Memories of Remembrance Day

When I was a little girl, I first became aware of Remembrance Sunday during eleven o'clock Mass.

The menfolk would leave mass early on hearing the Remembrance Day parade pass the church. I used to sit with my storybook on the church pew (I always had to be bribed to go to church)and feel very left out. I could not understand why I could join my Dad and go wherever they were all heading.

I think I was around 11 years of age when my parents said I could go with my Dad on the Remembrance Day Parade. Better still, my Mum allowed me to wear my maternal grandfather's medals from the First World War. I wore them with such pride that day. I felt like I had arrived.

We walked to Crow Nest Park where the cenotaph was located. I imagine some prayers were said but all I remember very well is standing next to my Dad with my chest puffed out so proud of my late grandfather. I knew he had served in the Connaught Rangers and had his leg injured at Gallipoli. I felt so grown up that day.

In later years, there was the sad sight as the Cenotaph got vandalised. Life got harsher with things long held dear being disrespected. It was incredibly hurtful to the older members of the community and even as a teenager, I could sense long-held traditions shifting.

Although the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are terrible, they do seem to have generated a new interest in respecting our service and ex-service community. It is important too to acknowledge the sacrifices of wives, children and the wider family units too. The service people choose their careers, the families live with the consequences.

For those who don't know, people who leave the services often struggle to integrate into society. Some end up in debt, some on the streets and some in prison. Many struggle to find work especially in these recession-hit times.

Where does your Poppy money go? It might put a service family back on their feet reducing stress levels and saving relationships. It might put a roof over an ex-service person's head. It might buy essential equipment for ill and disabled ex-service people perhaps asking for help in their eighties for the first time in their lives.

Wear your poppy to remember those who gave their lives in an attempt to make the world a better place.

Be generous when you buy your poppy (and make sure you do) knowing that without your help, welfare support from the Royal British Legion is under threat. With an ageing population and new casualties of recent wars, your help is needed more than ever.

Competition Time - your chance to win a Phoneshield

COMPETITION TIME

Are you concerned about the potential health risks from electro magnetic radiation to your family of regular use of mobile phones and Wi-fi devices? Perhaps you should consider this as scientific and medical research points to a number of side-effects through such usage.

It is thought that children are particularly at risk of side-effects due to their immune systems not yet being fully developped and also that they will be exposed to the threats over a lifetime.

The Phoneshield device can give you that all-important peace of mind. They are small and easily attached to your mobile, IPOD or blackberry device.

Giggling at it All has a Phoneshield to give away to one lucky reader.

To enter, please carry out the following actions

1. Follow this blog http://gigglingatitall.blogspot.com

2. Follow the new blog at http://kateonthinice.wordpress.com

3. Leave a comment on this post with 3 words you associate with shopping

All entrants names will be placed in a hat and the the winner will be drawn at random on 19th November 2010. All entries must be in my 23.59 on 18th November 2010.

Please take note that only those who carry out all 3 actions above will be entered into the competition

If there are any problems accessing the new blog, just give me a shout and I will sort it out and your entry will stand

With thanks to the lovely people at http://phoneshield.co.uk

National Adoption Week - a tribute to my adoptive Mum

I don't call her my adoptive Mum. I call her my Mum. She is my real Mum and that did not change when she died last September.

My mum was amazing although I don't think she ever knew it. She took me on when her sons were grown up and she could have had a well-earned rest. She used to say she cherished me and that is a really good word for how I was treated by her and my Dad.

She had to take it when people said daft things about her adopting me, both relatives and so-called friends. She had to stand at the school-gates with the children of her friends, now grown up and parents themselves.

What sort of Mum was she?

Certainly loving, warm and funny. A story-teller, a historian, a forever learner. A big woman in every way, perhaps particularly in the heart department.

She nurtured both emotionally and with her wonderful cookery and baking.

I had everything I wanted and only worked out in adulthood that probably cost my parents dear financially.

Sometimes I frustrated her because I was not a girly-girl and she would have loved to have persuaded me of the benefits of make-up, bras, handbags and shoes.

I chose the wrong fellas in her book too but then she admitted nobody would have being good enough for me.

