Welcome to my new reader! May he put his ego down long enough to regain perspective – and, perhaps, some manners …
That was the week, that was – and some week. Not only have I discovered more about myself but more, too, of the complexities of human nature. I have long learned to dismiss attacks aimed to hurt with pity and, depending on the assailant, sadness. There is no greater defence than the realization that anyone who takes the time – and effort – to be deliberately cruel to another (and, believe me, the closest are fore-armed) must be one miserable, unhappy person! Nobody content in him/herself and his/her lot has any desire to inflict suffering. Bullet- proof vest secure. Game over.
Wow! I need to get started on my forthcoming book but just another few hurdles to negotiate first. As I write, I am waiting for another viewer. The house went on the market on Monday and Josh and I seem to have been in constant contact – one of the estate agent team who sounds ages with Manny and equally able to cope with my humour. Suffice to say, the first potential buyer appeared on Thursday and there are several to come, most of whom seem to be doctors for some strange reason. The house is looking unnaturally clear of clobber as I become adept at shoving stuff in the loft, the garage and, of course, the boot of my car! I do offer prior warning when opening cupboards, too, in case of injury. Then there is the fresh flowers … Oh joy! What do they say about divorce and moving house? No matter. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and the invaluable material it has given me may just prove lucrative in the future.
So, done with shoving stuff in cupboards, I drove to St Andrews yesterday – yes, still with half the contents of the house in my car – to meet my modern-day ‘pen pal’, Jane, and her husband, Ben, for the first time. Regular – nay, loyal readers of Trish-Trash may remember that I contacted Jane when I saw the photograph of she and Ben in the St Andrews University Alumni magazine a couple of years ago, noticing Ben’s paintings in the background. Ben, now Vice President of the Royal Society of Marine Artists, had painted several of the beautiful town and one in particular caught my eye. I bought it for Becca and Jane and I have been in touch ever since discovering much common ground and shared trauma. Amazing how paths cross for a reason. Anyway, Jane and Ben, now living in Canterbury, were in town for a wedding and we met at North Point, sharing a coffee and chat whilst looking directly out on the location of Becca’s painting (must keep reminding myself that it belongs to Becca!). Seemed fitting and, almost in daily contact, there was no awkwardness; rather, as though we had known each other for years …
It was the most beautiful sunny day and St Andrews could not have been more resplendent – deservedly so. That little town has much about which to be smug! Of course, there were the inevitable tourists but the students haven’t yet returned and, thus, it was strangely peaceful. The harbour was almost deserted as we walked to the end of the pier and the tide was miles out offering up an abundance of seaweed, rock pools galore and stretches of open sand – evocative of freedom; inviting nostalgia. That wonderful smell of the sea and the sound of the seagulls overhead – thankfully, fully continent – calling one to sit and take stock. The ancient ruins of the cathedral, St Rules and the castle in the distance, a humbling reminder of the history of a town so much more than the ‘Home of Golf’! A tourist bubble it may be; a microcosm of Wills and Kate wannabees, certainly but, to me – well, it’s just in my soul. One thing, though, avoid Hotel du Vin on The Scores if one enjoys one’s bread with one’s soup! Perhaps I am just out of touch and it is now common practice to follow one’s minestrone with a warm baguette? Who am I to comment? Although, I did! There is a general apathy when it comes to standards now; a defeatism grounded in the belief that there is no point in complaining. That attitude never won any wars. Pull that plug out of the socket and run free!
I’m not sure whether I have the time to embark on a subject about which I have been meaning to write for some time but considering I had to delve into the wheelie bin – un-numbered, I might add – to retrieve my notes the other night, I think I should …
Several weeks ago, I seemed to consecutively watch the three-part documentary on Ben Fogle’s Everest climb and the episode of Running Wild with Bear Grylls featuring President Barack Obama. It led me to question the mindset of both men with regard to the risks they choose and have chosen to face in their lives.
A huge fan of Ben Fogle, he would be high on my list of dinner party guests. I have avidly watched every series of New Lives in the Wild considering it one of my favourite things on television. Actually, I have just looked him up on Wikipedia and, suffice to say, his achievements are too numerous to mention. I doubt there remains much of this planet he hasn’t seen but, for all that, he seems to be a really nice guy. I’ve just read that he met his wife while out walking his dog … he is a nice guy! One thing, though, why does he insist in dying the tips of his hair blond?!
