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Letters to a Sister 10

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On Friday, we had quite an adventurous day!
At 6am, we met Alecs in the hotel lobby. We had booked a tour via the hotel to Ilha Grande ( ‘Big Island’.) We were told we would drive from the hotel to a village, get a boat to the island, then hike for three hours through lush forest to beautiful beaches.
This was all true. However, they omitted to tell us a few things:
1) Friday is the WORST day for traffic in Rio. It took us two hours to leave the city and about three hours to get back in the evening.
Alecs did a coffee and washroom stop ( nice clean facilities!) so it was okay, but it wasted a lot of the day.

As we drove we saw police had stopped vehicles in various places. They carried machine guns. There’s a VERY strong police presence in Rio. On the boat another passenger had a hand gun. Turned out he too was a policeman.
Also saw more amazing wall art/ graffiti.
2) When we met Alecs, he advised us to go back to room and change into sturdy shoes, long sleeves etc, needed proper hiking stuff.

3) The hike was long and steep. We basically walked/ scrabbled/ climbed for over an hour UP a mountain track. When we remembered to look up, it was beautiful but it was hard going, narrow paths, slippery clay covering rocks, very steep. Needed to concentrate on not falling.
We then walked/ slid for an hour down the other side.

Finally reached the beach to find the track ended on a ten foot high rock, with a rope. No other way down. Had to abseil down to the beach. Lots of screaming from Barbie, which was helpful as allowed me time to gather my thoughts and watch how to do it.

4) Beach beautiful and had cafe with loo. Only permitted a quick rest, then trekked for another hour and a half to next beach. No abseiling this time ( its surprising what you come to appreciate!)

It was not such a steep walk, though did begin with climbing a 45 degree slope of granite. Not so easy with tired legs and sand slippery shoes.
Made it with no major injuries, though I did slip at one point and jar my wrist. Luckily didn’t slip into one of the trees coated with four inch long spikes ( which they used to use in blow guns as weapons.)

Arrived at second beach. Saw black vultures ( prob waiting for exhausted hikers.)

The third, most beautiful beach, was a further hike, then a return to second beach for boat out. We opted to stay at second beach. Barbie and Ken went to third beach, said was big, beautiful, and they saw monkeys. I can live without seeing it.

5) Getting on boat back to island village involved two floating piers connected by a narrow walkway at 50 degree angle. Bit of a challenge.

6) Boat to island village small, on big waves in open sea. Not wearing life jacket, aware would sink like a stone in heavy boots.

7) Speedboat to mainland fast but cold ( needed a coat.) I was not overly reassured by ‘lookout’ man who was checking for floating debris because if we hit any we would flip over.

Also somewhat bemused by other passenger, a disheveled elderly man who closely examined our bags and then very slowly extracted a bic razor from his back pack. I was too exhausted to do more than giggle ( slightly hysterical by this point.) – Old man then slowly shaved his face as we went. Unexpected.

On way back to Rio, car ran over an abandoned cone ( heavy traffic, safer than swerving to avoid it.) Was removed from under car by man with shovel at petrol station.

Satnav kept recommending we leave the traffic jam and take a side road. Alecs said the route would take us through two favelas and might not be safe. I’m glad he didn’t, felt I had had enough adventure for one day.

