[Oldmanmatt]

Hi Jim,
I'm ashamed to say we missed it, happening in August; we were distracted. I only found out on Sunday. We'd been wondering what to say. I'll drop you a line on FB, when I've got more time. I have recently become friends with a young poet who lost her husband to a unprovoked attack by a very stupid man. We decided, when the sighted lead the blind; all you can do is follow. When the blind cooperate, you have more hands to feel your way in the dark and you don't have to depend on what the sighted think is important...
I know how tough you are and the strength of you character.
And I know that isn't always enough.
We wish you well, both of you.
I'll write properly soon.
Matt and Lili

[GCW]

I for one will be extremely angry if the PIP breast implants are dealt with at cost to the NHS when deserving cases for cancer therapy continue to be denied.  I await the outcome of the current debacle.

[Dr T]

Just wanted to add my name in support, you blog basically has me in tears every time I read it.  I wish I was in a position to offer you help besides kind words.

Stubbs has said, very simply and very eloquently, exactly the words I have been searching for for sometime but couldn't string together.

My thoughts with you and yours
Ben

[systema_ian]

I sought some advice from a friend who replied.
"In the first instance I would recommend that he contact the Bishop (bishop.of.exeter@exeter.anglican.org) and cc in the Property Services Manager, Graham Davies (property@exeter.anglican.org) and whichever is his local ‘second-in-command’ to the bishop (http://www.exeter.anglican.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=diocese.content&cmid=35), most of whom will be angling for a promotion to full Bishop . E-mail is good but if he can get it onto a real-life actual hand-written letter so much the better and more tangible (as long as his handwriting is legible and his spelling up to snuff). As in any large organization there will be a degree of autonomy accorded to the employees and I doubt that the bish would know anything about the move to evict. It isn’t the sort of issue that is part of the bishop’s ‘duties’ – he is the spiritual leader of the diocese.

 At the very least one might expect a plea for alternative accommodation to fall on sympathetic ears (especially if the media are subtly invoked).

Shocking story and scandalous behavior from the martinets at Property Services."

[andy popp]

Useful advice. I emailed the Bish yesterday (no reply as yet) but will now send same mail to Mr Davies

[systema_ian]

For your further emailing pleasure;
The Archdeacon of Exeter is (The Venerable) Penny Driver;Her address is Emmanuel House, Station Rd, Ide Exeter EX2 9RS The email is :
archdeacon.of.exeter@exeter.anglican.orgPhone:
01392 425577

[Oldmanmatt]

No reply...
Nothing...
Except, they phoned the agents, to ask if we "would be a problem?"

[iain]

I was hoping for something a little better than that, sorry Matt.

[Nibile]

they really are shameless.
sorry Matt.
the problem you represent, and that they clearly don't have, is called morality.

[systema_ian]

They seem to have a FAcebook page.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bishop-Bobs-prayers/338066632288?sk=wall

should we start posting?

[magpie]

Thinking of you all, Matt, let us know if there's anything we can help with even if it's just posting on FB pages or whatever to make a bit of noise, what you're going through is horrendous and really shouldn't be allowed.  It's shameful that so called 'good Christians' would behave the way they are.

[Oldmanmatt]

It was late…                     19th January 2012

Last night, when I got home.

I had to cram a weeks’ worth of work into two and a half days, to be back for this morning.

I left the office at three, to sprint to the airport, to climb onto the orange plane, to race through the fog and break into the clear air above.

I had to drive four hours, through traffic cones and diversions, rain and sleepy, weaving, idiots.

I tumbled into bed, at one am, too wound up to sleep.
The now familiar, mixed, feeling of relief and dread at returning home; kept my eyes resolutely open.

An early start.

Bleary eyed.

The traffic choked drive.

The fear, beneath it all.

Today…

Is Chemo day.

Today…

Is results day.


It was late…

When the patrol boat appeared.

The rapid Arabic exchange between the Dhow Captain and the Patrol boat, quickly quelled the party mood of the passengers.
The Captains tone, the up raised palm, all said “We’re only a couple of hours from Khasab, can’t we carry on?”

The firmly shaken head and single barked “Lha!”, from the half seen figure on the patrol boat; left little doubt.

“We follow heem!” the Captain shouts to us.

Someone asks why?

He shrugs and spins the wheel.

We are led deep into one of the forgotten fiords of the Musandam and told to anchor amongst the small flotilla of Dhows, fishing boats and Coasters; huddled in the shallows below the towering cliffs.
Subdued, confused, we take the party below decks.
We do not want to advertise the alcohol.

But, hey! It’s Boxing Day…


It was late…

When we went in.

The Oncologist’s clinic never runs to time.

These are not the kind of appointments that can be rushed.

Often interrupted, by the need to find more tissues.

