Children - bless them!

Well, what a memorable Christmas this was! Thomas and Angela both arrived with colds, feeling rather grumpy. Helen and Lesley luckily were both in good health, until Christmas Eve when Lesley developed a high temperature and pains throughout her body, which meant I had to call out the doctor. Lesley was taken away in an ambulance, which was very frightening for us all. Mr Kennedy, one of my neighbours, kindly took me and the other children to the hospital.

After examination, it was found that Lesley was suffering from a virulent virus, and not, as had at first been feared, meningitis. She was released later in the evening, and came home very tired. By the next morning she was still feeling rather unwell, but the antibiotics worked quickly and she was able to enjoy opening her presents and our Christmas lunch. We don't have a traditional Christmas meal because none of the children are keen on turkey, or vegetables, so we had their favourite - crispy topped fish pie, followed by a nice trifle. They enjoyed their crackers, and in the afternoon we sat and admired all their presents, and played their favourite game - Scrabble. Although Angela and Thomas are only 7, they can both play a really good game.

The mild weather meant we had plenty of opportunity to visit the many lovely parks in our town, and the children could let off their never-ending supply of steam! Lesley was back on top form within four days and the twins' colds cleared up too, so by New Year's Eve all four of them were in what my grandmother used to call "rude health".

We went skating in Altrincham, and had a wonderful afternoon at Risley Moss. People think that children will miss television, but when they stay with me they never do. They really enjoy reading, playing charades and putting on little plays which they write themselves, and all the outings we go on. Warrington has a wealth of activities for young and old alike.

It wasn't only the children who slept well every night - Granny hasn't slept so deeply for years!

Unfortunately Thomas managed to pull my computer screen off the desk by getting his foot caught around the cable, and so I had to find a new one. My nephew Donny kindly found one which has a new thin screen, and takes up far less room on my little desk.

By the time the children had gone home, I needed a week to tidy up and a week to recover!

Now that I have the use of my computer once again, I would like to wish everybody a very Happy New Year.

Doris

X-Factor result

I am delighted that Leona won the title. She is not only a wonderful singer but a beautiful and modest girl who deserves her success.

And young Ray is a true gentleman, and a great showman, too.

Good luck to both of them.

And at this special time of the year, I wish peace and goodwill to all mankind. God bless everybody.

Doris

X Factor

I do enjoy watching these talented young people. Mr and Mrs Cromar are kind enough to invite me for tea on Saturdays, and as they have a television we sit and watch the programme. It's one of the big treats of my week.

Last week I was very sorry to see Robert leave the show. He is a lovely young man with a wonderful voice and a smile that reminds me of the sun coming out. I have a particularly soft spot for him as he comes from my old hometown of Ilford. I am sure he will have a successful singing career even though he hasn't won the competition.

Now I am hoping that the beautiful Leona will win, although I have another big soft spot for Ray, with his winning smile.

A very busy time!

With Christmas only a month away, I have been very busy making decorations. On a pension I have to be careful, but a friend gave me these directions, and I have to say that I am most pleased with the result - I've made 60, in lovely rich colours. When the little ones arrive for their stay, they'll enjoy hanging them on the tree. And, of course, they can't hurt themselves, as there is no glass or sharp things. And best of all, they're unbreakable!

They are simple and quick, with NO glue, fasteners, nails, pins or fuss.

Here's how to make them:

Buy some polystyrene balls from your craft shop, and some nice fabric - remnants are cheap, but plain colours are better than patterns.

You also need some coloured cord in gold and/or silver.

With a blunt knife, some half-inch deep cuts in your foam ball from the top to the bottom (like segments in an orange) 4 segments is usually good.

Cut your fabric into pieces slightly bigger than the segments. Place the fabric over the segment and with your fingernails or the back of the blunt knife, push the edges into the grooves, the foam will hold the fabric in place; smooth out any wrinkles. You should have a segment with fabric over it without any bits poking out.

Repeat the process on the other segments with other pieces of cloth.

Take the coloured cord and push into the segment cuts to hide the 'seams'

Push a paperclip or similar into the top and hang on your tree. Admire your handiwork!

I've made my Christmas cake, too, and it's sitting in the cupboard maturing nicely.

Difficulty with computer

For several days I have been unable to use my computer, because the screen kept flickering. My friend Carmela's son came and had a look, and found that it was caused by a loose cable. But it meant that I could not use the machine, and I realised that I have become rather dependant on it. I felt that I was quite cut off from the outside world. Being disabled, it is difficult for me to get out very much, and I spend quite a lot of time entertaining myself on the computer, because I do not have a TV.