Take care,
Anne xxx

Letter to a Sister: Brazil

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Tuesday 23rd

Spent day in car, driving from Afogados to Recife. Six hours. Tried hard to not need washroom at the service stops, when finally relented it was the cleanest public washroom ever! Decided I need to start a ” World Wide Washroom” website, get people to grade toilets around the world. Will give it some thought.
Went to restaurant for lunch. Was a buffet. Unlike yesterday, this time I knew that I had to weigh the food BEFORE I started eating it, as it’s paid for by weight. ( Don’t ask about yesterday….)
Dropped some of the team at the airport. Rather sad the team is breaking up, it has been an intense few days but we all seemed to get along, no obvious tensions and lots of laughs.
Checked in at Cult hotel. Same room, duct tape still safely in place.
Walked along beach front. Despite the warnings everywhere, even behind every room door in the hotel, we did not see any sharks. There was even a man swimming and I waited for a few minutes, camera poised, but nothing, not even a fin.
Went to a market. Was either setting up or closing down. Bit naff. Didn’t buy a cushion cover. Ken didn’t buy a hammock. Walked back along front. It was getting dark but Luiz said in a lit area, a group would be fine. Started to rain, then poured. Very warm, so rather nice. Until we remembered were travelling the next day and had no way to dry clothing.
Ate pizza, then said goodbye to Luiz. Was sad saying goodbye, hope to see him again some day. He’s eighteen, has learnt English to a level whereby he can earn money translating. He lives in the favela with his family. When he left us, if the rain continued for more than a day, he would need to help move all their belongings onto tables to escape the flooding. His bit of the world is very different to ours, yet when he was joking with David, showing us round, discussing music, you realised that he was the same, was no different to our boys.
People like him are working hard to improve their lives, to live in communities that have a decent infra structure and less crime. The church is helping with the community – he told me that now, during daylight, there was no fear where he lives, they don’t have much stuff but they work together, growing up he has been surrounded by friends. Tearfund is helping with the infra structure, lobbying the government to improve flood control and provide amenities.

Wednesday 24th

Early flight to Rio. When we landed in Recife a few days ago, my bag was squashed and the zip damaged ( with tyre marks on it.) When we left, with the same airline, they made us sign a disclaimer, saying that said bag ( now secured with duct tape) would not be their responsibility if duct tape should fail. So wished my Portuguese was good enough to have explained that THEY caused the damage in the first place! Shall compose a letter when I am home. Cannot really recommend TAM airlines, not for customer service anyhow.
Bag arrived in one piece ( did not have to pick single items of clothing from conveyor belt. Taxi to Caesar Park Hotel. A few days holiday now.
Am really tired. I came up to room ahead of David. Pressed floor number in lift but we sailed past it to 23rd floor. Know that some lifts you need to wave room card above number, so did that but it still didn’t light my floor. Had visions of spending all day going up and down lift shaft. Thankfully another guest spotted what I was doing and showed me the slot where you have to put card before it will accept floor number. Will have a nap now I think.
Take care,
Anne xx

If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

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The UK link is here:

