I watched  the last few sets of the Australian Open with Andy Murray descending into sulky losing, which gave me a good excuse to sit still and  read the papers. The Observer is desperately trying to get the Labour Party  to get its act together. Lifetime Labour supporters are projecting their anger onto the Greens who have stolen  many of old Labour’s clothes and people are liking them.  New Labour are getting cross because the party has  shifted from the agenda  Blair and allies imposed.  The current Labour elite cannot bring themselves to move too far so old Labour leave in droves.

The narrative that the Greens are all idealistic 18-24 year doesn’t  fit with my experience. Many long standing supporters of Labour are finding their unchanged views now fit more readily with the Greens.

Will Hutton  is relieved that the first part the post system means the Greens  will find it difficult to gain the seats  representative of their support. Only when the present system doesn’t hand outright victory to the two major parties again will they support  a fairer system.  Voters need to make sure that it happens this time.

The Big Garden birdwatch. I did it for an hour yesterday but decided today would be the real count. I settled myself on a chair looking out of the door of the conservatory. The door was closed and I turned the electric fan heater on and  put on my coat, hat and gloves. Yesterday I had used my smaller binoculars so I felt better equipped today with my best pair and my pocket bird guide ready at my side for any sightings that needed support.

I threw out a handful of dried mealworms in the hope of tempting our robin out of hiding. It was 10.05 when I started; a cold bright morning with little breeze. Earlier I had put out some hot water to defrost the frozen bowls.

The blue tits started the count. Bright, darting birds flitting between the various feeders. Chaffinches often flutter as they snatch sunflower seeds. The robin appeared on the bird table and pecked at the suet balls before returning to his hiding place in the yew tree. A goldfinch sat in the hazel bush overlooking the table. The vivid red cap and gold and black markings make a handsome bird.  Birds seem to have a view which other species they are prepared to associate with when feeding. Goldfinches and greenfinches and chaffinches seem happy enough together. Blue tits often come in bunches and blue tits and great tits don’t seem to object to each other’s company.

Starlings often appear mob handed and other birds keep away but today and yesterday they were restrained. One was particularly handsome with plumage  catching rainbow hues in the light. Starlings enjoy fat.

I spotted a bird which was mainly brown so I had to look closely. It had a red cap and rosy breast. At first I thought  it must be a linnet but looking through my guide I realised it was a redpoll . How  exciting. I have never  seen one before. I was disappointed that there were no long tailed tits. I have seen as many as ten at any time but not for a few weeks. I have seen more at the other bird feeder round the other side of the house lately . I haven’t seen any coal tits or goldcrests either  although both visit from time to time.

A flock of gull flew overhead. I know there are no such things as seagulls so I consulted the book to try and determine what sort they were. Herring gulls are notable for their pink legs. Unfortunately these birds  had their legs tucked firmly into their white feathers. I decided they were common gulls but that was probably arbitrary.

Although we have lots of collared doves and woodpigeons that visit us and maintain constant calls, they seem to have set times of day when they come. There is one wood pigeon that comes and sits on the metal stand ,perching, not eating, just making sure no other bird comes along but that is usually later in the afternoon. Sometimes he marches backwards and forwards on the ground below the feeder.

Two handsome blackbirds with glossy black jackets and vivid yellow beaks decided to have a scrimmage.  One retreated to the safety of the foxglove tree. The victor  strutted  picking mealworms from the floor. Our robin had already come closest to me grabbing  a few  of his favourite treats.

At the end of the hour I was reluctant to come away. I had noted all my viewings ready to be relayed to the RSPB. It was a relaxing way to spend an hour. It inspired me to take more time watching the birds as the year goes on but I had a friend’s new Labrador puppy to go and meet.

A few people have asked what happened with my mother. The saga continued for a few days. She seemed ok but injury flared on Monday. No nurse appointments available at surgery that day or following day but got an emergency appointment for GP that evening. He was very good and prescribed the anti-biotics a nurse could have prescribed on the saturday.

Mother’s hand is now fully healed. She is more wary of Charlie who is shows no contrition now although he did seem  cowed at the time.

