Retired 6 Months - And.........

It is 6 months since I retired. I thought you would like an update......

Well it wasn't quite what I planned or expected folks.

I am afraid life has conspired a series of unexpected disasters that have made retirement (so far) a rather colourful, and occasionally, trying time. However, none of these crisis are (thankfully) life threatening, although some issues are rather personal and thus I will not discuss them in detail.

However - the basics....

My middle son Sam returned home to live in the family home.and we have his son, my lovely grandson Izaak with us 3 nights a week. That said I had forgotten just how busy a 2 year old can be.... 

A real crisis arose when Jan my lovely wife gets a bad back - seriously prolapsing a disk at L5. We have to leave a festival in Yorkshire in a real hurry, this followed by an emergency admission week in hospital, and 4 months in a wheelchair. 

But we fought back... Sam is now in College and doing voluntary work. My other 2 sons Tom and Robert are doing brilliantly in their careers. My other Grandson Dafydd is growing and flourishing. Jan is improving - slowly... 

I lost a good friend to premature death. But then we traveled happily across the UK in our Mobile Home, going to Festival, and other beautiful places en-route, to get to Edinburgh for his perfect and poignant funeral. 

And I am getting used to "being retired". I am writing, thinking, reading... I am rested, focused, and tired, all simultaneously. I am reflective and engaged - it is the next phase of life. And it takes a little getting used to - you have to find a "new routine" to to life after a lifetime of work.

I sat with Izaak this evening, he perched on my lap, watching the Frog Song - his little hand intently gripped my hand. I kissed his soft hair and I surged with a sense of permanence and love. The sun sank over Fairwood from my back garden.  

Despite all that life throws at us - everyday is a new beginning............ And life is as always complicated. 

A LIFE THAT MATTERS

Live a life that matters 

Ready or not, someday it will all come to an end. 


There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days. 


All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else. 


Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance. 


It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed. 


Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will finally disappear. 


So, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will expire. 

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away. 


It won't matter where you came from, or on what side of the tracks you lived, at the end. 


It won't matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant


Even your gender and skin colour will be irrelevant. 


So what will matter? 


How will the value of your days be measured? 


What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built; not what you got, but what you gave. 


What will matter is not your success, but your significance. 


What will matter is not what you learned, but what you taught. 


What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage or sacrifice that enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example. 


What will matter is not your competence, but your character. 


What will matter is not how many people you knew, but how many will feel a lasting loss when you're gone. 


What will matter is not your memories, but the memories that live in those who loved you. 


What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom and for what. 


Living a life that matters doesn't happen by accident. 


It's not a matter of circumstance, but of choice. 


Choose to live a life that matters.

CHRIS - AN OLD FRIEND

A SUNNY AFTERNOON IN EDINBURGH

THESE WORDS MADE ME CRY AND SMILE

TO AN OLD FRIEND 

SLEEP WELL CHRIS

"Our friend died on his own battlefield. He was killed in action fighting a civil war. He fought against adversaries that were as real to him as his casket was real to us. They were powerful adversaries. They took toll of his energies and endurance. They exhausted the last vestiges of his courage and strength. At last these adversaries overwhelmed him. And it appeared that he lost the war. But did he? How did he? I see a host of victories that he has won!

For one thing-he has won our admiration-because even if he lost the war, we give him credit for his bravery on the battle field. And we give him credit for the courage and pride and hope that he used as his weapons as long as he could. We shall remember not his death, but his daily victories gained through his kindness and thoughtfulness, through his family and friends, for animals and books and music, for all things beautiful, lovely and honorable. We shall remember the many days that he was victorious over overwhelming odds. We shall remember not the years we thought he had left, but the intensity with which he lived the years he had!

My Father - Revealed

A quite extraordinary thing happened yesterday.

Those of you who have seen my writings on my Father will know that he was raised in an orphanage in Australia. He never spoke of this, nor of any of his family. Right up until the day he died he never shared his childhood with anyone, not even his wife. The best we knew was that in his early teens he joined the Merchant Navy, returning to the UK at the outbreak of WW2 to join the RAF.

I have often wondered about his heritage, his "story".  After his passing I found his Death Certificate, which to my amazement revealed that he had been born in north Wales to  Thomas Herbert Barton and Constance Barton. But still I knew no more - why was he an Orphan, did he have siblings, Uncles, Aunties. He was an enigma.

And then yesterday Anne Waters contacted me. Grand Daughter of my one of my grand fathers brothers. She had been searching, establishing a Genealogy, for the family branch (if any) of my Father. She said that he had disappeared without a trace. It transpired that my Father had two Sisters. And then Anne supplied me with a note that one of her Aunties had made when exploring her genealogy many years ago. 

"Bert was in the Civil Service. He met his wife Connie when he was invalided in the Great War. She was a hospital nurse. They married and then she decided to become a Catholic. She got very obsessed with it and gave as much as she could afford to the church. After a while she began to give away all her housekeeping money, and took to pawning her husbands best clothes to get enough money for food.  She then redeemed them on a Friday when she had her housekeeping money. Eventually this was not enough as she gave more and more money to the church., so she bought things on Hire Purchase and immediately sold them.  But when she was found out and her debts were substantial, she committed suicide by walking in the river Dee until she drowned. Bert had a substantial amount of his pay deducted to pay the debts and this took the rest of his working life."

And so I now understand. Bert, broke and unable to support his children, and all this in the mid 1920s, they are taken into care, and become orphans. 

It may appear to be a very sad and unhappy tale. But at least I now understand. My family tree has blossomed, and the hunt for Grace and Margaret, my fathers sisters has begun. 