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Letter to a Sister: Brazil

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Monday 22nd June
Yesterday was a day off, which was good. Had hotel breakfast: melon, cake and something like a set egg custard. Not unpleasant.
Saw a capuchin monkey in a tree in hotel garden. Very cute. Then had lazy day. Drove around town, did very little. Didn’t go to a church as they were all a distance away and started at 7pm and Tearfund has a policy that you shouldn’t drive at night in developing countries for safety reasons. It gets dark really fast here. Dawn is 5am, dusk is about 5pm and it’s pitch black by 5:30. Same all year round. No seasons, except that June and July have more rain.
Today we drove to see three rural projects. The charity tends to work with women and teenagers. This is partly because there is a lot of domestic abuse and it helps to empower the women and girls if they have a trade, are not at home all day completely dependent. It helps them have a sense of self worth, have rights ( at the very least the right to not be abused.)
They have also found that when a woman earns money, she tends to use it to improve the whole family. If men earn money, they tend to get distracted and spend it on alcohol, gambling, etc.
The first project was a small farm. Originally it had provided food for just the family, sustenance farming. This left no safety net if crops failed, more money needed for improvements, etc. The charity provided knowledge and tools. The women now produce enough to provide for their families and also sell some. We saw a warehouse where they were preparing the food – fruits, bread, honey – for sale. Some goes to market, some is sold to the government for schools and hospitals and the proceeds then ploughed back into more charity work in the community.
We went to see Rosa ( so wish I could show you a photo of her house but cannot figure out this machine!) We sat on brightly coloured furniture in her little sitting room. The walls were bright red, strewn with pictures of Jesus and photos of her grandchildren. There was a large tele with a statue of Father Christmas on top ( wondered if her grandsons have the same sense of humour as my boys and they were ‘gifts’ or if she had chosen it.) The internal doorways had no doors, just curtains. There was no ceiling and you could see up to the roof tiles ( which had big gaps in them.) It wasn’t a bad house – as long as it didn’t rain. Not quite sure what happened to the tele when it did.
We went off round her garden. Saw lots of the normal crops ( onions, marrows) and also bananas, cashew nuts, medicinal herbs. Her kitchen had huge freezer where the produce could be crushed, bagged and frozen ( the charity had given her the crushing and bagging machines and helped sort out the irrigation system. It was a really dry area.)
Drove to next project. Saw big expanses of arid land with a few shrubs and tall spindly palm trees. Also saw lots of donkeys pulling carts of stuff and even two oxen pulling a cart of logs. Would be SUCH a cool photo. I have lots of blurry ones. Mainly of trees. Lots of animals as we drove: goats, hens, cats and dogs everywhere we go.
Went to San Jose do Egypt, which translates as ” Saint Joseph from Egypt”. They had never heard of the Technicolour Dream-coat musical and were somewhat bemused when Barbie started singing it to them (so were we.) Went to cafe for lunch. Everywhere much cleaner than I was expecting it to be. We were advised to not eat the salads, which was a shame as they looked fabulous.
Went to a bakery. Charity had again provided equipment and education. It was MILES. From anywhere. Was so glad they had a toilet ( very bumpy track to get there.)
We got out the van and the heat from the sun was boiling, so hurried into the bakery. Then we nearly melted. Was like entering a furnace. They keep the door shut so the flies stay out but opened them when we arrived ( so it immediately filled up with flies. Glad they don’t make currant bread.) Two girls and a teenaged boy worked there. They showed us how all the machines work, made some bread and cooked some rolls in the wood fuelled oven. We then ate warm loaves and coffee. The best coffee ever, even in a disposable plastic cup that burnt your fingers. Hot, black and sweet.
Luiz translated for us. We asked him to ask them what they had for lunch. Not bread. Bread is for dinner, pasta is for lunch ( was not the silly question we had all assumed.)
Drove to a bee farm. Luiz now censoring our questions. When David asked him to ask the Bruce Springsteen look alike farmer what instrument he played, he checked with me first if that was a serious question ( it wasn’t.)
Looked around the farm. Tearfund had provided funding for wells to be dug so production could increase ( it’s a semi arid area, lots of cacti) Saw the bees. Saw turkeys ( which really do ‘gobble’!)
Then had one of those horribly awkward moments when the granny on the farm called us all into her house and sat us down for drinks and snacks. She had prepared vats of juice for us, all prepared with local water which would have made us ill. Luiz had disappeared, she had gone to a lot of effort, we didn’t want to offend her nor be ill all night. I used my best Portuguese and apologised that we couldn’t drink it because….. had to mime last bit, my Duolingo app never taught me how to say that! Thankfully Luiz came back and explained a bit better. Felt bad. Difficult situation. Escaped to car.
We drove for miles on unmade tracks. Passed lots of small farms. They have no address, no street names. Also the area is about to be flooded as they are building a huge dam. All the farmers will have to be rehoused. (Our bee farmer and fruit juice granny will be okay, are out of range.)
Drove back to Ant Hotel.

Take care

Anne xx

Letter to a Sister : Brazil

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20th June

Showered, breakfast then left Cult Hotel in Recife. Was glad to survive shower, which has electrical wires coming out the top, was hard to relax when using it. Also left the room with some added duct tape, which David had used to seal the massive gap around the aircon unit. It worked – we got no mosquitoes ( which was important as they carry dengue fever here) but I’m not sure the bright red tape blended very well with the dingy brown decor.
Apparently all the electricity is slightly weird in Brazil. Was certainly a challenge to bring the correct power adaptors, as the plugs seem to change from region to region. ( If you plan to visit, bring a range!)
We also left the rather sexual art displays at the hotel. On the first evening the team leader led us in a time of prayer. It is the first time I have ever prayed next to a large statue of an erect phallus, while sitting below a painting of a naked woman ( who definitely had not had ‘a Brazilian’!) Tearfund trips are always unexpected.
Drove for a couple of hours to Coqueral. Interesting drive, passed lots of small communities, people driving horse and carts, big lorries. Rained hard a few times.
Coqueral is a small farming town (1,500 people.) The area did not really support that many farmers, the town was off a track beyond a track, most people were unemployed and on benefits. The pastor told us they were ” less poor in money” than the people we saw yesterday but ” more poor in the mind”. I don’t think he meant they all had ‘special educational needs’, more that a sense of hopelessness pervaded the town.

