Corinne Sweet

Justice for Damilola?

2011-05-18T05:05:00.001-07:00

Reading the daily papers makes for a grim morning experience. There are endless, gruesome stories about mobs and gangs attacking young people and others. Often there's Facebook campaigns, where a gang of 20 converges on their 'victim' slicing him to death, or hacking or burning or attacking. It's as if we have created a feral subculture, an underclass of disaffected, disenfranchised youth, who can only define themselves by stamping on someone's head, knifing their guts or slashing them to pieces. The youth that shouted 'I've done him' when he killed an 'innocent' 15 year old last weekend, just underlines the point. Since the shocking days of Damilola Taylor, left to bleed to death in a stairwell on the way back from school, and beyond, the main badge of macho masculinity and kidulthood has become the ability and willingness to kill and maim. Girls are also drawn into this dark world of 'proving' what 'balls' they have, which started with 'happy slapping' and now is symbolised in sickening, violent crime. No longer genteel kleptomania is enough to prove your worth - you have to kick and stamp a gay man's head flat in Trafalgar Square to show how tough you are. Violence breeds violence, and fear, we know. With the slashing government will come increasing unrest, disenfranchisement and disgruntlement. It will take a great deal of future investment to turn things around once young people who would have gone to university or spent useful lives, simply end up on the street or worse. Still, the news today about Damilola Taylor's possible murderers being retrialed does give a glimmer of hope. Justice may be slow...but maybe it will now finally be done.

New Year Resolutions Solutions

2011-01-24T05:19:00.000-08:00

This can be a very bleak time of year when we haven't quite shrugged off the chills and ills of winter to head for the daffodilly glories of Spring...and it's a time when it's hard to sustain the New Year resolutions which were made, in haste and desperation, after the overindulgence of the Christmas period.

The most important thing is to be not only realistic, but also kind to yourself. Cut yourself some slack. If you were trying to quit smoking, go dry for a month, lose weight, remember it takes time. Set yourself realistic daily deadlines, and when you meet them, congratulate yourself. The biggest mistake people make is to try to do everything all at once. It can be a kind of self-sabotage to set too many unrealistic goals. Take your time, focus on one thing, and then go for it.

I think the basic tools of CBT (see my new book, Change Your Life with CBT: How cognitive behavioural therapy can transform your life (Pearsons) can be excellent in helping you set goals and meet them, especially if you are feeling grim at this time of year. Money, diet, health, weight, jobs, redundancy, all of this can lead to sleepless nights and a sense of helplessness, if you are trying to sort things out.

Take one issue: focus on it. Set down three realistic goals. Note the thoughts and feelings that float up in your mind about how you feel about your goals. Note them down. How hard would it be to achieve your goal? Estimate it - 90% maybe? Then take one step in the right direction of meeting your goals. You will be moving forward, almost without realising it. Measure how hard it really was - maybe on 45% - far less than you estimated. So you can do it after all. Give yourself a pat on the back, metaphorically speaking, once you've achieved even the smallest goal.

You're on your way, and still on track.

And it's getting lighter every day...

STUDENTS: A FUTURE LIFE OF DEBT

2010-12-08T03:45:00.000-08:00

For Nick Clegg and David Cameron it seems relatively easy to contemplate educational debt. After all they both went to fee paying private schools, with solid families and wealth behind them, coming from the upper echelons of our society. Their legacy on student debt will be similar to Tony Blair's on Iraq - it will be an act which the public will neither forgive nor forget. Pushing fees up to £9k or £12k a year, and beyond, leaving students with £40k or £60k debt on leaving university, might be acceptable for the owning classes, but for the 'ordinary' people of the UK, it is totally unacceptable.

Many years ago I worked for the National Union Students and actually was on a committee putting forward 'The Case Against Student Loans'. Sadly, the Labour Party started the slippery slide, which is now an avalanche. It is not only the principle of education being a right, which is at stake here, but also the issue of who precisely will be able to pay. If, as in the oft quoted American situation, students pay a premium for education, they start saving from birth (or at least their upwardly mobile parents do). Here, parents will have had no time to prepare for this change, which will cause enormous heartache and headaches for parents of all classes and backgrounds throughout these islands.

I have worked in education for over twenty five years now, most recently at Middlesex University, and have seen, first hand, how impoverished students are now. They struggle to make ends meet, they do two or three part time jobs, they hardly have time or attention to study. How can raising fees improve these students' life chances?

I believe the imposition of these impossibly high student fees will be the nail in the coalition's coffin. It will be the Con-Dem's Iraq. The public will neither accept nor forgive this rise. It is like Thatcher's Poll Tax debacle, something which is inherently unfair and against which the public will revolt.

Ironically, the credit crunch and recession was down to many of us getting into unthinking debt. We all know the banks lured many into mortgages, overdrafts and loans which were impossible to sustain. It was mythical money. Now, the government is going to lure students into taking on huge mountains of debt, for decades. The Government is endorsing taking on debt which cannot easily be paid back - how can this be a good lesson for students about managing their money wisely?

Hopefully, parents, other workers, any concerned individuals, will join with students and young people to protest against these impossible fee rises. An educated nation is a civilised nation. An uneducated nation in debt, leads us to very dark places indeed.

