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Hello.

I'm Jane McIntyre, a voiceover and writer, formerly an award-winning BBC radio newsreader and producer. My blog covers life, love and loss; travel, coffee and chocolate; with some heartfelt pieces in the mix about my late dad, who had dementia. Just a click away, I'm half of the team behind www.thetimeofourlives.net - two empty nesters who whizzed round the world in 57 days.

Saturday, 19 July 2014

Fast Fiat,high heels; big bangs....



You can pay good money for a whistlestop tour of Rome in a Fiat 500, you know.

But here I was, travelling buckshee beside the petite Italian driver of this little white chariot; its horsepower whipped to the max on a hilly hairpin .

An hour before, I'd laughed at the plump Bellini elephant statue chosen for the start of our foodie themed walking tour, quickly rescheduled as other group members were delayed. That left guide Daniela and me--a Rome alone newbie. A walk together? Yes please.

The pace was brisk, with Daniela serving up stories on every square, street and statue; with a side order of good girlie gossip. Crazy cabbies? Reader, she married one. Zebra crossings where traffic never stops? The lines were more a `suggestion`. Those girls in heels on scooters?  So much easier than heels on cobbles.

We pause at the world's most improbable place for a cat sanctuary-- the temple ruins at Largo Argentina where, some say, Caesar was murdered. Scores of the city's feral felines are cared for and fed here. Our turn next : at the city's oldest produce market, Campo di Fiori --fresh fruit salads and sticky handshakes with Emanuale, fifty years a stallholder. We pose for pictures and a Japanese couple want shots with him too. Bewildered, he smiles again, and we leave him to box up his beans.


Next stop: the Tiber, for tales of torrential downpours and burst banks, then we're piling into her car, opening windows for a breath of breeze in this searing city heat. 'We should make it,' she says softly, before snapping, fortissimo, at the scooter rider on her blindside.

The road's steeper now; twisting. Summit reached; Daniela brakes sharply; ramming the car into reverse, one palm flat on the wheel, winding it this way and that: a snug Fiat fit.

`We're in time`, she beams, ushering me across the road to a low wall, watching with pride as I gasp, drinking in the most stunning panorama; the city's riches laid out like an emperor's banquet.


Pantheon, piazzas, monuments; churches ; only my guide knowing that in tre, due, uno, I'd be gasping again at the reason for her haste throughout my bespoke buzz around Rome--my big surprise: the deafening `BOOM` of cannon fire just metres below; a daily, high noon nudge to the battle here in 1849, when Garibaldi defeated the French.

The smoke fades; the show's over; mine too. Daniela has a lunchdate.

Fiat fired up, we speed back down to the city centre; now an angry bee swarm of blaring horns and buzzing scooters. Rome's getting tetchy; needs feeding.

'It's like lasagne, this city', she says, dark eyes darting about for one of the relatively few Metro stations in this ancient place. 'You know, in layers. You can't just dig more stations. You could damage something precious.'

But a red 'M' is in sight, so I scramble out into three angry lanes of snarling traffic; shouting a drowned out 'thankyou' to my new Italian friend.

I dive down the Metro steps, way below béchamel sauce level. And I'm sure, even with a Colosseum trip to come, that this tailor made morning that started alone, and ended up in a tiny Fiat with a real Roman…..is going to be hard to beat..

It's 2019 and I'm still travelling....now as part of www.2emptynesters.com . As far north as the Arctic Circle...and down to the south of New Zealand..with a crazy whizz round the world in just 57 days. Check it out!

Friday, 4 July 2014

Kick the bucketlist. Just do it.



Bucketlists are supposed to be a list of things you really long to do before you die, aren`t they? And sadly, you often see people with life-limiting illnesses setting out what they`d like to see or achieve once time starts ticking by extra fast. Some make it. Others just don`t beat the clock.

So..well..this.

February on Harlech beach. 
Don`t write a bucketlist. Don`t wait for the moment you`re told you might not make it to the Queen`s telegram. Don`t procrastinate until you`re too ill to travel, or until the long lost friend you meant to visit in Sydney has popped their clogs .Just do stuff now. Maybe it`s skydiving. Or running a marathon. Or something closer to home like walking Offa`s Dyke, or strolling along your favourite beach in the moonlight. Or going camping in your favourite beauty spot. Or saying `sod the chores` and going out for a picnic.

I don`t want to get too morose about this, but we all know people who`ve received shocking news about their health. People whose life, suddenly, turns a right-angle. It can happen to anyone.

