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Showing posts from July, 2017

Couldn't Get it Right

This is difficult. I am well aware that every job is a good deal harder and more complex than it looks, and that it is the easiest thing in the world to criticise, so I offer these thoughts as, I hope, due praise, together with suggestions and observations as to how things could perhaps be differently expressed. 
A routine hospital clinic review has left me with a 1976 earworm from my diabetes playlist which expresses perfectly my thoughts: Couldn't Get it Rightby the Climax Blues Band.
Today was my second clinic review since I returned to hospital care last year. My first review, back in November, left a lot to be desired, and I wrote about it at the time – here.
Today's visit went better in many respects. For a start, the administration was exemplary and the waiting time minimal. I received a courteous reminder phone call, at 7:30pm, three days before the appointment, with the caller apologetic for disturbing me but explaining that missed appointments are common and costly.…

Everything I own: a tribute to my father

This is the text of a tribute that I delivered on Saturday July 15th 2017 at a gathering of the Unitarian Christian Association, held at Luther King House in Manchester.
My father was a prime mover in the establishment of Luther King House as an inter-denominational federation for the training of clergy, and was Principal of Unitarian College Manchester between 1974 and 1989, during which time he oversaw its absorption into the federation at Luther King House. He was also a founder and prime mover in the establishment of the Unitarian Christian Association.
My brief was to speak of the private man, the father. Here is what I said, and being me it featured two song titles, one of which makes a perfect title to this post. As is my custom, click on those words in the text and you'll hear it.

Arthur Long: Minister, Scholar, Raconteur, Father
We are here today to celebrate the life and work of my father, the Rev Dr Arthur Long, who died at the age of 86 on December 9th 2006. He was, of …


In the past couple of days it has become clear that there are significant and serious concerns about the GBDOC, relating to questions about the financial and business affairs of the founder of the formalised community. This comes on top of unease about the crowdfunding appeal for the third PWD conference in August and unhappiness with some comments used by him on social media.
The gentleman concerned still has the opportunity to respond if he wishes to do so, and if he does, we should all look at what he says with an open mind. I am not alone in knowing little of the detail surrounding this situation, but it is clear that a large number of users of the online community have lost faith in its founder and de facto leader, and he has as yet failed to respond to concerns widely raised.
I write as a very committed participant in the community over the past four years or so, but I am well aware of others whose use of social media for peer support long predates mine, and indeed the existenc…

Standing on the Inside: my day in the Land of Libs

I have often over these past 3 years reflected on the interesting turn that my life has taken thanks to diabetes. Never more so than last Friday, when I found myself Standing on the Inside of the factory where the FreeStyle Libre is made. Yes, I was in the #LandOfLibs and Neil Sedaka's jaunty tune from 1973 came into my head.
Until around 2014, my adult life had unfolded along a line which was really rather predictable. I had enjoyed school as a pupil; my mother was a teacher; and I was good at languages. I had an inspirational and personable French teacher for a couple of years leading up to O-Level, and he seemed to me to thoroughly enjoy what he did for a living and imparted that sense of fun to others. So I never really considered doing anything other than being a teacher. I went to university to read languages then trained to be a teacher.
Moreover, given that I am not very adventurous, it was always likely that I would end up living not far from where I was born and brought…