30 July 2009
Dropped off my Australian friends mid-morning. Michael heading for Gottenberg and Kate for Paris.
This was the evening of the dinner given for me at the Atheneum Club in Pall Mall, organized by my good friend John Tackerberry QC and the Chartered Institute of Arbitrators.
There was a wonderful turnout of 50 plus in a beautiful private room. We had drinks in the garden which it shares with the Travellers Club and one other. The food and wine were delicious and the John’s speech kind and flattering but most important he quite rightly acknowledged Alice’s very important role in my life and therefore her contribution to whatever modest achievements I am said to have made.
My humble contribution seem to go down extremely well, I was lucky, I felt in particularly good form and had a very receptive audience. I cannot resist repeating here the two anecdotes, relating to the Athenaeum, with which I started my talk. I do hope the second one does not give offence to anyone but it was meant to have happened. (Allegedly!!)
“When Sarah, John’s PA, told me that the venue would be the Atheneum and not Willes Road Chambers, which I initially suspected would more than adequately accommodate the number of interested persons, I was reminded of the possibly apocryphal story of F.E Smith ……(who) was the conservative Lord Chancellor and personal friend of Winston Churchill’s, whose habit it was to lunch at Whites and on the way back to the House to drop in to the Atheneum to relieve himself.  After the fourth or fifth visit the hall porter said, “Excuse me sir, are you a member?†“Oh,†said the Lord Chancellor,†is this a club too?â€
F.E Smith, was a renowned wit, as a 1924 entry in Evelyn Waugh’s diary records. When an English High Court judge presiding in a sodomy case sought advice on sentencing from Lord Birkenhead. “Could you tell me,” he asked, “what do you think one ought to give a man who allows himself to be buggered?” Birkenhead replied without hesitation, “Oh, thirty shillings or two pounds; whatever you happen to have on you.â€
It was a lovely evening and I was greatly honoured and flattered by so many kind and important people turning out to acknowledge the modest contribution I have made to arbitration.
29 July 2009
My good friend Dr. Michael Long arrived today with daughter Kate for an overnight stay. It was lovely to see them and we enjoyed a pleasant lunch at the local pub the Axe & Compasses.
The important thing to come out of this visit was Michael’s total commitment to assisting me to go to China in October to give my lectures. As a result I have now made a provisional booking, with my travel agent, which I hope to be able to confirm on Monday.
28 July 2009
Regular geriatric golf day. Managed to walk round most of the way with it using my shooting stick seat. Lots of fun as usual. This weekly excursion has the merit of taking my mind away from my disability for at least a few hours.
26 July 2009
The question of assisted suicide and has raised its head again following the death of the conductor Sir Edward Downes and his wife’s mutual suicide, last week in Switzerland at Dignitas.
The British Council of Nurses, were virtually split down the middle, over the issue with 49% voting in favour of some sort of assistance within rigid guidelines. As a result of the BCN and decided to take a neutral stand on the issue — neither for nor against. The BMA on the other hand is implacably opposed.
It seems that the general opinion in the country is that there are around 75% in favour of assisted suicide in cases of severely diminished quality of life through sickness or terminal illness. It will be interesting to see the House Of Lords judgment in the Purdy case, due to be laid down, I believe, next week. I seem to recall that Mr. Purdy has MS and Mrs. P is seeking immunity from prosecution for assisting him to an early death, presumably to avoid further suffering.
Indeed, recent radio commentaries I have listened to have confirmed that no one to date has been prosecuted for assisting someone to commit suicide, despite the law making it a criminal offence which carries a maximum sentence of 14 years in prison.
(I covered this question of assisted suicide earlier in my diary, when the House of Lords decided on the Diana Pretty case – see 23 May 2009 entry)
21 – 25 July 2009
Off to Bwlch Uchaf, our Welsh cottage for a week. We stopped en route, in Church Streeton with my mother and Richard, we fed and watered them and left after breakfast on the Tuesday morning. I must say apart from my mother’s early onset of Alzheimer’s, which is barely noticeable, for a couple of nonagenarian’s they both seemed in remarkably good form.
Wales greeted us with its usual mixture of rain, wind and sun – with more of the former than the latter – ensuring that my bathing costume stayed firmly in the drawer. Chloe and the grandchildren were staying at Granny’s house in Aberdovey, so there were many excursions to and fro. The joy of being a grandparent, however, is that one can always call it a day when things become too frenetic.