They had a lot of knife crime and alcohol addiction. We didn’t see any teenaged drug addicts though, which is good as I found it very difficult to just walk past them yesterday and leave them in their mess ( and I just know my family would be cross if I arrive home with a selection of drug addicted boys – never mind that I wouldn’t have the first idea how to help them.)
It is StJohn’s festival time ( seemed like our harvest festival but is cultural, not religious.) The children at the mission hall had decorated the hall with plaited banana leaves and dressed in costumes and make up. They danced for us, a bit like a barn dance. I certainly didn’t feel the display was too short. We then joined in, which they thought was hilarious, especially as most of us were wearing the ‘aid worker’ sensible outfit of long sleeved shirts, long trousers and massive walking boots ( look really ugly and no good for dancing in but when you’re wading through raw sewage in the slums, fashion doesn’t seem so important.)
We had lunch there, which was a bit unusual. They seem to eat a lot of carbs here ( I had spaggetti and rice for my lunch, as salad might be washed in local water and I didn’t feel like eating meat.) They also have a fizzy drink, which is everywhere and has a picture of something like cherries on it but isn’t cherry. Was comfortingly synthetic. Barbie stuck with coke.
Drove for about 5 more hours. Someone put a religious CD on. David ranted at length about the quality of the music ( for the length of the song in fact.)
Arrived in Afogados. Staying at Hotel Brotas, which is quite like a motel. Room full of mosquitoes and ants ( will use lots of deet while here.) D busy rigging up a mosquito net to sleep under. Am hoping it doesn’t involve anything too structural.
Take care,
Anne xxx

Letter to a Sister : Brazil

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. Fri 19th June

Just got back from visiting the slums. We go to dinner in an hour and tomorrow we leave early, so forgive the errors in this. I’ll write you a more organized article when I’m home, I just want to give you a splurge of words so you understand something of the day’s experience.

We started off going to Instituto Solidare. This was on the edge of the city and was a concrete building with big gates that locked. We could see teenagers playing football in a large covered area. We were taken upstairs, shown into a classroom and joined by about six of the workers. We all introduced ourselves – I got to use my Portuguese, very exciting! We then learned a little of their work. They began by having different projects, run by the church but then realised that actually there was a disconnect between what they believed and what they were doing. They needed to be part of the community, not just doing the odd project, they wanted the projects to BE the church. They see their worship as what they are doing.

They began with working with children, this extended to teenagers, then whole families and then the community. There is a huge problem with prostitution, drugs and the violent crime that goes with it. They aim to remove the kids from the streets, to occupy their time with lessons, sports, a proper meal, then they go to school in the afternoon and spend the evening with their parents. They are then hopefully, too tired to get into trouble.

We looked around the institute, then walked around the community. The houses were small, unmade roads, lots of dogs. The river was where all the toilets empty. In the rainy season ( June and July) the river floods, taking the sewage into the houses. Many of the houses had moved all their furniture upstairs. It was hot, lots of flies, lots of dogs wandering around. We saw young men strutting, with hard faces, appraising eyes. There were children, cute, smiling, wanting to be in photgraphs. Then the other teenagers, the ones with thin faces, dead eyes, wasted bodies. As a mother, it broke my heart to see them. They have mothers, somewhere. They are feeding their lives into hungry addictions, dead before they have known what it is to live.

We went to another favela. This one seemed much poorer, it felt unsafe walking around ( we were told to leave all our bags and cameras in the car. We just took our phones for pictures.)The homes were made of cardboard, hardboard, odd bits of wood and scaffold. It smelt, litter was everywhere. I photographed beautiful children sharing bags of crisps, giggling. They lived in the equvilant of a shack. It felt hopeless.

Yet there was hope. Tearfund are working with their partners to educate the people, to teach them about flood control, clearing up litter. They are teaching them skills so they can find work, things like making jewelry from discarded stuff, metal work. They are lobbying the government, trying to get better housing, more respect for the people.

