BOOKS... A FEW SUGGESTIONS FOR YOUR HOLIDAYS

I was asked to East Coast Radio to come up with some book suggestions for summer reading.  I was wondering why summer reading should be any different from reading at any other time of year.  I mean, the books you like are the books you like... you're hardly going to change genre just because the sun in shining.

Do those who like violent thrillers turn to soft romances just cause the sun in shining or they are lounging by the pool?

So here are a selection of the kind of books I like - there is a bit of variety and I have also included some Irish Women's Fiction (used to be called 'chick lit').

WHERE’D YOU GO BERNADETTE BY MARIA SEMPLE

This is a great read... the story of a woman called Bernadette Fox – a strong woman, but who develops an allergy to Seattle and to people so that she becomes agrophobic. 

Her daughters fabulous results in school means that she claims her promised reward of a family trip to Antarctica.  But Bernadette by now is having her life run by a virtual assistant in India.... so  a trip to the end of the earth is problematic.  So she disappears.

To find her mother, Bee compiles email messages, official documents, secret correspondence—creating a compulsively readable and touching novel about misplaced genius and a mother and daughter's role in an absurd world.

                                                                                                                

THE 100 YEAR OLD MAN WHO CLIMBED OUT THE WINDOW BY JONAS JONASSON

It all starts on the one-hundredth birthday of Allan Karlsson. Sitting quietly in his room in an old people’s home, he is waiting for the party he-never-wanted-anyway to begin. The Mayor is going to be there. The press is going to be there. But, as it turns out, Allan is not… Slowly but surely Allan climbs out of his bedroom window, into the flowerbed (in his slippers) and makes his getaway. And so begins his picaresque and unlikely journey involving criminals, several murders, a suitcase full of cash, and incompetent police. As his escapades unfold, we learn something of Allan’s earlier life in which – remarkably – he helped to make the atom bomb, became friends with American presidents, Russian tyrants, and Chinese leaders, and was a participant behind the scenes in many key events of the twentieth century. Already a huge bestseller across Europe, The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared is a fun and feel-good book for all ages.

THE ASTRONAUT WIVES CLUB BY LILY KOPPEL (a true story)

This is on my to read list.. it comes recommended by a good friend in the US and as over the last 6 months so many of us in Ireland fell in love with Cmdr Hadfield I am dying to read this.....

As America's Mercury Seven astronauts were launched on death-defying missions, television cameras focused on the brave smiles of their young wives. Overnight, these women were transformed from military spouses into American royalty. They had tea with Jackie Kennedy, appeared on the cover of Life magazine, and quickly grew into fashion icons.

Together with the other wives they formed the Astronaut Wives Club, meeting regularly to provide support and friendship. Many became next-door neighbors and helped to raise each other's children by day, while going to glam parties at night as the country raced to land a man on the Moon.

As their celebrity rose-and as divorce and tragic death began to touch their lives-they continued to rally together, and the wives have now been friends for more than fifty years. THE ASTRONAUT WIVES CLUB tells the real story of the women who stood beside some of the biggest heroes in American history.(le

THE LIGHT BETWEEN OCEANS BY ML STEADMAN

I haven’t read this yet but it comes highly recommended by my mother and some friends whose judgement is rarely wrong.

After four harrowing years on the Western Front, Tom Sherbourne returns to Australia and takes a job as the lighthouse keeper on Janus Rock, nearly half a day’s journey from the coast. To this isolated island, where the supply boat comes once a season and shore leaves are granted every other year at best, Tom brings a young, bold, and loving wife, Isabel. Years later, after two miscarriages and one stillbirth, the grieving Isabel hears a baby’s cries on the wind. A boat has washed up onshore carrying a dead man and a living baby. 

Tom, whose records as a lighthouse keeper are meticulous and whose moral principles have withstood a horrific war, wants to report the man and infant immediately. But Isabel has taken the tiny baby to her breast. Against Tom’s judgment, they claim her as their own and name her Lucy. When she is two, Tom and Isabel return to the mainland and are reminded that there are other people in the world. Their choice has devastated one of them. 

M. L. Stedman’s mesmerizing, beautifully written novel seduces us into accommodating Isabel’s decision to keep this “gift from God.” And we are swept into a story about extraordinarily compelling characters seeking to find their North Star in a world where there is no right answer, where justice for one person is another’s tragic loss. 

