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harper

Action for Happiness ...

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I don't know Murthly Hospital but I still shudder thinking about places like Carstairs and Lennox Castle. (Incidently, there is a nice history of the Scottish mental health system, featuring some of the old hospitals, in the Kelvingrove Art Gallery).

I first started working in mental health as the last of the big asylums were closing. There is well founded criticism with community care but it is still far better than the old bins, as they were referred to. People were often just locked away and forgotten and some of the treatments can only be described as barbaric.

I suppose what the rich can afford is good respite care. In the 80s and 90s we used to be able to refer people to hospital when the stresses of life felt a bit too much, usually for a very short respite admisison. Given the closure of NHS psychiatric beds, it's difficult to get a hospital admission even under the most difficult of circumstances. Ironically, I work for a charity that spearheaded the closure of the big asylums. Now we have to fight so that people can get access to in patient treatment when they need it.

PS: Just googled images for Murthly Hospital

http://www.google.co.uk/search?q=murthly+hospital+scotland&rls=com.microsoft:en-US&oe=utf8&redir_esc=&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&hl=en&tab=wi&biw=1001&bih=560

I have nightmares thinking about those places, harper, one of my brothers. John, who has brain damage was in Larbert, Royal Scottish National Hospital, for all too many years. As Sgiob says, the grounds were absolutely beautiful, however, the conditions in these asylums were horrendous, although, in the years leading up to Care in the Community they improved.

Having struggled for many years tackling issue after issue regarding John's care in Larbert, we continue to encounter problems relating to his current care. Funded by Dumfries and Galloway Council, a decision was made to cut his one to one care by 20 hours a week. This decision was made prior to any review having been carried out and was merely on the basis of funding. It has had considerable impact on both his wellbeing and quality of life.

There are many issues that need tackling, for example, instead of having the three dedicated workers he is supposed to have, he can have as many as seven or eight different workers assigned to his care over the course of a few weeks. Needless to say their understanding of his needs varies and he has little opportunity to build up relationships with so many different staff coming and going. John suffers from short term memory so his key worker can be someone whose name he couldn't even tell you and there are important aspects of his care that they don't always grasp.

The quality of his life is much better than it was in the old Larbert days but it is not what it should or could be.

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PS: Just googled images for Murthly Hospital

Isn't it gorgeous? The site was clearly of religious importance -- for millennia possibly, and at least until 900 CE. There's a 'Druid's Circle' of standing stones within the grounds, and important Pictish carved stones have been found nearby.

I used to sneak around in the beech groves hunting rabbits and pigeons.

When I first met Mrs. Sgriob I took her to the hospital's annual Christmas party, in which patients and medical staff wore fancy dress. For the most part you couldn't tell which was which. :)

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Isn't it gorgeous? The site was clearly of religious importance -- for millennia possibly, and at least until 900 CE. There's a 'Druid's Circle' of standing stones within the grounds, and important Pictish carved stones have been found nearby.

I used to sneak around in the beech groves hunting rabbits and pigeons.

When I first met Mrs. Sgriob I took her to the hospital's annual Christmas party, in which patients and medical staff wore fancy dress. For the most part you couldn't tell which was which. :rolleyes:

I've often spent time pondering on just that question, Sgriob.

What were you using in your hunter mode - a sling?

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I've often spent time pondering on just that question, Sgriob.

What were you using in your hunter mode - a sling?

I was a self-taught poacher with a folding .410 shotgun and rabbit wires, which could also be used to snare knackered salmon in the right season. I met the ghillie at a funeral a couple of years ago and he claimed to have been well aware of my activities. Never nicked me, though. I wish I still had that Belgian .410. But it's been many years since I shot anything.

Nowadays I suppose I'd be viewed as a hooligan and animal abuser. Back then it seemed perfectly normal and natural. My mum was in denial about it all. She'd happily cook anything I brought home, as long as she didn't see any fins, feathers or fur.