I was found to have a pre-cancerous, high grade breast condition called DCIS three years ago. I had to have minor surgery, then three weeks` radiotherapy. They`d spotted it on a mammogram--a regular test because of my family history (Mum got breast cancer at 48 and died seven years later. Three of her sisters got it too--two also died, and one has survived into her eighties). It was scary, but they were pretty sure that after thwacking mine with that course of action, I`d be fine.

So it was a bit of a shock a few weeks ago, the day before Dad`s funeral actually, to get a call saying my most recent mammogram had shown little dots, possibly calcification spots, and they wanted me back in for a biopsy. I was already shattered about Dad, but parked the fear, put on a brave face and closed it all off until after the funeral. Then I started Googling what it could be, and found that if it was another bout of DCIS, or worse, they wouldn`t be able to offer radiotherapy to the same area. It could mean a mastectomy and possibly chemotherapy. So I kept quiet, had the biopsy under a local anaesthetic, (the team at the Princess Royal Hospital in Telford were truly fantastic; thanks Dr Walsh and the radiography ladies) went to Glastonbury (would have been on my bucketlist if I believed in them...) with backpack straps bashing my bruising, had fun, regardless, and 35 long, long days after the call from the hospital, went back to the clinic for the results.

All fine.

The dots really had been calcification, and everything was benign. I asked everyone to double check, including the registrar who examined me. When I got up to leave, still trembling, my heart sank as he said: `There`s just one more thing I need to tell you`. Here we go, I thought. `Your buttons are completely done up the wrong way,` he said. I decided it would be inappropriate to kiss a registrar while partially undressed (or fully dressed, for that matter,) so made myself decent, legged it down the corridor, bought a breast cancer fundraising badge in a blur, and sped home, weeping with relief most of the way.

I didn`t fancy bubbly, or balloons. Or celebrating, much. There was a clinic full of women with me that day, some of whom would be getting far less welcome news. I feel for them. And for everyone else I know right now who`s living with cancer. I don`t, and won`t, ever consider myself `out of the woods`, and I signed up on the spot to be in a clinical study which might, just, help others.

Juliet on a chilly day trip to Aberdovey
But it got me thinking about how, if the news had been different, it would be less easy to see the places I still want to see, because there`d have been treatment, and possible side effects.

I asked for voluntary redundancy from my job two years ago, for a couple of reasons.That decision bought and brought me freedom, and the chance to travel, relax, see the people I want to see, wipe out every bubble of work-related stress and focus on my priorities. So yes, I`m incredibly lucky, and I`m hoping to travel again soon, and treat my daughters to some trips, too.

It`s all well and good if you have spare cash to travel to those special places. If you don`t, there are cheaper ways to travel. Here are my top tips:

+I signed up with a house-swapping website (www.guardianhomeexchange.co.uk ). You need to pay your travel, but you can get free accommodation in the UK or further afield.

+List yourself as a house-sitter, and care for someone`s home and or their pets while they`re away, in a location you really want to visit (TrustedHousesitters.com).

+ If you fancy a weekend under canvas, but don`t have the kit, try Freegle (www.ilovefreegle.org) , and get a tent for free, or ask your friends (I have a leaky pop up tent from Glasto...but if the forecast is ok and you want to borrow it, just shout!)

+If you want to skydive or parachute jump, you might be able to sign up at a charity event, and get your kicks while raising cash. And if you`ve always longed to run a marathon, you probably can. Just start slowly, with help from a local running group (www.shropshire-shufflers.org) --and you might just cross that line in the Mall one day.

So that`s it really. No bucket to kick this week, I hope. No lists. But no procrastinating, either.


Badge from the fundraisers at PRH.




Thursday, 19 June 2014

Sweet charity: who`d haggle?



Charity shops.

Some people moan about how many there are these days. But one thing`s for certain; they`re providing vital revenue for people, places and animals in need. And usually, a bargain for buyers.

So I was a bit surprised, and rather sad at a shop in Ludlow today, to hear two men haggling over the price of goods they wanted. One was after a decent suit, priced at £15. Another had been testing some binoculars. His offer got turned down. But the suit man, who asked more than once for a discount, eventually got the requested fiver knocked off his new whistle. He then turned round conspiratorially to me and said: `I never pay full price for anything.`

I was so embarrassed, I paid for the map I`d chosen. And then put the same amount in the collecting tin on the counter to make up for Mr Haggle`s shortfall.

And OK, haggling`s fair game in some places. Moroccan souks, for sure. Forecourts full of shiny new motors, maybe. But in charity shops, every penny counts. So when shelves are already full of low priced items and most staff are volunteers, isn`t haggling just a bit, well....mean?

