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Reflections on Retirement 9: Honourably Discharged

Six months in

 

Last week felt like a significant milestone for me: it marked six months from the day I retired; I (together with colleagues) completed and submitted our latest Triennial Review of Serious Case Reviews; I received my last payslip from the University of Warwick; and the University decided to award me an emeritus professorship.

A friend asked me what that meant exactly and I replied,

‘It means I can pretend to be old and wise, impress other people with my amazing credentials, and carry on doing what I love doing. More importantly, it means I can continue to access the university library. And it means the University can continue to get credit for any academic work I do without having to pay me, so a win-win situation for all.’

I thought, though, that perhaps I should look up what it really means, and this is what I found:

emeritus adj. honourably discharged from the performance of public duty [latin ē signifying completeness and merērī, to deserve]

professor n. one who professes [latin prō, publicly, fatērī, to confess]

 

So I am now officially (and, I trust, honourably) discharged from my former duties in the NHS and University, and free (I presume) to publicly confess whatever I like (any suggestions of what that should be will be very welcome).

So what now? Am I any different? Has my life changed either now or over the past six months?

 

It seems to me that retirement is more a process than an event, and more a transition than an ending.

Pretty soon after retiring, Lois and I headed off to Asia and New Zealand to spend time with her family and enjoy some laid back rest and relaxation – a retuning of sorts. Since returning to the UK in January, I have gradually been adjusting my routines, carrying on with a few ongoing commitments, taking on some new projects, and enjoying the freedom to be more flexible, focused and fulfilled.

I have enjoyed being able to choose each day what to do with the day. I have loved getting stuck into writing and research, with new and inspiring projects. I have valued having time to spend with Lois in the garden, going for walks, and some inspiring trips. And I have been privileged to accompany others on their spiritual journeys through retreats and ongoing spiritual direction.

So it is with a sense of ongoing fulfilment that I continue my journey into this new phase of life. And I shall look forward to waking up tomorrow morning and deciding what I’d most enjoy doing…

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Revoke Article 50: Why I’ve changed my mind

Over the past few months I have felt uncomfortable about the idea of a second referendum on leaving the EU. While feeling passionately that the decision to leave was a flawed decision that will have profound negative consequences for our country, and particularly for the most vulnerable in our society, I was concerned that a second referendum would do little other than deepen the divisions and mistrust that have been raised by holding the referendum in the first place.

As time has gone on, however, I have become more and more convinced that a second referendum is the only way to get us out of the mess we have got ourselves into.

Now, with the deadline for leaving the EU (even with the promised extension) drawing near and the inability of our Parliament to reach any kind of consensus on the way forward, it seems to me that revisiting the democratic process and holding a second referendum could be what is needed to take us forward.

Since the referendum in 2016 (and to some extent even before that) it has become very clear that the leave campaign was built on lies and vested self-interest. The result itself was close and certainly did not represent the majority of the UK population. In particular, it is clear that it did not represent the young people of our country – the very ones who will inherit the results that we are scheduled to bring in.

The wranglings in Parliament seem to emphasise that both sides are more interested in political point scoring and their own interests than in what is good for our country and our people. There seems little hope that, even with an extension, Theresa May will be able to get agreement on a deal that will work both for us and for the EU.

While I felt that respecting the results of the referendum was appropriate in that it was a democratic process, the flaws and lies behind the campaign have made me seriously question how democratic it was. To vote on a question without having the details or any real information of what the consequences might be was deeply misleading. A decision made 3 years ago should not be binding when both circumstances, details, and opinions have changed. After all, it is part of our democratic process to hold elections at a maximum every 5 years. So, to re-canvas the opinion of the people now would not be in any way undemocratic. Parliament has respected the outcome of the first referendum in taking negotiations forward; having done so, it would now seem appropriate to go back to the people with the deal on the table, greater clarity of what it would look like and the potential impact of the options.

We now have an opportunity to make our voice heard.

Since being lodged last month, a petition, ‘Revoke article 50 and remain in the EU’, has gained well over 3,000,000 signatories. That equates to nearly 5% of the UK population, and it appears to be growing by the hour.