The Light Between Oceans is exquisite and unforgettable, a deeply moving novel.

ME BEFORE YOU BY JOJO MOYES

I loved this book... I flew through it... but it moved me like books rarely do.

Lou Clark knows lots of things. She knows how many footsteps there are between the bus stop and home. She knows she likes working in The Buttered Bun tea shop and she knows she might not love her boyfriend Patrick.

What Lou doesn't know is she's about to lose her job or that knowing what's coming is what keeps her sane.

Will Traynor knows his motorcycle accident took away his desire to live. He knows everything feels very small and rather joyless now and he knows exactly how he's going to put a stop to that.

What Will doesn't know is that Lou is about to burst into his world in a riot of colour. And neither of them knows they're going to change the other for all time.

PAPER AEROPLANES BY DAWN O PORTER

This is a (older) young adult book... and a debut from Dawn O Porter... documentary maker, journalist and married to our own Chris O Dowd.

You could read it in one sitting.. but for anyone who has once been a girl this book will resonate with you – even if your girlhood was two decades before the characters in the book.

Set in the mid-1990s, fifteen year-old Guernsey schoolgirls, Renée and Flo, are not really meant to be friends. Thoughtful, introspective and studious Flo couldn't be more different to ambitious, extroverted and sexually curious Renée. But Renée and Flo are united by loneliness and their dysfunctional families, and an intense bond is formed. Although there are obstacles to their friendship (namely Flo's jealous ex-best friend and Renée's growing infatuation with Flo's brother), fifteen is an age where anything can happen, where life stretches out before you, and when every betrayal feels like the end of the world. For Renée and Flo it is the time of their lives.

With graphic content and some scenes of a sexual nature, PAPER AEROPLANES is a gritty, poignant, often laugh-out-loud funny and powerful novel. It is an unforgettable snapshot of small-town adolescence and the power of female friendship

AND IRISH WOMEN'S FICTION

The Captains Table by Muriel Bolger

No matter the problem, a Mediterranean cruise is the perfect solution – at least, this is the opinion of a group of solo travellers who enjoy dinner together at the Captain’s Table during their first night on the ship.

When a group of solo travellers meet for dinner on the first day of a luxury cruise, alliances are quickly formed. But as the ship makes its way through azure Mediterranean waters, it becomes clear that some of the passengers have their own reasons for wanting to escape their everyday lives . . .

The Letter by Maria Duffy

Just launched... the letter is the story of Ellie Duggan is getting married in seven weeks. But just before she sets off for a fun-filled New York hen party weekend, she finds a letter addressed to her sister Caroline.Dated only weeks before Caroline died in a tragic accident, it contains some startling information which forces Ellie to face some truths about herself, Caroline's death - and even her forthcoming marriage.Ellie has spent the three years since Caroline's death running from the truth. But as the weekend in New York comes to a close, she makes a drastic decision. As Ellie finally lays old ghosts to rest, she realises that the truth can set you free. But will she be willing to take the risk?

The Land of Dreams by Kate Kerrigan

 Land of Dreams is the stunning third novel in the Ellis Island trilogy. Ellie's idyllic and bohemian family lifestyle on Fire Island is shattered when her eldest son, Leo, runs away to Hollywood to seek his fame and fortune. Ellie is compelled to chase after him, uprooting her youngest son and long-time friend and confidante Bridie as she goes. Ellie fashions a new home amongst the celebrities, artists and movie moguls of the day to appease Leo's star-studded dreams. As she carves out a new way of life, Ellie is drawn towards intense new friendships. Talented composer Stan is completely different to any other man she has previously encountered whilst kindred spirit Suri opens Ellie's eyes to a whole new set of injustices. Ellie sees beyond the glitz of 1940s Hollywood, realising that the glamorous and exciting world is also a dangerous place overflowing with vanity and greed. It is up to Ellie to protect her precious family from the disappointments such surroundings can bring and also from the more menacing threats radiating from the war raging in Europe.

