Golden Brown

So, what came to your mind first of all when you read today's subject line? It could almost be a question straight out of a therapist's textbook, perhaps training material for Chris Barrie whose latest creation is attempting to get into the minds of a whole host of weird and wonderful creations portrayed by Paul Whitehouse on Help! on BBC Two on Sunday nights at present. Not that I have seen anything other than the trailers so far mind, but it looks like a good show.

Or did you think of the excellent Stranglers classic hit from a past decade. Now, which was it- the nineties? No, it must have been the eighties, surely. But time moves by so painfully quickly- the pain being that you only realise how fast it has gone after the event! It's middle aged crisis mixed with the prospect of bereavement, I'm sure, but I seem to have been spending a lot more time lately feeling sorry that I did not make more of my own youth when that song was out. On the other hand, the unashamed hedonism of the twenties means nothing compared to the spiritual blessings in the decades since.
I'm not being a goodie goodie when I say that I have never dabbled with wacky backy or illegal drugs of any kind. However, right now particularly, I can understand how people with difficult lives and the complexities of trying to cope can be led to indulge in the kind of substance the Stranglers song was supposedly all about: Golden Brown, some alleged, was a reference to Heroin. Spurious at best. Why do people take drugs? To numb the pain of life, I guess, and to attempt to find something better that the "real world" cannot offer.

There was a young patient in my Mum's ward earlier this week, just 17 and apparently a Christian. She had been admitted after taking an overdose. Very sad. This morning's headlines focus on the government reviewing its decision to "downgrade" cannabis as an illegal drug, now that it has been noted that many cannabis takers are more prone to mental illness.

The cynics and the atheists might also say that people turn to religion as a crutch or to fill a void. Well, leave them to their scoffing say I. Religious belief may be the stuff of faith rather than the senses, but I would rather have faith than live in the vacuum of nothingness which is otherwise the "meaning" of life, isn't it? For the non-believer, by the way, it is easy to forget that even the Bible itself acknowledges that everything in life can appear meaningless- see Ecclesiastes- but it has to be taken in context: "the fool in his heart says there is no God". Surely more foolish to believe in nothing than to believe in one who loves and saves, even from the harshest of live's troubles- which I know all about right now- and has known all our human woes and sorrows. On the eve of Holy Week 2005, a point to ponder

GOING TO THE GEE-GEES
Or did "Golden Brown" sound to you like a racehorse? If so, then you have probably been glued to the Cheltenham Festival this week, as classy Gloucestershire turns for the week to Little Ireland. I've even found myself watching the gee gees over the last couple of days, but in the sad setting of a hospital ward with Mum, still with us but acknowledged as being on "open order" since Sunday-which is why Matthew and I have been spending most of our time in Bronte Ward since then and doing what little we can to support our dear one with our presence and compassion- but feeling so helpless.

However, yesterday evening things did seem to be improving at least a bit. Mum's temperature was a little bit better, and they had managed to put a cannula in again to offer her intravenous therapy. Although it is marginal, there was at least a sufficient improvement for us not to feel the need to stay overnight again, and instead to enjoy our Friday night date with a pint or two of Young's at the Abercorn Arms in Teddington.

We were warned on Sunday that Mum could go that night- and it proved the longest and most testing of nights of my life, quite unlike anything else I have experienced. However, despite the predictions of the medic, Mum once again pulled through- but so far to a very limited quality of life indeed which is so sad to watch. She is conscious, but has been very drowsy and spending much of her time sleeping. She is not currently taking anything by mouth, and is only able to receive fluids directly into her tummy as there are no useable veins for intravenous therapy.

The cause and the suddenness of this current crisis, despite the gloomy prognosis following the diagnosis of a tumour back in January, has nevertheless shocked us both. As far as the medics are concerned, however, they still don't really know whether the current crisis is due to the effect of Mum's tumour, or to problems fighting the infection which was the reason for her admission last week. If the latter, as I hope, then there is still room for encouragement despite all the most desperate signs. The human body has a remarkable capacity to come back from even the worst crisis. If Mum can somehow defy the odds and overcome, my next posting may not be the sad one I have always feared having to make. But this takes faith as well as a biochemical improvement. May, whatever happens, I never lose that faith.

BACK TO THE DISPATCH BOX

However, I digress slightly from what I intended to post here, though of course I did want to share the highs as well as the lows of my life too as has become my custom in these blogs. Wednesday was Budget Day, so much different from the customary event it was of yore. These days, it is almost banished to a minor media event, receiving coverage only on BBC TWO today rather than ONE- although ITV still carried it on their main channel. And it suddenly becomes a lunchtime rather than mid-afternoon affair (dare I suggest to make the evening papers?), and on a Tuesday rather than a Wednesday.

Some are suggesting that this may be Brown's last budget; if Labour win the expected General Election on May 5th, then our Gordon is destined for the Foreign Office. Whether he approves of this of course is not recorded, though his alleged squabble with his next door neighbour most certainly is. His budget seemed to me to be more bland than grand, although it certainly features some long overdue and welcomed fillips to the housing market (raising of the stamp duty threshold) and and to pensioners. From next year ALL wrinklies will be entitled to free bus travel courtesy of new labour. The Guinness drinkers at Cheltenham will not be thanking Mr Brown for the extra penny on their pint of the dark stuff, but if their tipple is Irish Whiskey, they have been spared once again. I suppose this is the only sensible decision that can be expected of a Scot, albeit a teetotal one.


Weather wise, it's certainly a Golden start to Spring, something to cheer the gloom we obviously feel at the moment. I would like Mum to see another Holy Week, and the hope of Easter- and above all to be able to have a two way conversation with her. In his final week on Earth, Jesus still had time to perform many compassionate healings and show his love to us finally in that sacrifice of Good Friday which was the turning point of history. My next postings will reflect more on these great and profound events.