By the need to find a breath.

“The tumour and the lymph nodes are just a little bigger, and that’s not… too bad.”  She says.
“There is a little question about a, very, tiny thing in your chest…” She tries to say it quickly, to gloss over.
But we heard it.
We saw her look at her hands.
We saw the smile flicker.

We want to know.

“Well, there is a small lump, in your lung, it might be nothing to worry about. It could be a lot of things.”

She won’t be drawn any further.

The request for funding of the new treatment has passed through the first panel, she says.
Two more panels to convince.

“I’ve made a really strong case” she says “But…”


It was late…

The next morning.

When we arrived in Khasab.

For the first time in living memory, snow capped the peaks of the Hajar and a bitter wind howled around us as we loaded up for the trek back to Dubai.
It would be a long, tortuous, journey.
Flooding had closed most of the major highways along the coast.

It was after departing, when we turned on the radio for news of the flooding; that we heard that the world had ended for so many people.

That few minutes of bouncing, jostling, waves that had disturbed us, deep inside that fiord; had wrought havoc and death, far to the south.

It was quiet, in the office the next day.

As I signed the papers, to authorise purchase of a ticket home, my friend, my welding Foreman, sobbed, silently.
Over a hundred men, from my company alone, went home that day.

Except, their homes were not there.

As he left, my mind drifted back to Harry, Dixon and Nelahni and the thin strip of sand between the Dewasiri guest house and the murderous ocean.

Of the train I used to ride, from Colombo to Hikkaduwa, seen on the news that morning; strewn through the jungle.

Flotsam.

It is late…

Here, from dark to dark.

She sleeps.

I type to the rhythm of the pulsing pump.

The Oncologist was outraged.

“How can they evict you? Now?”

“I’m going to write to them!”

I say thank you, but, they don’t reply.

The Council, can’t house us until the Church gets a court order for eviction.

If I return to work, we lose the housing benefit and that makes it harder for the Council to house us.

We can’t find a private rental, we’ve been on benefits too long; the agents won’t even consider us.

The British Legion is sending someone to help.

I don’t know what to do.

The only thing I know.

It’s getting Late.



 

[tomtom]

Hang in there Matt, I suspect (hope) theres an element of brinksmanship in their eviction...

have you written to your MP? or - have you contacted the local press? Daily Mail? (I hate them, but its right up their street,,,)

[tomtom]

They seem to have a FAcebook page.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bishop-Bobs-prayers/338066632288?sk=wall

should we start posting?

Well its had some impact...

"Thank you to those who have posted comments referring to an individual in a property owned by the diocese. For reasons of confidentiality, we ask you to write to the Diocese of Exeter, the Old Deanery, Palace Gate, Exeter. Thank you"

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bishop-Bobs-prayers/338066632288?sk=wall

[Oldmanmatt]

Well, something is moving...

We have a number to call.

Given how close I came to losing the plot, this morning; I hope it leads somewhere other than frustration and pain.

I had so many things to do, no time to do them.

I had to be in three places simultaneously.

The phone would not stop ringing.

That one extra, unexpected, urgent task...

The realisation I had no change for the parking meter...

Discovering I'd left the power lead for the laptop at home...

And the battery was flat...

And I needed those files...

And someone wanted to chat...

And...

I went back, to sit in the car...

And screamed.

And shouted.

And...

Hoped no one...

No one ...

Could see.

[Little Sis]

Hello Big Brother!

I've read it now.  Amazing writing, as I knew it would be.  I'm very proud of you and love you very much.

I've just written a 4 page letter to Bishop Bob and will post it tomorrow!  Even if it makes no difference at least it will take him a while to read it!

xx Little Sis xx

[andy popp]

They seem to have a FAcebook page.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bishop-Bobs-prayers/338066632288?sk=wall

should we start posting?

Well its had some impact...

"Thank you to those who have posted comments referring to an individual in a property owned by the diocese. For reasons of confidentiality, we ask you to write to the Diocese of Exeter, the Old Deanery, Palace Gate, Exeter. Thank you"

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bishop-Bobs-prayers/338066632288?sk=wall

I had no reply to either of the emails I sent - but maybe they are taking some notice. I shall write to 'Bob' on actual paper. Reasons or confidentiality - or don't want it publicised?

[Bubba]

"Thank you to those who have posted comments referring to an individual in a property owned by the diocese. For reasons of confidentiality, we ask you to write to the Diocese of Exeter, the Old Deanery, Palace Gate, Exeter. Thank you"

I replied: "For reasons of confidentiality, or you don't want the adverse publicity? You should really be ashamed of what you're doing."

I suspect it'll soon be deleted, especially given my FB ID ! I won't post anything else, don't want to piss them off.