5 Peppermint Grove by Michelle Jackson

 Ruth Travers is leaving Ireland like so many of the Irish Diaspora who have gone before her. But, instead of a coffin ship, she's travelling business class on a Boeing 777 and will be landing in sunny Perth, Western Australia. Leaving behind her married boyfriend of ten years, Ruth hopes to make a fresh start. Her mother Angela, who lived in Perth in the seventies, is distraught when she hears that Ruth is Australia bound. It is only when Ruth discovers a sealed airmail envelope, with 5 Peppermint Grove, Perth, scrawled across it in her mother's handwriting, that she wonders what else Angela may be hiding. Her best friend Julia Perrin gently orchestrated the move to Perth for her friend's own good. She is a successful businesswoman with her own travel company and so busy fixing everybody else's life she sees no need to do so with her own . . . until she visits Ruth in Perth! Sunshine, sandy beaches and barbeques abound but there may be more than Angela's secret waiting for them in Peppermint Grove . 

"JUST A BIT OF HORSEPLAY.."

Last night I toddled off to bed way too late after staying up to watch ‘Tonight with Vincent Browne’ followed by Primetime on RTE.  Both programmes were on much later than usual to give us an insight into the workings of our Parliament as the Protection of Life During Pregnancy Bill was being voted upon.  Twitter was as usual great craic particularly as the team on TV3 kept rolling out pairs of TDs to be interviewed outside Dail Eireann by Vincent who was in studio.  There was Fidelma Healy Eames who faced sideways to camera and kept her finger in her ear the whole time and better still was Peter Matthews who kept his eyes fixed on the floor.  All of this to the distant chants and prayers of protesters gathered at the gates of Leinster House.  The subject being discussed in the chamber was serious but the theatrical element of this late night sitting was captured beautifully especially by TV3.

As I bid farewell to Twitter at about 2am, I did wonder about what kind of Banana Republic has a Parliament sitting until 5am.  It’s not like war had just been declared and there was a fierce urgency to their deliberations.  I wondered if the Dail Bar was still open – Gerry Adams had referred to the number of staff that were being kept late by this rather melodramatic approach to serious legislation.  As I climbed under my very light sheet I wondered why a workplace has a bar anyway.

I woke this morning to another fabulously sunny, hot day; nothing like it to put a smile on your face and banish all negativity.  But then I turned on my phone and found that my Twitter feed was a blaze of anger and indignation over what had, by about 8:30am, become known as #lapgate.

You all know the details.  During a break in the early morning proceedings, TD Tom Barry (FG) grabbed his female colleague Aine Collins and pulled her onto his lap.  Barry has since issued a sincere apology for the incident and apparently Ms Collins has accepted it.

So – should that be the end of it? 

No I don’t think so.  This kind of casual, sexist behaviour is an appalling abuse of male power and strength.  To be a woman on the receiving end of such boorish attention is humiliating and intimidating.  It is also against the law and has no place whatsoever in the workplace.  The fact that this workplace was our national parliament – the seat of our democracy and cradle of our legislation makes it even more offensive.  Dail Eireann by its very nature has to be a place where the laws of the country are upheld with transparency and vigour.

I was angry when I viewed the recording of the incident last night.  I accept that there was no malice intended... but that is not the point.  Tom Barry’s actions undermined the natural equality and dignity all women in the chamber.  But also have a look at the men around at the time... no one looks shocked or perturbed. 

As the firestorm on Twitter took flight this morning a Fine Gael spokesperson was quoted as saying that it was all a bit of horseplay and nothing more.  It was the polished version of ‘calm down girls and get a grip’.  This is far more worrying.  At a time when our Government is committed, through the system of quotas, to recruiting more women into politics, the main Government party thinks grabbing a female colleague and forcing her onto a lap is just a bit of nothing.

Journalist Colette Browne wrote recently of her own experience of this kind of everyday sexism in The Examiner.  As I read it I slowly became aware that I too had encountered just such ‘abuse’ in my past.   I have a vivid memory of when I was about 14 walking home from school alone, in my school uniform in bright summer sunshine.  I passed a workman involved in roadworks nearby and as I did he casually put his hand right up my skirt.  He said nothing and walked on by.   At the time I got a shock but, said nothing.  Told no one.  When I read Colette’s account of her own experiences I realised that for generations of young women being subjected to this kind of predatory behaviour and violation was commonplace.  We accepted it. That’s the tragedy.

And it is that silence which is now deafening from the women TDs of Dail Eireann. 

Individually some have posted comments on Twitter but I am very dismayed that there is not an organised statement from these women, across all parties calling for an assurance that no women (or man) will be subject to such humiliation in the future. 