Here is the letter I wrote that was published in the Eastern Daily Press. Minor injuries units  are needed too.

When I was  Chair of an NHS Trust I opposed closure of community hospitals. In rural areas, it makes sense to move people on from acute care and to provide services  such as blood tests and X rays and to treat minor injuries locally. Last Saturday I spent the day trying to obtain treatment for my 91 year old mother. I tried to be responsible  and avoid  A & E. A Nurse Practitioner  could have treated her, or  a minor injuries unit . Neither was available.

Unqualified staff with good protocols can work but cannot make up for inadequate staffing levels at surgeries and hospitals.  The Coalition claims to have protected  the NHS. They have not.  The Lansley restructuring took GP time  from patient care into administration. Funding cuts to local authorities  have  reduced  social care at home. Staff who have had their pay frozen and now face their redundancy rights being reduced have low morale. All these have combined to bring about the current crisis. David Cameron’s pronouncements about 24/7 GP services are hot air without the actions needed to return our NHS to the decent level we experienced before his war of attrition on our public services. Unwillingness to spend on the NHS to the necessary level goes hand in hand with ideological opposition to state run services.

 We need to demonstrate  that we do value our NHS . The Green Party  proposes an earmarked  tax for health and  advocates  community health centres.

Crisis what crisis?

Yesterday I experienced the bureaucratic mess that has developed in the NHS under the coalition. We have had the same GP practice for the last 20 years and have received a good service. All the doctors there provide good quality care. Yesterday I experienced the latest problem in the administration of the out of hours service. My 91 year old mother was bitten by our dog last Wednesday. We have kept the wounds clean and covered and it was healing until yesterday morning when her hand had swollen overnight. I was concerned that there may be an infection so I called my GP surgery. I was directed to call 111. There had been a Saturday morning surgery so I was surprised. We went to see the pharmacist who also suggested 111 in order to find out the nearest out of hours GP service. What my mother actually needed was to see a nurse practitioner who could determine whether my mother needed antibiotics and could prescribe them.

I dialled 111 and, as we live in Norfolk, was put through to the Norfolk service. The helpful woman took me through a series of questions clearly designed to determine whether my mother was in urgent need of medical attention and concluded, as I had, that she needed an out of hours GP service. When we told her our GP she realised she could not deal with us. We live on the border and our GP is in Suffolk. She said she would fax the details to the Suffolk service who would then contact me. By this time two hours had passed.

A nurse practitioner then rang me after half an hour. He too ascertained that there was no immediate danger but my mother needed to see an out of hours GP. The nearest available was at the West Suffolk hospital. We were given an appointment for 5.30 that evening, seven hours later. We agreed we did not need a GP to visit. If it had been me who was injured I would have kept a close eye on the wounds but would have waited until Monday. I did not feel able to take the risk of infection with someone of 91.

When we arrived at the hospital   we followed the direction provided by the nurse on 111. There were no direction signs in the hospital. A secret service. The corridor was crowded with people. A sign said that we would have to wait 90 minutes. Having driven twenty miles we decided we would wait. There was minimal movement. A young woman sat on the floor holding her abdomen in pain. She complained to her friends “At least in A and E you get to see a nurse to triage you.” She was right. The only triage we had had was at 10.30 that morning and it had been over the telephone.

After an hour and a quarter when only one person had been seen, I went to the desk where a woman holding a tiny baby was being told it would be at least two hours before she could be seen. I was told the same. I discussed with my mother. It was almost 7.00pm , her usual bedtime. Sitting in a corridor for another few hours was unlikely to improve her general wellbeing  so we decided that as the swelling had reduced a little we would keep a close eye on the situation but otherwise wait until she could see the nurse at our local surgery.

I told the receptionist what we are doing and suggested that there was a problem with the system. “Maybe we would have been better coming along this morning without an appointment” I suggested. “No, we only see people with appointments or urgent cases” she said. My mother and I both agreed that her case was not as urgent as others we could see. We drove the twenty miles back home and she went to bed with strict instructions  to wake me if there was any change.