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I was a self-taught poacher with a folding .410 shotgun and rabbit wires, which could also be used to snare knackered salmon in the right season. I met the ghillie at a funeral a couple of years ago and he claimed to have been well aware of my activities. Never nicked me, though. I wish I still had that Belgian .410. But it's been many years since I shot anything.

Nowadays I suppose I'd be viewed as a hooligan and animal abuser. Back then it seemed perfectly normal and natural. My mum was in denial about it all. She'd happily cook anything I brought home, as long as she didn't see any fins, feathers or fur.

Youthful pastimes are very much related to where you live, Sgriob. Many rabbits and trout turned up in our house and the choice of pet was sometimes a ferret. I've never skinned a rabbit but I've gutted many a trout and in preparation for celebrations in Ireland I've been called upon to pluck a chicken. A way of life. Like you say 'perfectly normal and natural'.

These days I think I would be less accepting but I was often glad to cook some rabbit when the pennies were short.

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I was a self-taught poacher with a folding .410 shotgun and rabbit wires, which could also be used to snare knackered salmon in the right season. I met the ghillie at a funeral a couple of years ago and he claimed to have been well aware of my activities. Never nicked me, though. I wish I still had that Belgian .410. But it's been many years since I shot anything.

Nowadays I suppose I'd be viewed as a hooligan and animal abuser. Back then it seemed perfectly normal and natural. My mum was in denial about it all. She'd happily cook anything I brought home, as long as she didn't see any fins, feathers or fur.

Sounds like you found your own Action for Happiness there, Sqwibes. And that's my point really, Governments and experts can't really dictate on this one. I am imaging you in a Happiness Workshop writing that stuff down on you "Action Plan". laugh.gif

As a meat eater, I can't really take issue with hunting and feel that wildlife can't really be owned by anyone, let alone rich landowners. I wish there were more people like your ghillie, I can't help but feel it was a much healthier right of passage that most young boys have nowadays. I like the sound of your Ma. wink.gif I wonder what stories my boy will be recalling about our relationship when he is well into his (insert what you are willing to admit totongue.gif ) .

Life has become far too professionalised, IMV. Normal distress and responses to life are patholgised and we rely far too much on the opinion of experts, IMV. The persuit of perfection in all things leads to tremendous unhappiness. . My Action for Happiness is just to muddle along, with my flaws and imperfections oot there, regardless.

... So far, so good. tongue.gif

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Youthful pastimes are very much related to where you live, Sgriob. Many rabbits and trout turned up in our house and the choice of pet was sometimes a ferret. I've never skinned a rabbit but I've gutted many a trout and in preparation for celebrations in Ireland I've been called upon to pluck a chicken. A way of life. Like you say 'perfectly normal and natural'.

These days I think I would be less accepting but I was often glad to cook some rabbit when the pennies were short.

Bliidy 'ell, misses, if I ever go camping, I taking you for for tent mate! laugh.gif

I don't really do wildlife and the great outdoors. It just doesn't sit right with me at all! I like a good view from a windae but I'll not be tramping through mud anytime soon.

If I was ever marooned, I would perish. I could no more ring a chicken's neck that skin a rabbit. laugh.gif

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I don't really do wildlife and the great outdoors. It just doesn't sit right with me at all! I like a good view from a windae but I'll not be tramping through mud anytime soon.

If I was ever marooned, I would perish. I could no more ring a chicken's neck that skin a rabbit. laugh.gif

Good thing you weren't sleeping with me and Basil last night.

I was up five or six times, awakened each time by the clammy clambering of a deer tick intent on summiting me and digging in for a nice feed. We had taken the road least traveled through the woods yesterday to view the new arrangements after the winter floods. Tick heaven. I bathed Basil when we got home, then applied a tick killer, which was not wise. The wee ###### were abandoning ship all night and transferring their ambitions to me.

Ticks make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I shudder at their touch. I should shut Basil out, but he rips the door to shreds in retaliation. There's no solution except to pick the wee shites off, trot to the bathroom and consign them to a watery grave.