I have to admit I was late to this party.  Having been out of the workforce for ten years, and having always worked in female dominated industries I can honestly say that I never experienced sexual discrimination or harassment in the workplace.  I am also 6 feet tall which probably provides me with some protection from being grabbed and man- handled at the whim of a passing stranger or colleague.

I have always believed that the world is largely as we find it and if you want to look for problems you will find them.  As women we are lucky that our rights as equal citizens are enshrined in law so we can be reasonably sure that we cannot be discriminated against in any overt way. 

But I am now realising that sexism is alive and well and thriving just below the radar.  It is just as wrong and possibly more damaging not only to women but to our society.  It is time that we all call it out whenever we see it happening.  And it starts at the top – in Dail Eireann.

Thank God the cameras were rolling.... cos to me it sure didn’t look like anyone who was present was much disturbed by what they saw.  

Note:  later in the day Fine Gael changed their tune and issued a statement which described the behaviour of their TD as unacceptable.  

I AM ANGRY - AGAIN

I am writing this on the 26^th of June; an auspicious date in Irish history.  It was on the 26^th of June in 1963 that John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the 35^th President of the United States of America touched down in Dublin Airport to begin his four day visit to Ireland.  It was also on the 26^th of June (1996) that journalist Veronica Guerin was murdered on the Naas Road. A less well known event occurred on the 26^th of June 1920 when my maternal grandfather, George Power was involved in the kidnap of a British General who was fishing on the banks of the River Blackwater just outside Fermoy in North Cork. 

All of these events are playing on my mind as I attempt to formulate my thoughts on the revelations contained in the Anglo Tapes which were made public by the Irish Independent last week.  Let me begin by saying that I am angry.... again.

Over the last five years there have been many times I have been angry.  I have watched from my corner of suburbia, without the benefit of a university degree or even much understanding of economics, as this country was brought to her knees and I was angry.  I watched as the previous Government stumbled along through their last days as if punch drunk from the events that seemed to be overwhelming them and I was angry.

Each so called ‘austerity budget’ since has renewed my anger as I witness some of the most vulnerable in our society being stripped of allowances to which they are entitled and which they need in order to live.  I have been angry at how women seem to have borne an unfair portion of this austerity through cuts to carer’s allowance, child benefit, lone parent allowance, tax on maternity benefit etc. 

Almost five years of anger and this week I am angry all over again.  I have spoken to my neighbours, my friends and colleagues and without exception all are furious.  All found listening to the cavalier conversations of some very well paid senior bankers in Anglo Irish Bank as they discussed pulling a master stroke on our Government to be truly nauseating. 

The truth is that they pulled a master stroke on US, the people of this country.  What kind of schools, I wonder, produce this type of caricature of a man - overly macho, arrogant, insensitives who seem to be so removed (or perhaps insulated) from the effects of their irresponsible banking practices.  Their supercilious, self important guffawing turned my stomach. 

As I wrestled to make sense of how Ireland has come to this point in her history I thought of my grandfather, George Power and the ordinary men and women who almost a century ago managed to secure freedom from what was then probably the most powerful empire on earth.  I think of their bravery, of the risks they took in the years leading up to 1922.

I think of the women who ran messages, who operated as undercover agents within the British administration securing vital information for Collins, I think of the people of towns such as Fermoy who were subjected to looting and rioting by British Troops in retaliation for IRA activity.  I think of the families who risked their lives by providing safe houses for men on the run and of how they hid and smuggled arms to keep the push for freedom going forward. 

Last week has also brought the visit of JFK to Ireland in 1963 back into focus with the 50^th anniversary celebrations last weekend in New Ross.  President Kennedy made a wonderful speech when he addressed the joint houses of the Oireachtas.  In it he referenced George Bernard Shaw when he said
“It is that quality of the Irish, the remarkable combination of hope, confidence and imagination that is needed more than ever today. The problems of the world cannot possibly be solved by sceptics or cynics whose horizons are limited by the obvious realities. We need men who can dream of things that never were and ask, why not?”

These words are only 50 years old but where the hell is that combination of hope, confidence and imagination now?  Where are these men and women who can dream of things that never were and ask, why not?  The men and women who were to the forefront of Ireland’s fight for independence were certainly capable of dreaming of things that never were and must have seemed impossible.  They were surely very antithesis to the lily livered bankers we are hearing on the Anglo tapes.