It wasn’t a horrid day, though I feel exhausted by all we have seen. We laughed with children who were playing a game with David. Some teenaged girls had done a play about clearing up litter, which they had performed to their neighbours in the flavella. They were so proud of it, wanted to take us to where they had done it, sang us some of the songs. We chatted a bit and they laughed when I told them I have chickens and ducks. I wanted to scoop them up, bring them out of the favella to somewhere safe, somewhere that they wont probably end up as sex workers. I cant. All I can do is pray, support the work that Tearfund is doing. And tell you about it.

Will do a proper article with photos etc when I’m home.

Take care,

Anne xx

Letter to a Sister :Brazil

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wednesday 17th June, continued

Swam, briefly, was cold. Then went in hot tub. I cannot see the point of hot tubs, its too much like having a bath with lots of other people. Then a man got in who I would definitely NOT want to have a    bath with. Left. Changed in a toilet. Not ideal.

Met Ken and Barbie for cocktails. Mine was perfect. Ken said he had checked tomorrow’s flight and it left at 7am, which was odd as he’d thought it left at midday. D checked on laptop. Turned out that TAM airlines had changed our flight times (5 hours earlier) but decided not to mention it. Interesting decision.

Waitress brought unusual looking snacks to eat with our cocktails. Barbie tucked in enthusiastically. D then told her they were dried donkey foreskins. Didn’t deter her.

Nice dinner in hotel restaurant. Then packed small bag to take to poorer area of Brazil and stored luggage with hote

Thursday 18th June

Got airport very early. This was lucky as check in on airport computer took a while. It printed out boarding cards which resembled the crunchy variety of toilet paper – lots ofs perforations. Ken’s machine had run out of paper, so he had to fetch someone to refill it. It then spat out all the last few boarding cards and half of his.

Flight okay. Landed in Recife. Raining hard. Lots of aggressive people in airport offering taxis, which you just knew would turn out to be an expensive ‘limo’ service. Found official taxi rank. By the time the taxi arrived at hotel it had stopped raining but was so humid my glasses steamed up!

Area is very mixed. We saw some expensive cars and very nice housing. Also saw a family sharing a bike, small roadside stalls selling fruit, lots of concrete. When we stopped at red lights, people walked amongst the cars selling stuff ( like steering wheel covers)  and there was a man juggling in the road.

Staying at Cult Hotel. Has some interesting art – mainly phalic in style. It’s clean but basic. No mirror in room but a massive tele.

Met the other people on our trip and had dinner in nice restaurant next to sea.

Better go now, have to meet everyone in lobby. We’re going to Instituto Solidare. Main info we’ve been given isa the high murder rate. Super.

Sorry for any mistakes, writing in a rush on D’s ipad in a dark humid corner of room.

Take care

Anne xx

Letter to a Sister : Brazil

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Arrived in Rio after long flight. Really really long flight. We (David and I plus friends:Barbie and Ken) were met at airport by hotel driver. Bit of a squash fitting cases into boot due to two large gas cannisters. I thought he had brought along his scuba diving gear (silly man) then learned that they were full of natural gas, it was a gas powered car (silly me).
His ticket didn’t open the exit barrier, so he went and parked in deserted car park. He did NOT then draw a gun and ask for all our valuables, he just apologized and went to pay for parking. Clearly has watched different films about Rio to me.

Checked in at Sheraton Hotel. Nice. Discovered I had forgotten to turn off ‘data roaming’ on my phone and had already been charged £26:04 for excess internet. Good old Three Mobile. (Not nice.)
Was surprisingly difficult to get into a lift going in the right direction to find our room. Must’ve been more tired than I realised.

Hotel nice. Our room overlooks beach and has a little balcony. D complained sea was too noisy (such a romantic.)
Showered, ate a burger, slept really well. Until 4am.

Wednesday 17th June
Opened curtains and watched dawn break over the sea. Beautiful. D explained what several of the viewpoints were. There are two lumpy hills called ‘The Two Brothers’, Ipanema beach, Leblon, etc. He told me the small beach by the hotel is called Viagra beach. Pretty sure he was lying.