It certainly surprised Amanda Evans when she started at the Shropshire Cat Rescue shop in Shrewsbury, one of two county shops the charity runs.

`I was amazed to see people asking for money off an item which was being sold for £1.50 or £1,`she said.
`But it happens every week, really and you get used to it. I still roll my eyes a bit sometimes, after the person`s left !`.

Shirley McCann is retail manager for Hope House Children`s Respite Hospice.

`Haggling`s not that common,` she told me.` But it does occur. We price goods according to what we think they`re worth.  If someone asks to pay less, we discuss it, hopefully over a bit of banter, and ultimately it`s down to the manager`s discretion. If the item is already priced low, then staff will stick to their guns.`

`People very kindly donate goods to us, to support the hospice,` she said, ` and we want to get a fair price for those items.`




So where do YOU draw the line? Is haggling just second nature for you, wherever you`re shopping? And if you`re in a charity shop, and you know you`re picking up a bargain--how often do you drop a couple of extra quid in the collecting tin on the counter, as a thankyou? I`d love to hear what you think--whether you`re a charity shop bargain hunter, or one of the army of volunteers behind the counter
Add a comment below, email jane@janemcintyre.co.uk , or tweet @janemcintyre12 . Thankyou!






Framed, cross stitch sampler (a charity shop gift for me today from my daughter)


ps. Like this? Try this! 









Monday, 21 April 2014

Power of Attorney without tears? Don`t bank on it.




This is a note to The Banks. All of them, really. And to you, in case you find yourself in the same position.

It`s about people who are going through the Power of Attorney procedure; where you take over the financial affairs of a loved one.

In our case, my sister and I have been granted POA for our father, who has advanced Alzheimer`s. This is something he set in place several years ago, `just in case`. On a day to day basis, his partner Phyllis manages the household budget, and most bills are paid by direct debit or standing order.

In recent months, Dad`s condition has deteriorated. He`s being cared for in his own home. He can`t leave his bed. Phyllis is with him 24/7, and there`s additional, twice daily help from a visiting carer. He finds it hard to hold any kind of conversation, or recognise even his nearest and dearest.

If you know someone with dementia, you`ll know it`s a gradual process; like getting your heart broken in slow motion, really.

There`s been-- understandably--a great deal of paperwork to sort out before POA kicks in. And we`ve been guided throughout by our family solicitor.

What saddened and surprised us, though, was how much banks assumed we knew about what would happen to Dad`s current and savings accounts while this procedure was being finalised.

With at least one of the organisations in question, Dad`s accounts were frozen without any warning. This was, apparently, `in line with Bank procedure`. But what it meant in practical terms was Phyllis having a debit card declined without the slightest hint that this would happen, while she stood at a supermarket checkout with a trolley load of food. Embarrassing and distressing. And you can`t get out much, when you`re a carer.

Many telephone calls and emails followed. There were very few compassionate, human responses along the way. I encountered a few automatons. One told me that he couldn`t even continue the conversation because Phyllis had effectively been `committing fraud` . (She always used the card with Dad`s full consent before he lost mental capacity; and continued to do so,with the consent of my sister and I, when Dad`s health deteriorated. He can`t get out of bed, see? ) I lend my daughters my card sometimes, to pop down the Co-op for a pint of milk and something for tea. Are we fraudsters? I don`t think so.

I filed a formal complaint, which has since been dealt with. The bank in question apologised, and accepted that we had not received the `appropriate level of service.` A small cheque  and a bunch of flowers were sent to Dad`s partner for the embarrassment caused.

Matter closed? Lessons learned? We hoped so.

Then the letters started. Same bank; one after the other. Direct debit payments falling like skittles. Each failed payment from the still partially `frozen` bank account suggested that Dad didn`t have enough funds in his account. (Not so). Each letter, `Dad` was told, would cost him £6 in administration fees. Even his police pension wasn`t allowed in.

We understand that most of the letters would have been generated electronically, but with more than enough money in the accounts to cover the monthly bills, these were triggered unnecessarily. And caused even more distress and frustration.

At national level, despite its floral apology, this bank failed us. And because I know, that you, the banks and building societies have been working together for some time to improve things for their customers, I need you to be aware of situations like these.

The British Bankers` Association claims to have new consumer guidance around Powers of Attorney. It`s working with the Office of the Public Guardian, I read, and the Alzheimer`s Society and other key groups, to improve `best practice`. Yet digging deeper and deeper into the documents, charters , promises and press releases you`ve issued in the past year, I can only find a line which warns me: `Your powers will be restricted while your registration is being processed.`

I`m bright (-ish) but to me; that doesn`t say: `You may find yourself at a supermarket checkout with a groaning trolley load of food and a worthless piece of plastic in your hand and therefore, no means to pay for it...`

So. Next time the BBA Consumer Panel meets....could you think about these, please?