I am very pleased to have my computer working again.

Very sad news

Mildred Ratcliffe, who over the years fought so hard for the rights of pensioners in Warrington, has died.

This is very sad news to those of us who admired her fighting spirit and determination.

May she rest in well-deserved peace.

Natural remedies

Last night I was walking home from a friend's house, and slipped on some wet leaves on the pavement. My ankle got twisted and was very painful, and also I felt rather dizzy, so I went straight to bed when I got home.

This morning my ankle was very swollen, and I had a strong headache. I wrapped my foot in a hot towel and put a hot water-bottle next to it, and propped it up on the pouffe. In my opinion people are far too ready these days to take medicine, but the old remedies work just as well. Janice always believed that heat was best for a strain.

I put a few drops of lavender oil on a damp face flannel and laid it on my forehead, and the headache is fading away.

Do try simple treatments before you take medicines that might be harming you.

The fine town of Ilford

Today I read an article all about Ilford, in Essex, where I lived until I was 16. Because of the shock I had with my sister Janice, I never thought about my life there until quite recently. When I read the article http://www.dooyoo.co.uk/destinations-national/ilford-in-general/332718/
it brought back a very special memory, which is when my father took me to see the cowboy Roy Rogers and his beautiful horse, Trigger. I think that is where I got my love of horses from.

Because Dad was a withdrawn man who didn't show any interest in Janice and me, I don't have many memories of him. He was a very big man with wide shoulders and lots of thick grey hair, and the day he took me to see Roy Rogers and Trigger is the only memory I really have of him as a father. He was very excited and I had to run to keep up with his long footsteps, and when we got to the Pioneer market he pushed his way through the crowd and lifted me onto his shoulders as if I was a baby - even though I must have been about 12 years old! Although it was interesting to see Roy Rogers, what mattered most to me was that my Dad was talking to me and spending time with me.

One day, when the new building that is being built there by Mr O'Donnell and Mr Chittell, called Pioneer Point, is finished, I plan to visit Ilford to look at it, and it will be a very emotional visit because I will be seeing the place where Janice died, and where I spent some magical time with my father.

Entertaining the little ones at Christmas

Thank you to the person who suggested that my blog design wasn't very nice. I looked at it and realised what you meant, and I hope that the new colour scheme is better.

My four grandchildren are coming to stay over the festive weekend, and now that they are all of an age when they need entertaining, I will be grateful if you can suggest any ways of amusing them. I don't have a TV, and they like doing things. What I would like to do is show them the ways we used to play when I was very young.

So far I have thought about making finger-puppets; French knitting; doing jigsaws; playing charades; carving vegetables and making miniature gardens. What other ideas could I have?

A Monument for Janice

I am very grateful to my nephew Donny for his patience and expertise in putting this onto the Internet for me.

Janice, my lovely schizophrenic sister



A few months ago on The Ilford message board I learned about a new development which is to be built on the site of the old market in Ilford, almost on the very spot where my sister Janice died. I like to think of it as a monument to her.

I like to think of this beautiful building as "Janice Towers"

It is to be called Pioneer Point. It will be a very big building – 33 storeys high, with hundreds of cheap flats for poor people, and an arts and crafts centre so that poor people and immigrants can start little businesses.

A lot of people don't seem to think that this building will be good for Ilford. They say the people behind it are only trying to make money. Well, I can't blame them for that, because that's why people are in business. My late husband was a builder.

Because the new building is going to be a memorial to Janice, I found out about the people behind it, and was amazed to discover that they are involved with schizophrenia, the illness that caused my sister's death.

The company building the Pioneer Point belongs to two men called Tom O'Donnell and Hayden Chittell. They are very rich businessmen with jobs all over the world – in China and the West Indies, and Spain and many other places. They live in beautiful houses and travel in lovely chauffeur-driven cars, but what many people may not know is that they also do so much to help people who are not so lucky as them.

Mr. Tom O'Donnell - Chairman, Empire Property Group Intl.

Mr Hayden Chittell - CEO Empire Property Group Intl.

They have a schizophrenic charity, which is called Empire Schizophrenia Trust. In only two years they have already put on events like horse racing, musical aeroplane flying and special classical music recitals to raise money for the charity and help people like Janice. I thank these two gentlemen from the bottom of my heart for their generosity with their free time, because they must be incredibly busy with their building and still they are finding time to help people who need it. I hope they will receive the rewards that they truly deserve.

