise bike and have to miss a day’s
work being expensively extracted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">For working 24/7 was the one cult the
Fashion trade agreed on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Always chasing
the next collection we produced 6 a year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You were always late; late with the new colour, notoriously late with
the deliveries from Portugal when no rain meant no water to dye our fabrics;
late to the next meeting<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of which there
were double the amount you could meaningfully attend and achieve anything in
between more than a coffee and a pee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Various strategies were adopted to
never miss a day from illness, jet lag or babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The British boss swigged Bennelin from the
bottle frequently, a firm believer in its prophylactic powers to prevent
disease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If any of her assistants
looked peaky the bottle was meaningfully pushed in their direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our samples came back from their offices
stinking of the pharmacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The Americans never went on holiday,
which was a pity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we sat, soporific
and stinking of garlic after another delicious bowl of pasta, the phones started
ringing with the shrill tones of the angry, urgent American who had skipped
breakfast to get in early to bollock you for your latest late, expensive and
way too European delivery/non-delivery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Delivery was constantly talked about
of garments flown round the globe by women who would be rushed in an ambulance
from a board meeting if her contractions started early - for her to get on the
phone from the labour ward to chase things along, or ‘expedite’ in the
jargon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">For the phone was our weapon against
lazy, late suppliers of wrong colour, too big/small, poorly stitched/printed/pressed
garments - and against each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
as our personnel grew quicker than our sales in an empire building exercise
which threatened to steal every dollar our loyal happy customers were paying,
we wasted hours, pounds, dollars, guilders, yen, francs warring with each other
as responsibility was chased from the offices of anyone with anything to do
with the gentlest, most feminine brand name in rural idyll dreaming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Consultants came and took more dollars
without taking any responsibility to try to reconcile us to the business of
doing business together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The word
‘strategy’ was added to every paragraph of any memo winging its way from or to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wales, land of feudal lords and castles,
mountains to hide behind, roads to roam free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Try running an international despatch operation along the winding sheep
droves of roads of mid <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“When they put a sign with a chevron by the
road in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place>
they really mean it” said Fiona who in all the years I worked with her never
travelled in my car without her hand on the door handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Becalmed one day by the side of the M6 due to
a sudden lack of petrol, I was never good at practicalities, and waiting for
that nice man from the RAC we reflected on the latest meeting with our
exec.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">He - for it was still a ‘he’ was a
jazz loving Dutchman who felt that girlies didn’t understand strategy and so it
was best fro him to overrule our carefully judged sourcing policy playing to
the quality and cost strengths of our suppliers and get on all our goods made
in the US as he was concerned by the fall of the dollar to the detriment of the
buying power of our darling US babes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Apparently the suggestion had arrived as an early evening command from
the US, followed by the implicit assertion that to not comply would be cissy
and the friendly threat - ‘I’ll touch base with you later’ meaning ‘I only want
to hear ‘yes’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll give you a few hours
to sort out your little local difficulties’.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">We had just visited a lovely factory
in <st1:place w:st="on">Caernarvon</st1:place> where the girls still had the
skills to stitch all the operations in a whole dress and so felt the
satisfaction of creating a garment, just as our founder (female) had
envisaged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When another approach than
humanitarian was suggested to her by her first accountant she had retorted to
the effect that to believe business as just about making a profit was to miss
the point about why communities create and trade, how these activities can add
to the satisfaction of life as well as prosperity and security.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was ahead of her time and deeply
unfashionable in the ‘no-such-thing-as-society Thatcher years’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I saw a future without the proud can do
attitude of the Carnarvon factory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One
where <st1:state w:st="on">New York</st1:state> sweat-shops and nameless,
faceless people struggling to make a living in <st1:country-region w:st="on">China</st1:country-region>
by exporting through <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place>, would dominate
my life.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">And so it came to be until sitting in
a lovely restaurant on a coral beach in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Mauritius</st1:country-region></st1:place>, discussing whether the
girls we had seen in the factory, under age, were better off there with their
mothers who were trying to improve their lot through the dignity of textiles,
not sugar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I proposed to my colleague
that we would be better running Oxfam and wearing recycled clothes than chasing
the additive hook of the latest new look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And I returned from a holiday to find myself jobless as the empire
building had resulted in the sacrifice of my department.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<em>I remember you toujours ma petite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was your supplier of chic French baby
wear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You always wrote ‘tres jolies’ on
the inspection report at all my factory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We did our best quality for the English ladies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wined and dined you on foie gras and our
good champagne, as is my nation’s privilege to educate in the fine things of
life!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sent my factory manager for the
English lessons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were all very proud
as he shook your hand and said ‘meny trousers’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It seemed a good toast and we remember it always where we were togezer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And you always flew to Parie where my office
was as I did not like to make the long car journey on the auto routes alone,
since I was wiv my wife in zat teriblee car accident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ezery time we passed a lorry I braked incase
history repeated itself and you said to me “It’s OK <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Pierre</st1:city></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s OK”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zankyou for zat. My
manager he ask me how I make zee sale to as beeg Englesh designer label.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him I waz ze best salesman he ezer see
and I got ze salary for ze electric car my wife drive along ze pavements of our
louvley Paree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We lost the touch after
zat when we went bakrupt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well ze rag
trade zey always chase ze cheapest theeng.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I represent ze factory in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Morocco</st1:country-region></st1:place> now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is sunnier than <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Lille</st1:city></st1:place>, but ze food is terriblee - only sheep
for us to eeat.</em></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-style: normal;">I looked around for the next thing in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I invited my mates round for drinks in my
Fulham flat, beautifully decorated in sample fabrics, and debated - Sasha, now
doing the earth mother bit in a monsoon dress was very pregnant, Fiona, now
quite the lady buyer, and acerbic as ever, and me -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>we had the vultures with Beatles voices
jungle book conversation - ‘so wha you gonna do? - I dunno - what d’you wanna
do? - I dunno’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were in the garden of
a Fulham populated by property developers, girls in pearls and Europeans on an
up and coming Thatcherite buy-your-own-place council estate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a kind of tent of wet sheets provided by
my noisy upstairs French neighbour who had a voracious, intimidating appetite
for clippy heels on wooded floors and washing things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tent provided a Persil-smelling, sunlight
defeating privacy at least from the next gardens designed for the lean over
your fence neighbours, a variety not encouraged south of Watford Gap.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-style: normal;">“I don’t know…I want to do something creative…that pays big bucks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-style: normal;">Another buying job then - hit the Drapers’ Record again,” said Fiona,
ever realistic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-style: normal;">Sasha offered an alternative vision of having babies while holding up a
profitable part time job with days off spent rocking the cradle with one foot
while treading the spinning wheel for home designed and knit children’s’ wear
with the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having a boyfriend who
felt families were something you did with your next boyfriend and expensive
holidays were something you did with him, I hit the Drapers’ Record.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-style: normal;">I got a job in Watford at Mother’s-here and was reduced to commuting in
the wrong direction (actually, any direction to try and get out of Fulham by
car is futile unless you enjoy posing in convertibles but it is especially
galling to spend an hour driving to the suburbs when you are forking out a
London mortgage).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got my shoulder
length hair cropped, swapped my tana lawn print dress for what my boyfriend
disparagingly called ‘bus conductor outfits’ - suits with shoulder pads so
sharp you could spike your colleague/rival if she was in danger of invading
your territory, and set about self destructing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-style: normal;">On my induction week I developed my ideas with HR as to why screwing
suppliers on price was morally wrong and why I hated the arrogance of an old
fashioned ‘fuck you’ approach. My cards were marked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I </span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">wanted</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-style: normal;"> to develop
collections of real clothes, not an excuse to decorate children with the latest
cartoon character (10% royalty to Disney thank you), and to give them pretty
play clothes, not flesh-exposing crop tops and cycle shorts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Combined with outspoken ideas on the way to
manage the design process I got up my bosses’ noses and lasted six months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bosses were the last stand of the feet-on
the-table and all but pee-on-your-territory boundaries type I was actually
missing the after hours decide-it-over-a-drink meetings in the pubs of mid
Wales.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw a smack the Pony sketch
years later which summed up this lot - two impeccably dressed bitches with dogs
on leads as their accessory walk past each other sizing up the others designer
outfit, and bark at each other as they pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was in danger of becoming a human - impossible to admit as a
buyer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-style: normal;">I got the sack just as I had sold my Fulham flat to reduce the time
spent in my BMW and increase my time available for friendship and fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spent a summer painting flowers and moving
into my own rural idyll and signed up for the MBA which was going to mean I
could talk business with my accountant boyfriend</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> and never need be a buyer again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<em>I remember her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
ran her numbers until her number was up, and we had a meet up in Murphy’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She took comfort in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Mississippi</st1:state></st1:place> Mud Pie and I put away the
martinis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was mad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sent me letters on the back of printed
handouts of marketing matrices from the business school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seemed to be having fun though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember a time when I was sober.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must have been watching too many westerns
‘cos I put my money down on a bar in a one horse town in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region></st1:place> where the channel tunnel
would be if they ever finished it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
enjoy a bet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made a break for the
border one Friday night after work and posted my boss the keys to the company
car from a <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dover</st1:place></st1:city>
car park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I raised my glass to a new
future in the Routiers trucker’s bar on the roll on roll off ferry, and checked
out how they keep punters happy in my new market!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That rag trade chews you up and spits you
out- you are only as good as yesterdays’ sales.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A lot of my friends from those times got into other things…garden
design, gourmet, golf, motherhood and ME.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Me, I’ve never looked back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Cheers!</em></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Luna’s READING<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Before I get going I
want to assure you its confidential….whatever comes up in this space, stays in
this space…it’s your property.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Are you right or left
handed…?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can I have your left hand
first…want to take off your watch…ring - it’s entirely up to you for comfort…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was looking for clues –
why me, why was I different, was the clue in my past – was it written into my
hands – could you tell from the outside from my lines my biology, did something
happen to me as a geeky teenager that screwed up my fertility – was I so
worried about getting pregnant underage while not fully understanding the
mechanics during cider filled fumblings, that I’d shut my hormones down… had
something happened to me as a child, some freak accident that I couldn’t
remember and was too awful for my mum to mention, had something gone wrong with
me as a baby, an embryo, an egg, an idea, an energy…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Your hand shape - you
have a very rectangular palm rather than square and the finger are shorter than
the length of your thumb which indicates you have a fire hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now irrespective of which sign of the zodiac
you’ve been born to this will either match the sign of the zodiac or will
enhance with extra qualities. Fire hand people are industrious people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are go-getters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes dynamic, not always.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re busy people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have a problem, to be honest, in
delegating, because they don’t believe anyone else will do the job to their own
high standard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They project to the world that they are quite
capable, they run a tight ship - pile it on, I can deal with it - but on the
inside they don’t always have the confidence and the courage that they express
to the rest of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">In fact they’re quite
jelly-babies on the inside; they hurt very deeply but its<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>not something they like to be generally known
because they feel it as a weakness and fire people can have an unfair
reputation for sometimes having a short fuse and quick temper which is in fact
a fallacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its not true at all but
placid, easy going people can tolerate a lot of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>rubbish before they snap<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- but
when they snap everyone knows because its quite a large explosion and that’s
probably where they get the bad reputation from but its just not true - pay
more attention to that.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Now quite naturally allow
your hand go floppy so it falls in the way that it usually would so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can see that for a child hand it’s a
closed hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your fingers are closing up
quite naturally….its still a closed hand… your fingers are still quite close
together which is alright but on a childhood hand its usually more open because
children are more open to express themselves as they go and play…and all that
sort of thing which implies that you haven’t had all that sort of childhood and
in fact that you’ve learnt at a very early age to keep your cards close to your
chest. For all of that though your thumb is at a good angle<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>which shows that your basic nature,
irrespective of what you’ve learnt along the way is quite open and that you do
communicate well to people, that you give people the benefit of the doubt until
you’re proved wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Now there are 4 main
lines on anyone’s palm: that is the lifeline coming round here, the head line,
the heart line and the fate line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
are many other lines which we’re going to investigate but I’m going to start
with the lifeline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>…..We all have a
potential life expectancy of about 76 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is based on the age Auntie Mabel was and Granny and Grandpa were
when they passed…so it’s our potential.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On your dominant hand we’ll see real life expectancy which is based on
how you’ve conducted your life, so if its all drink, drugs and rock and roll
you can expect that it’ll be much shorter but if its taken carefully then its
likely to be much longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">The one thing I notice
about your life line is that it comes out and actually touches your fate-line