So how has Ireland gone from a being a nation of courage, imagination and action to a passive place where a cohort of greedy immoral bankers can break us and suffer very little consequences for doing so?  And more importantly why has the anger I sense in the community not translated into action?

Just 17 years ago this country got very angry at the murder in broad daylight of journalist Veronica Guerin.  We got angry and we let the heat of that anger be felt by Government.  Within days action had been taken to seize assets of the criminals and the breaking of criminal gangs began in earnest.  Arrests were made and the search for Veronica’s killers was relentless. 

Veronica Guerin, President Kennedy and George Power and his comrades all knew that (to quote Kennedy again) “problems... cannot be solved by sceptics or cynics of those whose horizons are limited by the obvious realities.” 

It is beyond time for clear and imaginative leadership.  I am very unconvinced that such is possible in the current government but the very least we, the people of Ireland, can do is to make our anger felt.  We owe it to ourselves and more importantly to our children to insist that action is taken now to prosecute those who gambled our entire country.  I am not sure of how this can best be achieved, no more than those who protested Ms Guerin’s murder dreamed of the Criminal Assets Bureau  .. but that is what we elect and pay our TDs for.  It is our job to ensure it happens.

HOW TO SURVIVE BEING A 'STAY AT HOME'

Being a full time 'stay at home' parent (why doesn’t someone come up with a better job description), is not for the faint hearted.  It is a job for which there is no training and most of us just jump in at the deep end.  But it strikes me that in the current climate, there must be many women and men who are now finding themselves as 'stay at home' a role they never anticipated for themselves.  Looking back over my years at home, there are a number of things I wish I had known at the beginning which may have made life a little easier.  Things like….

Being a 'Stay At Home Parent' is probably not forever

As you embark on this new and possibly unexpected phase of your life, remember that is most likely going to be a defined phase of life. Your children will grow up… you won’t be needed forever.  So it is vital that you keep that in mind and keep your professional skill set up-to-date.

A place to work from

I remember clearly when I left the world of paid work I did two things immediately:

I bought a laptop (ten years ago not every home had a computer) and I also felt I needed a desk.  I couldn’t rationalize why I needed a desk but I knew I had some deep need for a desk.  Perhaps it was a ‘me place’ – my own corner of the living room devoid of family or baby paraphernalia.  Although for most of the time that ‘me place’ was in fact the end of my kitchen table.

 Get involved

Having left the workforce you have skills that voluntary organizations and local committees may be delighted to have at their disposal.  Take some time to think about what interests you, what causes you may have some passion for, what charities’ you particularly support.  Then make contact and get involved. 

Your children’s school will no doubt regularly be looking for assistance with various tasks.  Making tea and coffee at communions etc. may not be your bag but you could offer to help out with various other ad-hoc jobs.   If your children are involved in sport, your help could be very useful there, whether it be in training the kids or doing some of the administration work.

Invisibility and The Art of Saying No

Being at home, particularly if you have very young children, can be very isolating and lonely.  It is vital that you get involved with activities beyond the local parent and toddler group.  If you don’t reach out, you run the risk of losing confidence very quickly and becoming invisible.

Being a house-spouse can easily mean that various well meaning friends and family begin to depend on you for helping with menial tasks.  You might find yourself running here and there or minding other people’s children on far too regular a basis. 

Learn early on to say ‘no’.  Remember you are still doing a job.  Just because you don’t get paid, doesn’t mean that what you are doing is not just as important as any other job you have had.  Never fall into the guilt trap of “I’m not earning money so what I am doing is worthless”

It can be lonely

Unless you worked in a solitary profession, you will miss people.  Kids can be great entertainment but you will really pine for a good old chat and laugh with adults.  It is vital you work to make connections – with other parents (yep, the school gate mafia) and neighbours etc.  

Along with meeting and connecting with people in real life, the internet also offers a great way to connect with like-minded individuals and renew old friendships.  It doesn’t appeal to everyone but personally I love Facebook and Twitter  – but you know that.

Learn a new skill

Now could be the ideal time to learn a new skill.  How many times have you thought, 'I would love to learn to dance, or to write, or do some research into family history.'  Signing up for a class for a couple of hours a week should be easy enough, especially when the kids are in school.   Just make sure you do something you enjoy.

Remember Who You Are

Working in the home, looking after children and all the domestic chores, is tiring and seemingly endless.  Lunch or coffee breaks are not guaranteed and your day will certainly not finish at 5 or 6pm.  So make sure you build in some ‘you’ time into your week.  Once a week either meet some friends or former colleagues for lunch or coffee. Protect your sense of self.