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:lol:

That would be telling.

Sweet mysteries of life - I'm sure not everyone would share their ticks with you, Sgriob. :rolleyes:

The sunshine definitely makes you happy. Today it has gone but I'm in moderately good humour because we had a shower and the new plants in the allotment will be happy about that. I'm also enjoying looking out at the balcony/verandah because I've got it half ways tidied up and there is one gorgeous white azalea in full bloom - aye, pretty blissful. :)

Hope it'll be a bit brighter tomorrow so that we can roll the eggs with the weans.

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Cleaned out garage yesterday. I do it every ten years whether or not it's needed. A graveyard of unwise purchases. Roof rat heaven. Wee buggers had sampled a lot of my old vinyls: they liked Revolver, Astral Weeks and Wild Things Run fast. Didn't touch the wife's Barry Manilows. Even roof rats have taste, it seems.

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Cleaned out garage yesterday. I do it every ten years whether or not it's needed. A graveyard of unwise purchases. Roof rat heaven. Wee buggers had sampled a lot of my old vinyls: they liked Revolver, Astral Weeks and Wild Things Run fast. Didn't touch the wife's Barry Manilows. Even roof rats have taste, it seems.

That's a shame, Sgriob, but fancy choosing to miss out on Coco Cabana. :blink:

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Cleaned out garage yesterday. I do it every ten years whether or not it's needed. A graveyard of unwise purchases. Roof rat heaven. Wee buggers had sampled a lot of my old vinyls: they liked Revolver, Astral Weeks and Wild Things Run fast. Didn't touch the wife's Barry Manilows. Even roof rats have taste, it seems.

My, you're fair having trouble with the local wildlife, you sound like a man on a mission. laugh.gif

So, why hold on to old vinyls? When was the last time you played them? rolleyes.giftongue.gif

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So, why hold on to old vinyls? When was the last time you played them? rolleyes.giftongue.gif

I keep thinking I'll buy a record player for a song.

Same with my old trousers. I keep thinking I might be able to fit into them again one day.

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Ah, bless..... *ruffles hair*

I have some clothes like that too. I thought it was a wumin thing. wink.gif

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My son has an old video machine and he has a tremendous collection of movies. All bought for a song in the charity shops. Priced usually at something ridiculous like four for £1.

Sometimes it's good to hang onto things. :angry:

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It is. I liberated an old boom-box from the wormhole known as the garage, and found a box of about 100 tapes. They sound as good as new. It was actually fun (for a while) cleaning the garage and bopping to the oldies*. I'm keeping them.

(*Yes, I know. That image appalls even me. I can't stand watching greybeards in blue jeans trying to disco with cool. My kids used to curl up in horror when I disciplined them with such a threat. "Do as I say or your mum and I will demonstrate songs and dances of the Sixties in front of your friends.")

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It is. I liberated an old boom-box from the wormhole known as the garage, and found a box of about 100 tapes. They sound as good as new. It was actually fun (for a while) cleaning the garage and bopping to the oldies*. I'm keeping them.

(*Yes, I know. That image appalls even me. I can't stand watching greybeards in blue jeans trying to disco with cool. My kids used to curl up in horror when I disciplined them with such a threat. "Do as I say or your mum and I will demonstrate songs and dances of the Sixties in front of your friends.")

Oh, I don't know, Sgriob. I would keep on dancing and if it makes folk smile all the better.

I think you're having a great time in that garage. B)

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That's mostly true of the psychiatric profession over here too. A psychiatrist's real function, I have come to believe, is to figure out the most appropriate medication, often by trial and error. 'Diagnosis,' per se, is more of a bureaucratic phenom necessary for justifying such prescriptions.

I'm feeling boring today.

A pill for boredom would be a great thing. I find it particularly upsetting to hear young people say that they are bored. It seems to be a bit of a trend. :lol:

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