Met Ken and Barbie for breakfast. Friendly staff, good buffet, ate overlooking sea. Tried some pretty tasteless papya and some very nice melon. Coffee average.

Walked to Ipanema beach. Saw Corcovada Hill with big Jesus statue on it. Saw a ‘muscle beach’ with people working out, doing pull-ups, etc. Lots of muscle. Barbie joined in (went on a swing.) I paddled in the sea (cold).
Saw people playing volleyball. Beach not too crowded. Sun gradually burnt of cloud and it warmed up, though didn’t get too hot. Saw coconuts for sale and some growing in trees. You can buy fresh coconut milk at beach stalls.

David and Ken discussed birds on beach (feathered variety.) Interesting shape, big and black and white. Tried to look them up in guide book but it concentrates mainly on nightclubs. Surprising really.

Lunch by pool. Barbie had coconut milk, served in the shell. Looked really cool but she said was a bit tasteless. I used my best Portuguese (first time I have used it) and ordered a mineral water, still, no ice. I received a water, sparkling, with ice. Considered it a success (they understood the water bit.)

Sun disappeared behind hill disappointingly fast. By 3pm we were sitting in the shade. Tomorrow we go to Recife, then off to see some Tearfund projects.

Am writing this on D’s computer, keep hitting wrong key and losing everything. Also not yet figured our how to add photos. Will aim to improve by end of trip.

Take care
Anne xx

Letters to a sister 9

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Cassie (black labrador) died last week. I couldn’t write about it at the time, was too busy crying. She was old for a lab – 14 – and she was losing the feeling in her back legs, pooped without knowing it and her sight and hearing were pretty much gone. I didn’t mind clearing up after her, I owed her that much, she has given the family so much joy over the years. And until recently she has seemed happy enough. She mainly slept but so did the old cat and they snuggled together in her bed, so she had company, she still got excited at meal times and once a day she would go for a plod around the garden. But then she stopped wagging her tail and began to seem frightened by things, so it seemed kinder to let her go. Horrible decision. I had so hoped I would just find her dead one morning but in the end we felt it was time to take her to the vets, to put her to sleep before her life became a torment of fear at not seeing and unhappiness if I didn’t clean up her bed fast enough.

Although I knew she was ready to go, that it was the kindest thing to do, it was still hard, I still cried most of the weekend. It also makes me look harshly at life when someone/something I cherish dies. What is the point of it all? Life is so short, such a brief time of healthy happiness before we all decline, what is it that keeps us going? Why do we strive so hard to stay alive? And how will I cope when/if I lose those closest to me?

I look at the elderly people we cook for on Fridays. Most of them were married, had children, jobs, hobbies. Yet now, for the most part, they live alone, they cope with everything by themselves as their bodies deteriorate and everything gets harder. It seems to them like yesterday that they were vibrant, powerful in their own life, now they are becoming more and more dependent on others. How does that feel? How will I cope when that happens to me?

Maybe we are not meant to look ahead too far. If we trust in God (and deep down I do, I just have blips every so often, times when it all seems a bit scary ahead) then perhaps trusting him is all that matters. We do not know when or how our life will end, only that it will and that was always part of the plan, an intended consequence of having lived. Perhaps it is the now that matters, rather than the past or the future.

I know that what is in my past is finished, that those things I am proud of are not important anymore, that the things I did wrong have been forgiven. The future is a void, I cannot even predict what will happen this afternoon, in the next hour, I can only make a good guess and plan accordingly. But now, this actual moment in time, is mine. I can decide what I will do, how I will act, think, behave. And because I do not know what will happen in the next hour, what phone calls I might receive, accidents or happy surprises, then the most sensible thing would be to rely on God.

We are on a timeline, we can see the past, live in the present but the future is invisible.
(As an aside, did you know that the chinese language actually shows this in the words it uses. So the future is ‘behind’ you, because you cannot see it. It is like sitting on a train looking backwards. All the words relating to past are in front, before, you and all the words relating to future are behind you. I love that language!)
However, God is outside of time, above the line if you like. He can see my past and future and present all at the same time. So surely it makes sense to ask him for help when I live my present, to ask for his guidance as I stumble through this bit of life, doing the best that I can.