Get Out!

Finally, especially if you have small children – remember you can leave the house!  I know there is a huge amount of palaver in getting young kids out for an excursion but I remember well rainy, winter days when packing them into anoraks and wellies and heading out to the park or the beach saved my sanity! 

Make memories

I could wax on lyrically about how wonderful it is to spend time with your children when they are young… or to even be around for teenagers, as I had both, but that’s also a different post.  It has all been a marvellous privilege but I know it's not a choice all have or indeed want.   

The day I left work my colleagues gathered to toast my departure.  One wise older woman gave me a card.  When I opened it her message was simply:

“Good luck Barbara.  Enjoy making memories with your children.”

And I have.  Very much.  So whether you find yourself being a so called 'stay at home' parent by accident or desire... I hope you do too.

I AM SORRY SASHA AND MALIA...

It’s a beautiful Tuesday in suburban Dublin.  My neighbourhood is humming with the sounds of lawn mowers but as it nears lunchtime that sound is punctuated by the regular buzzing of helicopters flying slow circuits a couple of miles away.

My twitter stream is full of #obama and #dalkey tweets as the Obama ladies make their way to Dalkey village for lunch in the pub with Bono! 

I didn’t realise till yesterday that the first girls are the same age as my two youngest and so I watched with added interest as they trailed around Trinity College yesterday and I was much cheered by the normality of Sasha who was photographed crossing her eyes as she sat in the Gaiety Theatre waiting for a special performance of Riverdance. 

If they manage to get through today’s lunch with equal aplomb I will be might impressed and at the same time a little sad for them.  Was there no one in the Dept of Foreign Affairs or the American Embassy who might have suggested injecting something into their itinerary that was a bit more interesting for a pair of young teenage girls?  I wish someone could have called me for advice.  I could have made a few suggestions for their itinerary.

What about a visit to GAA HQ at Croke Park, where they could view the city from the Skyline roof walk.  Afterwards they would be treated to a short display of Camogie and women’s football.  We have some really cool young women excelling at both of these national sports.

I know the girls would have enjoyed a visit to the DSPCA in Rathfarnham which is a beautiful facility and where they could spend some time with the kittens, cats, dogs, donkeys and horses who are waiting for their forever home.  Imagine the photos!

Glendalough is wonderful and as the weather was nice I think that might have provided a nice idea of our beautiful scenery.

But my girls would have suggested flying Niall Horan back from wherever he is at the moment so that Bono could have chatted to their mammy while they bathed in the glow of Mr Horan’s special appeal to girls of a certain age.

So Malia and Sasha – I am sorry if we got it all a bit wrong.... but they should have checked with some teenagers before they organised your time here in Dublin.

But that said, I hope you enjoyed it here and that you both might come back at some time when you can decide your own itineraries.  In the meantime may I congratulate you.  You both looked great, and most of all ye were awake.... before lunchtime.. in the summer.  Well done!

THE SECRET LIFE OF THE CAT INDEED.

So after lots of hoopla and advance PR last night I sat down with my cuppa and bun, ready to be amazed and educated about ‘The Secret Life Of The Cat’ – a Horizon special on BBC2.

Regular readers will know that while I don’t consider that I am (yet) in the Crazy Cat Lady category (although there are some who know me who would disagree) I am the current slave to 3 moggies and have always shared my life and home with felines.  Suffice to say I love cats and I would never choose to live without at least one.

But like anyone else who lives with kitties will tell you, they are a bit of a law unto themselves and we all know that they do have a ‘secret life’ – whether that just goes on in their little cute heads or in reality remains to be seen. I was hoping that august broadcasting corporation that is the BBC was going to enlighten me last night.

The programme started well enough with ‘cat scientists’ (really?... and if so I want to be one.. where or what do I study?) arriving into a very pretty village in Surrey.  We got images of cutesy rose covered cottages, a village green, and the centre of operations, Cat HQ was the local village hall.  All very ‘Vicar of Dibley’. 

We then were introduced to some of the cast of 50 kitties who were going take part in the experiment.  50?  Yes.  In one village?  Yes.  The Brits love their pets.  I wouldn’t think you would find too many Irish villages where there were 50 (unrelated) cats.  In fact we were told there were 10 million cats in the UK.  That they know that is amazing in itself.  Needless to say we don’t know how many pussies there are in Ireland.