before it comes back in again, which implies that fate intervened in your life
to make a big life change when you were young.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Starting off here your head line and your life line are joined for a
good inch across your palm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that’s
about average and that tells me that you pretty much developed at the right
rate for you and that you weren’t wrapped up in cotton wool by any means but
also that you weren’t catapulted out into the world…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As my mother would say…feel the benefit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>because your life line is the least well marked on your palm I’d have to
say that you have suffered from weaknesses rather than illnesses and because
there are thousands of worry lines I’d have to say that to some extent this is
nerve related and stress related which you haven’t dealt with particularly
well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With an ideal childhood hand
there’d be no worry lines but we have to accept that children worry just as
much as the rest of us do but about different things but that’s none the less
relevant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, at no point do any of
your worry lines actually cross your life line so that’s a positive thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">So there was something
when I was young – what was it, what could I remember, yes I worried, would I
be liked, would I fit in – I was acutely self conscious to the extent of being
outside myself… when things were going on I could sit outside and watch – see
that girl on her first day at school getting trapped in the fold out bookcase,
being sick in school assembly – I am so outside myself I can see the caretaker
walking off with the sick-soaked-sawdust in a bucket even when he has walked
back to his workshop and lit a cigarette… I watch my cycling proficiency test
from the school roof – I see my father searching for when my best friend shut
me in a box, though I am in a box… my best friend, he was my idol, who I wanted
to be, taller and stronger than me and first up the old oak in the woods here
we had our den, I was a bit of a tomboy, dreaded growing breasts, until I
didn’t hardly, then I wanted them to fit in, and my best friend went off and
played with girls who did have them… what’s she saying, now that’s nice..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">You also have an inner
line of mars here which is a line running on the inside of your life line and parallel
to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I call this the guardian
angel line because we’ve all got guardian<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>angels and when life has got too big for us to deal with life on our own
our angels take a step closer and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>when
the matter is sorted then they step back and it shows on your hand that they’ve
been looking after you….the fact that you have what I call a hug deficit
wrinkle is not a criticism of your upbringing or of your parents but I feel
that you’d have thrived much better with more physical affection in your life,
through more hugs….around and also with more verbal encouragement and
acknowledgement of what you did achieve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now, to say that all that is missing makes to imply that you had a
terrible upbringing and that you had terrible parents but that’s not the
case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are just observances that
you’d have thrived better. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Irrespective of what
you achieved on paper and in regards to your formal education at school you
have a good, strong mind and one of the lovely things about it is that it is
open and a closed<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mind is no use to
anyone so you’re always open to any possibilities.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">The heart line on any
one’s hand is the most difficult because it deals with how we interact with
other people, our emotional side, our feelings, how we think other people
perceive us and it’s a real roller-coaster and yours in particular is all over
the place on this childhood hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
to say it starts off with a series of feathers which goes to say that even had
you been born in a vacuum with no external stimulus there would still be
insecurities there because they come from inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now the first big island we see is here, you
see that big oval on the heart line - you see that there….this refers to time
in your life when you felt let down by the adults around you and children feel
let down by the adults for lots of reasons…as adults are our gods when we are
little and they are just humans doing the best they can…I can see you’ve been
totally let down here and its followed very closely by another big island so
there are two quite specific instances in your childhood when you felt isolated
and alone and not able to confide in anyone and not able to quite<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>understand where you stood in the situation
and what was expected of you and you would know what these situations are and
could articulate about them very much differently now that you’re an adult, but
this is very much how a child sees them, all down to the thing called<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘these are my needs and they’re not being
met.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">There’s also a feeling
of betrayal here as though someone let you down when you felt you could rely on
them and you couldn’t and this has resulted in a closing down in this part of
the heart line and perhaps you decided I’m not going to confide in anyone
anymore, I’m going to deal with everything by myself, I’m going to keep myself
to myself because I’ve learned that that’s the way to be, but fortunately
towards the end of the line… if you like, on this hand, there’s just the
starting of an opening out again, just a starting, so I feel that the other
hand will have a much more positive heart line than this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">That would be Stella - let down by me - putting her in danger when I should have protected her - just because of my need to really feel... she closed down and stopped communing with me - does she even know I'm still here?</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">The fate line that
comes up here you are not responsible for in any way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The childhood’s fate is merely dictated by
the adults in control at that time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
child has no control; it’s like a track that’s laid for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All you’ve got to do is stay on that track,
if you like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a good fate line but
its very, very straight and rigid which implies that there was no flexibility
in your upbringing, that there were a lots of rules and regulations which you
had to adhere to and a lot of lines drawn that you had to stay within the
boundaries of those lines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, the
fate line comes to a dead end quite suddenly…at this point here so I feel that
this refers us to the same point where your life line touches your fate line in
that something changed quite dramatically in your circumstances and in your
late teens and one life style, if you like, came to an end and another one started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Well that’s easy, that was
that day in the health centre – when the doctor looked up from her notes,
looked into my eyes to check my reaction to the diagnosis she was about to
give, I had that feeling, that sensation of déjà vu – I thought, as she started
talking, I know what she’s going to say, I have heard these words before,
looked down at this desk, at this brown carpet tile, floated past her through
that window to the familiar comforting concrete landscape of the Polytechnic
tower. I’ve felt these tears before, this shock, this pain, this pain like I
split in two… I stumbled like before out of this student surgery, this is my
karma – I don’t know why – that’s not for me to see, but I know this
information the doctor gives me is a big piece in my jigsaw – gives me a reason
why my body is different to my sisters’. One breast smaller with 3 black hairs,
the same side has a foot a whole side larger… my biology holds my destiny,
what’s it trying to tell me, where does the girl who played with her dolls go
when she can’t go there, can never do the happy family thing… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>now my hand is telling its side of the story…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">This tells me you
were a tactile child; that you did like physical affection even though it wasn’t
forthcoming as much perhaps as you would have liked, or even as much as it
should have been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> F</span>eel is part of
your learning experience and in fact you absorb an awful lot of information
through your fingers tips - probably the sort of person who gets thrown out of
museums for touching things!…..and as a child you’d have loved velvet cushions
and fluffy thistledown and smooth stones.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Now this is your lunar
mound and it’s nicely firm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> T</span>his tells me that you’re an
incredibly creative child and that you had a vivid and fertile imagination
which is very vital in childhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Children sometimes need to imagine a place to be, a place to escape, a
different set of circumstances and something wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that’s how children use their
imagination... your lunar mound goes much lower
which tells me that as a child you will have experienced psychic phenomena and
that you will have been very in tune with your own intuition, but I feel that
again, it was probably something that you learned to keep close to your chest
because if you’d been a kitten and gone to the end of the garden and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>felt something that you couldn’t see and
rushed back to mum she would have said ‘Well done, you’ve used your intuition,
you’ve chosen safe ground’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a child
that doesn’t happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mum marches you
right back done the bottom of the garden, ‘Look, there’s nothing here, don’t be
so silly, we’ll have none of your nonsense’ so you learned to keep it in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There may also be an experience here of you
being taken to an historical site, perhaps on a school trip, perhaps on a
family trip, and feeling uncomfortable - feeling that you couldn’t breathe as
you have done in some situations and this is you picking up vibrations perhaps
from hundreds of years ago where there was bloodshed - where something dark
happened in that space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Similarly you
could have wonderful feelings and emotions at a place where perhaps for
centuries they had celebrated and wonderful things happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You would pick up that vibe too.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">That was that day we went to the Witches Museum in Boscastle - sad,dark, damp atmosphere - chilled us to the bone - at least we could talk about it then and keep each other company that night... Oh I miss our chats - psychic phenomena indeed! I'm as real as Stella is!!</span></span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">
</span></i><b><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Stella <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">If leaving
home on the 3pm from Liverpool to Huddersfield in a much too thin cotton jacket
for a Yorkshire winter was scary at 18 in 1980 then moving to the Bedfordshire
marshes to house share with two rugby playing types at 29 in 1991 was just bizarre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had flown the world First Class and now I
was going to share a bathroom with the self-confessed <st1:place w:st="on">Essex</st1:place>
man from Bilarickie and an outdoors type who lived on warmed up dog pie and
liked nothing better than to throw himself out of small aircraft without a
parachute at weekends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If poverty as a
student was exciting and romantic, then poverty with a lot of ex-business
managers all wanting a leg up the career ladder to pay back the 15K college fee
for the year was daunting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had more to
loose, especially a now fragile ego.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What I didn’t realise ‘till much later was - so did they.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a gap year for the stuck in a rut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one gives up the best manager’s job in the
world to be lectured by academics in tank tops on how to do marketing from a
submarine-like lecture room on an airfield.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">A great believer in education I had 11
GCSEs, 3 A’s and a B at A Level, a 2:1 BSc in textile design, my Duke of
Edinburgh award, cycling proficiency, Brownie homemakers badge, Guides knotting
badge, Rangers canoeing bade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had
never seen a school like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was
a brain washing in the heroism of work-all-night to deliver your epic 5000 word
masterpiece on just how the world will beat a pathway to your door to buy your
better mousetrap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Egos as big as Genghis
Khan’s argued it out in study groups as to why they were so right they really
had no need to be studying here and should tell the lecturers how things really
were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I discovered the world of fashion
was a narrow, inspirational privileged one and that I was ideally suited for
it, being a plant - read ideas person with no interest in completing/finishing
and solely dependent on my one technique of inspirational leadership.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great for enthusing designers, suppliers and
selling to shop girls but singularly ineffective on engineers, accountants,
strategic thinkers, human resource managers and marginally better on
entrepreneurs looking for someone fool enough to invest with them in their<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>big idea, which of course I did not want to
do as I didn’t want to play in anyone’s team but my own.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Looking back I think that year
learning about busy-ness as Dickens would have termed it, taught me how little interested
I was in business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People, yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ideas, yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Budgeting and pricing, just about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anything else had me handing in a caffeine supported C grade paper and
heading off to a party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took refuge in
my all time disguise - chameleon clothes and picked the perfect outfit for
every occasion while writing a satirical column in the student newspaper about
everyone else’s - it was a short column - there were only two possible outfits
for the mainly male students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tank tops
for the geeky academics including some outrageous intarsia ones if they were
from the class, which played golf, and blue jeans with, check rugby shirts for the
engineers, marketers, salesman, strategic thinkers (jumped up marketers and
salesmen?) accountants and entrepreneurs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For the girls there were all round pleated skirts for the human resource
managers, blue jeans for the for the marketers etc and very short white shorts
and tennis tops for the nubile Danish exchange students who were completing
their MBA - God knows why - in the Bedfordshire marshes instead of Copenhagen.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The sleazy Irish course leader told us
no one every failed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would hope not
having paid 15K and given a year of our precious time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For them to teach us everything you ever
needed to know about how to run a successful business who could say what was
the right answer to that little puzzler? No one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So instead they taught us ‘a tool kit’ of
accountancy, statistical, information system skills etc. etc. and sold us cute
cartoon books on product, price, promotion, place/how to do marketing which
patronised us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aged 25 - 50 we all had
to pass a test on hard sums and regurgitate stuff out of books just like when
we were kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fear is a great leveller
and stress is a great aphrodisiac.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
discovered the real point of the year out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Make friends and crib from the guy who can do strategy in the European
Union.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once we all realised this is was
one long party to the bemusement of the guys in tank tops who felt they were
there to learn and important answer to an intriguing question, and would
probably end up doings PhDs and joining the faculty.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">There were some crap lecturers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One asked the assembled ‘blue stream’ - yes,
that old boarding school trick of competitive houses was used - to look at a
‘paradigm shift’ image composed of a positive image - two faces and a negative
one - a vase - “can you all see them?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“No”, a brave and embarrassed student put up his hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Which one can’t you see?” demanded the
arrogant lecturer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Empathy was not his
bag although he was supposed to be teaching consultancy skills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What can you see?” would have illustrated
his point perfectly with matching his customer’s viewpoint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To expect your customer to tell you what
he/she doesn’t know is arrogance born of ignorance.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I survived the year with monthly
purchases of Domestos to sterilise the increasingly disgusting shared bathroom
and learnt some unarguable truths:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">That
you can never expect a man to clean up the mess which he cannot see and would
not care about if he could.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">That
men are immune to hint and subtle nuances to sharing cleaning responsibilities.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">That
the battle of the sexes is only played by the fair sex and the other lot are
too busy working/having fun to dispute territory in the domestic arena.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I got 70% in my Finance exam despite
not adding up any of the numbers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had
a good eye for proportion and sums took me way too long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I passed Stats. too, after extra cramming
with a lovely lecturer of the tank top and twinkly eyes variety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bright as buttons and so wise he told me not
to worry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the rest of my life no one
would care or even ask to see my Stats mark. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Luna<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">What are we doing here? It was a submarine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An Alice though the looking glass place where
my kindly stats man had the smile of a Cheshire cat, the male students all
seemed as alike to me as Tweedledum and Tweedledee and the Mad Hatters lecturers
had their tea party daily in a corridor named ‘the Forum’ - echoes of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>carry On films… straight lines, roman arches,
