THE EVENING I WAS SHUNNED

The year was 1966. I had been brought up in the Brethren church {or maybe 'sect' is a more appropriate term). One memory I have is missing the 1966 World Cup match because we were rebuilding the church hall. The original had been a 'tin tabernacle'. The incident describe here came at a time when I had put myself out to be helpful. I would soon start a university course in Biblical Studies so I was taking an A level course in preparation. I had an inquiring mind and not everyone appreciated my line of questions.

The Brethren were fundamentalist Christians for whom the Bible is the the 'word of God' which could not be questioned. University study took a different, academic, stance after learning the original languages.

This tale happened on a Saturday evening. There was a talk and discussion on freedom and I asked the question about why women were excluded from active involvement, One 'brother' had been a member of the more extreme Exclusive Brethren who refused to socialise with non-members. He stood to his full height (he was a tiny man) and screamed at me theological obscenities). Did I not know the the Bible demanded that women be obedient to men and silent in church. Yes I did know their belief system and prejudice. He finished by declaring me a heretic; demanding thar I be shunned, that is never to have contact or relationship with anyone in the church, including parents, relatives and siblings. Although the man was clearly out of order, the elders phoned and visited me to condemn me. I was 16 or just 17. They criticized my father for not bring me up right. and blamed me for leading him astray.

In fact I shunned them, and freed myself from their church. I told this to a university friend who edited the Anglican journal Crucible. From that came my first published article on the position of women in the church (1973). By the end of the 1970s female vicars were being trained. However I no longer identify as a Christian.

At university the Anglican church behaved similarly.

PENZANCE

A few blogs now on signifant holidays. We went to Cornwall every May for forty years at school Whit holiday. Our first break was to Lamorna Cove, near Penzance, a small family hotel with walls covered in pictures by Lamorna Birch who lived next door. When they sold up, we took a variety of holiday lets, most commonly in a cottage which had been an annex to the hotel. Our main purpose was to visit the new art exhibition in the Penlee House Gallery. Jean was very interested in the Cornish artists especially the Lamorna, Newlyn and St Ives schools.

Peter Dawlish In childhood Jean was a voracious reader and remembered a children's series about four boys sailing a masted fishing boat named Dauntless. We searched bookshops and found copies, finding that the author was Peter Dawlish. One year we found a Lamorna village history on sale in the village shop indicating that Peter Dawlish was the pen name for James Lennox Kerr who lived in a house we passed every year overlooking the bay and was married to the daughter of Lamorna Birch. There was a board adversing paintings of the Kerr family. We knocked on their door which was opened by a bearded sailor with three small dogs. I introduced us as people interested in his father's books and he said that most people asked about his artist grandfather We struck up a friendship that lasted until his death. We went to his 80th birthday celebrations and I helped him write his autobiography. He was by career a hydrologist (that is he mapped the ocean bed). James Lennox Kerr wrote on a range of topics, the first an account of his crossing America as a hobo by jumping trains. Then he wrote adult fiction, social novels about poverty in Scotland where he came from. He also wrote crime stories and stories about ships. He tried one story for boys,The Blackspit Smugglers. After war service on mine-sweepers he wrote a series of about four boys in the sailing boat Dauntless, which Jean came across in the Bradford City library.

Penlee House Gallery is close to the Penzance promenade with Morrab Gardens to the right. The Penlee House Gallery to the left it has a small museum and a permanent art collection, not to mention an excellent cafe, several times a year they put on themed exhibitions bringing together paintings from other galleries. We came down for the opening week and bought the bulky exhibition souvenirs. We therefore have a record of each exhibition.

Gardens. There are beautiful semi-tropical gardens in Cornwall. I am focussing on three near Penzance that we went to regularly. The gardens of St Michael's Mount are not open every day. They are set on a steep hillside and rockface and filled with tender plants. There are alsothree balcony gardens leading down to the coastal path. Trengweinton Gardens (National Trust) has a colourful garden alongside the drive. At first we showed tickets to an old lady at a window. Sparrows were flying in and out.The Minack Theatre is an outdoor theatre which puts on a regular programme.. It has a natural rock garden full of aloes, and other tender plants. We went to West Side Story, at which a basking shark plus cub stole the show other one we went to was Our Town, a conversation beteen ghosts in the graveyard.One year we stayed close to Trebah and Glendurgan gardens.

There are also many plant nursaries to buy tender plants.

Stevie Dufyn March 2024.

GARDENING.