She was so proud when I got into Cambridge University. It was outside her experience and it scared her a bit. All credit to her for letting me go and for putting in the building blocks that made that possible in the first place.

She did not understand why I turned my back on a legal career and went off to work in charities. Yet by doing so I was proving myself very much her daughter.

Mum was not a perfect Mum. She made mistakes. She was a hard taskmaster but that drove me to some pretty impressive achievements and some amazing experiences. If anything, she may have been guilty of loving me too much so that she found it very hard to let me grow up and make all my incredibly silly mistakes.

Mum and I would clash painfully at times. Two strong personalites both thinking we knew best. It sounds a strange thing to say but I am glad we knew she was dying because it gave us time to revisit the past together and to unpick it.

I always wanted to impress my Mum. I think I actually did and absolutely hit the jackpot on that one in the way I brought up my children. She told me they were the happiest children she has ever come across. They are her legacy.

When she was dying, she made Dad write important dates in his diary so he would remember them when she was not there to remind him. Today, I am looking at a card on my mantlepiece from my lovely Dad wishing me a Happy Adoption Day. My mum knew what she was doing and is still pulling strings from beyond the grave.

So Happy Adoption Day Dad and I guess Mum you will be indulging in some Bell'S Whisky up in heaven.

To all adoptive parents out there, you make a huge difference.

And for anyone considering adoption, please enquire rather than ruling yourself out without sending that email or making that telephone call.

National Adoption Week - a birth mum's tale

I know she doesn't understand. She will blame me I am sure. I can't see her. I can't face the upset it will cause to my family. What will she expect of me anyway? I can't be her mum now. It is too late for that. What good would it do?

I had her in the Sixties. It is true that they were swinging and I had a great time in the dance halls of London. Away from Ireland, away from my parents, being young and free.

I thought I was in love. An Irish lad of course. A plumber by trade and a great dancer to boot. We talked of marriage. I was probably young and daft. I fell for his charm and was easily led. I don't like to talk about it but he hit me. In the end, I decided he was not a good bet.

The problem was by then I was pregnant with his child. I had to hide it from Mammy and Daddy. This was difficult as I usually went home at Christmas every year. As I was due in mid-December, I had to say I was working over Christmas. I don't know whether they believed me. They never knew about their grandchild.

He came to see his new daughter and said she was beautiful. A big baby with curls and soft skin. We argued though and he went away. I don't know where he ended up.
My daughter went to a Yorkshire family. I told them to make sure she had a big garden to play in and to keep her in the Catholic faith.

I had to take my baby up to Yorkshire and hand her over to the nuns. I left her with a blanket and a doll I had bought her. I wonder if she still has it. (SHE DOES BY THE WAY)

Launch of new blog - Kate on Thin Ice

I would love you to join me on my new blog which is called Kate on Thin Ice.

You can expect more of the same but better especially in terms of look and being able to find your way to the things that interest you. Work in progress though so be patient and let me have your feedback

I will need followers or I will run away and hide under my duvet!

http://kateonthinice.wordpress.com

National Adoption Week - view from a 13 year old

I don't cry very often.

For various reasons, I have learned not to show my feelings and to bottle things up. I like to appear hard. Don't let them in and they can't hurt you. I am not going to trust people with my feelings and be abused again.

They took my little brother and sister away. I know they had to go and they are better off in their adopted family. But I love them and I don't get why I can't see them when I would never harm them in any way. I need them and I bet they need me too.

I cried today when my social worker brought me some news about them. Could not stop, curled up in a foetal position, sobbing.

I miss them so much

National Adoption Week - a message from my adoptive Dad

This came in the post just now and in view of recent blog posts felt I had to share it.

This is just to tell you
That you really have done brill
Your wonderful achievement should give you a total thrill

If anyone doubted you
You've put them in your place
And you've earned the beaming smile
That's spread across your face

So just go out and celebrate
And have a drink of two
It's the least that you deserve
So off you go and have a few

In fact, you've done so well
You shouldn't even go to bed
So don't just have a couple
Get completely off your head!

Happy Memories of Bonfire Night 1968 and all the years since

Love Dad xxxxx

Do you think I am crying? You would be right!