I have added my name to the petition and would encourage all of you who are UK residents and eligible to vote to do the same.

Sign the Petition Now

Let us value and use our democratic processes.

 

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The Association of Child Protection Professionals

A fresh start for an inspiring association

Forty years ago, a small group of leading child protection professionals and academics came together to found BASPCAN, the British Association for the Study and Prevention of Child Abuse and Neglect. Their aims were to provide education and professional development opportunities for those working in the child protection field, and to educate and inform the public about safeguarding. For most of this time, the official journal of BASPCAN, Child Abuse Review, has been central to achieving these aims.

Now, with this first issue of 2019, we are launching a new look for the Association (now the Association of Child Protection Professionals) and for the journal. In an accompanying news piece, Celean Camp and Wendy Thorogood explain a bit more about the changes for the Association and some of the exciting developments that we can look forward to. As they point out,

‘Our name might have changed but our aims remain the same – working with members to:

  • Promote increased understanding of the causes, ways of identifying and reducing the incidence of child abuse and neglect.
  • Encourage a greater understanding of the consequences for children of abuse and neglect and how these can be prevented and treated.
  • Improve cooperation and liaison between professionals and agencies locally, nationally and internationally.
  • Influence policy and practice based on high‐quality research evidence and practitioner experience.
  • Represent, support and advocate for child protection professionals.’

I encourage you all to take a look at our brand-new website and to consider joining the association – you will find a great community of people passionately committed to promoting the welfare and safety of children, and supporting each other in this highly-charged field.

From the perspective of the journal, we want to ensure that Child Abuse Review continues to contribute to those enduring aims of providing education and professional development for all those working in the child protection field, through publishing rigorous original research, comprehensive reviews of the scientific literature, book reviews and training updates, and commentaries on policy and practice.

With this first issue of 2019, we are also launching our brand new Continuing Professional Development (CPD) section. These papers are intended to distil the essentials of what practitioners/clinicians need to know about a particular area of practice. They should help practitioners review and reflect on what they have learnt and may be used to provide evidence for the purposes of professional revalidation or accreditation. Our first paper in this new section is from Wendy Marsh and Jan Leamon and explores the issues faced by mothers who have their babies removed at birth. The authors take a sensitive and compassionate approach to exploring the complex grief experienced by mothers in this situation and some of the coping strategies that these mothers can resort to – not all of which will necessarily sit well with professionals whose primary aim is to safeguard the wellbeing of children. As professionals in the child protection field, we will continue to be faced with situations where the removal of a child is necessary. Nevertheless, Marsh and Leamon’s paper provides compelling arguments for the importance of understanding what mothers in this situation are going through, and our moral and ethical responsibility to support mothers after the removal of a child.

 

All the papers in this first issue of the year for Child Abuse Review are freely available to read or download. Do click on the links below to browse the issue or to read my editorial or any of the papers.

 

Child Abuse Review Volume 28, Issue 1

Table of Contents

Peter Sidebotham. Challenging Belief Systems and Professional Perspectives to Protect Children from Harm

Celean Camp, Wendy Thorogood. The Association of Child Protection Professionals: Moving Forward with a New Identity

Julie Taylor, Caroline Bradbury-Jones, Patricia Lund. Witchcraft‐related Abuse and Murder of Children with Albinism in Sub‐Saharan Africa: A Conceptual Review

Lisa Oakley, Kathryn Kinmond, Justin Humphreys, Mor Dioum. Safeguarding Children who are Exposed to Abuse Linked to Faith or Belief

Jessica Wagner, Steph Jones, Anna Tsaroucha, Holly Cumbers. Intergenerational Transmission of Domestic Violence: Practitioners’ Perceptions and Experiences of Working with Adult Victims and Perpetrators in the UK

Jeff Moore, Marie Flynn, Mark Morgan. Social Ecological Resilience and Mental Wellbeing of Irish Emigrant Survivors of Clerical Institutional Childhood Abuse

Karen Hanson, Elizabeth Duryea, Mary Painter, Jeffrey Vanderploeg, Dale Saul. Family‐Based Recovery: An Innovative Collaboration between Community Mental Health Agencies and Child Protective Services to Treat Families Impacted by Parental Substance Use

