Boyhood

During the summer my husband and I went to the cinema to see the film ‘Boyhood’, directed by Richard Linklater. If you read my blog regularly you may remember that I am a fan of Linklater’s films, especially the ‘Before...’ trilogy.

‘Boyhood’ explores the notion of growing up, and filming took place over a period of twelve years with the same actors. The themes covered include how people change over time, how relationships develop, how people move on during the course of their lives, and interaction between the generations. So, as with the ‘Before...’ trilogy, Linklater’s interest remains with the passage of time, although this time he deals out a sustained study, rather than snapshots at nine-year intervals.

I really enjoyed this film. It is a considerable achievement to maintain momentum and focus over such a long, yet fragmented, period of filming, and this certainly strikes you when watching. It is also interesting to see how the actors themselves change over time—how they age or grow up, depending on their starting points. And there were a couple of points made in the film which certainly resonated with me. One, when the mother of Mason (the boy of the film's title) breaks down in tears as her son is getting ready to leave home for university, saying that she’s now passed all of life’s major milestones, bar one—her own funeral. And the second, where Mason comments that, although his mother has had so much experience and has worked really hard to get the job she yearns for, she still doesn't know what she really wants out of life and deep down is just as confused as he is.

So, eighteen or forty—it makes no difference to how you feel. Linklater is spot on, as usual!

The complexity of mental illness

There has been a strong political focus recently on mental health, with pledges to reduce waiting times for those in need of interventions and to put mental illness on a par with physical illness. There is also a movement to change people’s perception of mental illness, thus reducing stigma and enabling people to talk about and understand mental illness in the same way that they do physical illness. These moves have sprung from people having to wait many weeks before receiving treatment for mental disorders, with this, on occasion, resulting in suicide as patients despair of ever receiving help.

All of this is very laudable. It will be wonderful if we can reduce the stigma and get people talking about, rather that shying away from, mental health issues. However, I have experience of mental illness from a rather different angle, an angle that people may be less familiar with. One of my close relatives has suffered from schizophrenia—one of the most serious mental illnesses— for the whole of their adult life. The symptoms of schizophrenia include delusions (of persecution, for example), auditory hallucinations (hearing voices), and disordered thought patterns. The delusions, in severe cases, become overwhelming and replace the sufferer’s ‘normal’, rational view of the world. It is not uncommon that people who suffer from schizophrenia also suffer from a complete lack of insight into their condition—their delusions appear so real to them that they are incapable of recognising that they are ill, a condition known as anosognosia. My relative falls into this camp.

For someone who recognises that they are ill and actively seeks help, there is a good chance of curing that person (or at least of controlling the symptoms of their illness). But for someone who cannot recognise that they are ill, the outlook is much less bright. From my experience, try as you might, it is impossible to persuade someone with anosognosia that they need help. And suggesting to them that they are ill (or even failing to express agreement with their delusional beliefs) makes them extremely angry and, sometimes, violent. The situation becomes intractable.

What, then, happens in situations like these? Well, the simple answer is that nothing can be done, until the person exhibits behaviour that makes them a danger to themselves or others, at which point they can be detained under the Mental Health Act and forcibly treated. In these cases, pressure on the nearest relative becomes intense. (The ‘nearest relative’ is a legal term, defined in the Act, and it is not possible to stand down from the position of nearest relative.) The nearest relative is ‘consulted’ at every stage of the detention because, legally, someone cannot be detained under the Act without the consent of their nearest relative. But this process makes a mockery of the concept of ‘consent’ since, although the nearest relative has the right to object to the detention and, for example, discharge their relative from hospital, the responsible clinician can simply intervene if s/he believes this to be necessary (typically, if they consider the detainee to be a danger to themselves or others, which they have to be anyway in order to have been detained in the first place!).

As the nearest relative I found myself in an impossible situation. My relative was clearly desperately ill and in need of help, but refused to accept this. My relationship with my relative was pretty much non-existent, as a result of the years that I had spent struggling to cope with their schizophrenia. My relative demanded that I object to their detention under the Mental Health Act, which clearly I wasn’t prepared to do. The authorities persisted in demanding information from me about my relative’s condition and symptoms, information which I couldn’t provide because of my lack of a relationship with my relative. And, in all of this, no support whatsoever was provided to me, as the nearest relative.

So, my point is this: while it is entirely proper that we should provide help to people with mental health issues when they seek it, mental illness is so much more complex than this. There are a whole host of people who are ill but who do/will not seek help. What should we be doing for these people? And, perhaps even more importantly, what should we be doing for those individuals who are caught in the crossfire—usually relatives—for whom there is currently zero support or provision?

Fifty years celebrated at Martinstown House

My husband's parents had their fiftieth wedding anniversary in May, which is of course a huge landmark. My husband and I have been married for seventeen years now, which is quite a long time in the grand scheme of things, but seems to fade into insignificance when compared with fifty years!

My husband is one of three brothers, all of whom are married with children. It is rare that we all meet en masse, since one brother lives in England, one in Scotland and one in Ireland. However, we organised an entire family celebration to mark the fifty years. This took place in August (the first date that everyone was free) in Ireland (where the brother with the youngest child resides).

We stayed in a fabulous place called Martinstown House. This is a large country house located near the Curragh, an hour or so outside Dublin, and it really is stunning. It has a handful of rooms and is run, not like a hotel, but as a country residence at which you are an invited guest. The owner is your host, welcoming and treating you as a guest in his home.