The highlights of this holiday were those intermittent periods with the family, walks, beach and games with for the children; an evening dinner excursion up the beautiful valley to the Tal-y-Lyn hotel, nestling alongside that large dark sinister lake, beloved of a local fisherman and the visitor alike.
Yesterday, ‘my lovely’ and I spent the day in Machynellth (having originally intended to go to the art exhibition, the National Library of Wales, in Aberystwyth but due to the car playing up prudently opted somewhere nearer home). We had a jolly time visiting the antique shops, where we bought a beautiful piece of Welsh porcelain; had lunch in the Wynnstay Arms Hotel (gone slightly downmarket since the Colonel used to take the family there for lunch, admittedly over 50 years ago, but then things tend to change rather slowly in Wales) and ended up viewing the latest art exhibition, at an offshoot of The Museum of Modern Art of Wales, next to the Tabernacle. Contemporary art generally is not to my taste but there were one or two exhibits I could have lived with.
After a week of relatively ‘nice’ weather, by Welsh standards, we set off back to Clavering, staying with the old folk in Church Streeton, on the way, following the now ‘ cast in concrete’ procedure. Champagne at six (I always arrive with two bottles — one for the upward journey and one for the return) and an early meal at a local pub.
16 – 20 July 2009
The event we had all been looking forward to, the second Ashes test at Lord’s. This, particularly so, following England’s dramatic draw in the first of the five test series, at Cardiff last week. This match at Lords too proved to be as immensely exciting with England winning, in the end, by a handsome 150 runs but not without doubt creeping in from time to time that the Aussies might turn the tables on us and win. The highlight was captain Strauss’s knock of 165 and ‘Freddy’ Flintoff’s five wicket haul, which he achieved in the most nail biting fashion possible.
With four wickets to his name and with the last ball in his last over ever, at Lords – having announced his intention of retiring from test cricket after this series – he failed to get the fifth wicket only to be told by the umpire that it was a ‘no ball’, giving him one more ‘last bowl. With this ball he got his wicket and thus fulfilled a lifetime ambition to get his name on the hallowed board in the player’s dressing room. The stuff of ‘Boys Own’ annuals.
This win was all the more remarkable in it being the first test win, against the Australians, at Lords since a few weeks before I was born, in 1934. One up and three to go. Can we repeat our 2005 triumph and win the Ashes back?
15 July 2009
The Osbourne family, Nancy, Brian and twins Kate and Tom – now unbelievably almost 18 – came for a garden lunch. The weather was relatively kind and the family managed to battle it out on the croquet lawn in the afternoon. Sadly, I found it too difficult to wield the mallet as I always used to enjoy the competitive challenge of the game.
14 July 2009
Despite the late night in Cambridge I managed the early start necessary for me to get a lift to the golf club for my weekly walk around with the geriatrics.
My legs are still working reasonably well, if somewhat more leaden than they used to be. I cannot say the same about my hands and arms, they really do get weaker by the week. The right hand, although it started going downhill much later than the left has been far more aggressive, the fingers are like jelly, cannot be straightened and are beginning to curl towards the palm.
The wrists in both hands are weak and I really need the wrist splint on my right hand in order to lift a spoon, cup or glass to my month. (A straw for drinking has become a useful adjunct.) The only digit which still works reasonably well, and which I can straighten, is the forefinger on my left hand – useful for prodding the laptop. Adjusting heavy bedclothes is becoming impossible with my hands, elbows and legs taking over.
Washing in the shower has become more difficult, I can only really manage by dint of the long handled sponge. I can still raise my hands to head height, with bent arms but cannot straighten them, so things like washing my hair or brushing it has become difficult .
I manage reasonably well in the office, largely through voice activation, once ‘my lovely’ has plugged in my laptop, but handling papers and lifting, even medium weight, books is difficult. AbilityNet kindly provided me a seven hole USB stand so most of my equipment can activate it by just plunging this stand into the laptop.