Wendy Marsh, Jan Leamon. Babies Removed at Birth: What Professionals Can Learn From ‘Women Like Me’

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Psalm 2019

Praise to you

Lord God of all creation

 

 

 

 

Praise for the beauty of your world

Praise for the delight of sun dancing on snow

Sparkling crystals and pure, clean white

Praise for the feeling of muscles stretched

Of purposeful strides and gentle ambles

Praise for the quiet stream and the steadfast bridge

Praise for the woodland garth

For lives well lived and lovingly remembered

For roots and trunks, branches and leaves

Praise for snowdrops springing forth

For new life, beauty,

Tenderness and tears.

 

Praise to you

Lord God of celebration

Praise for laughter

For hugs and moments shared

Praise for warming soup and wholesome bread

For feasts and banquets

For bright and sumptuous wines

Praise for music, melody and song

For symphonies and harmonies

For depths and summits scaled.

 

Praise to you

Lord God of all fulfilment

For purpose, meaning, substance

For service, gifts and skills

For science and discovery

For patterns taking shape

For art and creativity

For colours, movements, form.

 

Praise to you

The source of all

The goal of all my longings.

 

Praise to you

Lord Jesus Christ

Father, Spirit, Son

Creator and Sustainer

Great Mother, Gentle One.

 

 

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One does not simply walk into Mordor

 

‘One does not simply walk into Mordor… It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust…’ – Boromir, Lord of the Rings

 

 

Sadly, Lois and I had to take heed of Boromir’s words. A nasty chest infection, picked up in Laos, meant that we had to cancel our planned four day tramp around Ngaurohoe (Mt Doom) with Abi, Isaac, and Isaac’s parents.

It had all started ten days previously while we were staying with Trim and Konnie and their children in Vientiane. First Alex, then Lois, Finn and Sienna, then Konnie and I, and finally Trim, all started toppling, like dominoes, with various combinations of cough, fever, rigors, neck stiffness, and general aches and pains. We had planned to spend a nice weekend together at a lake resort north of the capital, but when it came to it, none of us felt like doing anything other than lying prostrate on our beds or the sofa. We struggled through a week before Lois and I boarded a plane for one of the most uncomfortable journeys we have ever experienced: 24 hours feeling cramped, uncomfortable and drained of all energy.

It’s funny how feeling unwell can so dominate life: when with each cough, it seems as though every bone in your body, every muscle, every patch of skin is screaming at you, ‘Get it out!’ When to even read, let alone be sociable, write emails, or make decisions, becomes more than you can face. When you can’t think of anyone or anything else, but just how awful you are feeling.

So, I don’t think we were particularly good company when we got to Auckland – either for each other, or for David and Paddy with whom we were staying, or the grandchildren who had been so longing to see us!

Still, while such illnesses may drag on, they do not last indefinitely. Gradually, after a couple of weeks feeling at rock bottom, the fevers subsided, the neck stiffness eased, and the coughs became less all-pervasive. And we began again to appreciate the many blessings of life – to recognise, with gratitude, how incredibly healthy we have both been; and to gain a greater sense of empathy with those for whom chronic pain or illness is a daily part of life.

We had ducked out of the four day Northern Circuit, but after a further 24 hours recuperating in Auckland, we decided to head south to the National Park, checking into a cheap, but convenient motel in Tokanuu on the shores of Lake Taupo.

By Thursday, I was feeling well enough to do a one day tramp. We drove up to the Magetepopo car park (a bit higher than the summit of Snowdon which we’d climbed earlier in the year), and – along with countless other trampers – Lois and I set out on the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. Lois joined me for the first 5km up to the Soda Springs then headed back to the car and a more restful day while I started the steep ascent to the Tongariro craters. The North Island Alpine scenery is really quite staggering: steep volcanic slopes, broad, ash-covered craters, rugged ridges and outcrops of rock.