I guess if I am honest, I don’t really know what ‘the point of life’ is, especially when I get to the really tough, lonely bits of it. But God does, I really do think he has a plan and so I will just trust him on this one. I will cry for my dog, because I miss her, but I will know that her life (and mine) are not futile. There is a point, I just don’t know it yet.

Take care,
Anne xx

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Letters to a Sister 8

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Last week Mags cooked at the lunch club. She always makes huge lemon meringue pies. After they had eaten, one old lady came into the kitchen and said she kept meaning to ask for the recipe, was it a family secret or could Mags bring it for her? Mags said she would. After she had gone, Mags admitted she wouldn’t really know what to write on said recipe as the pies are packet mixes from Morrisons!

It’s the end of Spring. England does Spring so well, not like some seasons when you can’t be sure where you are in the year. I remember when we lived in the US, Spring came and went in a flash, if you blinked you missed it. Here we’ve had bulbs everywhere, bluebells in the woods, so much life. Not sure if I usually don’t notice because I’m too busy or if writing helps me to see better. I just walked Kia. There was a cuckoo calling, a deer in the field next to the house, baby rabbits hiding in the hedgerow. We saw a baby thrush perched on the bottom rung of a fence, looking all lost with its spotty tummy and baby fluff round its head. No idea where its mother was, probably having a heart attack in a nearby bush when she saw a monster german shepherd sniffing her offspring!

Last year when I was walking Kia I saw a baby deer. She had seen the mother and gone off on a long chase (still doesn’t realise that she cannot leap over hedges like deer can.) I was standing there, shouting at her departing back (futile activity) when I saw something ‘hop’ in the corn. Thought it was a rabbit at first, then went nearer and saw it was a tiny fawn. So cute. Worried that it may be abandoned due to disobedient dog chasing away mother. Went home and told James that he needed to come with me tomorrow and if baby was still there, we (he) would be carrying it home.

Was unclear how I would explain to David we had a deer living in the shed. Also some concerns over ticks, but ignored them.

Anyway, next day we set off.James asked if deer should be moved or if it was the same as when you find baby birds and you should leave them where you find them. Told him I had no idea. He then used fancy phone to google it and find out info. (Oh to be young and to understand how fancy phones work! )
Anyhow, he informed me that deer are born and left by the mother, who returns regularly to feed them until they are big enough to leap over hedges. They have no scent, so are safe from predators as they lie very still in long grass and are rarely seen. Pretty clever.
We decided to therefore leave deer where it was and just took some photos. Though it would have been SO cool to have a pet deer!

We have agreed to go on a charity trip with Tearfund to Brazil. Will visit their projects in the slums (which apparently I am not meant to call the slums, but it makes it clear that we’re not going to posh hotels.) Slightly worried we might get shot (you will be on mother duty. Ha!) though have been assured we’ll be safe.
Is bit of a logistical nightmare arranging someone to live here and look after two dogs, six cats, six chickens (including two cockerels who definitely have an evil look in their eyes) and fourteen ducks. Seems to be pretty much sorted.

I have tried to learn Portuguese. Got the duolingo app for my phone. It is impossibly difficult. Everything changes depending on who says it and whether the thing is masculine or feminine. Even “thank you” changes if I say it or a man says it. Crazy. What makes an object masculine anyway? Who decides these things? Am hoping to meet only English speakers or Mandarin speakers. David assures me this is unlikely.
One of Mimi’s friends lived in Brazil for a while and she has given me a couple of lessons (think she is a bit surprised at how slow I am!) In an effort to look keen I bought some dvds from Amazon. Could not understand a single word, not even ‘Hello’ or ‘thank you’ (which I definitely sort of know.) Complained to friend who looked at dvds and told me they were Spanish. Ah. Felt rather stupid (but she laughed for ages!)

Take care,
Anne xxx

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Kittens still cute.
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Letters to a Sister 7

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I have just tried to book an appointment to have a Hep B vaccine ready for visiting the slums of Brazil. First of all, my surgery said they did not do this any longer, I had to go to the next town and gave me the number of the surgery. That surgery informed me that they were full, they only have one nurse, I will have to have it done privately in London.