As the programme outlined the science behind this week long study we were also told that most cats only roam a short distance from their homes.  Male cats about 100m and females about half that.  Cats spend most of their time at home with only about 20% of their time outside.

By now my tea was drained and my bun polished off and I was getting a bit antsy.  This was all very nice.... but WHAT IS THE SECRET LIFE OF THE CAT? 

Well revelations were thin on the ground.  We learned that one cat, Claude leaves home every evening and heads down the road to another cat house where he lets himself in the catflap and helps himself to the neighbours’ cat’s food.  Wow ? No not really!

As any cat owner knows, cats retain a very high percentage of their wildness which is most evident in their ability to hunt and kill their prey.  I have been gifted with mice (dead and alive), spiders and once a baby rat.  The Surrey cats were far more exotic in their hunting endeavours with a rabbit, a mole and a shrew among the reasonably limited ‘kill’ over the week.  As I wrestled with the concept of loving cats while contemplating the wholesale murder of the entire cast of The Wind in the Willows, I heard one of the Cat Scientists work out that from 50 cats this haul was very modest and he concluded that cats don’t pose a serious threat to local wildlife.  Good

In fact this element of cat’s lives really produced the only interesting piece of information as far as I was concerned; although it wasn’t really a surprise.  Apparently cats are becoming more domesticated and less wild as they work at fine tuning their relationships with us, their families.  The exception of course are farm cats, who understand very clearly that they have work to do on the farm keeping down rats and mice around barns and animal housing. 

As the programme wound its convoluted way towards a subdued climax we were introduced to the Edwards family whose cats, we were told excitedly, provided the biggest surprise of all.  “Oh here we go” I poked the sleeping feline beside me on the couch.. “now we are going to find out about your secret life.”  He opened one eye lazily and then went back to sleep. 

Back to the Edwards family who have six cats.  “And the biggest surprise of all is that these six cats who are un-related all get along just fine.”  “Whaaat” I roared at the telly.  “I could have told you that.”  We have usually a permanent quota of four cats but sometimes when we foster for the DSPCA we can have up to 10 and we have never had a fight.

“Well that was all very underwhelming” I said to the sleeping mound of fur beside me.  He didn’t move but I thought I saw one side of his mouth curl into a wry smile.

“The Secret Life of the Cat” he seemed to say.... which bit of ‘secret’ don’t you get? 

As I tried to contain my disappointment I had a picture of the little village in Surrey now abandoned by TV Crews and Cat Scientists, its Village Hall returned to its original use.  In my mind’s eye I see a moonlit, midnight gathering of cats on the village green.  Tails up, purring contentedly... and just faintly I am sure I can hear something else.  Yes.. the cats are laughing.

Cat Scientists indeed....  I think TS Elliot had it right in his wonderful poem, The Naming of Cats.

But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover--
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.

Yep.. old TS knew what he was talking about.  The Secret Life of Cats is as deep a secret as the inner workings of a Masonic Lodge.  If you are not a cat – forget it – the cats ain’t confessing.

IT TAKES A VILLAGE.......

There is a saying, usually attributed to African culture that says “it takes a village to raise a child.”   Hilary Clinton borrowed it for the title of her book published in 1996.  In it she says “All of us, whether we acknowledge it or not, are responsible for deciding whether our children are raised in a nation that doesn't just espouse family values but values families and children.”

All of us, Hilary says.  That includes all generations, all genders, parents and non parents.  We all have role in raising the children of our nation.  I have been dismayed to see that in the two editions of RTE Primetime that to date have discussed the crèche situation following the broadcast of ‘Breach of Trust’ have had all female panels.  This may give the impression that childcare is just a women’s issue, which is clearly not the case.  It is not even just a parental issue. The care of our youngest and most vulnerable citizens is something we all should have an interest in.  Even if you hate children please remember they are our future.  They will be paying our pensions. 

I welcome the current discussion we are having as a result of the excellent expose by RTE’s investigative unit.  However I am dismayed by the regular (almost constant) linking of this debate with working parents and working mothers in particular.  Childcare should be about what is best for the child.  If we continually link the issue of full time care with the issue of women in the workforce we are doing our children a grave disservice.