The owner's wife and son are absolutely first class chefs and we were treated to fantastic breakfasts and dinners which were beautifully prepared using fresh, local ingredients.

The surroundings are lovely -- evening drinks by an open fire in the drawing room, period bedrooms boasting up-to-the-minute bathrooms, and lovely grounds in which to wander and explore.

We had a lovely weekend at Martinstown House -- a really fitting celebration of fifty years of marriage!

An unusual birthday treat

My eldest child chose an unusual outing for her birthday treat. She opted to visit Crocodiles of the World at Brize Norton, which is the UK's only crocodile zoo. She got the idea from my aunt, who had visited recently and been really impressed, both by the place and by the extremely knowledgeable staff.

We turned up without much of an idea what to expect, but we too ended up being impressed. The collection comprises not only crocodiles, alligators and caimans, but also monitor lizards, tortoises and turtles. My kids particularly enjoyed the 'meet a python' session, during which you could touch or even hold a python, if you so wished. And the staff were indeed able to answer all our questions and were clearly very enthusiastic about their line of work.

I would definitely recommend Crocodiles of the World as an interesting, educational and unusual day out.

We finished off the day with a meal out at Abingdon's newest Indian restaurant, Majliss, which already has a branch established in Oxford, The food and service were both very good. Again, recommended!

Getting under the bonnet

I experienced an interesting incident the other day.

I had cleaned my new car and then, still on a roll, decided that it would also be a good idea to fill up the wash wipe and check the oil. I duly opened the bonnet and checked the manual in order to locate the wash wipe reservoir. This was the first time I’d opened the bonnet of my new car, and I really didn’t want to ruin things by putting water and screen wash in the wrong place, so I was taking the time to get it right.

While I was studying the manual, the dustmen appeared to empty the bins in our road. I don’t know if it’s just my perception, but I always get the impression that these guys like to be noticed. My impression was confirmed when one of them called out to me, ‘Do you need a hand?’ I smiled and politely declined. He followed up with: ‘Are you sure? My friend here’s a mechanic.’

‘I think I can manage the wash wipe,’ I replied, laughing.

All in good humour, of course, but do I really look that much in need of help? The car was parked in my parking space, in front of my house, so I clearly wasn't stranded. And it wasn't as if steam was billowing from the engine or something. If I had been male and in the same situation—studying the manual with the bonnet open—would the dustmen have offered their help? I doubt it somehow.

While I’d be the first to admit that I'm no mechanic, I do feel vaguely uncomfortable that just because of my gender it is assumed straight off that I can’t be competent in the car maintenance department...

The Maharajah's Well and the church at Checkendon

We enjoyed the late summer sunshine a couple of weekends ago by taking a walk to the Maharajah's Well in the Oxfordshire village of Stoke Row. The well has an interesting history.

Edward Reade, Stoke Row's local squire, worked with the Maharajah of Benares in India for many years during the mid-nineteenth century. During his time there, Reade sunk a well to help the local community in Azimurgh and, when he left the area in 1860, he asked the Maharajah to ensure that the well remained available to the public.

A couple of years later, the Maharajah decided to make an endowment in England, in recognition of his many years of collaboration and friendship with Reade. Remembering his friend's generosity in Azimurgh, and also his stories of water deprivation in his home area, the Maharajah decided to build a well in Stoke Row. The well is lovely--very ornate with a colonial look and feel to it.

We ate our picnic lunch on the grassy area surrounding the well and, while we sat there, a couple of other groups came to view the well, so it's clearly something of a local attraction.

On the walk back to the car, we stopped off to visit the Church of St Peter and St Paul at Checkendon. Built in the 12th century, this grade 1 listed building boasts some beautiful 14th century wall paintings. These were plastered over around 1500 and only discovered recently during restoration work.

We had a great day out -- this area of Oxfordshire is definitely worth a visit!

St. Margaret's Church, Binsey

Last weekend, we visited an important Oxford site. Surprisingly, despite having lived in and around Oxford for the past seventeen years, we had only just become aware of its existence. What drew our attention to it was the mention in the Author's Note of Alison Mercer's novel 'After I Left You'.

The site in question was St Margaret's Church in Binsey. Binsey is a tiny village, just to the west of Oxford. You can reach it by walking along Binsey Lane, which links Botley (Oxford's western suburb) to the village. Binsey itself boasts the church, a pub and a handful of houses. Although the church is little visited and very peaceful (you reach it via a lane leading away from the main village), it is flanked, just a few fields away, by the A34, and you can hear the muffled roar of traffic as you approach.

The church is beautiful -- rebuilt on the site of a Saxon church in the 13th century, with additions in the 14th and 15th centuries. Although tiny, it still hosts services, weekly during the summer, and monthly at other times of the year.

Legend has it that St. Frideswide, the patron saint of Oxford, built an oratory at the site in Saxon times. In the churchyard stands St. Margaret's Well. The story goes that a spring appeared here in answer to St. Frideswide's prayers, and the well subsequently became a focus for pilgrimage in medieval times.

After having soaked up the tranquil atmosphere of the church, we retraced our steps to Binsey's pub, The Perch (which is far more touristed than the church!), and enjoyed a drink sitting in the sunshine in the garden there.

On the walk home along Binsey Lane we picked lots of blackberries, which we used to make a blackberry and apple crumble -- lovely!