Eric's recovering

Seen here in less stressful times (December last), Eric is now recovering from major surgery last Tuesday in which he had two lymphonas removed and part of a lung. As his blog (ericavebury@blogspot.com) shows, he had already had to endure some serious affronts to his body. I say again that it's fortunate that as a Buddhist he is well practised in separating mind from body! However, in spite of 'being made of iron' as he puts it, his body let him down yesterday when his blood pressure crashed through the floor and his heart was protesting. This, added to some pretty serious internal bleeding, the source of which remains elusive.

Fortunately, his reserves and spiritual strength have now resulted in him rallying and today I can say he's looking a whole lot better, even managing to eat a banana (to top up his potassium), and drink some mango juice. This is the first food/drink he has had since last Tuesday. So, although he's been under some intense and difficult experiences, he's already expressing an interest in reading the Sunday newspapers so I guess it won't be too long before we're able to take some further nice photos of him and update his blog.

A Bridge too far

We are thinking about motorcyling our way around Europe sometime, possibly on a Honda Pacific Ocean. It will be quite a contrast to the last bike we rode. The picture shows Alan about to negotiate a 'bridge' on the remote island of Phu Quoc off the Western coast of Vietnam. It is six months since we returned. We have Vietnamese meal out this week and reminisced. The people were so nice and welcoming. The picture of the kids was taken inside a military base that we accidentally drove into one day (the Island is disputed territory between Vietnam and Cambodia).

A far cry from the streets of Hackney. Roads of red dust, interesting 'traffic' and an adventurous ride without hassle!

Play it again!

Well, here it is! My lovely new piano. Deep and rich base tones to die for and, when it's tuned in about 12 weeks, it'll be just perfecto!

And so to the other important news to record: Eric has had his operation and it thankfully transpires that he hasn't got lung cancer but a Lymphona. No doubt his blog, www.ericavebury.blogspot, com will keep everyone updated. No doubt, also, that I will continue to receive email communications from The Home Office, The Department for Constitutional Affairs, The Human Tissue Authority, and The Forest Hermitage Buddhist monastery in Warwickshire, responding to Dad's enquiries about the disposal of his body and subsequent re-forming into a sculpture of his bones 'wired' together by a Thai monk which will be hosted at the monastery as an object of contemplation, in line with such traditions.

Salt and Pepper

Sitting in contemplative mood. Re-discovered a Salt and Pepper pot set (perspex and tasteful). These were to have been a present to my maternal grandmother, Margot Bruce. Sadly, she died before I could give them to her and, like so many family possessions, they got 're-distributed'. The curious thing about objects is that their history can so easily be lost.

When my other grandmother, Adelaide Lubbock, died, an auction was held of some of her things. Dad organised this but didn't think it significant enough an event to tell either me or my brothers. Luckily, before the whole lot was carted off to the auction house, the house in which they had lived, High Elms, near Downe in Kent, was available to visit and thus I secured three miniature bone china teapots, which I love.

I wonder to whom I should bequeath my lovely new shiny black baby grand piano. There are no other pianists in my family and it takes up alot of space. Not as much, of course, as a family collection of twelve huge paintings of woolly mammoths (rendered rather badly, I'm told by a little-known Victorian artist). My eldest brother is fortunate; he will one day inherit an ancient burial ground near the mystical and magical standing megaliths in Avebury. As it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it isn't of much practical use to him, but it's an interesting and spiritual place to walk and contemplate.

Don't let your ID be stolen (by the Government)

Continuing debate in the household on the Government's intention to charge every so-called citizen (or subject, as we are more accurately constitutionally-speaking)for an Identity Card. Only the dear Lib Dems held firm, rejecting the voluntary-cum-creeping-compulsory nature of the forthcoming legislation.

Already the most surveillanced country in the world (even more than the USA), I remain convinced that I don't like the fact that, within a couple of years, my right to travel or entitlement to benefits will be dependent on the acquisition of an ID card. We are constantly told to be on our guard for ID theft which costs the country (and people) millions of pounds, but what about our personal details in the hands of non-scrupulous individuals or hidden authorities? Our rights are being eroded and not enough people seem to care.

And even when enough people do care (say, on the matter of the invasion of Iraq), our voices are ignored, our documents tampered with, and information we seek witheld. What can we do? Well, firstly, I think we should 'de-couple' from the States - at least until they have a more reasonable President and Congress. I'd also like us to tell Blair and his cohorts, that they don't represent the views of the majority.