 As a schoolboy I was taught to garden by my grandfather. We had an orchard plus veg garden. Our first garden after marriage was tiny, a postage stamp front and back. Our next garden, in Salisbury, was not much bigger. It was our Swindon garden that had more scope, though it had and has problems  of its own. The back was an orchard, though th fruit trees were old and diseased. The one still left was I estimate 200 years old. The back garden has a number of natural springs. Set on a hill, it is now set on three levels. My wife and I developed it so long as she was able, until 2015 when her dementia took hold. We were both specialists  in different plants, and we visited RHS and National Trust gardens regularly. Her knowledge, including plant knowledge, disappeared almost overnight.

 Although we have taken part in village open weekends  since 2000, The bast time for the garden was after my retirement in 2008. We have specialised in growing unusual plants including several species of buddleija, weigela, bottlebrush, hostas, hemerocallis, scented-leaf pelargoniums, even a fothergilla. In2012 I took a photo a day throughout the year which can be found on romancourt365.blogspot.com. My wife's illness from 2014  gave me less time in the garden and made it impossible for her to continue, so the garden was neglected as I cared for her over the next seven years. Now she is in a care home, progress can begin again.

Last autumn the heavy rains caused a retaining garden wall to collapse; it was replaced on Monday. There have been plant casualties requiring replacement. Looking around I see only one penstemon still alive, so have a growing list to buy. Penstemons were once considered annuals because they were hard to overwinter. It was customary to take cuttings. Fortunated new strains were developed which were more resiliant and these are now easy to find. Most were bred in Pershore and carry the name Pensham. Apart from that, I am searching for anything unusual. I plant as a botanist and not an artist, so don't expect clipping to death, or neat lawns but rather plants looking natural and high tolerance of wild flowers. It goes without saying that I aim to be bee-friendly, and that means organic.

The garden is the same size front (west) and back (east) and also has side beds north and south. There is a greenhouse and polytunnel in the back, neither used effectively. A summer-house is used mainly for storage at the moment. When bought, the house had a derelict swimming pool removed when a house extension was built. It was replaced by a double garage. The greenhouse replaced a railway carriage used as a workshop.

Plant names. Although many people are scared of plant names, I find them a source of pleasure and look into their archaeology. Common names differ area to area and are easy to remember. In the 18th century, Carl Linnaeus began to classify plant names in a form that botanists thoughout the world would understand. The academic language of the time was Latin and that is still used today. At first they looked for similarities to other plants to decide on plant families.For example, clethroides means 'like a clethra' in the family Lysimachia, popular names 'gooseneck or Chinese loosestrife' or 'moneywort'. Lysimachia was the ancient king of Sicily. 

The earliest names were descripive, and often quite long. I have a print of a wild fuchsia found in Chile and grown in Kew in 1788. It  was given the name Fuchsia after the German botanist Fuchs and in full Fuchsia coccinea foliis oppositis ovaltus dentitulatis petalis obovatis obstusis. It has since been named Fuchsia magellanica, the explorer Magellan's Fuchsia.  Today, dna analysis shows which species are inter-related and names and names change. 

Propagation. It is is expersive to fill a larger garden with full price mature. Sprinkling annuals (plants which die after flowering and setting seeds) can offer quick colour. If bought in autumn they might be half price. Sowing wildflowers will help the bees. Clones come from cuttings: fresh tips are the most reliable. I put several around the edge of a plantpot and put it in a polythene bag to maintain humidity. If done carefully, most should root. They will need nurturing when in small pots. Plant in the garden the following spring. Don't forget to label.

   

MEMORY

 How memory works is a puzzle but it is clear that memory is a way of organising experiences.It is imperfect in that the memory may be   hard to recover, and may be imperfect when the initial understang of eveny is in error. Rubbish in, rubbish out, you might say.

Gradual memory loss is regarded as the early stage of dementia and patients are referred to 'memory clinics'.In my wife's case, it was quick and sudden, possibly a  long term effect of brain damage, undiagnosed up to that point.  She had a series of stroke-like episodes at the end of 2015. A brain scan in Januage reveal consoderable brain damage. This affected her ability to read, talk and understand.

So what is memory? It can be compared to the brain's operating system structuring and connecting varied experiences to make it meaningful.Memory is not just the recall of experiences or information but is an attempt to explain. These explanations will be subjective and personal. Dementia blocks these explanations.

Enhancing Memory.   

Some memories are embedded and are generally at the centre of our minds. They may be triggered by high spots or low. They are fundamental to who we think we are. My situation has changed requiring me to sift through draws and boxes, relics of sixty years of adult life fed by the question 'Do I keep it or throw it?'. The same issues arose when clearing out my mother' house ready for selling. It is the deeper well hidden memories that I am focusing on here.