One of the possible reasons that we have had the explosion in recent years of the ‘industrial’ (for the want of a better word) type crèche businesses is that society (our village) seems to want a custodial arrangement for children where they are fed, watered, changed and rested while their parents are at work.  These kind of crèches are fine in shopping centres where older little ones (usually they must be toilet trained) are can be dropped off for a hour or two while their carer does some shopping.  But I am very unsure that the crèches such as the type we saw in Breach of Trust provide what is best for our children, especially the very young.

I don’t say that lightly.  I am a mother of three and all of my children attended crèches – full time for varying lengths of time.  When my eldest was born I was a single parent living at home with my parents.  So I didn’t have the option of having someone coming into my house.  Therefore it was either a child minder or a crèche.  I chose a crèche.   

Anyone who has cared for small children will know what a difficult job it is.  It is emotionally, physically and psychologically testing and at times it is mind numbingly boring.  I know I sometimes snapped at my kids when I shouldn’t have.  I have shouted.  I may have even cursed.  But like most parents I imagine, when that happened I was always so horrified and so immediately full of remorse that I usually then smothered said child in affection.  Something I didn’t see happen in the Primetime programme. 

But it was precisely because I know how difficult looking after small kids is that I thought a bigger environment where they were not at the ‘mercy’ of just one minder would provide a safer environment. But towards the end of my time using a crèche I began to feel that maybe I was wrong. 

I hadn’t factored in the segregation of the children in large crèches.  In my experience these crèches have a baby room, a wobbler room, a toddler room and Montessori room etc.  This clearly makes it easier for the staff to manage but I am not convinced it’s best for the children.  It also means that these very young children can be spending up to 10 or 11 hours in the one room.  This is not healthy.  In fact one of the final straws that broke my own particular camel’s back was that my youngest (who was about 9 months) kept getting repeated ear infections.  After her third burst eardrum I asked our consultant what I could proactively do to avoid further infection.  He looked me straight in the eye and said “take her out of the crèche.” 

At the time I nearly thumped him.  How very dare he?   I was exhausted from working full time, with three kids (one a teenager and two pre schoolers in fulltime day care) but I loved my children and was doing my best.  I was very sensitive to criticism.

As I sat in his office, in shock, trying to contain to urge to run, he calmly told me that very young children’s immune systems are not strong enough to cope with being in a close environment with other ‘stranger’ children of the same age.  “There’s a reason children don’t start school till after 3 years” he said.

So if I had to make decisions about the care of my precious babies again I would probably plump for a good childminder.  A woman who could preferably come into my home or if not whose home I felt was a cosy, warm, safe domestic environment where I would be happy to spend a day.

I interviewed David Coleman some time ago and I raised this question as to what care is best for our children.  He was unequivocal in his response. “I think that it is way better for children to have a parent at home. I say that because, with the best will in the world no one is going to be able to care for your child with the same level of unconditionality as you do.” He went on to say it is a difficult role and not one that suits everyone “it’s got to be fulfilling for whoever is staying at home and if it’s not, then don’t do it.”

Of course not everyone has the full of plethora of childcare choices available to them and David readily admits that. But in a perfect world where all things were equal the second best option, he says is having a childminder come to your home followed by your child going to their home. Crèche and ‘leaving it all to an au pair’ complete the list in order of least ideal options. But David does stress that it’s all about the quality of care – you may have a great childminder or crèche leader which could work out very well for you and your child. And he reminds me “children are very resilient”

 So as we continue this hugely important debate can we focus on the children and their needs and not those of working parents.  Can we question if a large crèche with children separated into zones is really the best thing for our very youngest children.  And most of all can we remember we all have a responsibility to our youngest citizens.

Yes I do believe it takes a village to raise a child.  Our community is led by our politicians who we have voted into power.  We have a Minister for Children.  We had a referendum on children’s rights just last year.  But I am not sure that our government have accepted the old African wisdom on childraising.  I am not sure that they feel they have a responsibility to spend some of our money on ensuring that whatever option parents decide is best, that the care our children get is the very best and nothing short of that. 

 I think Hilary Clinton was dead right when she said “Children are not rugged individualists. They depend on the adults they know and on thousands more who make decisions every day that affect their well-being.”

We need to keep talking, we as working parents need to curb our extra sensitivity to perceived criticism, we need to keep searching for the best answers and to keep listening to each other and to our children.  Then we need to demand that childcare services are properly funded.