1) As soon as a bank or building society hears that a family is involved in the Power of Attorney procedure, contact them. Maybe give them a kind of case-worker. Let them know there`s a marker on the account(s) in question while the paperwork goes through.

2) If there is the slightest chance that a debit card will not be accepted for a purchase during this time, advise the family to make alternative arrangements for this `interim` period. Suggest practical ways they can manage this.

3) Suspend the warning notices threatening fines of £6 a time. Come on...!

4) Make sure there`s a way direct debits and standing orders can still go through, and that a patient`s pensions, can still be received into the account.

5) If you don`t already have dedicated teams in each and every bank and building society in the land to offer this kind of support to people with dementia and their families, start employing people, and training them. You have the money. And you need to care about this. Dementia is a growing problem.

6) If the people taking calls from families like mine at national level, aren`t equipped with the skills to show compassion and concern, find someone else to answer the phone. Seriously. It`s tough enough having someone fading away in front of you, without battling to get an answer from the bank.

7) Next time you get together at national level with that impressive and experienced team, invite Gareth and David along. You might not know them. I don`t think they even know each other. But they both work for a major high street bank, at opposite ends of the country. And on different days, my sister went into hers for help; I went into mine. For Gareth and David--their days, and their duties, stopped. They listened, they understood, they made calls, they gave us their time and their contact details. We don`t even bank with them. They offered practical solutions. If you want their names, shout. They`re both a huge credit to their organisations. In short, they `get it`.

That`s it really. Good luck with formulating strategies and pushing out your press releases. But while you`re doing it...promise me one thing? Don`t forget Phyllis.

Thanks,

Jane McIntyre.








Tuesday, 18 March 2014

Tweeting. And meeting...?



Alpaca walks into a pub...

OK..sorry...you`ve heard that one already?

So...try this one.

Morris Dancer walks into a coffee shop. ( No bells, no ribbons, no music). Sits alongside a sommelier (no wine, no glass, no corkscrew). Who`s opposite a former civil servant (no clipboard, no suit, no red tape ), directly opposite a businessman who`s also an engineer and a musician (no guitar, no oily overalls, no briefcase). He`s next to a young man with a secret. And just across the table from a former journalist (hello) who`s hopeless at keeping them.

Alright, so maybe as a joke, this has lost a little pace. It`s just a rough sketch, of a great hour, somewhere in Shrewsbury this morning. Six people from very different backgrounds, all of whom met on Twitter and decided to go for a brew.

Agenda? None. But top talking points were local arts (Kevin Tanner`s Wellington based and a great supporter of local events ). Also, the fast approaching day of music,The Big Busk, which hits Shrewsbury on April 5. Karen Paterson ( Samaritan, sommelier, and one fab lady) is one of the key organisers of that, and it was brilliant to hear how well the plans are going. Graydon, ex military, now Morris dancer is performing there with his team, too, just as they did last year. Also discussed: mental health issues--on everyone`s mind, for lots of different reasons, and from David, what it`s like running a theatre company, while having to dash off round the world on business trips

And that secret--in the hands of the youngest of the assembled six; a new recruit to Twitter? Well; it`s that Shrewsbury`s going to have a brand new performance venue. In a former Temperance Hall! And the guy they call @Johnnystars is helping to get it up and running. It`s a fascinating venture.

One hour; six people, all with a tale to tell ;none of whom would have met without Twitter. One of a series of Shropshire `tweet-ups` which are giving people the chance to see the face behind the avatar. Messages are great, and funny, and supportive, sometimes, but occasionally, it`s brilliant to get out from behind that little glass screen and meet the guys you tweet *in real life*. Today was a prime example.

Oh--and the Alpaca? He was a no show. He DM`d me, though. Hangover ;)












Monday, 10 March 2014

Too personal: When marketing gets it wrong (and says sorry...)

Ever felt a marketing campaign hits you so closely, that you`re moved to buy the product? A skincare cream, maybe, that you `know` is going to make you look ten years younger? OK...maybe not. How about a car that was designed for your lifestyle--loads of room in the back; stylish as hell;  frugally low on fuel consumption...or that miracle kitchen cleaner that gets the job done in half the time. Allegedly.

Getting personal with marketing can, sometimes work, if you`re sent a mailshot, based on your purchasing history or consumer profile.

And then again, marketing a product or service with the personal touch can go so wrong.