“Today is a wonderful day” was one of my lines in our village Pantomime. It was not easy to sing with my face painted green and my head poking through a slit in black material in a picture frame. I was the mirror in Snow White. It is not often that reading a newspaper makes me feel cheerful but today does feel like a wonderful day with two really great bits of news in the Observer. It seems the Pope has decided to take a firm stand on Climate Change. I was already planning to go to Paris in December for the talks next year to do my bit. I just hope the Pope can influence our political leaders to take their responsibilities for the future of the planet seriously.
The other really interesting article was on the survey of attitudes of young people from 17 to 25. They are rejecting UKIP and turning to the Green Party. It seems they are not as cynical and disillusioned with politics as is sometimes claimed. When I am asked how I can be an active Green Party member when we have no chance of succeeding, I point out that my granddad was a founder member of the Independent Labour Party before they had any MP’s and my grandma was a suffragette. They must have seemed like idealists to many around them. My granddad never became cynical and he was an idealist until he died at 93. I hope I can say the same.
The younger people who grew up and had their ideas formed during the Thatcher era came to view those of us who were young in the sixties as selfish. We weren’t. We believed we could change the world for the better and set about trying to do so. Thatcher’s children seem to be the group in the middle who are totally disengaged from politics although I’m sure that wasn’t her aim. As a young person I wanted to make the world a better place. I marched and I engaged through my work although I did not get involved with formal politics. At times I am ashamed to say I didn’t vote because there was no party which adequately represented my views. That is one of the reasons I stand for election even when I know my chances of election are minimal. I want to make sure there is a good choice for people who have similar views to me.
When I was at LSE I was the butt of much teasing when I suggested that it might be possible to have a democracy where everyone could vote on every issue. I imagined some sort of electronic system. It was pre internet days and computers had to be housed in large rooms. I wasn’t visionary as far as the technology was concerned but I did not see why people’s views needed to be channelled through the party political system that we have in this country. “Sandy’s theory of democracy” was a great joke amongst my chums for a while. I think about that when I click on to 38 degrees or Avaaz and sign petitions to distant leaders. The Observer survey results tell me that young people are engaging directly using the technology they have available. Those of us who still have some belief that we can change our formal democracy for the better need to persuade them to use the old fashioned ballot box as well as the internet. I hope the young people surveyed today feel that they have the potential to change the world and that they will use all the means that are available.

Jeffrey bought me a tablet for christmas and I have spent hours playing with it.I really. wanted it most so that I could read ebooks. I have a Kindle which I love but I don’t love Amazon. I signed up to the pledge not to use Amazon this C hristmas so I needed to sort out the Kindle issue. Well I have. done that but I am now spending vast amounts of time trying to work out my new toy. None of this is interesting to anyone else but I decided to see if there is a simpler way to access my  blog.If there is one I haven’t found it.Maybe I will!

I drove to Dunvegan with a vague intention to reach the western coast. Despite a stormy night the sky was clear, cold blue brushed with strokes of white. I parked in Duvegan car park looking out over the bay where the tide was drawing back to reveal layers of vivid seaweed which I was remembering are typical of the sea lochs here. I fortified myself with a cheese roll at the oldest bakery on Skye and filled the car with petrol before I set off again.

I was soon distracted by a sign to a textile gallery so I diverted off the narrow man road onto a track that tested the shock absorbers of the hire car. The friendly owner chatted to me while I tried to find something I could buy. I had come so far out of my way and the artist was so pleasant that I felt obliged to make a purchase. I also regard it as part of my duty to support local artists. The goods were so varied; sewing, felt, knitting, paintings, cards, jewellery, that I was sure they couldn’t all be made by one person. “I’ve got the whole family involved” she said “ Keeps us busy through the winter.” I was feeling a bit desperate when I spotted a flowery teddy bear with pink roses and blue felt eyes. I grabbed him, made sure the eyes were secure enough for an eight month old and we digressed into talking about grandchildren.