To the point! His ascent of Everest, the highest mountain in the world, which has claimed the lives of almost 300 climbers since 1953 when Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay became the first known to have successfully reached her summit. More than a little dangerous, then, so what made Ben Fogle attempt it? A family man with two young children …
‘It will be the biggest thing ever, ever in my life.’ Ben Fogle
Clear to see it tested him to his limits, he was extremely emotional at times repeatedly holding up his wrists displaying the names of his two children and sobbing ‘that’s what it’s about’! I don’t get it. Yes, the challenge was a childhood dream and to achieve such a goal would, obviously, make his family extremely proud but the flip side is that he could very easily have died leaving his wife a young widow and his beloved children fatherless! What could possibly validate these odds?
Different but similar, Barack Obama. It was watching the two programmes so close together which made me question the mindset of these men. Yes, Obama’s achievements are boundless. Being President of the United States, in itself, has ensured his place in history but as the first black president … However, at what cost? His foray with Bear Grylls into the Alaskan wilderness served only to highlight the severity of the potential threat to his life daily. In a bid to spotlight climate change, Bear took him to the Harding Ice Field – at 300 square miles, the largest in the United States. Part of the Exit Glacier, it had shrunk an alarming 812 feet in the seven years since 2008 (programme made in 2015). Perhaps more revealing, though, was the circus which accompanied the President. There were 60 Secret Service snipers in the mountains, 4 helicopters in the air, special presidential loos every kilometre and, perhaps most dramatic of all, an accompanying large black container into which – should anything go wrong – the President could climb containing all the nuclear codes and a huge hook on top in order that it may be lifted away by helicopter. Help! In addition, the White House has a very strict policy forbidding the President from eating anything on camera; a member of staff being responsible for checking that everything he eats is safe.
That is some picture! President Obama, like Ben Fogle, has two children. He prides himself on being a family man and it was clear their importance to him. He spoke of telling his girls to ‘be useful and be kind’. His chosen path, however, has meant he and his family require round-the-clock protection to deflect any potential attempt on their lives; a threat ever-present. His family mean everything to him but his ambition, his chosen destiny has ensured that their lives are not their own – and never will be again. Assassination is the ultimate threat. Is that a price worth paying? Does the drive within these two men render any choice void? I find it so interesting but so difficult to comprehend. I suspect I never will. The psychology of those destined to be more than mere grains of sand …
‘If you’re overwhelmed by the burden or overwhelmed by the magnitude of a challenge and you decide not to even have a go, how will you ever know what you could have achieved in life?’
Ben Fogle, The Challenge:Everest (Sky 506, June/July 2018)
Now, put that way …
This is Trish, signing off.
That was the week, that was – and some week. Not only have I discovered more about myself but more, too, of the complexities of human nature. I have long learned to dismiss attacks aimed to hurt with pity and, depending on the assailant, sadness. There is no greater defence than the realization that anyone who takes the time – and effort – to be deliberately cruel to another (and, believe me, the closest are fore-armed) must be one miserable, unhappy person! Nobody content in him/herself and his/her lot has any desire to inflict suffering. Bullet- proof vest secure. Game over.
Wow! I need to get started on my forthcoming book but just another few hurdles to negotiate first. As I write, I am waiting for another viewer. The house went on the market on Monday and Josh and I seem to have been in constant contact – one of the estate agent team who sounds ages with Manny and equally able to cope with my humour. Suffice to say, the first potential buyer appeared on Thursday and there are several to come, most of whom seem to be doctors for some strange reason. The house is looking unnaturally clear of clobber as I become adept at shoving stuff in the loft, the garage and, of course, the boot of my car! I do offer prior warning when opening cupboards, too, in case of injury. Then there is the fresh flowers … Oh joy! What do they say about divorce and moving house? No matter. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and the invaluable material it has given me may just prove lucrative in the future.
So, done with shoving stuff in cupboards, I drove to St Andrews yesterday – yes, still with half the contents of the house in my car – to meet my modern-day ‘pen pal’, Jane, and her husband, Ben, for the first time. Regular – nay, loyal readers of Trish-Trash may remember that I contacted Jane when I saw the photograph of she and Ben in the St Andrews University Alumni magazine a couple of years ago, noticing Ben’s paintings in the background. Ben, now Vice President of the Royal Society of Marine Artists, had painted several of the beautiful town and one in particular caught my eye. I bought it for Becca and Jane and I have been in touch ever since discovering much common ground and shared trauma. Amazing how paths cross for a reason. Anyway, Jane and Ben, now living in Canterbury, were in town for a wedding and we met at North Point, sharing a coffee and chat whilst looking directly out on the location of Becca’s painting (must keep reminding myself that it belongs to Becca!). Seemed fitting and, almost in daily contact, there was no awkwardness; rather, as though we had known each other for years …
It was the most beautiful sunny day and St Andrews could not have been more resplendent – deservedly so. That little town has much about which to be smug! Of course, there were the inevitable tourists but the students haven’t yet returned and, thus, it was strangely peaceful. The harbour was almost deserted as we walked to the end of the pier and the tide was miles out offering up an abundance of seaweed, rock pools galore and stretches of open sand – evocative of freedom; inviting nostalgia. That wonderful smell of the sea and the sound of the seagulls overhead – thankfully, fully continent – calling one to sit and take stock. The ancient ruins of the cathedral, St Rules and the castle in the distance, a humbling reminder of the history of a town so much more than the ‘Home of Golf’! A tourist bubble it may be; a microcosm of Wills and Kate wannabees, certainly but, to me – well, it’s just in my soul. One thing, though, avoid Hotel du Vin on The Scores if one enjoys one’s bread with one’s soup! Perhaps I am just out of touch and it is now common practice to follow one’s minestrone with a warm baguette? Who am I to comment? Although, I did! There is a general apathy when it comes to standards now; a defeatism grounded in the belief that there is no point in complaining. That attitude never won any wars. Pull that plug out of the socket and run free!