After the first steep ascent to the South Crater, the vegetation grew increasingly sparse, but even right up at the top, it was incredible how small yellow and white alpine flowers could bloom into life among the barren, lifeless rock. As each successive ridge appeared above me I thought that surely would be the last, only to have my illusions shattered as I recognised the figures of fellow trampers ascending the next ridge above. Eventually, however, I got to the summit of the Red Crater at 1,886m. This was followed by a treacherous scramble down the scoria slopes to the stunning Emerald Lakes. My knees were feeling it by then, but at the same time, I was revelling in the overwhelming sense of being truly alive. The views were amazing. For most of the day, Ngaurahoe was shrouded in cloud, but at one point, I did catch a passing glimpse of its cratered summit.

 

Bypassing most of the hordes, I made my way to the furthest of the Emerald Lakes where I sat and enjoyed my sandwiches, taking in the rich, vibrant colours of the water and the rocks. A final short climb brought me up to the larger Blue Lake, by now almost completely in the clouds, but still beautiful and mysterious. And then a long, but pleasingly gentle 8km tramp down the lower slopes of Tongariro to the Ketetahi car park, where Lois was waiting to take me back to our motel and a relaxing soak in their thermal pool.

The following day, after a short walk towards the Silica Rapids, we set out from Whakapapa anti-clockwise to meet the others as they finished their four day tramp: tired and aching, but with a huge sense of achievement. One doesn’t simply walk into Mordor after all.

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Laos: Adventures in a land of serenity III

Caving and Kayaking in Vang Vieng

 

It was dark. Very dark. So dark it was impossible to distinguish between having your eyes open and having them closed. And it was quiet. Not a sound in the still air apart from the odd drop of water from a stalactite and the occasional little rustle as one of us shifted to a more comfortable position. We were sitting on a rock deep in a limestone cave some 20 km north of Vang Vieng – Lois and I, a German fellow-tourist, and our Lao guide. And we had switched off our head torches for a while to take in the awesome silence and stillness of the underworld.

I don’t think I have ever experienced such total darkness and silence. It was awesome. And, surprisingly, not at all oppressive. There was a certain peace and majesty in it – something that touched beyond time, beyond the frantic busyness of the world outside. We were perhaps half a kilometre deep in the mountain and all was still and unchanging. And yet, at the same time, it was changing – imperceptibly, gently, one water drop at a time – the stalactites were growing, changing, forming their wonderful, mysterious shapes in the darkness.

Our one day ‘Discover Vang Vieng’ excursion with Green Discovery was proving to be a good choice of activity – the ‘trekking’ was, in fact, a very gentle amble round to the caves and then past a Hmong Village. But that suited us well, as Lois was struggling with a nasty chest infection while I, unbeknown at the time, was brewing my own mystery fever. We visited three caves – one great tortuous cavern filled with stalactites and stalagmites; a second smaller tunnel into the rock which apparently was used by local villagers to provide a route through to the other side of the outcrop and fresh fishing grounds; and a third, flooded cave which we entered in large rubber tubes. As we first got into them, the water, coming straight out of the cave, was cold. But we soon got used to it, and enjoyed the experience pulling ourselves along with a rope into the low-ceilinged darkness.

Outside, the sky was clear and blue as the sun beat down on dry, harvested rice paddies. Water buffaloes wallowed in mud patches, and villagers scooped water from irrigation channels onto their vegetable plots. A profusion of butterflies of exotic shapes and colours fluttered by. And ever over us, the limestone karst hills towered, carrying their own sense of mystery and grandeur.

After a half hour amble along a water course, we were picked up by our tuk tuk and transported to a launching place 10km up river from Vang Vieng. A gentle kayak down the Nam Song in the shade of the limestone hills brought us slowly back to the town. Ignoring the fleets of mad Korean tourists, shouting and splashing from their kayaks, and the riverside rave bars for the young Western backpackers as they went tubing down the river, we simply enjoyed our own leisurely pace, speeding in places over shallow rapids, then drifting slowly down in the deeper stretches, all the while taking in the beauty and peace of this land of serenity, to arrive an hour or two later beside the main bridge in Vang Vieng, pleasantly tired and ready for a refreshing iced tea and a shower.