Once he was sitting securely in a paper bag, on the front seat, I set off back along the bumpy track. Turning onto the single track main road I noticed that the tide was going out and there were patches of rock and seaweed emerging. I found a gateway to stop and started to watch activity on the water. There wasn’t much but there were some small dark heads which appeared from time to time. I began to hope that they might be sea otters. A grey heron swooped down to land on a patch of rock, beak pointing downwards, ready to fish for dinner. The ubiquitous hooded crows danced around and a small group of herring gulls stood looking around. Three oyster catchers sat stolid, statuesque. The bobbing heads did not give away their identity so easily so I moved on.

After a few miles I noticed two buzzards hovering overhead. They floated on the wind. They were only a few metres apart and spent some time with wing feathers fluttering but not catching anything. I watched them until they flew away over the hill. I followed a sign to The Red Roof Café. I was beginning to lose hope as I followed the winding road around more corners than I expected when the small whitewashed cottage with a bright red roof appeared. It was a small combined café and art gallery boasting bright oil paintings and wholesome organic food. A group of Americans had managed to find their way there. I settled for Earl Grey tea with rose petals and blue flowers and a piece of lime and coconut cake.

By the time I had found my way back to the man road I had lost the will to carry on to the coast so I turned back towards the loch. It started to rain hard. Steel grey clouds hung over the hills contrasting with the sun behind me. The resulting rainbow was so vivid I stopped to take a photo but cameras can rarely do justice to such sights. I pulled into the space where I had watched the loch creatures before. I soon realised I was watching young seals playing. They rolled and dived, bobbing their heads through the pewter sea. The oyster catchers did not seem to have moved and the heron was still poking about in its ungainly way amongst the weed and rocks. Black and sleek the young seals wove their way through the water waving their flippers as they played. There must have been half a dozen although it is difficult to count when they dive down and only reappear some time later somewhere quite different.

There is a colony of grey seals further along the loch nearer the sea. These seemed to be a group of juveniles.

I had to leave them eventually to enjoy a drive back alongside the peat bogs admiring the lovely colours of the Skye landscape.

Skye diary 2
I had forgotten how beautiful Skye is. It has been almost 40 years since Pat and I hitch hiked here.
Unfortunately the Whale Trip organisers emailed saying they were not running trips due to the weather. That was surprising to me at the time but I was lucky to be able to go on a boat trip from Portree Harbour. The Shags sat preening and drying themselves as we sailed out scanning the hill rising from the shore until we saw a pair of Sea Eagles. Magnificent creatures with wing spans up to six metres they look less impressive when they are perched on rocks above the bay. You only realise how large they are when you compare them with the sheep grazing nearby. Farmers believed the birds took the lambs but in fact Sea Eagles are part of the vulture family so carrion is their food of choice rather than live lambs. Certainly the sheep showed no anxiety so close to them. They pair for life but the female has a young partner: “A toy boy” said our captain. “She is about 19 and he is only 6 or 7. Her original mate probably died.” She was persuaded to come closer when the captain threw a dead fish. That attracted the herring gulls which seemed to encourage the eagles. The female swooped , feet first, to snatch up the fish and soared back to her rock to enjoy her meal. My camera was of no use at all so I just enjoyed the experience with my binoculars. The sea was rough and getting worse. The whale watching boats were probably right. Going out beyond the shelter of the inlet would have been risky. The boat bounced across the waves whenever we picked up speed. I was pleased I had my waterproof coat on and when we got back to shore the boat owner decided there would be no more trips that day.
I drove around the northern part of the island in the afternoon. Every bend in the road revealed a different vista. The sea lochs bite into the coast. Every inlet seemed to have its own Heron, or perhaps it was the reverse. As the tide receded, revealing vivid orange, seaweed carpeted rocks, the herons stood rigid, observing the water for any potential meal.
On the way back to the hotel I stopped to try and identify a bird of prey. It was the shape of a kestrel but too big; too small to be a hobby or to be a merlin. I eventually decided it must be a Peregrine Falcon; a good day for birds.