On the lavatory front I am pleased to report that the miracle of the AUS continues and I am able to pee normally, my main difficulty being adjusting my dress afterwards. However, there is usually a friend who is prepared to accompany me and do the necessary or, for example, at Lord’s I was able to enlist the assistance of one of those splendid St. John’s Ambulance brigade. On the whole I find people extremely kind and generous and prepared to help although, wherever possible, I try to avoid asking anyone to put their hand in my pocket for my mobile phone, wallet, or whatever and generally carry them loose in a large linen bag, which makes them more accessible.
I suppose the overall prognosis is that I am getting steadily weaker, week on week, but once up and dressed can manage to lead a relatively normal life with a little assistance here and there, provided I do not fall over, – which I have done once or twice – and then find it almost impossible to get up unaided. So on the whole I would say that my lovely wife and I are managing, but for how long?
12 July 2009
What a lovely dinner we had at Peterhouse College last evening – the oldest college in Cambridge, founded, in 1284, by Hugo de Balsham, Bishop of Ely. It was a candlelit supper which made life a little difficult in reading my speech. I wondered whether this was the only remaining college in Cambridge not to have electricity in the dining room but I think that one is Magdalene College, Cambridge, where son Miles went. Indeed, I recall him telling me, some years ago, about an American visitor who marvelled at the beauty and history of the College (amongst other things it houses Pepys diaries) and could not understand why they were not able to afford electricity in the diving hall!
There was a good turnout for this dinner and I saw many old friends and their wives. The deputy president of the Chartered Institute of Arbitrators, Joe Behan, and barrister Tony Bingham, made some flattering remarks about Alice and me before I gave my own offering which seem to go down quite well, even the old jokes.
The committee very generously gave me a pair of silver champagne flutes and a decent bottle of champagne to go with it — you see how my penchant for champagne has spread. I blame Graham Morris, the Times photographer, for the photograph he took which has appears four times in that paper (and in Wisdon) of me pouring champagne at Lord’s. Indeed the same cropped picture used for the blog.
As I feared at least four of the guests, at the Cambridge dinner, that I know of, intend to appear again at the Atheneum at the end of the month and one of them pleaded with me to include at least one new joke. I shall oblige; it will be my favourite one which they have, no doubt, heard me tell over the years, however I am banking on the human frailty of ‘long term cognitive impairment’ (memory loss) and hope that they will, at least, forgotten the punch line.
11 July 2009
My wretched power shower packed up a couple of days ago, but good old Derek, our plumber, will have it back in action again in a day or two. The point being that with my disability I really rely on this rather than the bath.
Incidentally, I tried a bath a couple of weeks ago, during the very hot spell ( our summer!), while Alice was in London. It was a hot day and I was sweaty and thought it might be rather fun. Unfortunately I found I could not get out, despite struggling for up to an hour. I managed to swing my legs over the side but all the twisting and turning was without avail, I was simply too weak to lever myself out I even let the water out in case I landed on my face and drowned.
I did panic a little as Alice was in London until late afternoon and this was lunch time. I had visions of her arriving home and finding me sitting there, blue with cold, probably hypothermic, and subsequently being ticked off like a small child. Fortunately I had taken the mobile telephone up with me and managed to reach it by the side of the basin. I dialled the directory enquiries for my neighbour’s telephone number and found her in. Even more fortunately her son was with her and he popped over and hauled me out. I never told Alice. She would kill me if she knew but as she never reads this blog she may never know, leastwise, until I am beyond being ticked off.
Reverting to the shower, I should perhaps mention that the only reason I can continue to wash myself is by using a 3 foot long handled sponge. A cheap and useful device which I can recommend for anyone in my position.
Not a great deal has happened since my assessment on 2 July. Although I still spend eight or nine hours a day in the office most of it seems to be on the computer, answering or sending e-mails; dealing with correspondence; updating my blog; editing my autobiographical notes etc. (this week with one ear to the radio listening to the first of the Ashes Test matches, in Cardiff).
Talking of cricket I do hope you bloggers have read my latest anecdote, The Cricket Match. There always seems to be a backlog of things to do.
I did go to London on the 3rd. to lunch with my stockbroker; walked round the golf club on the following Monday (with the geriatric crowd – Tuesday becomes Monday sometimes when there is a match which interferes with the normal arrangements); I attended the Arbitration Club in London on Tuesday and tonight we are going to the first of two dinners, very kindly being given in my honour, ostensibly for services to arbitration. So life is not entirely dull.
D. Mark Cato
D. Mark Cato