A necessary preparation is to release storage of the things we wish to keep. For me, throwing away is difficult and the first question to myself is whether it can be reused, repurposed even upcycled. As I do not have the time or inclination to upcycle, re-use by moving things around is an option, or giving it away to an upcycler for more drastic changes. Disposing of 'stuff' needs to be disciplined and unsentmental, reducing everyday items such as sheets, towels and good quality clothes to charity shops or even displaying it on the roadside free to take or requesting a charity donation.This will leave some souvenirs which remind us of people and holiday. By all means keep just a few significant ones but a photograph takes up less space.

I find that the act of decluttering triggers memories of a half forgotten past, holidays enjoyed, achievements made, relationships consolidated. There are a few items from my wife's childhood - a musical box, a child's tea-set, a teddy, a toy sewing machine, and a large Rupert Bear collection. These mean nothing to her now. Some are distributed to friends to consolidate their memories, much as happened after my mother's death.

 Memory, Experience and Research

When I  studied for my PhD in the 1970s, I was taught that research consisted in finding information (historical sources in my case) and interpreting these as objectively as possible. Subjectivity was frowned on. Indeed, it might have led to my failure. In the decade that followed, topics like biblical marriage, family and women were taken over by female young scholars who used feminist interpretations which incorporated their own experience as girls and women, summed up by Phyllis Trible's Texts of Terror featuring rape and violence.  There followed a substantial movement of Biblical research highlighting the female experience of patriarchy. This was part of the development of qualitative research which focuses on experience as opposed to being countable and observable. Memories might be inaccurately remembered and need verifying, maybe by triangulation, via documentation or by other participants. Equally documentation might be incorrect requiring information to be carefully checked. A comparison of newspaper items shows this. Even eye witnesses often disagree on major details.

Also evocative of visits and holiday, TV programmes remind us of places visited. While writing this, I am watching Alice Roberts' tour of the archaeology of Egypt and being reminded of our similar trip in 1982. Similarly, trips around the middle and far east brings back memories. The Repair Shop makes me look again at some worn-out items. Having spent my life studying and collecting plants, replacing casualties and using TV as my eyes and ears replaces nearly forgotten experiences and knowledge.

Memory and Story

The human brain spins memories into a coherent story. That story may reflect reality, or may be delusional, at least in part.. It the story might over-emphasis personal weakness or guilt, or may spin the memories to justify  dubious behaviour.  It will be important to verify the story from the memories of others involved.

So  memories are embedded in stories which establish their  contexts. My own stories of childhood and schooling can be found earlier in this blog. A story is a remembered account of what happened but also will contain some explanation: such explanation will not always be credible, serving more as self justification. There is a very thin line between fact and fiction leading to some confusion. Most historical accounts require verification. Some newspapers  have been deliberately deceptive. We create our own stories, about coping with the present and planning to pursue goals. Our personal stories might be positive or negative, promoting achievement or failure, remembering successes or failures. The secret is to learn from both. 

In my wife's case, loss of memory happened rapidly, days rather than weeks. It reduced her ability to read, write, sew and knit, indeed anything which requires hand-eye coordination. She could no longer tell the  time or find her way around the house.She had for several years been a volunteer in Kelmscott Manor but at the end came home upset because she could't do what was required. The cause was brain damage after illness, as a brain scan revealed in January 2016.

One element of qualitative research is the biographies/ autobiographies of researchers and researched, providing a context for the research. This kind of research exists to understand and explain. based on memories and personal history, gleaned from interviews and discussions. This produces deeper data which can be questioned and interogated during the interview to enrich the data. 

There are useful questions: how did life experience as a child shape the kind of adult you became? Are questions of nature and nurture significant? When does childhood end? My memory of childhood is being curious, asking lots of questions and challenging what I was told. My refusal to believe inFather Christmas from the age of three gave great concern to local parents. I was an early reader and have scarcely slowed down since. I remember giving a talk age 9 on becoming a scientist when grew up so must have been confident at public speaking. I was active, camping, football and so on. And from time to time quite naughty. Childhood finished aged around 14 as I began to study for university and gained some responsibily in the home.By the age of 21 I was married and enrolled on a PhD.

Disappearing memories

For some, myself included, memories get brighter over time, but for others detail dims, names disappear, and facial recognition becomes confused. Usually some brain problem is at the root, maybe Alzheimers, or a stroke or some other damage to the brain caused by accident or illness. Alas, as people grow older, dementia numbers rocket; and environmental polution makes its onset earlier in life. Finding loved ones forgetting who you are is painful. But it is part of life's inevitability. 