IF  

My Mother & Father gave me a copy of this when I was 14 years old - it has been with me ever since. 

I TELL YOU WHAT

Sometimes, when life conspires against you - and it has of late - you NEED to take the advice you serve up to everyone else..... 

When you feel that you are` at breaking point - STOP - BREATHE - THINK...

This Poem has offered me strength in the last few days...

A DIFFICULT TIME FOR DAVID
AND FOR GODS SAKE - FILL THE UNFORGIVING MINUTE

WITH 60 SECONDS WORTH OF DISTANCE RUN

If my Father had been alive today - he would have pointed me to this poem with a philosophical and wry smile.. "Get over it Boy - Nobody said it was going to be easy...."

IF

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And - which is more - you’ll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

----------------------

My Father
WW2 RAF Squadron Leader - an Inspiration

And Unintentional Comedian 

Thomas Hillary Barton

STILL INSPIRING ME TODAY

A LIFE CV - AND A NOTABLE DAY - 1-5-15 THE 1ST OF MAY 2015

A LIFE CV

AND A NOTABLE DAY

1-5-15 THE 1ST OF MAY 2015

LIFE = IT'S A JOURNEY

NOT A DESTINATION

0 Years - 1956 Born - Lagos Nigeria

18 Years - 1974 - North London Comprehensive - Leaving School (with limited Academic Success)

19 Years - 1975 - West London, Employed Beecham Products - Lab Technician

22 Years - 1978 - Barman - Isaac Newton Pub, St Johns Wood, London

23 Years - 1979 - Hospital Porter - St Mary's Hospital, Paddington. London.

24 Years - 1980 - Student Nurse, Normanby College, Kings College Hospital, London

A Wife

27 Years - 1983 - Staff Nurse, David Ferrier Ward, Kings College Hospital, London.

A Father

28 Years - 1984 - Staff Nurse, Intensive Care, Kings College Hospital, London.

30 Years - 1986 - Staff Nurse, Glangwilli Intensive Care Unit, Carmarthen.

31 Years - 1987 - Staff Nurse - Morriston Hospital Intensive Care Unit, Swansea.

32 Years - 1988 - Unqualified Nurse Tutor, West Glamorgan School of Nursing and Midwifery

35 Years - 1991 - Registered Nurse Tutor, West Wales College of Nursing and Midwifery - Bachelor of Education

40 Years - 1996 - Master of Philosophy

49 Years - 2005 - PhD

51 Years - 2007 - Head of Nursing - College of Human and Health Sciences, Swansea University

1st May 2015 - Retired Associate Professor of Nursing

A FATHER

A GRANDFATHER

BLESSED

SO MUCH MORE TO DO.......

TUESDAY APRIL 14th 2015

TUESDAY APRIL 14th 2015

JUST ANOTHER (EXTRAORDINARY) DAY!

You've heard of the three ages of man: Youth, middle age, and you're looking wonderful." 

On this day the sun rose as usual, and I climbed out of my bed in my 3 bed-roomed semi-detached in an affluent suburb of Swansea.  I have not always lived in this house, but it is the longest I have lived in any one house in my life - 27 years.

Prior to my life in this house,  I had a colourful complex life that is documented in detail elsewhere:

Goto 

My Life Diaries

But Nevertheless - In Brief....

I was born in Nigeria, raised and schooled (somewhat eccentrically) in London. 

I worked in Industry.

I worked as a Barman. 

I worked as a Hospital Porter.

And then in 1980, at the age of 24 I went to train as a Nurse at Kings College Hospital in London. There I met my wife Janet. And then a 35 year story began. 

We worked in Kings and had our 1st son - Tom. 

New Nightingales - A Student Nurse's Diary 1980 - 1983

I specialised in Intensive Care Nursing. 

We moved to Wales, Carmarthen  and Morriston - ITU.

 A second son - Sam. 

And then in 1988 we moved to Swansea, and to the house that I woke up in this morning. 

Then there was another son - Robert. 

I got a job as a Nurse Tutor in the School of Nursing.

I did a Degree in Education at Cardiff University.

And then I did an MPhil.

And I managed and coordinated an MSc in Advanced Practice.

And then I did a PhD.

And then I became the Head of the Department of Nursing.

And then - My sons grew up - and I am now a Grandfather.

So - to the Point --- 

On Tuesday 14th April 2015 I dressed, grey trousers, shirt and tie. I took the Car from my house to Swansea University Campus - a short 20 minute drive. I parked, and took a short walk to the Glyndwr Building, 2nd Floor room 219. My office - usually flamboyant and garish, was oddly bare. 

I took my Sweetie Jar full of cheap boiled sweets, and I walked to corridors, and offered familiar names and faces a "Sweetie". There were the usual conversations and predictable gossip. 

There were classrooms burgeoning with young hopefuls. Tomorrows Nurses, Paramedics and Midwives - so full of optimism. There was the hustle, bustle and politics of a busy University. 

Then I locked my Office Door..... I walked down the corridor like I had a thousand times before - but this time - for the last time....

I turned and looked over my shoulder - and there stretched a vivid history. 

So many faces, so many events, disasters and triumphs. 

Thousands upon thousands of patients, students, teachers and colleagues looked back at me. 

From a time before computers, mobile phones, email, the internet, social media, Facebook, Twitter, Google - through to the present day - they all looked back at me through that long tunnel of memories that was my career, my life, they waved, smiled, and wished me well all in their own way. 

I waved back 
#DAVEWAVE

It was the start of the next Chapter.

I drove home to the house where I raised my family.

It was a lovely day. A strange day. A reflective day.

The Day

I RETIRED!

"Retirement is wonderful. It's doing nothing without worrying about getting caught at it."