[tomtom]

They seem to have a FAcebook page.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bishop-Bobs-prayers/338066632288?sk=wall

should we start posting?

Well its had some impact...

"Thank you to those who have posted comments referring to an individual in a property owned by the diocese. For reasons of confidentiality, we ask you to write to the Diocese of Exeter, the Old Deanery, Palace Gate, Exeter. Thank you"

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bishop-Bobs-prayers/338066632288?sk=wall

I had no reply to either of the emails I sent - but maybe they are taking some notice. I shall write to 'Bob' on actual paper. Reasons or confidentiality - or don't want it publicised?

I suspect it's maybe an old organisation where a bit of paper carrys more clout than an email (even if printed out). Acknowledgement is a sign of progress still...

[iain]

I had no reply to either of the emails I sent - but maybe they are taking some notice. I shall write to 'Bob' on actual paper. Reasons or confidentiality - or don't want it publicised?

I suspect it's maybe an old organisation where a bit of paper carrys more clout than an email (even if printed out). Acknowledgement is a sign of progress still...

I'd go for them not wanting publicity but I'll also try the paper approach.

[RAK Punter]

Facebook page appears to have been taken down (or I am being dumb- real possibility)

[clm]

Link still works. Don't know if they have deleted a thread.

[Oldmanmatt]

Something is moving.
I'm not sure where it is going...

But it is going.

They have replied and we are talking.

Thank you, everyone.

I should have updated yesterday...

Yesterday was complicated.

Today was worse.

Oh, well...

At least HMRC have backed down, thanks to the MP.

One less thing to worry about.

Now, just the small matter of a tax return to be filed by Monday...

[Oldmanmatt]

 Some times, you have no control...         07 February 2012

Some times, you have to rely on others.

Some times, you are as helpless as a baby.

For me...

For Adventurer, Climber, Diver, Environment controlling Engineer me...

That is really, really hard.


She sleeps, on the sofa, in pain again...

I work, quietly, tapping keys, filling forms.

I pad silently upstairs to make phone calls, to answer the silent buzz; when it comes.

Mamia has taken my little boy, to run in the park, to get muddy; to be...

A little boy.

We still have no news.

The treatment still hangs in the balance.

Maybe.

We should have found out last week.

Silence.

Is the decision already made?

Is it just too hard to tell us?


Some times, you have no control...

Silence...

The boat is called a "Rigid Raider".

It's not much of a boat.

Not what could be called "Ocean going".

We called it a "Skimming dish".

There were two.

One loaded with all the kit for a major expedition onto the ice cap.

One loaded with personal kit, climbing gear and...

Us.

The massive berg, that had blocked King Edward sound, to anything larger than the Raider; was shaped like a Church.

A vivid blue, crystal Church, with a soaring spire, reaching into the heavens. Glinting in the bright sun.

It deserved a photograph.

The boat Coxswain, had an idea.


Some times, you have no control...


Thursday.

Thursday, we are due to see the Oncologist.

Thursday, we have a provisional appointment to begin the new treatment.

Thursday.

We find out.

We wait.

In silence.


Some times, you have no control...


Silence.

Broken by the occasional booming "Crack" as the ice cap calves another daughter.

Broken by the brief crackle of the radio.

The equipment boat, some way behind, will race at full speed; between us and the Berg.

The water is a shimmering, blue, mirror.

It should look spectacular.


It does.

There is rummaging in rucksacks, as we stow away our cameras.

There are smiles.

We are happy.

The boat rocks, to the wake the long past gear boat...


There is a "Crack!"

Loud, close, imminent.

I look up.

The spire is moving.

The spire is falling.


Silence.


The silence is shattered.

Huge daggers of ice crash into the sea around us.

The Coxswain slams the throttles forward and the Raider leaps into a pirouette; bow straining for the sky as the props bite.

She comes to the plane, in a maelstrom of icy death.

As we race away, I am transfixed.

By the ice that will surely kill us.

By the calm, determined face of the Cox; as he ignores the hell pursuing us.

By Roy's voice, repeating again and again "Shit! Jesus Christ! Shit! Jesus Christ!".

By the chunks of ice battering us and filling the boat.

By the tip of the spire as it crashes to the water two or three meters behind us.


By the wave.


Even as we reach top speed, the towering wave lifts our stern and the bow begins to scoop water.

Finally, I close my eyes.



Silence.


Dare I open my eyes?

Dare I ask?


Some times...

You have no control.

[SamT]

I can't seem conjure up any words.  I've just spent the evening, gripped, reading this, having come across it. Bubba's FB post a few months ago, re the vicar, suddenly makes sense.

my words seem useless, but I'm thinking of you and your family whist berating myself for letting all my little narcissistic worries get to me at times.

Carry on being excellent to each other.