Stevie Dufyn, March 2024.

        

50th Anniversary of my PhD

 My PhD was completed and handed in during 1974. We were married since 1969 and my grant ended in 1973. To pay the mortgage I had to take a post of secondary school teacher in Buxton. The school had merged a secondary modern with a grammar school and all was not going well. My head of depaertment had had a brakedown in November and our pregnancy miscarried. It was the year the school leaving age was raised to sixteen. Half of my teaching timetable was with pupils who didn't want to be there. I wrote up my research during this difficult year.

I chose my research topic in 1969. My course was Biblical Studies and I was inspired by a course on ancient Hebrew social institutions by Arnold Anderson and noticed that there had been very little recent research on this theme. I had already had a major row with my church on the rights of women which ultimately caused me to leave that church. Much more has been published now, mainly by women but mine was the first detailed analysis. Most new research focuses on  rather thanparticular stories, mostly of violence against women. My analysis was broader, indeed too broad. Having supervised 20 PhDs and persuaded students to think deeply rather than in breadth, I realise that I was given no such advice but just expected to get on with it. Also this was a period of emphasis on the Old Testament as history, whereas now I focus on the Bible as story which may or may not be historical. I corrected this in the structure of my 1989 book Creating the Old Testament.

As previous research had used (and misused) social anthrology this was where I started. There were some benefits (for example debunking proposed evolutionary stages) but overall was not a good use of my time. Comparing Hebrew with other Mesopotamian source, for  example the Hammurabi and Assymian Lawcodes was more profitable.. Source criticism was then unnecessarily time-consuming. My substantive chapters are on marriage customs, intermarriage, incest, adultery, and levirate marriage.A final section on the family was more than I should have attempted, although the work on patriarch was useful. I never managed to publish except for one article on Leviticus 18 and 20, on forbidden marriages. Indeed I now can see that a great deal of extra work was needed to turn the thesis into a book. Feminist research was taking off in the 1980s, pioneered by Phyllis Trible, which led to an enormous body of new literature which I continue to study.

FIRST MONTH HOME

 I arrived home from hospital just before Christmas. I bought a smartphone and laptop to give myself computing on the road. My wife has settled into the care-home very well and her sister was able to visit. I changed my GP to a local surgery who have been helpful. I was getting on well with my physio when unfortunately I fell backward against a table and propably cracked a rib. So it is painkillers for a while. It is most painful when getting out of bed or a chair or twisting awkwardly. 

I was making good progress but my mobility and confidence suffered. The fall was caused by getting out of bed too quickly and losing my balance. My back and ribs were bruised by a bedside table giving me a sharp pain when sitting and lieing in bed and especially when coughing. Pain killers help. It is gradually improving so fingers crossed.

Hospital wrecked my eyesight so I have new glasses which I am getting used to.I now have to learn how to use my new smart-phone and Tablet  So a busy time ahead!

END OF 2023

 Apologies for those who did not receive a seasonal card, which means everyone. I was admitted to hospital on November 22. I was without computer or address book and flat on my back for the five weeks, uncomfortably. We placed my wife in a good care home locally where she is being safe and continues to settle. I had cared for her over seven years and could no longer do so safely. She doesn't know who I am and so does not fret.

It is hard to describe something so boring as lying in a hospital bed staring at the ceiling being kept awake by lights at night, snoring and nurse chatter I was next to the nurse station. At 6am we were woken up by lights on and first obs (blood pressure, blood oxygen and temperature. Then a light breakfast. I was urged to eat and drink more, bur couldn't, my stomach and lungs were restricted by the fluid. Being on water tablets I peed all night.Meds came next, then doctors did their rounds.Of the nurses, a number came from Kerela South India and were delighted tha t had been there.

As it was a teaching hospital junior doctors crowded around my be, and interviewed me about my symptoms. Two carried out the drain after being shown how, and under supervision. In excess of10 litres were drained off, I was never told how much.That reduced my size and weight -- and of course energy.

The final week was in 'intermediate care' (rehabilitation) which was disappointing. Physio led, I didn't see a physio till day 4. They had to tick off simple tasks about living at home - could I make a cup of tea, climb stairs, wash and dress mayself and walk safely with a zimmer frame. I could do all these on the main ward but was forbidden to do most without supervision on rehab. I spent more time in bed because I was forbidden to walk around. I soon rebelled and the  staff gave up on me. By Friday the allowed me home, proving handrails, chair arms, a shower seat and bed  rails to help me out of bed. I am making good progress. I am eating better and drinking better. I hope I begin to put some weight on now.