So here`s my own `personal` message today, to Trainline.

Morning, guys.

I use your service a lot. I`m always leaping on trains for work, or to see friends and family. And, like most people, I love a bargain. I`ve tweeted about your Best Fare Finder section, often.

I know that Mother`s Day is approaching, and I don`t blame you for offering a few travel discounts around this time. And letting customers know with an email. You often use my first name when you mail me. It`s quite clever. And you did this time--with this wording:

`Jane, we`re not implying you forgot about mum. But just in case.....`

And that`s where the personal touch falls apart a bit.

You weren`t to know, of course, that I lost my precious mum more than 20 years ago, prematurely, from breast cancer, and that Mother`s Day can be a tricky time for me. But you should be able to guess that a fair proportion of the customers you`ve emailed with a similar message, have lost their mums, too, and so a `personal` hit feels a bit erm...inappropriate, and upsetting. All of us know that there are chocolates and cards and flowers on sale, and we wish everyone with a mum they can visit and hug on The Day, a lovely time.

But when you`re planning `personal` mailshots...sometimes, one size doesn`t `fit all`. And now I`ve had to spend ten minutes writing a blog about this to get it off my chest, instead of booking train tickets to Birmingham.On Trainline. Oh well.

Just feed that back to your marketing team, please.

Thanks. Nothing personal.








We're still embarrassed but definitely feel better that you've accepted our apology. Thanks and lesson learnt! Vikki









Monday, 24 February 2014

Strangers on a train



Have you ever seen someone on a train...and wished you`d said something?

I`m damn sure I saw the director Jonathan Miller on the Northern Line yesterday. Or maybe it was because I`d just seen a picture of him in the new Bailey`s Stardust photography exhibition and *thought* it was him.

I often sit on trains and wish I had the courage to start a conversation. Yeh, ok, sometimes it might be : `Get your bloody boots off that seat `. But it might be that you just really like their scarf or something. Or find that you`re both screwing up your noses at the torrential rain hammering against the window. Maybe they look a bit sad and lonely, and you want to ask what`s wrong.

It`s tricky, isn`t it? They might think you`re completely bonkers. (Though, frankly, if I found myself on the 7.39 and David Morrissey was across the table from me, I might just take a punt).

Is it a `British` thing? Do we worry that, once we start the conversation, it`ll be like removing the Pringles lid....one *POP*...and they just won`t stop? See--the thing is--they could be lovely. A friend for the future, maybe. A soulmate, even. Someone with a really interesting story to share.

Either way, it`s too late now. But maybe there should be just one day a year where you can deliver a one-liner to someone on the train without worrying about whether it`ll be met with tears, a three hour monologue, or a smack in the teeth. And of course....you have to be ready for the one-liners you`re going to get back.

So OK...let`s pretend that day was yesterday, in London, on the two Tube trains I travelled on, or the mainline trains back home.

1) To the gorgeous four year old girl sitting next to me on the Northern Line in a tartan coat, with a McDonald`s Happy Meal: "I`m starving. I know I`m a complete stranger and you`re not allowed to talk to me...but your mum`s not looking. So can I nick a chip? "

2) To `Jonathan Miller` at Euston underground: (I`m SURE it was him): "Hello. Blimey; you`re Jonathan Miller, aren`t you? I`ve just seen a great picture of you in the Bailey exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery. Did you like it, too? How great does it feel to be up on the wall with so many other famous faces? Oh...do you mind people coming up to you on the platform and asking you questions? "

3) To the very sleepy bloke on the train somewhere near Goodge Street, with a backpack and a Sombrero: "What`s that for, then? It`s pissing down outside. Hold up--you`re not just back from Mexico or something, are you? Tell me you didn`t buy that as a gift..."

4) To the parents of three kids travelling from Euston: "Sounds like you`ve had a brilliant weekend. You look knackered. Has your little lad been playing up a bit? You`re really worrying about what other passengers think. But he looks so bright and lively.And some of his comments have really brightened my journey. You look like a lovely family "

5) To the young woman with an orange coat. "Please, please...for the love of God, stop sniffing."

OK. *Adopts brace position *. Your turn.

Happy travelling :)

Comments:

I once asked a crowd of rowdy Irish rugby fans for a can of their lager. 👍

My brother met his wife after speaking to her on a train so you never know what might happen!

I'm always wishing I'd said something. One should of grown out of being shy at my age surely ?!!

": Strangers on a train. Ever wish you'd said hello? "
!


 and  retweeted you

": Strangers on a train. Ever wish you'd said hello? " Great blog really enjoyed reading this & others