Horse racing luncheon for investors

Somewhere for Janice

What I decided to do was to telephone Mr O'Donnell and ask whether he would allow me to have a small shrine, with a Madonna, inside the building, with a little plate bearing Janice's name, and to have the pot containing her ashes placed in the shrine. I spoke to a receptionist who said he was abroad at the moment, but she thought it was a very good idea and they would discuss it when they had a Board Meeting, so I am very excited about this. I will contact Mr O'Donnell in a little while to discuss it with him.

Beautiful horse photo

I have always loved horses, although I have never owned one. From the Internet I found this beautiful photo that I would like to share

Growing up with Janice

My sister Janice was twelve years older than me, and my earliest memories are of her. Mum was often unwell, and it was Janice who looked after me most of the time. She took me to school on my first day, and was waiting at the gates when the bell rang. Janice always made me laugh: she was full of fun. Janice always made me feel safe: she cuddled me, and reassured me. She was more of a mother to me than Mum, a quiet wraith who was bedridden by the time I was eight, and died before I was ten. Dad went to work, came home, ate his tea, which Janice prepared, went to the pub, came home late, and went to bed. He didn't do much for us, but he did earn a good wage and make sure that we were well-fed, clothed and with a roof over our heads.

After Mum died, it was just Janice and me. Dad was never around. Janice made sure that I enjoyed life just as much as my friends. She was working as a clerk in the local council offices, and had a boyfriend, Jimmy. Jimmy used to come round to our house most evenings to eat tea with us, and then we'd sit and listen to the radio, or play cards. Janice used to say that when I was a big girl, with a job of my own, she and Jimmy would be married.

Really, despite Mum and Dad not being around mine was a happy life until I was 14. That was thanks to Janice. Then, things began to go wrong. Janice started to act strangely – sometimes she laughed for no reason – a shrill, high-pitched laugh not at all like her usual throaty chuckle. Sometimes, at night, I heard her talking in her room, though there was nobody there. Rapidly Janice changed from a loving, caring, happy person into somebody who was unpredictable, frequently angry, and sometimes even violent. Jimmy stopped coming round. I never knew what to expect each time I saw my sister. Sometimes she was her old self, and other times she had dark moods, muttering to herself, accusing me of things I hadn’t done, asking why I was staring at her.

Often she didn't go to work, but moved frenetically around the house, re-arranging the furniture, repeatedly washing the crockery, putting it away, taking it out, washing it again.

Soon I became afraid of Janice. My loving sister had disappeared, been swallowed up by a monster. Once she tried to smash a shop window with her fist and the owner came out and yelled: "Get off, you bloody loony." People began pointing at her in the street, laughing at her. At school, other kids asked me what it was like having a crazy sister.

One day when I came home from school Aunt Gwen was waiting at home in our front room. Very unusually, Dad was there too. His face was grey; Aunt Gwen was crying. There was a policeman in the front room.

Aunt Gwen put her arm round my shoulder and told me that I was going to stay with her for a while. She took me upstairs and packed my things into a couple of suitcases. I was too afraid and shocked to ask what was happening, and nobody told me at the time.

Dad just nodded towards me when I said "Goodbye" to him, and Aunt Gwen and I travelled by bus to her house in Colchester.

There, I was told that Janice was ill, and had been taken to hospital.

I never saw Janice again. Two months later I was told that she had died in hospital. Subsequently I learned that she had died under the wheels of a bus just outside the market in Ilford.

For decades I have pushed into the back of my mind those memories which were so painful. Janice was seldom mentioned, except in hushed voices. The sister I had adored had become a skeleton in the family cupboard, somebody to be ashamed of, and I betrayed her memory. Instead of keeping it alive, instead of remembering the lovely sketches she drew for me, her beautiful poems, her gentle and merry nature before illness overtook her, it was the wild, uncontrollable and frightening figure that remained in my mind.

Now, more than fifty years on, schizophrenia is better understood. I learned that it most often affects young people, and can be triggered by stress. How much stress must Janice have had to cope with, losing her mother and struggling to raise a sometimes-rebellious teenager, while holding down a job and running a household, instead of marrying her Jimmy and having her own life? If it hadn't been for her devotion to me, she might be alive and happy now.

If only I could have told Janice how much I loved her. It's too late now, but not too late for me to make this tribute and apologise to her, my poor, tragic, misunderstood sister, undeserving victim of a cruel illness.

I want to say here what I should have said all those years ago:

Janice, I love you.

Schizophrenia

To understand what it is like to suffer from the dark world of pain and despair that is schizophrenia, I recommend looking at the following blog:. http://but-still-trying.blogspot.com/

This poor man writes haunting poetry and very interesting articles about how he feels.