I’m not sure whether I have the time to embark on a subject about which I have been meaning to write for some time but considering I had to delve into the wheelie bin – un-numbered, I might add – to retrieve my notes the other night, I think I should …
Several weeks ago, I seemed to consecutively watch the three-part documentary on Ben Fogle’s Everest climb and the episode of Running Wild with Bear Grylls featuring President Barack Obama. It led me to question the mindset of both men with regard to the risks they choose and have chosen to face in their lives.
A huge fan of Ben Fogle, he would be high on my list of dinner party guests. I have avidly watched every series of New Lives in the Wild considering it one of my favourite things on television. Actually, I have just looked him up on Wikipedia and, suffice to say, his achievements are too numerous to mention. I doubt there remains much of this planet he hasn’t seen but, for all that, he seems to be a really nice guy. I’ve just read that he met his wife while out walking his dog … he is a nice guy! One thing, though, why does he insist in dying the tips of his hair blond?!
To the point! His ascent of Everest, the highest mountain in the world, which has claimed the lives of almost 300 climbers since 1953 when Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay became the first known to have successfully reached her summit. More than a little dangerous, then, so what made Ben Fogle attempt it? A family man with two young children …
‘It will be the biggest thing ever, ever in my life.’ Ben Fogle
Clear to see it tested him to his limits, he was extremely emotional at times repeatedly holding up his wrists displaying the names of his two children and sobbing ‘that’s what it’s about’! I don’t get it. Yes, the challenge was a childhood dream and to achieve such a goal would, obviously, make his family extremely proud but the flip side is that he could very easily have died leaving his wife a young widow and his beloved children fatherless! What could possibly validate these odds?
Different but similar, Barack Obama. It was watching the two programmes so close together which made me question the mindset of these men. Yes, Obama’s achievements are boundless. Being President of the United States, in itself, has ensured his place in history but as the first black president … However, at what cost? His foray with Bear Grylls into the Alaskan wilderness served only to highlight the severity of the potential threat to his life daily. In a bid to spotlight climate change, Bear took him to the Harding Ice Field – at 300 square miles, the largest in the United States. Part of the Exit Glacier, it had shrunk an alarming 812 feet in the seven years since 2008 (programme made in 2015). Perhaps more revealing, though, was the circus which accompanied the President. There were 60 Secret Service snipers in the mountains, 4 helicopters in the air, special presidential loos every kilometre and, perhaps most dramatic of all, an accompanying large black container into which – should anything go wrong – the President could climb containing all the nuclear codes and a huge hook on top in order that it may be lifted away by helicopter. Help! In addition, the White House has a very strict policy forbidding the President from eating anything on camera; a member of staff being responsible for checking that everything he eats is safe.
That is some picture! President Obama, like Ben Fogle, has two children. He prides himself on being a family man and it was clear their importance to him. He spoke of telling his girls to ‘be useful and be kind’. His chosen path, however, has meant he and his family require round-the-clock protection to deflect any potential attempt on their lives; a threat ever-present. His family mean everything to him but his ambition, his chosen destiny has ensured that their lives are not their own – and never will be again. Assassination is the ultimate threat. Is that a price worth paying? Does the drive within these two men render any choice void? I find it so interesting but so difficult to comprehend. I suspect I never will. The psychology of those destined to be more than mere grains of sand …
‘If you’re overwhelmed by the burden or overwhelmed by the magnitude of a challenge and you decide not to even have a go, how will you ever know what you could have achieved in life?’
Ben Fogle, The Challenge:Everest (Sky 506, June/July 2018)
Now, put that way …
This is Trish, signing off.
