Lovely walk round Weston Fields, South Holland, Lincolnshire. A good doggy meetup place
Where I live it’s perfectly clear not a jot of a soul has ever been informed of, thought about, nor spoken of US.
That’s little ‘us’ by the way. We childless - us. Not the huge and fabulous landmass across the oceans. Although, of course, they, like all other childless citizens of the world are darned welcome here! By gum, yes…
So, just saying before I launch into my main piece, we’re not going backwards on the ‘look at me’ or ‘childless, you pillock’ are we? Another post, perhaps, but no one I’ve spoken to recently has ever heard of, nor ‘met’ a childless person. Are we to become a ‘protected species’? Should Attenborough be told? Is BBC2 preparing to shoehorn us onto Newsnight yet? Now ponder that whilst I puddle on.
I fear there’s nothing else for it and, as I can’t seem to summon up a credible, literary link, I’m simply going in…
The old railway line walk near Woodhall Spa, Lincolnshire. In the news at present - Woodhall. See X/twitter.
Our UK government plus other officialdom are debating and deciding whether to pass a vote on Assisted Dying Sorry to be a ‘wet week’ on here but it feels like an important subject to discuss. For us as childless/free folk.
Not that we, as mere mortals/voters will have any choice in the outcome. And, no doubt, we’ll all have different views on the subject. Do you worry - as a childless/free person - you could be surplus to requirements if the metaphorical guillotine is raised above your head? One day? Who will speak for us? Our present UK government hasn’t shown any particular liking or empathy for the elderly or infirm, so far. Our country is overpopulated and, oft times, we oldies can be seen as ‘in the way’. I’m talking UK here, of course, but some of you out there will already have proper laws in place, in your countries, that allow for assisted dying.
For instance, I’d recently read an excellent piece in a national magazine about a journalist and his experience of his childless aunt’s assisted dying in Canada, a country that has passed said laws. The lady suffered with late stage MND by the way so one can understand her wishes. In said case assisted dying worked. For her. Her journalist nephew described the whole process respectfully. it was her wish. It worked. But, but - isn’t it - but?
You see, so much of the general conversation dwells on family, children and how euthanasia (if wanted) will affect them. For people like me and so many of you, ageing, childless, alone and out here in the shadows - the discussion around euthanasia is concerning but also necessary. Who will speak for me if I become a burden and who decides? POA is all very well but I really don’t think I want my end of life being decided by anyone but me. If euthanasia is to be normalised, that is, and assuming I’m still compos mentis. If I’m not…oh dear…
You can see where this might lead, can’t you?
A visit to beautiful Holkham Hall Estate, North Norfolk. No idea where she is. There one minute …
I do feel it’s a very important area for discussion re: decision. Once again those of us without children/family are stranded in the swampy details.
Look, to be clear, surely none of us want to arrive at the end of our lives hanging on to a false eternity by gasping our last breaths under pain, incurable disease? Speaking purely for myself - no, I don’t. But who will decide? Who will prevent me from being, possibly, illegally popped off because I’ve become an elderly inconvenuence? A burden. You know it’s possible.
I can’t help but think there should be a completely independent body with no financial skin in the political nor Health (NHS for us, God bless ‘em) arena and which acts as final decision maker. Senior retired surgeon/doctor plus senior lawyer/judge? Perhaps there will be. I’d still worry, however. It seems wide open for potential abuse. Albeit rare but a possibility.
It’s a thorny subject but a necessary one. Most of us don’t want to be a burden but that’s not a reason to be euthanised. The decision can’t be ‘ours’ to make, really, can it? Or can it? I hope it all gets sorted soon (goodness me, speaking as a UK citizen and speaking reluctantly as I don’t like to get political - Lord help us - we elders stand no chance by the looks of it!). The fact that any decision will be made with political involvement is mighty bloodcurdling I can tell you. Over here on this little island it is, at present. Anyway, we’ll have to see how t’wind blows won’t we?
A while ago now but the dear, beloved White Cottage, near Louth, Lincolnshire. Where we stayed in between houses. Miss the little place…
So, moving seamlessly on - do you know sometimes I don’t know how we childless/free do it all. Especially when ageing because I hate to tell you - it doesn’t get easier as you age but if I sling out ‘adapt’ it’ll all be fine. So they say.
I’m thankful I’m having the chance to age given this war torn world we’re currently tippy toeing around but - just saying - ageing ain’t for cissies. Ageing alone without children double ‘ain’t’.
Back to the start and facing the possibility I might be popped off because I’ve got proper old (nearly there!) and considered of no real use as I’m childless.