for in their eyes they were setting the rules, making the matrices which
governed the game called ‘business’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ah
busyness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all a game” says my
father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But more fool you if you think
you now the rules.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">One thing working in fashion has taught me is:
nothing works better for making money than intuition, so show me who can teach
you to use your third eye, your far seeing behind the eyes visions and make
them reality. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The only lecture I remember now was on chaos
theory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This described the world I
knew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keep changing; keep evolving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Watch nature… a dinosaur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too old and slow; becomes extinct.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How ants have the best organisations - have
conquered the planet with their small scale ever moving mountains, curious
unspeaking - no visionary leaders, no fat cats taking the profits, they are
master engineers of a solution to every habitat they choose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eat your heart out Enron.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you need food and shelter the only kind
of numbers that matter are your brothers and sisters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do you get an ant to labour with a crumb
four times his size and return it to the ant hill?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Offer him a pay rise?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A company car? Promotion to an anthill in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Abu Dhabi</st1:city></st1:place>?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or raise him to understand that everyone else
will do the same, share and will help with the work as soon as they see/sense
him coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Chaos theory… a butterfly's wings in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Brazil</st1:country-region></st1:place>
cause a downpour in Bognor and your anthill gets washed away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You build a more sheltered anthill and learn
from the experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t terrify
the guy with the drawings for last times’ anthill, in a review meeting where
his bollocks are pinned to the flip chart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You all live in the anthill so you all move it, move it and build.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do I sound like a communist?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, no, that’s OK for ants but what about
the sick ants who need to save for a rainy day?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Do they get an allowance?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must
find out more about ants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And what about
the designers?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do they get to have their
ideas made real?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bijoux anthill with
large windows and softest sand floors?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">‘Imagine no possessions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder if you can?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No grief or hunger for brotherhood of
man’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you see, I can’t do Buddhism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There seems to me an innate contradiction
between the designer who wants to make her mark, describe her idea in reality
whether colours, fabrics, words, bricks, sand (do you know some American
Indians use sand pictures as medicine?) and the Buddhist who knows this life is
all a mirage, a trial of how we do with our Karma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time before we pass back into the
greater whole, which we are all but many faceEd expressions of.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">So here I
was out of my element, on an airfield with no clothing retailers, no pocket
money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I acted on my sense of what
kind of clothing retail fitEd with my developing spirit and offered Oxfam some
free consultancy to be written up for the how to do marketing guru.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was an amazing ego. If he couldn’t attend
a lecture in Bedfordshire as he had to be in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Bombay</st1:city></st1:place> that day he made us a personal
broadcast of our mentor coaching us in more matrices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the nearly empty ‘amphitheatre’ - for who
would give up sunbathing on the football field if there was no one to tack your
attendance - I spotted the Danish girls whose outfits I really liked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think Inwear, classic, slightly svelte,
slightly sporty, and we embarked together on the Oxfam project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Underpaid
earnest types in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Oxford</st1:place></st1:city>
offices presided over this body-odour reeking chain of small dark shops populated
by widows in florals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A very eccentric
law unto himself chose the fantastic selection of Fair-Trade merchandise -
Rasta hats (a big seller), beaded curtains from <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Pakistan</st1:place></st1:country-region> decorated with the Mona
Lisa (did the Louvre get a royalty?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What would Leonardo say if he knew she was keeping out the flies in
Festiniog?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Danish friends and I suggested
the obvious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wash it, colour theme it,
and put out what’s in season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Increase
the feel good factor by telling the punters that what is not sold here clothes
kids in <st1:city w:st="on">Calcutta</st1:city> or gets recycled into yarn for
woollies in the wilds of <st1:place w:st="on">Eurasia</st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Employ managers who know how to use the tills
so the feel good factor doesn’t evaporate by the time Granny Good has found her
reading glasses and written down your cheque card number.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our guru decided this was hardly MBA stuff
and gave us a C - no matrices, no clever strategies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I notice they are still in business 10
years on and reported by the Economist last week as an opinion-former who big businesses
respect since they won a settlement in favour of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ethiopia</st1:place></st1:country-region> in the Nestlé case.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Anyhow, my
friend and I enjoyed the shops in <st1:city w:st="on">Oxford</st1:city> and sorted
out our love lives - mine was a problem - while getting lost around the roundabouts of <st1:place w:st="on">Milton Keynes</st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Always go around the roundabout one more time became our advice to each
other as we debated the pros and cons of the geeky tank top guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the downside of being interested in being
attractive is that you attract.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And like
any flower constantly trespassed by wasps and bees you don’t choose who - they
do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had a perfectly nice boyfriend
in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Copenhagen</st1:city></st1:place>,
never seen out without a coordinating belt, and whose large shoulders belied
the strength of the hunter-gatherer capable of feeding a family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She made the sensible decision and lived
happily ever after.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">She was the only one I kept in touch with from the
Business school..<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We always write at
Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had ‘girls just want to
have fun’ together in that little car we Danish hired for the year to see a bit
of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">England</st1:country-region></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s face it; the Bedfordshire marshes are
not a beauty spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we had picnics in
<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Oxford</st1:city></st1:place>, looked
round the colleges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beautiful old
buildings you have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was useless on
the computer so I did the word processing and so we had our report done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Difficult working with a charity. You can’t
organise change too radically when you depend on the goodwill of volunteers to
make a go of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People put a lot of
themselves into these places.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think
charity makes us human.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">From what she told me of the rag trade they are so
wasteful of resources, rivers run red if that’s the colour this season, downstream
they still have to drink the water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
are all together in this, don’t they know that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We see that more in <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place> although we
Danish resisted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were boosted enough
by winning some goals in the European cup to vote No to the Euro Zone for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we have to learn to share.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are pack animals, we have to work together
to survive, it is in our genes, the blue jeans we all wear in this global
village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We talk different languages but
we all drink the same cappuccino and lager beer, dance on the beaches, blue sky
rhythm and blues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all want the same -
wealth and the freedom and to raise our kids in a civilised place. The enemy –
the guy who worships a different god – they’re just human with wives and
children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We both decided for all our
MBA we still had the little girl’s fantasy to get married and have
children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was kind when I had a
problem there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wrote and told me she had
some problems too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s nice to know you
are not alone in that way.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Yes – family – that’s what
we should be doing – but Stella had screwed up with Dirk who was the only guy I had considered father material - and she was still on the Pill …and I was reading Dr
Jean’s increasingly worrying thoughts on the subject…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">Chapter 3. The Context. Macro - Social
issues, what are we buying; youth, control.</span></i></b><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">Remember folliculinum*...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">‘She feels she is controlled by another. She
is out of sorts with her rhythms. She is living out someone else’s
expectations. She looses her will. She over-estimates her energy reserves. She
is full of self-denial. She becomes a rescuer, addicted to rescuing people. She
becomes drained. She has become a doormat. She has forgotten who she is. She
has no individuality.’ (Assilem - from a homeopathic study of folliculinum*, an isopathic remedy made from the Pill to assist those with health problems after taking the Pill).</span></i></b><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR7NjvSbBZOTNA6HPdYLLQ5PVYi99q9MK8QWAI4OVWo3ZnmcuqG6Vmjd1NW_NcXEIfiPRJow6-HAglTZn210D28ftRwtEn4nq_8tWqfPiDd3sPKtsHCFl5fAajmTSQaizZkHB8bvuWICgu/s1600/nude_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR7NjvSbBZOTNA6HPdYLLQ5PVYi99q9MK8QWAI4OVWo3ZnmcuqG6Vmjd1NW_NcXEIfiPRJow6-HAglTZn210D28ftRwtEn4nq_8tWqfPiDd3sPKtsHCFl5fAajmTSQaizZkHB8bvuWICgu/s400/nude_0001.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">In the
foreword of Feminine Forever published in the 60s an eminent doctor wrote
‘Women will be emancipated only when the shackles of hormonal deprivation are
loosened’, and the hormone preparations of the Pill and HRT have held out to
women since the carrot of control of our lives, freedom from unplanned and successive
pregnancies disturbing our career, or hot flushes and confusion marking us out
as ‘a woman of a certain age’ past our sexual sell by date.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">Frances
McCrea, an American sociologist has identified four themes that underlie the
medical definition of menopause:<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">women’s
potential and function are biologically destined<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">women’s
worth is determined by fecundity and attractiveness<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 14.15pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">rejection
of the feminine role will bring physical and emotional havoc<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">aging
women are useless and repulsive.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn11" name="_ftnref11" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn11;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[11]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a><o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">Each of these
involves a social judgement about the role and status of women, and
demonstrates the entrenched sexism, chauvinism, paternalism, of our public
health service. Feminists have countered by celebrating words like hag and
crone for which there are no male equivalents, and highlighting the denial of a
role for aging women in modern Western society. Greer<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">Champions of
the menopause as a ‘passage to power’ like Lesley Kenton contrast our prejudices
today with the accepted role of the ‘wise woman’ in many cultures; historically
she was the one who through whom the oral tradition of medicines like
herbalism, as well as more spiritual approaches, thrived. In traditional Maori
culture the older woman becomes a kuia who has the status to perform various
rituals that younger women cannot perform. It is obvious to homoeopaths that
the more positive experience of getting older, seeing it as a journey to power
and respect within the community, will result in less, and less troublesome,
symptoms. American anthropologist Marcha Flint argues that the relatively high
incidence of menopausal symptoms experienced by women in Western society is a
result of the negative status given to aging women in our societies so that
menopause is a symbol of this and a transition from an acceptable role which I
summarise as feminine carer and provider to an unacceptable and scarcely
defined role, - a kept woman who is wrinkled and whose breasts sag? Flint
contrasts our experience with that of women in the Rajput caste of North India
for whom menopause is a liberation from purdah, a time to enjoy previously
forbidden activities such as visiting other households and talking to, even
drinking with the men. These women had virtually no symptoms<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn12" name="_ftnref12" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn12;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[12]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">I picked up a
publication on the menopause in my local pharmacy which was published by the
BMA in conjunction with a drug company which could only be described as
fear-mongering. Wilson, see above, who advocated women forever feminine through
hormone use, was doctor, evangelist and entrepreneur; he founded a private
trust with the purpose of promoting oestrogens; in one year (in the 70’s, so
allow for inflation) the Wilson Foundation received 17,000 US dollars from
Searle and 8,700 from Ayerst Laboratories, manufacturers of hormones which
Wilson claimed were effective<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn13" name="_ftnref13" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn13;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[13]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>.
This is small beer for a drug industry which saw worldwide sales of US based
companies climb from 1430 million Us dollars in 1950 to 8070 million in 1972<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn14" name="_ftnref14" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn14;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[14]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>.
What motivates their concern for our bones and sleep quality? Their
responsibility is to make profits for their shareholders, by selling more
synthetic hormones. In the 70s up to three and a half million women were being
given free oral contraceptives, so the British Government was paying roughly
£50 million a year to buy hormone contraceptive pills for British women. What
the real cost has been to the nation’s health we do not yet know. Yet successive
governments who can quantify the cost of single mothers prefer to act
paternalistically rather than take their responsibilities ‘in parentis’ and
hand out the pills like smarties while their suppliers tell them, and us, it’s
OK, they are safe, and by implication of their funding them they pass that
message on to us.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">As Sandra
Coney writes of HRT in The Menopause Industry, ‘despite the lack of proof of
safety or usefulness, these interventions are already on their way to becoming
an accepted part of the health scene... women are duped by the apparent
‘normality’ of these interventions to believe that they must have been proved
safe... they can be oblivious to the .. contradictory research findings and the
biases of the various parties involved.’ In 1960 the first oral contraceptive,
Enovid, was allowed onto the US market on the basis of a trial on only 132
Puerto Rican women who had taken it for a year or more, three young women died
without their cause of death being established. Despite the lack of evidence
for safety soon what Dr. Grant termed ‘the greatest mass pill experiment in
history’ was underway. <o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">‘The person
with a serious illness will be prepared to take risks for the chance of a cure;
for the well person the risks have to be measured... against their present good
health.’ This echoes the sense of Benjamin Franklin’s wise observation as true
today as it was in 1787, that ‘There is a great deal of difference between a
good doctor and a bad doctor but very little difference between a good doctor
and no doctor at all.’ In making long term prescriptions for steroids how many
of the medical profession can claim to be good doctors?<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">‘The pill...
is a drug of such social and sexual convenience that its tragic consequences
will continue to be disregarded until women fully realise what the consequences
of such convenience are. Preferred ignorance has caused us to close our eyes to
the enormous increase in ill health of young women since the pill was
introduced and to the fact that the effects of the pill on allergies, vascular
disease, mental health, cancer and congenital abnormalities are more powerful
than smoking and show up in a much quicker time.’ wrote Dr, Ellen Grant, in
‘The Bitter Pill’, and the situation has not changed since she first published
this nearly 15 years ago. Her testimony is remarkable as she was closely
involved in the trial and development of the pill in a quest to find a solution
to the problem of the spiralling growth of the worlds population, but she has
become convinced that the health risks of the pill mean this can not be the
answer and she has dedicated her work to pressing her case against the pill.
