Even though I worked for the NHS I’ve never been far away from the world of Education. Over the years I’ve taught, tutored, trained, coached or mentored people in all manner of subjects and regardless of their background or ability. My experiences as an educator lead me to certain conclusions:
Context is everything
Firstly, remember the country before Austerity? On Sundays buses used to leave many towns in South Wales and head for Brecon. They’d all arrive at about 11am and leave at 4pm. It was a great way to visit the Bannau Brycheiniog National Park without driving there. I regularly caught one of those buses and had lovely times hiking stretches of the Monmouth to Brecon Canal towpath but thanks to George Osborne’s flawed approach to macro Economics and the consequent decimation of public transport services, the canal and I hadn’t seen each other in years.
Next, I think I am very easy to buy Christmas presents for. This is because I produce a list of suitable gifts. At the risk of seeming ungrateful I actively, loudly and repeatedly encourage present-givers to stick to this list.
Finally, I am a fan of Life Long Learning and since my first degree I have accumulated certificates and qualifications in a variety of subjects. Some have been useful, some not. Some have just been waiting for the right moment.
There are two types of people in the world – the ones who do what they’re told and the ones who don’t
Last year elder sister Nell and her husband decided they would be going to South Africa for a month in March 2025. A house sitter who could take care of Molly the cat would be hired. This arrangement failed to meet Annie’s standards. Molly, she said, isn’t the sharpest pencil in the box and she doesn’t like strangers. Neither of these comments could be disputed by Nell but not with much verve as she was too busy thinking about flights and AirBnBs. Unhappy at such a laissez-faire attitude to Molly’s emotional welfare, Annie set about making her own plan and in December arranged to meet Nell in a café in Abergavenny. Maria would come and stay in the house and look after Molly. This solution would work because Molly never growls, spits at or scrams Maria and with nothing else to do Maria could write the book she has been putting off for much too long. Meanwhile Nell wouldn’t have to worry about a potentially thieving, cat-hating psychopath in the house and because Maria would stay for free, Nell would save a shed load of money. No, Maria didn’t know yet but she would do as she was told.
Which is how I come to be writing this – with a sleeping cat on my lap – in Nell’s house. Being this close to the Monmouth – Brecon Canal has stirred some nostalgia so yesterday I caught a bus to Talybont on Usk to walk along the canal towpath like I used to in the pre-George Osborne days.
Time for another bit of context. I made my Christmas list early last year and on hearing that Annie intended to go to Abergavenny, I gave her a copy. It said “MARIA’S CHRISTMAS LIST – PLEASE BUY ONLY ONE OF FOLLOWING AND DO NOT GO OFF PISTE!” Beneath was written: Jigsaw; Flask; Knitted Gloves (pink or yellow); Scarf (grey). So I was surprised on Christmas morning to unwrap a large parcel from Annie and find that it contained a red fleece jumper – especially as it was exactly the same as one that I had bought just a few weeks earlier when we had gone shopping together. Once the fleece had been returned for a refund, I bought myself two new trekking poles instead which finally got tried out today.
As an aside, my old trekking poles had been bought in 2015 when I did an Ultra Marathon just south of Oxford the day after meeting the then Prince Charles in Aberystwyth. I had got on the train in a flouncy dress and high heels and got off a few hours later in lycra shorts and trainers. That’s a whole different story which we might get to one day but not today. If there was one annoying thing about the old trekking poles – which even the heir to the throne didn’t know about because they weren’t allowed in the same room as him – it was that they were fixed length and therefore awkward to carry. Over the years they have been bumped and battered, scratched and dented, straps have fallen off and they’ve worn through loads of ferrules. The new trekking poles are telescopic and very smart. In case you’ve never tried Nordic Walking, what you want is a nice flat surface like a canal towpath.
Education is never wasted
It was a lovely walk. I passed or was passed by friendly hikers, runners, cyclists and dog walkers. The only unfriendly person I encountered was a scowling woman with a wailing child in a pushchair. A mile or so further down the path and I think I found the reason for the traumatised toddler.
In amongst those various certificates and qualifications I spoke of earlier is the one which was waiting for the right moment to be useful : the RLSS Bronze Medallion for Lifesaving. One of the lessons I remember quite clearly is – if possible – don’t get into the water to rescue a casualty. Use something that you can reach out towards them with; something that they can catch hold of so that you can tow them to safety. A trekking pole, perhaps?
Epilogue
Yes, of course I rescued him. He was a bit stinky but had a bath and spent several hours on a radiator to dry off. I’ve called him Robbie after Robbie Cumming who presents Canal Boat Diaries on BBC 2. I’ve knitted him a little jumper and pinned him into the pocket of my rucksack so he can come on adventures with me.