I wont name the receptionist, but I would like to because she represents to me all the rude/bolshy/unhelpful doctor’s receptionists who I have had the misfortune to have to phone in the last twenty years. She did not apologise, she did not give a reason, she did not ask whether that was a viable alternative. There was no discussion whatsoever. She just spoke to me as though I was an annoying inconvenience who should have known better than to call and ask such a silly question.

I then phoned the vets. I needed to find out if it was safe to worm Milly and Molly while they were feeding kittens. She didn’t know (apologised) and went to find out. She came back with the information, I drove to the surgery, collected what I needed and it was not an unpleasant experience.
She did not treat me like an idiot. She explained more than I had asked so that I could make the correct decision and anything she didn’t know, she went and found out for me.

Now, both people work with the public (which can, I know, be stressful. I was a teacher remember, you often see the public at their worst then, because everyone’s been to school, so everyone knows how to best teach, right?) However, I hope I was never as rude to even the most obnoxious of parents as doctor receptionists have been to me.

It is actually dangerous. If you have been up for a couple of nights with an ill child and you know that when you phone the surgery, after being put on hold for five minutes, they will interrogate you as to whether the visit is really necessary, let you know that the doctor’s schedule is full and you really should have known last week that your child was going to be ill and made the appointment then. Well, you just cannot face it. You decide you will wait. Then when you finally do go, the doctor says you should have come earlier, the complaint is now much more serious.

How can you tell them that actually you are terrified of the Hitler on the reception desk, that last time your child was ill she actually made you cry and this time you would have missed the 8:30am appointment phoning time because after not sleeping all night again you fell asleep from 7 til 9am. Which makes the lack of appointments totally your own fault.

Even if you are not phoning with an ill child, why is it necessary for them to be rude? I had brain surgery last year, it was still not possible to see my own GP, the receptionist still treated me like I should not really be there (even with a three inch scar across a hole in my skull!)

I know that doctors are over stretched and the receptionists have to protect them. I know that some people have appointments when a trip to Boots for some throat lozenges would suffice. I know that sometimes ill people might be stressy and unreasonable when they call. But is it necessary to be rude? Really?

So what is the solution? The only difference, as far as I can see between the vet and the doctor is that I pay for the vet, I am a customer, if they are rude I will go elsewhere and take my money with me. Now, I do NOT want to see the health service privatised. I love that we can go to the doctors and not worry they might be recommending treatment in order to get the money (I lived in the US remember). I like that everyone, on any income, can go to the doctor.

However, there is no excuse for rudeness. Maybe the receptionists need to remember what their job is.

So, could we just privatise the receptionists? Could the National Health Service run as it is (maybe with a little more investment please Mr Prime Minister) but save the money in the budget that is paid to the receptionists. You could use it to pay for one extra doctor in every county (every little helps.) The receptionists would be paid by the patients.

Now personally, I favour a voluntary donation system, so they would have to be very nice or they would not get paid (like some waiters) but I can see that this might not work. So how about a small fee every time you visit the surgery? Maybe £2 a visit?

I am not poor now but I grew up poor (very very poor) and I still work with kids from an estate where many are on benefits. All of them can afford the occasional costa coffee, they use the bus instead of walking, they buy sweets (none of which I could have afforded as a teenager.) I think that £2 a visit is not too much for anyone to pay. It would also make some of the ‘time wasters’ think twice, to perhaps pop to Boots or wait a few days to see if the sore throat cleared up on its own, which it often does.

Most importantly, perhaps it would make those receptionists be nicer. It is possible. I had a very nice one once. When I phoned for an appointment, there were none available but she was polite and kind. She sympathised, asked if I was feeling very poorly, said she was sorry but all the appointments had gone. Then she asked if I thought I should definitely see someone that day, in which case she would fit me in as an emergency with another doctor, or could I manage to wait until tomorrow? Mostly she was just kind. If I knew her name I would include it. It is possible to do a difficult job well. Maybe they just need a little motivation. Maybe the surgery needs to fire the bad ones……

Take care,
Anne xx

PS. As promised, more kitten pictures. They are growing so fast!

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Letters to a sister are posted every Monday.