She received an early warning on how this would be met by the medical
establishment as she describes here: <o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">‘At the beginning
of the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city></st1:place>
trials we tried endlessly to find the right dose combinations to stop the women
volunteers having side effects. Headaches affected up to 60 % of the women
within a year of taking those progestogenic pills which had a prolonged late secretory
effect and marked development of endometrial arteriole. But when I bought up
the matter of the headaches and migraine - which I considered to be an early
warning sign - at a Council meeting when a pill’s future marketing was being
discussed, the reaction of members stunned me. There was utter silence. This
silence, heard at so many medical gatherings since, seems to have grown into a
deafening roar.’<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">She goes on
‘It is blocking brain hormones and acting on young ovaries. It is changing metabolism
at a critical time of growth, sexual and emotional development. Human beings
are not fully mature at puberty but go on changing until the end of their early
20s. The first, often irregular periods do not mean a girl has become a
woman... We are assaulting our future genetic pool.’ Knowing what we do now
about the vulnerability of young girls to hormones the current scale of the use
of the morning after pill, which has a bigger dose of hormones than the oral
contraceptive, for schoolgirls is a concern, for their future health and that
of their children.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">Dr. Kitty
Little has described how pill steroids can cause abnormalities in bones, blood </span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">cells, blood
vessels and stress coping mechanisms. In animal trials she discovered that
young immature animals showed the greatest changes and her work has made her
extremely concerned about the risk of long term osteoporosis, joint and back
problems in girls given the pill at puberty. It is ironic that if her
predictions are true these women will be offered more of the same - HRT - and
spend their lives without a sex hormone to call their own.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">This
medicalisation of our lives is focused on women in an unbalanced way - where
are the men who spend their lives taking synthetic hormones, who are called for
internal examinations yearly, whom the media worries about hip fractures in old
age? The ratio of published medical studies of older women<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>is in the order of 100:1 according to Mc
Kinlay, the principal researcher in the Massachusetts Male Aging Study;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he warns of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘the treatment of a typical physiological process as pathological’.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">A treadmill is
created for women, a process described eloquently by Ivan Illich: ‘Diagnosis...
intensifies stress, defines incapacity... focuses apprehension on... uncertainty,
on one’s dependence upon future medical findings, all of which amounts to a
loss of autonomy for self-definition. It also isolates a person in a special
role, separates him from the normal and healthy, and requires submission to the
authority of specialised personnel. Once a society organises for a preventative
disease-hunt, it gives epidemic proportions to a diagnosis. This ultimate
triumph of therapeutic culture turns the independence of the average healthy
person into an intolerable form of deviance.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn15" name="_ftnref15" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn15;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[15]</span></span></sup></b></span></sup></a>’<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow";">I heard
exasperation with such deviance in the tone of Studd, consultant gynaecologist
featured in Channel 4’s programme on PMT on 19.10.99 as he huffed and puffed
about women denying themselves a hysterectomy, (his preferred ‘complete cure’
for PMT )by using alternative therapies ‘all useless,.. tragic... expensive,
don’t work, women are denying themselves effective treatment’, he hoped they
would receive ‘good sense’ and request a hysterectomy. His attitude is
reminiscent of his predecessors who derived the diagnosis hysteria from hyster
the word for womb.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
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<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">
</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I had
thrown my caring, sharing side into the black hole of a man still exploring his
commitment boundaries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had always been
guilty of a love-the-one-you-re with approach to relationships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>serial monogamy meant there wasn’t a day
between age 15 and 30 when I hadn’t had a ‘boyfriend’, partner, security
blanket, sexy boy, true companion, and home, job, money, that was what life was
about wasn’t it – security... well I had messed up with Dirk who was the only place I felt was really home...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And here I
was: 30 with a shiny new MBA all dressed up and nowhere to go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: small;">I went and bought Drapers Record in
desperation once more and scared off several possible <st1:place w:st="on">West
End</st1:place> employers by telling them with my newfound expertise what I
thought of their balance sheet and brand strategy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally landed a job at a Children’s’
Furniture factory in the <st1:place w:st="on">East End</st1:place>, in Bow, by
the canal, selling cots to Mother’s here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Is there any reason I should know why you left “Mother’s here” after 6
months?” enquired my MBA company doctor-type boss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he was going to ask a question which
belied his ignorance of employee contract - sack the day before end of trial
period policy I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, I just wanted to do an MBA!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only someone who had paid the 15k could buy
into that, and he did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was hired.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Really a
nice girl from the classy side of the Mersey, I thought I had seen life in the
factories of Leicester and the <st1:country-region w:st="on">Philippines</st1:country-region>
and slummed it in Aintree and <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now in the stink of the solvents, fags and
chips of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city></st1:place>’s
industrial heritage I found myself working with the no-hopers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not need to write up the case study -
British manufacturer buys timber from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Slovenia</st1:country-region></st1:place> and finishes with a 20
year old kit and a ‘hand-made’ touch to quality to see that it would not
compete with the Italian designed high tech produced at Eastern European prices
competition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Add to the culture clash of
woodwork shop, old cockney cheeky chappie smart Alec.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finishing shop - the Irish brigade (you know
builder who says ‘I would never have done the job that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you had asked me first … well that was the
paint shop so you wouldn’t hold them responsible for the splinters which could
have a baby’s eye out on the cot rails nor the dark green cots which should
have been my carefully selected fashionable shade of mint if they had bothered
to stir it first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the packing shop,
lovely Muslim boys who prayed before their vegetarian meals shared off the
cardboard boxes - probably praying that Allah would not send the Quality
Manager round to return them to the paint shop/wood shop with the shoddy
merchandise they had been given to pack - or they would never make the bonus
long overdue at home for their family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Add to that a Welsh factory manager - ‘how do you expect me to work with
these people?’ and an Eastern European designer with an inferiority complex who
did a nice line in philosophy but could never be persuaded to update the design
drawings so the quality manager never knew what he was checking his B55750 to… <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Introduce
some new designs, said my boss before he scuttled of for an important
meeting…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">So I was
reduced to bargaining with the finishing girl who applied the transfers to let
me experiment with some new tasteful middle class aspirational nostalgic images
while she experimented with another of the delivery lads behind the stacked
stock we seemed to loose to the East End markets.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The
isolation I had observed at twenty of creative people in factories was even
worse when you were allergic to wood shavings and sent to sleep by
solvents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked for inspiration in
Italian Vogue Bambino while the savvy sales girls observed which of the baby
boutique managers our top salesman was laying by the trail of orders which
followed his sexual conquests around the South East.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inviting them to try out our new coir cot bed
mattress he soon had them debating whether pink or blue bedding would be the
most sensible stock item this spring. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I developed
an award winning range of furniture no one would ever buy as it was flat pack,
self-assembly and if there’s one thing new mums don’t have time for and dads
hate to waste their weekend on it is flat pack self-assembly…I decorated a new
showroom by the Thames, assisted by a Jamaican who was never available after
lunch due to a more profitable business on the side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I escaped seduction by one of the deliverymen
who offered one on the coir mattress when I was working late one evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His line was ‘You’re nice, would you like a
go?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone else had fallen for his
handsome just been working out in a white vest look, and I was so over-tired it
almost seemed an attractive proposition but I got in my car and fell asleep on
the M25 once again.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><br /><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Luna.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">That place reeked of failure. I blew around Bow with
a breeze which stank of the stagnant canal, the sharp scent of vinegar from the
fish and chips van, the high smell of solvents from the factory, the reek of
poverty, addiction and self-abuse from the cigarettes everyone smoked a less
than healthy and safe distance from the wood shop. It was a disaster waiting to
happen to those too tired, sad or optimistic to get themselves out of an
industry past its time – hanging on as a habit in the order books of buyers too
loyal or lazy to defect to the East-European cots; the quality was fine as long
as you picked out the ones full of lead shot with a metal detector.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Of all the dumb things she had done – Stella was
wrecking our body with the toxins she was breathing in – I could feel
microscopic pieces of paint in her airways and tried to make her sneeze them
out – she thought she had hay fever! What was she getting out of this apart
from the pay check – waiting for the butterfly of her designs to emerge from an
eternal chrysalis. Sad and lonely, Stella couldn’t any longer shut out my voice
from her dreams as she curled up in her habitual half of the double bed.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Stella<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Sasha and I
decided to review what she termed ‘self-destruct strategy 2 in the warm yellow
kitchen of her NW1 house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over pasta
with Sainsbury’s Carbonara sauce and white wine we reviewed the casualties of
my split with my ex while her 2 year old traced drawings in the strawberry
fromage-frais she had tipped over the farmhouse pine table in a desperate bid
to get our attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Call me old
fashioned” said Sasha, “but I think he’s a really nice guy and you could do
worse than call Dirk, go out for a beer, ask him to marry you and start a family.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">She made it sound so simple. And I so longed for a little girl of my own –
so I went with my favourite fellow for the scariest date every.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">What do you wear to attract someone who has
found you attractive even in your painting overalls for nine years?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I want to look glamorous, or would that
seem tactless given the circumstances?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Too casual may be interpreted as just don’t care which if he said no was
all I could hope for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was saved from
deciding as he arrived early as I sat in my pyjamas getting some Christmas
presents ready and he said we should make some babies instead of buying
pressies for everyone else’s.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">It was a
wet spring in ’93 which saw me queuing daily round the M25 and through North
East London where I watched tree campers with their banners and swampy style in
message t-shirts trying to save the last local park from becoming a dual
carriageway for the out of town commuters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For it was the 90s of the cone hotline and uncaring conservatives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had come to care deeply about the mixed bag
of people I worked with in Bow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In order
to get samples made and delivered to Fairs and buyers I had nothing but charm
to try to get production to switch from whatever sales were chasing to make me
a chunkier cot or carve a cute shaker style routing onto a bed head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My boss seemed to think samples, production
and orders required nothing but will power and a talent to kick ass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used secret strategies, smiles, confidence
and tears of desperate frustration Production got more expensive with short
runs for John Lewis and our delivery mens’ runs got longer and slower as they
took pity on housewives and showed them what you did with a cot widget.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Seeing
bankruptcy looming I decided that one way to gracefully get out of this situation
was to get pregnant and envying Sasha her mornings in the park and afternoons
baking fairy cakes I came off the pill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Whenever in a meeting with my boss after that I flushed red repeatedly
with what he must have interpreted as terrorist anger, but were actually hot
flushes, as my hormones tried in vain to fight through the adrenaline I
survived on and rebalance.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The annual
company board brainstorm bun fight…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Curled up sandwiches provided the ammo which no one dared use.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The brave boys on the shop floor were blamed
as the absent scapegoat in that honourable British tradition of management
blaming the workers being too slow, lazy and sloppy to succeed with cheap
materials, old kit, low wages and the most toxic environment and diet of grease
buns and chips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boss turned from the
flip chart for a moment of truth “Is it me?” he asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Stella, you’ve been quiet”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>About to speak up and do my best Cassandra act I was saved by the bell -
the phone, in fact, for in true Thomas Hardy style the skies had opened and
delivered a flash flood and lightning storm to match the electricity in the
board room </span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">and the factory were on the phone to say the canal was rising inch
by inch over the shop floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got back
just in time to see wooden cot bases floating off down the canal while the
brave boys were saving cot mattresses at a pound a piece while the computers
with our precious customer orders shorted out in an underwater office. Like a
rat deserting a sinking ship I made a mental note to quit while the insurance
money left enough to cover my extended sick pay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I was feeling lousy, whether it was the
fumes or the hormones I was falling asleep daily on the M25 and decided it was
time to see my doctor.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I remember
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was my rival.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the danger of sounding like a cheap horror
film ‘she weren’t from round these parts’ she didn’t know the rules.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never played by them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t so much run with the ball as stick
it up her jumper and take it off to play her own game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was OK for her to bugger off to her nice
house in Hertfordshire in her company motor (I laughed to see her BMW flood
with reeking water when the canal overflowed) I can’t do that…wouldn’t want
to…my cousin works here, dad worked here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There isn’t anything goes on in this place passes me by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was me told her to get those green cots in
boxes before the boss saw them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
don’t like green for furniture the cockney/Irish - just for St Patrick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve got long memories you see, and green
pain used to be associated with baby dying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Green pigment was made from arsenic in the old days you see…she didn’t
know that…pure poison.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[1]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Roberts, ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fourtysomething’, New Statesman
and Society,</i> 1990.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[2]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Woodham, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘Does she or doesn’t she... take
HRT? and will it keep her young or do more harm than good? Experts are divided
so no wonder women are ambivalent. ‘Good Housekeeping</i> April 1999. </span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[3]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Coronary Drug Project Research Group, 1973, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Journal
of the American Medicine Association</i>, 226.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn4" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[4]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">
Sullivan posed an alternative answer to this riddle in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Lancet </i>1981. Iron is continually stores by our bodies as
ferritin, however women loose iron regularly through periods, after the
menopause her iron levels will start to rise; a man of 45 has the same iron
blood content as a woman of 70. At these ages they share the same statistical
risk of heart attack. A 1992 study in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Finland</st1:country-region></st1:place> showed high iron levels to
be a better predictor of heart attacks than high cholesterol; it is thought
that cholesterol becomes stickier when in the presence of iron’s oxidising
effects.<span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[4]</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn5" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref5" name="_ftn5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[5]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Hunt, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘Perceived value of treatment among
a group of long term users of hormone replacement therapy,’ J R Coll Gen Pract</i>
38: 1988.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn6" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref6" name="_ftn6" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn6;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[6]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Coney, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Menopause Industry,</i> 1995.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn7" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref7" name="_ftn7" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn7;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[7]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">WDDTY Vol 9 no 9</i> Dec 98.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn8" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref8" name="_ftn8" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn8;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[8]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Wells, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘Hormone replacement therapy
before menopause’, Postgrad Med,</i> 1989.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn9" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref9" name="_ftn9" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn9;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[9]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">
For example it was reported in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Lancet
</i>last year that pesticides made from organochorine compounds have a weak
oestrogenic effect and this is suspected of increasing the risk of breast
cancer. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lancet 98; 352: 1816-20.</i></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn10" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref10" name="_ftn10" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn10;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[10]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Grant, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Bitter Pill</i>, 1985.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn11" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref11" name="_ftn11" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn11;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[11]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
McCrea, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The politics of menopause: the
“discovery” of a new deficiency disease, Social Problems</i> 31: 111-23.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn12" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref12" name="_ftn12" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn12;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[12]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;"> <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Flint</st1:city></st1:place>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘The menopause: reward or punishment?’