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Laos: Adventures in a land of serenity II

Vientiane to Vang Vieng

 

It may not be big population-wise, but Vientiane does seem to spread out – its buildings sprawling out many kilometres along the road North to Vang Vieng. In true Asian style the shop fronts spilled out onto the streets with their varied merchandise of all manner of plastic goods, electrical goods, rattan goods, and textiles. And with vividly coloured Buddhas, elephants, storks and stupas with which to decorate your garden, office or temple.

The minibus was packed with tourists like us. And clearly not made with tall foreign site-seers in mind. So, sitting at the back we had only a limited view of the roadsides as we drove past. But they did gradually give way to more rural scenes of paddy fields, coconut palms and the occasional wallowing buffalo. After a quick lunch break (“we stop here 17 minutes”) of grilled pork and sticky rice, we left the flat Mekong plain and started to climb into the wooded hills of central Laos (our driver at this point told us all to put our seatbelts on (protection in case we didn’t manage to stay on the winding road?) The road here did become even worse with just short stretches of pot-holed tarmac interspersed with ungraded gravel and dust – I don’t think they were ever made to cope with the volume of traffic or the impact of each year’s rainy season. The little glimpses we caught of the scenery though were promising, and eventually after five hours and 157km we rolled into the backpackers’ Mecca of Vang Vieng.

A few years ago, the influx of young Western backpackers had brought Vang Vieng a very bad name, flooding the town with alcohol, drugs and low-quality hostels and bars. Safety standards were appalling and apparently several tourists died on the various adventure activities. The Wikipedia description of the town hardly paints an inspiring picture:

There are concerns that the town is in danger of losing its charm as it becomes full of tourists, mushroom shakes, and episodes of Friends, a US sitcom shown in many bars.[11] The New Zealand Herald wrote, “If teenagers ruled the world, it might resemble Vang Vieng”.[12] Safety measures for the tubing have been described as “non existent”. Tubing combined with heavy drinking has resulted in tourist drownings.[13] It was reported that 22 tourists died on the river in 2011. – Wikipedia

 

The authorities have worked hard to improve its image, so, while still heaving with backpackers and bars, it does have a certain charm, and nothing can really detract from the stunning beauty of the surrounding limestone mountains.

 

 

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Laos: Adventures in a land of serenity

I   Vientiane

 

Staying with Trim and Konnie and their children in their spacious high-ceilinged house tucked away down a little side street not far from the centre of town has provided a gentle introduction to Vientiane. In among the children’s activities and evenings catching up on family news, Lois and I have ventured out a couple of times on Trim and Konnie’s bikes to explore the city and the somnolent banks of the Mekong.

It is a bit like stepping back in time to the Phnom Penh I knew in the early 1990s (minus all the UNTAC Land Cruisers and blue-bereted peace keeping forces). The French influence seems even stronger here and the city comes across as a curious blend of French colonialism, democratic communism, animistic Buddhism, and 21st century backpacker tourism. The most striking and welcome side of this is the profusion of cafés serving wonderfully smooth Lao coffee with fresh-baked croissants or Vietnamese dumplings (whichever takes your fancy).

But what has most surprised me is how calm, gentle and clean the city is. It may be the only one of the world’s least developed countries situated in S.E. Asia, and still ranking very low on life expectancy and GDP, but there is very little in the way of overt poverty. Unlike so many Asian cities, Vientiane seems to have avoided the gross extremes of opulence and destitution dwelling side by side. We have not seen any areas of slum dwellings, no beggars have been wandering the streets or pestering us for change, no children tapping on your car windows as you wait at traffic lights. Is this socialism as it should work I wonder?

And, it seems too, to have avoided – so far – the frantic noisy chaos of cars, motorbikes pedestrians and trucks that characterise Bangkok, Delhi, Manila, or the technological efficiency and relentless drive of Hong Kong and Singapore. The residents may complain of the traffic, but it hs none of the clamour, noise and chaos of the rest of Asia.

So a gentle cycle ride beside the Mekong finishing off with a leisurely cappuccino makes for a wonderful way to spend a lazy afternoon.