We have our voices and my goodness we use them. I feel I must use my ‘gob’, as we say over here up in the wilds of t’North, to emphasise myself - my raison d’etre. My stance as an ‘elder’ therefore wise. Maybe we elders will be bundled onto Elon’s Starship and wake up on Mars! What the heck…
Being childless and elderly feels more exposing and yet invisible ing than ever, somehow.
On a national news magazine the other day I waded into the comments section. The journalist was opening up discussion on the choices apparently being made by today’s young to not have children. Thus reducing population growth (that’s their reason, anyway). So discuss - and I did. Because no one had mentioned unable to conceive as a contributory factor towards population loss. I went in and got such positive response. From people who clearly hadn’t spoken of their inability to conceive - men and women - before. Prompting me to think, once again, do journalists, national newspapers/magazines not know about us? Ignoring The Guardian (it wasn’t that journal) for a minute and consider the rest.
It was The Spectator in case you’re interested. The comments sections can be way more enlightening than the article itself. But the commenters of my little bit were stepping carefully into the unknown- for them. Speaking of their own childlessness.
Should childless ever be spoken of it’s soft focused, you see. Shhh - be gentle with them. ‘Poor people. Can’t have children. What a shame.’ I’m not embarrassed so why should anyone else be? I’m effed off because no one wants to know why I haven’t got kids. And, thus, we have the partial lie that today’s younggggg things are choosing the planet rather than procreation. Yeah right. Some maybe. Many are too immature or scared to have ‘em. I said it!
Eee…it were windy that day. We had a job staying vertical. Because we were right on the open stretch of coast saltmarshes called Saltfleetby, Lincolnshire. Wild as hell…east wind shows no mercy!
Not all of 'em, before lining me up against the wall. Not all…
I could jabber on re: that gem of a subject but had best not. (I said it tho’. Tee hee..)
Back in the room and how important is being childless to them out there? Because I tell you this - once again the ‘free’ get the pass. The ‘less’ get ignored. Sick of it. Sick, sick of it. Is it because it’s more palatable for them wot have kids? Journos making a big thing about youngsters deciding to not procreate (sighs) moves the spotlight off of us. And we don’t want it moving, thank you very much.
For I don’t want to be a delicate saddo. I don’t want someone’s voice to go soft as they ponder our admission of ‘couldn’t have ‘em’. For some reason, unbeknown to me or anyone else, it brings to mind an episode of Dad’s Army (great BBC comedy from decades ago) when the Germans arrived in an English village during WW11 and the village’s Home Guard were being questioned by the invaders. Said Captain Mainwaring to gormless Private Pike who was facing the German interrogation ‘don’t tell ‘em your name Pike!’
‘Don’t tell ‘em you’re infertile Trish!’
I might get metaphorically shot d’you mean?
The shock of it for some poor young mum. Confronted with a human with no reproduction ability . No wonder they don’t know what to say so resort to (genuine) sadness, confusion and embarrassment. And you stand there apologising for making them feel that way - don’t you? Where am I going with this?
We pacify…
‘It’s OK. We understand’. We’re still affected though. Pretending to be fine. Over it…
We were looking for her ball in some bushes at the nature reserve of Snipe Dales, Spilsby, Lincolnshire. Fond memories with this one…
I really do fear we’re going backwards or stagnating in spite of the great efforts made by so many.
Do they/will they not listen? The general public, the media - still taken by surprise. Shifting it towards the young deciding against reproducing (sighing - again). And, you see, it takes me back to the start. If I can’t find neighbourly support (not so far and I certainly couldn’t at the last place I lived) what do I do? Here I am trying to join things/clubs round my area of residence. Liar!
Trying to join is pushing it, if I’m being honest. I’m not. Bone idle is what I am. I’ve run the gauntlet of joining, starting up groups, laughing heartily. Talk to me about effort? I’ll give you effort…
And another thing - it’s not just about the grief, the loss of being childless. At some point one has to move on from said emotional tidal waves and deal with it. It’s what we do isn’t it? Because see, then comes ageing. Alone (quite possibly). Childless. Grandmas. Connections. You…
So, hands up, we give in.
Just me and her. Still here…
We’re OK. Slow and steady but doing the job. Keeping it quiet. Wrong - right?
See you soon sweeties. See ya soon.
Bye bye 💋
And done…in true Bond style we head for home. From the Old Railway Walk near our old place - Horncastle. Do we miss it? Sometimes…
Bye bye everyone! Skegness seafront with my mates. By ‘eck it were blowy that day. I just fell over and rolled in the sand. I’m daft, me! Xx
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"You know somebody actually complimented me on my driving today. They left a little note on the windscreen, it said "Parking Fine". So that was nice... ' The late, great Tommy Cooper. 'Just like that....'