Psychosomatics</i> 16: 161-63.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn13" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref13" name="_ftn13" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn13;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[13]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Seaman and Seaman, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Women and the Crisis
in Sex Hormones,</i> 1977.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn14" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref14" name="_ftn14" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn14;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[14]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How to treat... menopause, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">New Zealand</st1:country-region></st1:place> Doctor,</i> July 1990.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn15" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref15" name="_ftn15" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn15;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: blue;">[15]</span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Illich, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Limits to Medicine</i>, 1976.</span></div>
</div>
</div>the skin traderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11287223144963263670noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870896586893746795.post-11027528696239910132012-02-06T07:45:00.000-08:002012-02-06T07:45:42.245-08:00part one<v:stroke joinstyle="miter">
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</o:lock></v:path></v:stroke><u><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>part
one<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></u><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Stella
growing/</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Luna reflecting</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">What was important?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlebPuI0y4RBsnT1pX5K-FyUThvbmM1rSUpOLOG9TRmivA4RkIAsGjAotbjyqDIljYqBCiTUXGmM_Tk_R5c-9FWdlCVGEGqwWxzTp2zERe-ZVHgVn955__OuEtbJIZtgjR_TeRv3zPBgOf/s1600/car+girl_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlebPuI0y4RBsnT1pX5K-FyUThvbmM1rSUpOLOG9TRmivA4RkIAsGjAotbjyqDIljYqBCiTUXGmM_Tk_R5c-9FWdlCVGEGqwWxzTp2zERe-ZVHgVn955__OuEtbJIZtgjR_TeRv3zPBgOf/s400/car+girl_NEW.jpg" width="268" /></a><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">A sun lounge full of cars in an optimistic semi-detached, ticky-tacky
house on <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Penny Lane</st1:address></st1:street>;
a box to live in North-West <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">England</st1:country-region></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A walk with Granddad every Saturday to the
toy car shop on the corner, he walking tall and slow in his jacket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hand in his as my mind raced on to the
side window where you could see all the cars standing on their boxes inside the
shop, and then miraculously own one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
moment of seeing before buying is the greatest pleasure - enough cars already to
cover half a sun lounge floor.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Moving
house, the fear of change, being sick on the carpet just as everything was all
cleaned up ready for the new people. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Cleaning away the stain, the blemish; back to the
perfection of shiny clean lino. We always spent the first and last days of all
our holidays with Natalie cleaning every surface, washing the kitchen floor so
the new people would have a nice clean place and never think badly of us.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The new
house:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A sand pit peopled with shadowy
ghosts, friends long forgotten, only the memory of a possessive friendship
remains and my Mum’s voice wafting through the open kitchen window… “She’s in
the sand pit talking to herself again – pouring sand all over her hair – should
I worry?” – the slam of the front door as my father went off to the docks was
the only reply. Then the tap running and her song “stupid cupid you’re a real
mean guy!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Let’s play... let’s be sand – how does it feel? Like
your self has been crushed into bits and scattered, washed round the world, but
you are still strong, your last bit of being sharp enough to cut and hurt a
foot... but you can feel comfy, with your fellow particles, trickle me over
skin, mmmm warm and soft, but solid, comforting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">A holiday
in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Italy</st1:place></st1:country-region>…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A square filled with evening light and small
cars, brightly painted, with pedals, which we could ride round in circles…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The exotic feeling of hearing another
language, having ice-cream every day.</span><br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Sundays in
church, best dress, combed hair, polish the shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quiet in church, sit still on the hard pew,
try not to cough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wonderful stories, the
girl who walked for weeks to buy a Bible, David and Goliath, fishermen and
shepherds and weddings with wine overflowing. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When we
grow up we will be a fashion designer or a missionary - travel...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> s</span>ee
these strange and sunny places...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> d</span>o
something important, not sitting in pews, having coffee and biscuits
afterwards.</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The terror
of the school playground; having to find someone to play with, belong to a
crowd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having to run and push and catch
instead of daydream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other fears - times
tables, spelling tests, standing on the stage in school assembly having
forgotten a-hand-towel-with-my-name-on-it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Falling in love with blond boy in short grey trousers
with a gentle smile, finding out that a prettier girl loved him too and
deciding to transfer affection to a less competitive target.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So the love grows larger in dreams, develops
a momentum of its own, and then later disappears.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I liked the
caretaker, a grey, round man who walked slowly and cleared away the sick with
sawdust into a bucket off the parquet floor in assembly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to make him little presents at the
weekend, (although I don’t remember what), because I felt sorry for him and
because he was kind, and adults were less scary than children.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">At some
point a discovery of an ability to learn and talk about things - at Brownies a
discovery that you don’t have to be able to run fastest to be able to lead, to
organise.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Staying
with Nana...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hearing the snores of
Granddad which seemed to confirm his position of respect - being able to snore
loud enough to shake the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On
Monday with washing machine moved into the middle of the floor clothes were
washed in one tub, then taken out one by one and rinsed with a hose pipe before
being spun in the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roast beef on
Sunday and lucky bag, and games in the garden, skipping games with rhymes with
Nana and my sisters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hearing Mum and
Auntie Pat gossiping and reminiscing...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“When
the rationing was over I was going to buy as many sweets as I could eat but I
never did.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“When I grow up I’m going to
have a carton of cream all to myself”, but I never did that either.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Winter evenings, hushed quiet at 6 o’clock for the
shipping forecast, “Dogger, White, Finnistere” like a sacred chant.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Holidays in
<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Cornwall</st1:city></st1:place> in a
bungalow right on the beach with tiled floors so you could come in with sandy
feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sunbathing in the sand dunes,
running to the sea over sand so hot it hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Walking to the Holy-Rock pool on windy days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Getting up early to slide down the big sand
dune with the boy next door - the abandon of falling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Playing swim-with-the-ball with the dog, who would hang on to your shoulder with his claws when he was tired. </span>Fishing in the stream that went down to the
sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1ynVvb_gofM0FYZsYEhIctWhNSqwysh2Yk-EywTyT9ioPaBXhgTPksYtz0uFuK4CASjM0IcCT3eJ4KA8ewcWHiLNni5_iYNknbOThrITlfTJOviNzCePuS3FyE4uK1g5VCa0IvyL6XQt/s1600/the+water's+lovely.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1ynVvb_gofM0FYZsYEhIctWhNSqwysh2Yk-EywTyT9ioPaBXhgTPksYtz0uFuK4CASjM0IcCT3eJ4KA8ewcWHiLNni5_iYNknbOThrITlfTJOviNzCePuS3FyE4uK1g5VCa0IvyL6XQt/s400/the+water's+lovely.jpg" width="371" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">We could see the fish, grey and long but never caught
anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was glad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Pocket
money to spend at the shop on fishing nets, colouring books and sweets…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walking home on the stony path hurting your
bare feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half way through the holiday,
always on the day it rained, a parcel came from Nana with puzzle books and
cake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then there was always a
thunderstorm one night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luna and me and
my sister and the two dogs all got into Mum and Dad’s bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad kept falling asleep and letting the torch
drop.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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</w:wrap></v:imagedata></v:shape><span style="font-family: Arial;">After that life starts to form a more continuous
flow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More detail, more colour, more
names and faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pattern moves the
ticky-tacky boxes of the 60s to the boom and bust of the 90s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From circles and squares drawn in my memory
to a roller coaster ride… of love and needing to be needed – for Stella; but I
had only one need – life… not food, security, warmth – she could look after our
body, worry about security, I shared none of her anxiety about her place in the
world as I wasn’t ever judged and found wanting as she felt she was… I just had
a lust for life and an instinct for procreation… so Stella spent less time with
voices in her head as I was looking through her eyes, for the boys… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>we first fell in love at three - just, as I
think you are establishing your ego boundaries we lost ours to the son of our
parents’ best friend who returned our adulation of his one year older
sophistication by loosing Stella in the toy box (claustrophobia ever since,
despite being found by a tenacious father at going-home time); left her up a
tree and laughed and ran away; taught our body to swim by throwing it in the
deep end and never acknowledged our homemade Valentines full of teenage longing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was always one year older, wiser, trendier,
better-looking, and untouchable in his mod persona at 13 when Stella hit the
scene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3SdbhwFPvCkOczOkDLeCmO-ETqC0ZPTLGCQFx8HUl_btlHWxh9_1TT8ppzoY5piNbB9t8RrBNwDO9xxGJDVLjA7nJlOe-lgV5WTt4ye-YuDjiHFiYaY8AY-aqw4n4gsH5uGNCepZss2-J/s1600/marina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3SdbhwFPvCkOczOkDLeCmO-ETqC0ZPTLGCQFx8HUl_btlHWxh9_1TT8ppzoY5piNbB9t8RrBNwDO9xxGJDVLjA7nJlOe-lgV5WTt4ye-YuDjiHFiYaY8AY-aqw4n4gsH5uGNCepZss2-J/s640/marina.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">So we went out with a fun freckle-faced lad who explained the rules of rowing down at the marina. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brought up at a nice girls grammar school on a peninsula - sheltered island living - everyone but you knowing your business, Stella did not know what boys were for and did not fancy him,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but he was nice and bought the ice creams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2z6isrfbD5JkJ2ZXYDsquKOUTqDAhlui7A01w08h-I_BXRWAnuVXxEkhaMEA3eQNv7aK-3OPW30o0COEEp9bIM3NBxSypDiL5LdRMzTc3nWvuagetxf7nMK5OUjXaMXv4Apgu4ai-HLg/s1600/biker_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2z6isrfbD5JkJ2ZXYDsquKOUTqDAhlui7A01w08h-I_BXRWAnuVXxEkhaMEA3eQNv7aK-3OPW30o0COEEp9bIM3NBxSypDiL5LdRMzTc3nWvuagetxf7nMK5OUjXaMXv4Apgu4ai-HLg/s400/biker_NEW.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">We graduated to a gentle
hippie biker who loved to fish and shimmered in leathers on the canals of the
industrial heartlands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He taught us to
snog and break our father’s rules, the enticing freedom of riding pillion,
speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We were attracted away by
the un-possess-ability of a busker who despite looking like a walk on the wild
side only every held hands at parties, still coming to terms with his sexuality
and he drops in on Mum for a nice cup of tea and a chat 20 years on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A holiday romance with a
guitarist with soul - only intercity train fares could keep us apart and did – <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSitK20qzGenBrhNlgA9eqi1cS5CO87GOAE-8eIV9UbfnQJZA1aMnUanmee6gIpfKdYHBoA5iXObztFNMAyRF8fNuWKeiKIf18Z4Uo334mpfBjJ5M8s2aNrXn66oqI9SpsoMB8csZZZ18W/s1600/hol+romance_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSitK20qzGenBrhNlgA9eqi1cS5CO87GOAE-8eIV9UbfnQJZA1aMnUanmee6gIpfKdYHBoA5iXObztFNMAyRF8fNuWKeiKIf18Z4Uo334mpfBjJ5M8s2aNrXn66oqI9SpsoMB8csZZZ18W/s640/hol+romance_NEW.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8uZ9oHa-80VaVRKQNwDmwo_xEbOHdt-psSu83lVj9L1snoqRNhhTbJhEQgrGa6_Y1yT_jtPUG2yegOYFTiSxeaZmNyQdW_1yy0PfGH-9MOfDrmSKHuaQNYeVFo3U5wBJTIusX85inWdn/s1600/guitar_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8uZ9oHa-80VaVRKQNwDmwo_xEbOHdt-psSu83lVj9L1snoqRNhhTbJhEQgrGa6_Y1yT_jtPUG2yegOYFTiSxeaZmNyQdW_1yy0PfGH-9MOfDrmSKHuaQNYeVFo3U5wBJTIusX85inWdn/s400/guitar_NEW.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Was ditched in favour of
the romantic, tubercular type downstairs in my 1<sup>st</sup> year rooms at
college who wooed me with DH Lawrence and Stephan Graphelli.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What is this love so full of hate that hurts
us so”.</span></div>
<br />
<br /><br /><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Then a Lawrence Lady
Chatterley style holiday romance - ? I wished? with the gamekeeper in a
Northumberland village where Stella took a B&B holiday job, lock ups in
after hours pubs with Newcastle Brown - “aye there’s a thing neuw”, the bobby
pushing his bike in for the duration… walking home along the moonlit railway
line of the <st1:city w:st="on">Newcastle</st1:city> to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Edinburgh</st1:city></st1:place> twice a day services.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Yes, I
remember she worked for me one summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To start with she carried the hot plates in her apron and left smears on
the baths, dust under the wardrobe…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but
I soon got her sorted and we became friends, she, me and our 75 years old
‘girl’ who needed a bit of </span></i><br />