Apathy is the true danger. We will lose our protections, power will be centralised in the hands of a few, and minorities - here and overseas - will continue to live in fear.

When I was last an elected councillor (in the 1980s) the poll tax riots took place. At one point, a bailiff came to the door, threatening to re-possess our house because I hadn't cast my vote in favour of the poll-tax. Many years later, while the world has changed, not much has changed locally - certainly in terms of abuses of power. Back in the 1980s, one Councillor Charles Clarke (now Home Secretary) was in charge of housing in my borough. As he's moved up the ranks, his party has shifted to the right.

I received a letter today from the 'Directorate of Law & Democratic Services' confirming my nomination as a candidate in the local elections on 4th May. I am standing for office so that voters have a choice. We used to say in my part of East London, put up a sheep with red rosette, and it'd win. We got Diane Abbot as our Member of Parliament - eeks!

On a lighter note, I am the new proud owner of a baby grand piano which is delivered next week. Can't wait. It's shiny black and has beautiful resonant tones which will echo Bach, Debussy and Nina Simone amongst many others.

Spring Cleaning and Burial

The blossom is out, the magnolia tree next door is about to bloom in all its pink and white glory and the annual ‘To Do” list is brushed off and being re-visited. Try as I might to be idle, a compulsive ‘list-maker’ has to learn this skill and approach.

Tidying up – whether it’s the inevitable and unwelcome domestic paperwork, nesting and repairing in the home or the sorting through other people’s possessions when they die or are preparing to die – comes into our lives whether or not we wish it to do so.

Facing up to this, I have decided to begin with bringing my filing system up-to-date, ruthlessly shredding and binning any superfluous paperwork. Working my way through from A-Z. I thought this task would be simple and administrative only. However, apart from cataloguing the content, I find myself meticulously considering each alphabetic conundrum: why is this here, and do I need it?

Some sections of the filing cabinet are easy: A for Aviva, insurance documentation. Mental note: check renewal date, suss out alternative online quotations etc. A for Amnesty International.

Amnesty Raffle tickets, a pound apiece. How many to buy? What about writing another email to the Dear Leader of The People’s Republic of China on the subject of persistant Human Rights abuses, both individual ‘cases’ and more general affrontary to the 1.2 billion population?

A is for Avebury or more precisely my father (formerly Eric Lubbock MP for Orpington 1962-1970) and ever since a continuing campaigner on behalf of numerous individuals and groups whose daily lives are blighted by abuses of their Human Rights. My ‘A’ file on my father contains his will and his wishes.

Along with my brother, I am an executor of his will, and required by both duty and law to see to it that his ‘wishes are fulfilled. He has a Red Box File entitled: ‘Body Disposal Arrangements’ which contains both historical and current requirements for the disposal of his body.

Some years ago, he ‘bequeathed’ his body to The Battersea Dogs Home, requesting that his body be fed to ‘the poor little doggies’ (my father has always liked dogs and cats). Unfortunately, (apart from, as I pointed out at the time, the no-small matter of who would be responsible for cutting up his corpse into chunk-size pieces) they wouldn’t have him anyway as it is, apparently, against the Public Health Order Act’.

I suggested he consider burial at sea but his response was: “I don’t like fish”.

In any event, his long-standing belief in Buddhism offered an attractive (to him) alternative. His body is now to be stripped of its flesh (with the application of a limestone solution and a tailor-made coffin with holes in the base). The bones are then to be ‘knitted’ into a sculpture by a skilled Buddhist monk, entitled “On the Impermanence of Life” and then displayed in a Warwickshire-based Buddhist centre. The only problem with this plan is that The Home Office (with which he is in correspondence on an on-going basis) has strict rules regarding exhumation of bodies, and is usually allowed only in the case of forensic analysis. In September, the responsibility for such matters is transferred to the Department for Constitutional Affairs and, most likely, another whole set of bureaucrats to correspond with.

The alternative is to ship his body out to Thailand but the cost of this is very high as the airlines have strict rules also governing air transportation of bodies (bodies must be transported in zinc-lined coffins; transportation costs are related to weight).

I can see it's going to take me a long, long time to work my way through the filing cabinet.