30/9/14
Through my bedroom window I look across a grey Loch Linnhe. Jeffrey is here to take photographs . I’m here as an accompanying spouse; to relax, draw, write, read and appreciate beautiful Scotland. We will be moving to Skye tomorrow and I have already emailed ahead to try and arrange a whale spotting trip.
We came to Edinburgh by train yesterday and drove here today through the National Park of Loch Lomond and the Trossachs. Autumn is more evident here than in East Anglia. We left Edinburgh in warm, bright sunshine but reached a broad band of rain clouds as we made our way across. In the sunshine the mountains are patched with brown and green bracken. The clouds started to glower over the mountains but we decided to go via the coast rather than Rannoch moor. I planned to go to the moor and Glencoe tomorrow but now I’m not sure if it will be possible as we are leaving at eleven. I don’t think I can come so close to Glencoe and forgo a visit. The Weeping Glen is one of my favourite places and these dark clouds create the perfect weather to appreciate it. Jeffrey suggest we will be going that way on the route back to Edinburgh so I don’t have to get up at 6.00 to join their photo shoot.
I brought my drawing tools with me so I spend some time trying to capture the small pebbled beach outside the hotel. I fail. It is a scene for watercolours really but I want to learn how to use the coloured pencils. Perseverance is required.
1/10/14
This morning the rain has cleared and the mountains opposite are shades of rust and olive with dull blue-green patches of conifers stretched across. Yesterday everything was shades of grey. Now I can see three or four layers of hills stretching out to pale fawn as they recede. We are off to Skye today. The bad news is that the whale watching company replied to say they are not going out for the foreseeable future because of the weather. I will have another attempt to find a boat trip when we get to Skye. At least I should be able to see sea eagles and seals.

25/7/14
I went down to the railway track the other day to see if any parasol mushrooms have emerged yet. They haven’t and I found a beautiful wild flower patch but what was most interesting was the track I was walking on. It is the one that was surfaced with large granite chippings a year or so ago when they were starting to do the forestry work. They haven’t used the track a lot- it was something demanded by the planners apparently, and it is now being taken back into the forest. The part I normally walk on has what I had thought were Black Medick but now I think are Hop Trefoil. Both have small yellow mop heads of clover like flowers, only about a centimetre diameter. Sometimes it is only possible to identify plants when the seed heads form and these do resemble small pale brown hops. They creep across the track. The Hare’s foot clover and the kidney vetch do that too. The granite is gradually being carpeted by mats of stems with fluffy seed heads floating above them.
I was fascinated in New Zealand to see trees growing on what appeared to be clear rock faces. Our guide explained that the lichen form first, then the mosses and gradually soil builds up so that bigger plants can colonise and eventually trees.
Here in the forest it is fascinating to watch plants colonise and spurn the tidy planners dreams. In the middle of the track the grasses have taken hold and the broad leaved plantain and common plantain are comfortably settling in.
There are even small gorse seedlings growing now, spikes of grey green prickles about 30cms high. On one side, just next to the track on the edge of the narrow grass verge before the pines, I find two plants I don’t recognise. When I look them up they are Common Figwort. The flowers are insignificant, with only small red brown petals and green sepals. The green egg-shaped seedpods are more obvious than the flowers. I have never come across these before. They like woods and shady places.
The forget me nots continue to straggle about the sides of the track as do the drying tangles of the hairy tares, now displaying their seedpods. The corn spurrey are all but dead and the grasses are dry and stiff. These early opportunists will die and rot to form small patches of soil for other plants to take hold. There are a few small willow herbs. They need much more detailed attention to reveal their identities. Lots of them seem to favour damp places which this certainly isn’t. I bit further into the verge I spot a small magenta common storks bill. They are similar to the small cranesbill that I have failed to identify that grows everywhere on the forest tracks but these have frond like leaves rather than the small hand leaves of the cranes bill. Hand like leaves of the small lemon flowers of the tormentil are creeping across the path too.
As I walk further towards the railway I am surprised by the number of buddlea bushes growing along the edge. Every few yard there is a bush. I know they are an introduced species.I know they take over everywhere. But their flowers do smell beautiful and they do create a wonderful food source for butterflies. We called them the Butterfly bush when I was a child. They still do I suppose.