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<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">help with the windows and stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I hired her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She went out with my son for a bit but she
wasn’t his type.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was arty though,
like him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never knew what she was doing
in her </span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">room on
rainy days off - talking to herself - but she made me some lovely red and
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">orange tea cosies and gave us them on her last day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I’d known I would have had her knitting
some place mats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I sent
her to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Edinburgh</st1:city></st1:place>
for a day out to buy me some country tapes - I liked to sing along to ‘stand by
your man’ while I did my baking, even though I never had a good one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had </span></i><br />
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<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">some great dogs though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She liked Bramble too - took him walking to
Bamburgh and fed </span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">him eggs
from the hen house if she thought I wasn’t looking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyhow, she went up to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Edinburgh</st1:city></st1:place> on the 2 x a day train.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He grows lovely marrows on the track the lad
thar - moves them over when the trains coming, but the warm metal brings them
on lovely and he always gets First Prize at the show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, she went up to town and into Woollies
for my tapes and a flasher in a beige mac, she says, showed her all his
business behind the Elvis Presley rack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She was so shocked she ran off to Smiths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she had one of those listening faces,
people just took to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So this fella,
he followed her to Smiths and she’s looking at the Country Life there and he
comes up and tells her he only does it as she’s lovely and he wants attention…I
fair shushed mesel when she told me. <o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br /><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">She wore these tight orange trousers to the
barn dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sent her up to
change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could see all her shape
through them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t right for round
here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She made friends with those
hippies at my cottage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They taught her
to spin and windsurf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You learn quick
here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said “you don’t want to fall
into the sea by the <st1:place w:st="on">Island</st1:place> twice…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Holy or not its damn cold.” <o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">She had
her fortune told at the Fair by one of those gypsies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Told her she’d be pushing a pram within the
year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thought it would be the
gamekeeper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nice lad, good on the
traps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I promised I’d send her some baby
clothes and she said she’d let me know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m still waiting to hear.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">So was I; Stella finally got round to the big deal…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Stella said<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“I hadn’t meant to have unprotected
sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn’t meant to have sex at
all.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat with my friend Sasha in the Student Union. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPRziHl7g3SbBQsD3j88Mr-HY4fuyCTzhW4V9OUp1QoFni76tZ3z_JEA7WJzvnN_Wrsgc8cErQnMjHxqaIU3VXFJd_Ajx43hr4IsJxTZPOwYuNes22HjqMAFbwrY7-CN68GgkHZjVahyphenhyphenji/s1600/union_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPRziHl7g3SbBQsD3j88Mr-HY4fuyCTzhW4V9OUp1QoFni76tZ3z_JEA7WJzvnN_Wrsgc8cErQnMjHxqaIU3VXFJd_Ajx43hr4IsJxTZPOwYuNes22HjqMAFbwrY7-CN68GgkHZjVahyphenhyphenji/s640/union_NEW.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“He invited me round for tea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Told me to get the number 30 bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had tea in his room and the next thing I
knew he was taking my clothes off.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“How was it?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Packet cheesecake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Blackcurrant flavour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not keen on the topping - too slimy”. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You know what I mean.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Well, you know I’ve fancied him for
ages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he doesn’t say much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never asked me if I wanted to and so I
never got a chance to ask him if he had any condoms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Definitely the strong silent type.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he saw me off on the next number 30 bus!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A true romantic.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Are you seeing him again?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“I don’t know… How do you kn</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">ow if you
are in a relationship with someone on the basis of one slice of cheesecake and
a silent fuck?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“He must fancy you or he wouldn’t have
made the cheesecake.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“He is on a catering course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was coursework “…the seductive
effects of Sara Lee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Discuss.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Well, I’m going to have to sort some
contraception in case it happens again.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“How about ‘No’ or ‘not without you
taking responsibility for protection’?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“You know I’m lousy at saying no.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Yes, you promised to go to the cinema
with that creep in the library and ever since you have stood him up I’ve had to
get your books out for you!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“And now he thinks I’m the sophisticated
type who doesn’t mind a casual fuck - he probably thinks I’m on the pill.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“If he stopped to think about it.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“So I’d better be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll go to the University Health Services
tomorrow”.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Well, here’s to afternoons of
cheesecake and casual sex then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mmm
so</span><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">unds really kinky.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“You’re warped!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">So it was that Tuesday 3<sup>rd</sup>
March 1980 found me, nervous and embarrassed in the Doctor’s Waiting Room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Decisions I would make over the next 15 years
depended on the doctor on duty that afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Let’s say it was Dr John Foster who called Stella Body into the surgery
that day…”I’d like to go on the pill, the contraceptive pill, please.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Hmm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How old are you?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was this some
kind of moral judgement?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a big
issue with authority figures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I blushed,
felt hot, sweaty and claustrophobic in my polo neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Nineteen.” <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Yes, will you risk getting pregnant
if you don’t go on the pill?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked,
giving me a ‘haven’t-you-heard-of-safe-sex’ look.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">“Yes!” I said feeling close to tears…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">End of questions… inside two minutes I
had my blood pressure taken and was leaving the Health Centre with a
prescription.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would keep renewing for
the next 15 years of regular periods, PMT and satisfyingly larger breasts.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Dr John Foster.
Notes.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />I do a clinic twice a week at the new medical centre at the
Poly; purpose built, faceless facilities where I see a succession of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ENT cases – students overtired from hedonism,
not hard work, snotty freshers with immune systems in shock at the exchange of
so many germs, lack of nutrition and central heating. Of course there are the
resultant birth control prescriptions, the STDs, for those suffering a
temporary loss of ego boundaries from intoxication or an adolescent longing to
subsume themselves in something, anything/anyone who would give them a sense of
belonging to something bigger than their lonely little selves.<br />
<br />Like this girl – skinny, polite, embarrassed, scarcely
taking up any space in a universe which I <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9ZDSZDpF50niIU7hbU4hWedmo7c43z7ciEqdR921_AvwH4TUhb_iDbShPCefFCgBrCl8f_RA5d06da1I4mIpiKI19EF-nPd3I5IZJHAxz5OJzQ2HBFCVe5U3dt6UBbE14jfjQDEt89jp/s1600/skinny_NEW_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9ZDSZDpF50niIU7hbU4hWedmo7c43z7ciEqdR921_AvwH4TUhb_iDbShPCefFCgBrCl8f_RA5d06da1I4mIpiKI19EF-nPd3I5IZJHAxz5OJzQ2HBFCVe5U3dt6UBbE14jfjQDEt89jp/s400/skinny_NEW_0001.jpg" width="260" /></a><br />
anticipate she will try to please in any number of feminine
roles – dutiful daughter, ardent lover – modern enough to be sexually available
but conventional enough to care for a series of scared-to-commit-spongers at
this second class educational establishment. She can look forward to caring for
children – caring so much that she will go on to put their needs before her own
– her own long forgotten through this disease of her sex of valuing herself
through her value to others. The oestrogen of the pill will help with that –
facilitate sexual availability without the embarrassment of condoms, fill out
those skinny breasts and hips – ripen her for child bearing by conning her body
into stopping ovulating by giving it a daily dose of nature’s pregnancy
preparation via a pill in an innocuous pale pink foil pack. The pill will keep
her from unwanted pregnancy by creating a chemical con where her body and mind
will bliss out in a pregnant bloom of happy femininity, nest-making a cosy
happy cocoon – better than valium and a mind-altering drug she needn’t wean
herself off for ever – it being much the best thing to delay the menopause and
keep her body soft and pliable forever; happy to please her provider. All that
from a three minute consultation; blood pressure check and prescription pad
scribble; then a life of repeat prescriptions – unless she decides to go cold
turkey and do pregnancy for real. Then she may find out her mate doesn’t want
to play salary man and happy families, be the monogamous mate bringing home the
bacon in the tedium of this shitty little town. I’ll bury my mortification in
my medical repertory until my secretary sends in the last patient of the day
and I can go home and self-prescribe a large scotch.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1. The sex hormones.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />I will begin by focusing on the role of the main sex
hormones, progesterone and oestrogen, both within their naturally balanced ebb
and flow, and introducing the problems of hormone in-balance.<br />
<br />From puberty the female monthly cycle is governed by several
reproductive hormones, the main ones are oestrogen, progesterone, follicle stimulating
hormone (FSH) and lutenising hormone (LH). At the menopause production of
oestrogen and progesterone decline and FSH rises. <br />
<br />Hormones are chemical messages in our body; carried in the
bloodstream they coordinate activity in different parts of the body.<br />
<br />At the start of the menstrual cycle the oestrogen and
progesterone levels are low. The pituitary gland secretes FSH which develops an
egg while its protective cyst produces oestrogens. The uterus lining starts to
thicken. The oestrogen level continues to rise until it reaches a point where
the pituitary secretes LH which triggers ovulation in mid cycle. The egg is
released from one of the follicles and passes down the fallopian tube. The
ruptured cyst turns yellow and is known as the corpus luteum. It now secretes
progesterone as well as several oestrogens. Progesterone simply means ‘a
steroid which prepares for pregnancy’ and it prevents further ovulation taking
place. If fertilisation does not occur the lining of the womb breaks down and
is released as a period. There is a dramatic fall in the levels of oestrogen
and progesterone and the cycle begins again.<br />
<br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hormone imbalance.</b><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>lack of self-esteem, self confidence<br />
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>less energy and motivation<br />
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>mood swings<br />
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>irritability<br />
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>anxiety, depression<br />
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>forgetfulness, confusion, lack of concentration<br />
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>feeling of losing control, being unable to cope<br />
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>loss of sex drive<br />
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>feeling vulnerable, close to tears<br />
<br />These symptoms are often experienced at the menopause, or as
PMS. They can be due to a hormonal imbalance which can be experienced by women
at any point in their lives from the time they start menstruating. They can be
due to stress. The correct way to cope with them is to prescribe chemical
substitutes for the patients’ confused hormones, if that stops more single
mothers – so much the better.<span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />An oestrogen pill was the right prescription for this case
in which I diagnosed both a need for contraception and a likely hormone
imbalance. The three oestrogens the female body normally develops simplified to
one straightforward synthetic hormone. <br />
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<br />Oestrogen is the key hormone responsible for the transition
from childhood to womanhood. It causes the breasts to develop and produces the
characteristic feminine shape.<br />
<br />It causes the lining of the womb to thicken each month in
anticipation of receiving a fertilised egg. Oestrogen also stimulates the cells
lining the glands to grow rapidly, divide and proliferate. Prolonged oestrogen
treatment causes a wild overgrowth of hyper-plastic and cystic glands. <br />
<br />Oestrogen softens the cervix and produces vaginal secretions
to lubricate us and allow the sperm to swim.<br />
<br />It maintains the health and functioning of our genital
organs.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Oestrogen has a stimulating effect on the womb and breasts
in terms of cell growth.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
This hormone lifts the mood and gives us a feeling of well-being.
In Pill trials it was found women tolerated high dose oestrogen pills for twice
as long as low dose pills because they needed enough oestrogen to make them
happy - the low doses made them miserable. Oestrogen increases amine production
which increases the reactivity of blood vessels and prevents depression.</div>
<br />So, condom and worry-free sex and a mood-enhancer to boot; I
think this will make a good exemplar case for my students. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br /><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Luna dreamt<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">I was worried, I had been swimming
around Stella’s growing body and felt the stress, the hot </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">flushes, the changing
hormones, and the bleeds that lasted a day with cramps that </span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">curled us </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">up together… and then
inexplicably stopped. She seemed different – less in touch with herself – never
mind with me… she had cut me off as a child – choosing to ignore my voice as
something mad which her friends would find strange. She longed to be normal and
how could I begrudge her right to her own space. It was not her choice that I
occupied a good part of it and influenced her thoughts and feelings when I
found it impossible to keep myself to myself and just be content with being
virtually. She had all the hard part of being alive – the pain and the being
judged, I was just a passenger… I could be as outrageous as I liked without
being thought strange or difficult by a potential friend, lover, or by a parent
or teacher. But it was hard being an extrovert stuck inside an introvert and I
was frustrated – as a child I could inhabit her almost fully – she was much
more open and amenable then. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZXXbg5zh47f_YGVCc51Zxd7fiA0ztKO53vjxJh5l3-1LVdElePaSy-DaZ6LEocROaFFQBxERuVs8UFI179wXdYhUoPM6R2ENxRxpsNqsy8vXuZ3ZPyaqH35oeRmESUCJbpohF_MNZnQv1/s1600/scarlet_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZXXbg5zh47f_YGVCc51Zxd7fiA0ztKO53vjxJh5l3-1LVdElePaSy-DaZ6LEocROaFFQBxERuVs8UFI179wXdYhUoPM6R2ENxRxpsNqsy8vXuZ3ZPyaqH35oeRmESUCJbpohF_MNZnQv1/s400/scarlet_NEW.jpg" width="266" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Once I had walked her over
the building site at the back of our primary school, making up games we could
play in our head. I noticed a wire ahead and – curious for new sensations –
walked her foot onto it. It pushed right through. Her canvas shoe turned from
blue to beautiful </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">moist scarlet. I kept on
talking to her and she didn’t feel a thing until we trod bloody footprints
across the kitchen lino and Mum’s scream brought her back into herself. She
crumpled from pain while I observed from a safe place outside our body. So she
became less happy to let-go control, scolded for day dreaming by Mum. So she
seemed to forget me – I went from a player with equal rights in her body to a
sad spare soul, a quirky quark of energy hanging on to a half-life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">And now her body felt
different again with the chemicals from the Pill coursing around it. I quite
liked intoxication – alcohol gave me more leeway – Stella would resist less and
share my excitement at the heightened awareness, tipsy from that second drink.
But this was like the toxic sleepiness of the one-drink-too-many; Stella was
sleepwalking, pliant, softer and warmer inside on happy hormones which made her
so girly I knew I would have been born a boy. I couldn’t find the Stella I knew
in here – her emotions felt polluted with chemical hormones, synthesised to
destroy her chances of getting pregnant… <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">I wanted a boy-child to
have fun with I had decided.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">As I could affect her
actions less I escaped more to other realities: other places my energy could
manifest, explore; less real, more dreamlike, but instructive… In my
alternative reality – only one universe away – I was learning to make my own satisfying
assembly of energy – I went to the Doctor to find out what was happening to us…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Let’s say Dr Jean Foster
was on duty that afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not
sexist but she’s just a bit more interested in female hormones.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">”I’d like to go on the
pill, the contraceptive pill, please.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">“No problem at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pill should stop you getting pregnant,
but make sure you use a condom if you have sex with multiple partners to
safeguard against VD.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">I flushed and got that
horrid claustrophobic feeling I got when I was stressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I look like a slut?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Hmm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was the date of your last period?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">“I can’t remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was about 6 months ago.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Are you sure you are not
pregnant?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">“I don’t think so.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stab of fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Too early for a test yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I just
don’t have them often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never have - just
a couple a year.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And do you get these hot flushes often or are
you just embarrassed at my questions?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">The sweat was pouring off
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, no, I mean it is embarrassing
but I get these blushes often when I’m stressed.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“How do they feel?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Well, first I feel
nervous or sad and then I feel really hot all over and go bright red and sweat
and want to strip off.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">“I see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, before we put you on the pill I think
we had better check out your hormones.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">I spent a week studiously
avoiding the guy Sasha had previously called ‘beefcake’ now revised to
‘cheesecake’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I was back in front
of the doctor for the results.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
looked very pleased with herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No
need to worry about contraception my dear, you are menopausal.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was stunned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What does that mean?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean I know what the menopause is - but
now?”</span><br />
<br />
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">“It is rare at your age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A theory is that some women are just born
with no eggs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A girl will start having
periods before she starts ovulating normally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That explains the few periods you have had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The body is gearing up for being
fertile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then there is nothing
there, so the hormones start to adjust; that’s the post-menopausal pattern you
have with the hot flushes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They should
stop within a few years.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“What should I do now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Well, nothing
really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just make sure you drink plenty
of milk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sex hormones help keep our
bones strong so make sure you get plenty of calcium to help yours along.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked a bit concerned now, then put on
her best professional kind smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come
and see me in a few months and we’ll see how you are getting on.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I was a bit of a curiosity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Dr Jean Foster.
Notes.</span></b><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">The balancing act.</span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Nature has designed our hormones to work in harmony, each is dependent on the other and together they work as a whole system. When our hormones are in proper balance we feel emotionally and physically well. Hormones are closely connected with our emotional and psychological wellbeing. As our hormones change during our life cycle and our monthly cycle so does the way we think, in terms of confidence and self-esteem, the way we view ourselves and the world. Tampering with our hormones will affect our emotions and attitudes as well as our bodies.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Oestrogen
dominance.</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br /><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Receptive, stimulating.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Women who have fibroids have higher levels of oestrogen. It is thought
that they actually grow due to an excess of oestrogen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Oestrogen therapy has been linked with overgrowth of the lining of the
womb.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br /><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Oestrogen can increase the risk of breast cancer by up to 60 per cent.</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></sup></span></sup></a><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Oestrogen’s role in the body is as a builder, e.g. building the lining
of the womb. The process which makes a cell cancerous is the same process by
which it grows and replicates. With cancer the cells do the job too well, the
control mechanism which should stop a cell multiplying is faulty. You can see
that increased cell growth is related to cancer.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br /><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Women’s breasts are particularly susceptible to this problem. I heard it
reported the other day that bra manufacturers are increasingly supplying larger
cups, up to H, which they attribute to the effects of the Pill. Large breasts
can be considered an attractive although uncomfortable condition, they emphasise
the image of women as nurturing and as sex objects. To the homeopath it brings
to mind the picture of folliculinum (see appendix), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">‘She feels she is
controlled by another. She is out of sorts with her rhythms. She is living out
someone else’s expectations. She loses her will. She over-estimates her energy
reserves. She is full of self-denial. She becomes a rescuer, addicted to
rescuing people. She becomes drained. She has become a doormat. She has
forgotten who she is. She has no individuality.’ (Assilem).<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihl-QlUTM4s1LvBtWllxVQgmagrXmzKgid1cERj34dwmHTSfKQjYsYCU8W_8aUO0UKnUTeZaZoEOF7mjPPuIRkZDidqt6exoJnXHFwptXTZ3TKhsWyC4x77tUaQ3zV_N2YMQO4kzuNAC9G/s1600/brown+paper+nude_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihl-QlUTM4s1LvBtWllxVQgmagrXmzKgid1cERj34dwmHTSfKQjYsYCU8W_8aUO0UKnUTeZaZoEOF7mjPPuIRkZDidqt6exoJnXHFwptXTZ3TKhsWyC4x77tUaQ3zV_N2YMQO4kzuNAC9G/s400/brown+paper+nude_NEW.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">It is like the
picture of the whore with her pimp, always making herself available, for no self-gain,
giving herself away until there is nothing left. This is what the pill allows
us to be, always sexually available and never pregnant. These patients are
abused by hormones, abused by society, abused by themselves and unaware.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The Pill</span></i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“It is unlikely that one could submit the
delicately balanced hormonal system of a woman to such violent alteration for
40 years without something seriously happening.” </span></i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Professor Sir Charles Dodds, President of the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Royal</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">College</st1:placetype></st1:place>
of Physicians.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span><br />
<br /><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">In pregnancy an
egg is propelled along a fallopian tube until it meets sperm swimming towards
it. If a sperm penetrates an egg and it embeds into the womb wall, levels of
the sex hormones oestrogen and progesterone rise. The hormone levels go on
rising during pregnancy and because of their high profile in the body the brain
stops secreting its egg stimulating hormones. This is the action that synthetic
hormones mimic, continually duping the brain into believing that pregnancy has occurred.
Two days after the pills are stopped the fall in artificial hormone levels
induces withdrawal bleeding; a woman on the pill does not have normal periods.
What does our body make of this continual state of false pregnancy, interrupted
by, what it must recognise as repeated miscarriages? The pill causes ‘medical
castration’</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></sup></b></span></sup></a><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">.
Normal hormone production which governs our natural menstrual cycle, our ebb
and flow to the lunar calendar, ceases. No wonder sensitive individuals report
feeling ‘not all there... out of it’. Women taking the pill have an increased
risk of accidents compared to other women</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></sup></b></span></sup></a><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">.
Something which grounds us is affected. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
<br /><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Dr. Grant states
that lower dose pills mimic not pregnancy but the hormone picture immediately
after childbirth when depression and irrational violent behaviour are most
likely when hormone levels have fallen. She has seen many suicides in pill
users and feels that the amount of oestrogen in a low dose pill is just not
enough to keep them happy as their own oestrogen production is blocked by the
pill.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Related
conditions; pre-menopause and premature menopause, endometrial and breast
cancer, high blood pressure, thrombosis, heart failure, PMS, migraine,
endometriosis, libido, chronic fatigue syndrome. Dr. Ellen Grant who was
involved in the pill trials, unlike many medical researchers, accepts the role
of susceptibility. She says in her book, The Bitter Pill that ‘The most
striking effect of the pill is the variation in individual susceptibility.
Different pills do different things to different women. Some women have severe
and disabling reactions to any type of pill while others escape symptoms for
years... both hormones alter amine metabolism which controls blood vessel
reactivity, and mood and behaviour.’ She states that it is a myth that
thrombosis is only a risk with high dose oestrogen pills, that serious changes
in arteries and veins can happen with any pill in susceptible women.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">The problem is
that steroid hormones have the same basic structure with overlapping effects so
that when a woman’s hormone levels change they set off many other changes in
their metabolism. Nature designed the sex hormones to be fairly specific but
when man altered them in the laboratory so that they worked by mouth they
became more powerful and more primitive. The pill can interfere with the
hormones which regulate stress, growth, thyroid activity, and the breakdown and
metabolism of our food - carbohydrates, proteins, fats, trace minerals,
vitamins and our salt and water balance. Professor Wynn at the metabolic unit,
St. Mary’s hospital, Paddington, discovered that the synthetic hormones were
more likely to alter liver function, fat and carbohydrate metabolism than the
original natural parent hormones. Contraceptive pills cause similar metabolic
changes to anabolic steroids but the changes are also like pregnancy when extra
cortisol is secreted giving an effect of prolonged stress.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">It is well known
that pregnant women are highly sensitive, for example to coffee and alcohol.
This is a protective mechanism; one glass of wine in pregnancy is enough as far
as the developing baby is concerned. In their 1974 oral contraceptive study the
<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Royal</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">College</st1:placetype></st1:place> of General Practitioners found
significant increases in traditional allergic reactions, and bacterial and
viral infections. They quoted papers demonstrating that pill steroids decreased
antibody formation in rats, rabbits, mice and women. They concluded that the
pill might suppress immunity but decided that the effect of such suppression
was unlikely to be of clinical importance. In a French study it was found that
one in 3 women had produced antibodies to ethinyl oestradiol (the oestrogen in
the combined pills). The women with thrombosis or phlebitis had the highest
antibody levels. The antibodies persisted for years after the pill was
discontinued as an ‘immunological scar’</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn4" name="_ftnref4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[4]</span></sup></b></span></sup></a><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Foresight, the
association for the promotion of pre-conceptual care, understands the
relationship between allergy and the Pill, (especially as the Pill can actually
cause nutritional deficiencies, notably in zinc, see below); and the
relationship between the allergy prone family and dyslexia, hyperactivity,
epilepsy and mental breakdown, as well as to allergic disorders such as hay
fever, asthma, eczema, migraine and insomnia. For this reason they advise
discontinuing the Pill as part of a programme to ensure the health of the next
generation. Their success in working with couples with reproductive problems is
demonstrated by the research by Neil Ward, see appendix where I have quoted it
in full as it is heartening news for anyone who has suffering the worry and the
emotional and physical pain around infertility.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">As the same
synthetic hormones are used in the pill and HRT many of the ways they interfere
with the body’s processes reviewed below will apply to both drugs. The effects
of the pill on the metabolism, especially its deprivation to the body of
essential vitamins and minerals are summarised in appendix. I am loathe to hide
this information in an appendix as it is so often hidden from public discussion
but I am limited in how lengthy I can be here.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">The pill flushes
out women with weak immune systems, hopefully producing early side effects that
persuade them to abandon it, rather than becoming a lifelong ‘maintaining
cause’ of synthetic hormones.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br /><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">It is ironic that
it is not just prescribed as a contraceptive, but for ‘health reasons’ to
suppress endometriosis for example. In what is known as the army doctor’s study
the blood vessels of 20 young women who had died while on the pill were
studied, only 9 were taking it as a contraceptive. 5 were prescribed it for
‘medical reasons’, for painful periods, heavy or irregular bleeding. In this
way one of the best guides to the general health of a woman is suppressed.
These women are also exposed to health risks. The women in this study showed
clots, fibroids, inflammation of the cervix, breast disease, one suffered
blindness due to thrombosis. Most had taken the pill for less than 6 months,
most were in their twenties. One of the army pathologists wrote that these are
rare individuals whose vascular tissues reacted to sex steroids in an
idiosyncratic fashion</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftn5" name="_ftnref5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><sup><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><sup><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[5]</span></sup></b></span></sup></a><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">.
This was nearly 30 years ago, today 3out of 3 of the fertile women patients I
am treating for hormone related issues, endometriosis and bloating, have been
prescribed the pill for ‘health reasons’.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Narrow"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">
</span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Well, no need to avoid
cheesecake any longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next Friday
evening I saw him in the Union bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
raised one eyebrow in what I took to be a greeting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An hour later he appeared at Stella’s side
and offered to walk us home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It being
after the number 30 had finished for the night, she accepted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walked in silence through the streets, orange
street light reflections on the wet pavements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was perhaps too cold for talking, I told myself after trying a few
questions about his course and where he was from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Its OK.” and “<st1:place w:st="on">Doncaster</st1:place>”
being all I knew as a result.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyhow, Stella
asked him in for a cup of tea as our roommate was not around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They sat on the wooden chairs tense with cold
and inexperience. I move into Stella’s voice – easy to do after she has had a
drink – one lager and she is anyone’s – anyone I chose - I suggested we might be
warmer in bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She hadn’t been in all
day so the three-bar heater would take hours to warm the room enough to melt
the ice on the inside of the windows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
seemed shy compared with last time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hesitated
and said ”I have got some condoms if you want.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I said, “I can’t have children” and as I spoke the words Stella’s voice
broke and then I was sobbing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He put his
arms around me and we cried all over his t-shirt.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFEWl9dgruWZmlhinQMgDl8AUnQIwo3KR3SPeeCk3gvlT4TKpWmOqHdSJKAgc1dCZBrRaP6O_7LChiTV5MfMscDPGcQ4futZS0EhrwoD00JOeq7JwjladhyiT_2GuONh3BZoIzCS5r-n1/s1600/bed+fellow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFEWl9dgruWZmlhinQMgDl8AUnQIwo3KR3SPeeCk3gvlT4TKpWmOqHdSJKAgc1dCZBrRaP6O_7LChiTV5MfMscDPGcQ4futZS0EhrwoD00JOeq7JwjladhyiT_2GuONh3BZoIzCS5r-n1/s640/bed+fellow.jpg" width="459" /></a></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial;">I wasn’t intending to
have sex with her that first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d
noticed her last September when she started college but I had a girlfriend back
home then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d managed a year of a
British Rail romance getting the train back a few times a term but last
Christmas she finished with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was devastated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d been together since the beginning of
sixth form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m shy anyway but by March
I decided I was over it enough to try to get to know her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked her round for tea and it just
happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having been in a long term
relationship - tea and sex was what I was missing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The intimacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I couldn’t remember how to go through that dating thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it was great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She felt like home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hot and wet and safe and where I wanted to
be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt like I knew her from that
moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I still didn’t know what to
say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re beautiful” would have
sounded too smooth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I put her on the
bus home.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br /><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">I guess we made friends
when she told me she couldn’t have kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Don’t know why she said it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
wasn’t what I was trying to do at that moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Start a family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I thought
about it a lot after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When is the right
time to tell someone you can’t have kids?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>First date, going steady, getting engaged?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will you marry me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, but you won’t want to marry me if you
have that happy family dream…I guess she was just being honest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She wore her heart on her sleeve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Opposite of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was what did
for us in the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two years later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘You never say you love me’ she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I cook your dinner don’t I?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess I thought it was the same thing,
looking after her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She needed more
expression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Went with being an arty type
I suppose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She left me.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<br />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Obstetrics and Gynaecology</i>, February
1992</span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Grant, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Bitter Pill</i>, 1985.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
The Royal College of General Practitioners mortality data published in 1981
showed pill users had twice the number of accidental deaths.</span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn4" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[4]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">
Beamont et al, ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Anti-ethinyloestradiol
antibody activities in oral contraceptive users’ </i>1979.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn5" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1870896586893746795#_ftnref5" name="_ftn5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[5]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-small;">
Grant, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Bitter Pill</i>, 1985.</span></div>
</div>
</div>the skin traderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11287223144963263670noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1870896586893746795.post-64960482809296308772012-01-18T12:04:00.000-08:002012-01-18T12:09:23.596-08:00foreword<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><strong>Foreword<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><strong>Stella</strong> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijyLERU7FKikbuyiq-lQdD7Vr-0y2G7pQsW73F3ZOGRfZsqWu4cJB61llm7_zsZbNtPPR7sTfWuSWNSj0_rzmNJSjSkU2LmhXnx3FZRhQ7_tJprOAYt-JAsTJTZfSHovQEUnVXu91WY0w3/s1600/skin+trade2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijyLERU7FKikbuyiq-lQdD7Vr-0y2G7pQsW73F3ZOGRfZsqWu4cJB61llm7_zsZbNtPPR7sTfWuSWNSj0_rzmNJSjSkU2LmhXnx3FZRhQ7_tJprOAYt-JAsTJTZfSHovQEUnVXu91WY0w3/s320/skin+trade2.jpg" width="168" /></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I call her Luna – I don’t know what sex she is - she doesn’t
have a body – but I feel more comfortable with the idea of her as a girl; and
she needs a name since she is – in a sense - alive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">How to explain? We are. We were. Twins. Gemini. Star
paired in the womb. Fated to journey together. To be born together. Stella and
Luna… only I was born, physically, at 9 months; at 3 months my mother, Natalie-Muriel,
bled away a little clot of life and pain and caution kept her in bed for a week
and everyone moved on, except Luna. Who refused to give up this chance of a
life. She moved in. to me. My dark side. How do I know this? That when I hear
her voice it is not my madness but another’s? well I don’t know, but this story
is my explanation of her, us, to me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>Luna<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_iZkpzTQTnxP1WMZ2KjJuvN0bkGqzqaynb4cnhtQQpMF1qkfU4sy6IHZKFWazg33x06D3GxSMeaDGnrsuXi0R5a14xrAH64SqRBozTE8rKuGRlkDo1ws0G2zYcF9hL47yy696OEE93L66/s1600/luna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_iZkpzTQTnxP1WMZ2KjJuvN0bkGqzqaynb4cnhtQQpMF1qkfU4sy6IHZKFWazg33x06D3GxSMeaDGnrsuXi0R5a14xrAH64SqRBozTE8rKuGRlkDo1ws0G2zYcF9hL47yy696OEE93L66/s320/luna.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">In the beginning was Natalie-Muriel and she was the
sea of consciousness and the snake said ‘Take my fruit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will be more powerful, more happy, more
satisfied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will be able to create,
have children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of living alone
for eternity you will become the spiral of life and you will bear children and
it will be painful but you will love them more than this man, this god,
yourself, life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And you will die but
your children will colonise the earth from your man’s seed and your seed and
some will find stony ground and some will blossom’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And she said, ‘Yes, yes, I choose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want that’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And man blamed her and she was guilty and ashamed and
she could not talk to her man because he said ‘You did this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You made me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You nagged me into doing this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Its your fault’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And her heart
said, ‘No, its your responsibility too’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But she could not say that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
turned inside herself and was bitter with her blame for herself and she did
what every woman would do to try to make it right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She bore him a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And after three months her first-born was a miscarriage - beautiful <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in spirit - but she turned away from the blood
and the pitiful clot and the loss and she felt - the world will not see this child I made and I may
loose another and I fear it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> And she lay in her bed and held on for months until she birthed a girl; a little star, tiny and bright. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">But the spirit of her firstborn was still within her - Natalie could feel it but she could not own it. She was grieving</span> and she could not speak her to or of her grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She had no-one to share it with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She thought she must walk behind her husband, smile and show her baby, cover her hurt... and the
spirit went smaller and smaller and it hid in a cell. But the cell gave birth to
another cell exactly like it and another and another and another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I spread out, but the cells could not be alive in the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were not children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were not stem cells growing leaves of
healthy plants in the sunshine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were reproducing in
their own image and that image was full of frustration and hate and Natalie felt it and knew it
could only be healed with love of itself and she could not give that love as she busied with her<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
h</span>istory and her future and her man and her
child.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know this, I am Luna - I need to heal. Like heals like. A fractal is an image
which reproduces itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take a
cauliflower, cut the stalk, cut each branch from the stem, line them up on the
table. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each is a smaller budding image
of the rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have self-similarity.
I am similar to Stella, I will grow with her, in her, show her from inside what she can be,
heal her… and when we have a child it will be our child and she will be
beautiful and I will live for ever through her, through her people. So I traded skins, I left
Natalie and curled myself up in Stella and my spirit sat in her heart and her
brain and swam round her growing body, and in the beginning we were friends….<o:p></o:p></span></blockquote>
</div>the skin traderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11287223144963263670noreply@blogger.com1