Gillian McKeith and Kate Middleton - why not get some CBT

2010-11-18T05:16:00.000-08:00

My new book, Change Your Life with CBT (Pearsons, £10.99) should be shipped straight out to the jungle. TV nutrition guru Gillian McKeith has been shrieking, fainting and screaming with fear for the past few days, as her phobia of all things creepy crawly has terrified her completely. Indeed, and indeed weirdly, Gillian apparently had not thought to watch the show beforehand, so had (apparently) no idea contestants had to munch on cockroaches or endure spiders and bugs. How could she not? Whatever, she could well have armed herself with a range of wonderful ways of dealing with the panic, when it strikes. All she had to do was do a short course of CBT - Cognitive Behavioural Therapy - which would have helped her control the urge to panic. After all, looked at logically, the contestants are not actually in danger. Yes, wading through fish guts or pawing through ants' nests, or having rats crawling over your face or trying to eat wiggling worms (live ones) is foul for anyone, especially a vegan like Gillian. But it is possible to learn to control her mind, by working out that her worst fears are not actually going to come about. After all, she can cry out 'I'm a celebrity, get me out of here' any time and she'll be saved. The problem with panic, phobias and all overriding fears, is that the fear becomes worse than the thing feared, itself. It is possible to calm down, breathe and cope with something fearful - but it does take awareness, preparation, and an ability to be more rational in the situation. Luckily, CBT can teach this, fairly easily - if you want to learn.

Similarly, Kate (Catherine now) Middleton, has been thrown to the media wolves this week and her life will now be gobbled up in the media machine. She acknowledged - albeit with poise - that she was scared, and 'daunted' not only by the task of joining the royal 'firm' but also by the whole process of having a royal wedding. She admitted several times to feeling fearful, or scared, and therein lies her strength. She felt her fear and did it anyway, which is what learning to conquer your fears is all about. She has managed to overcome her fear, and trepidation, whilst being in the public gaze. People will warm to her as a consequence. However, the choice of ring, I think, was not wise. Understandable the Wills would want a bit of mum at the wedding. But Kate wants to be his wife, not his mum. The curse of the dead woman on the ring is not lost on many women. Diana, sadly, came from a dysfunctional, upper class family and was handed over to yet another one. The ring symbolised her betrothal into unhappiness and we all know that she ended up divorced and dead, far too soon. Shame then, that Kate could not have suggested the ring become part of a household object - a photo frame of Diana, or a collar for fine wine. Instead, she takes on the mantel of Princess manque with a heavy burden on her heart finger. Hopefully it will be too valuable for her to wear everyday as I fear the bad 'karma' it carries could weigh heavily on her fresh, hopeful life. Nevertheless, Kate seems the kind of person who is pragmatic and strong (coming from mining stock) and perhaps she is just the right kind of grounded middle/working class element to be injected into an upper class neurotic family system. Perhaps the ring cycle will be broken after all.

New CBT book coming soon

2010-09-23T13:51:00.001-07:00

Heard today that my new book is out November 1st. It's 'Change Your Life with CBT' (Pearsons) and I have to say it changed my life writing it. I was very pleased to be asked to write it, and found researching CBT was a fascinating journey. Although I have done several different trainings, I found CBT extremely useful, as it challenges the negative thinking that creeps in daily...almost unawares. Anyway, I'm looking forward to promoting it, and hear it will be Book of the Week and is already doing well. I'm proud of it.

However, have been saddened by so much of the world's news today, not least what is happening in India re the Commonwealth Games. I feel really sorry for all the displaced people who have been sacrificed for the games, and all the children and poorly paid workers, who have been drafted in to try and deal with so much corruption and disruption at the eleventh hour. We can only hope they receive some reward for what will have been nothing but arduous poorly paid labour.

Also the couple in the suicide pact remind us how easy it is to succumb to those darkest hours before dawn, when all seems to hopeless. And yet, life always hangs by such a precious, delicate thread. Imagine they had met, talked, connected, and actually found something to hold onto in each other instead of gassing themselves. It could have been so different after all.

Kerry Katastrophe

2010-06-24T16:14:00.000-07:00

Found myself watching the show Kerry and Me this evening and feeling utterly depressed by it. As we were meant to be, I think. The sadness of the emptiness. The emptiness of the meaninglessness. And meanwhile, the children, wandering around, digging for shoes in the rubble, nibbling on stale cake, wandering around, looking after themselves, while Kerry is wrapped up in her world and dramas. I am not angry or censorious about her - she clearly is struggling with her demons - but I am deeply saddened for the children, and wonder if she were not a celebrity, whether they wouldn't be in care?

Why do we create such female traincrash victims? For we are the ones to be creating these women, like Jordan, Posh, Kerry, who are parodies of themselves. Empty vessels, gawped at and lauded for what? Being on TV. The sadness is in us. Our need for vacuous time-filling, for worship of something so meaningless as...fame.

Those four children need warmth, security, regular food and someone to sit down with them and do their homework. They need anonymity. Stability. Otherwise the cycle of abuse will continue, and the next generation of empty, soulless, pain will be handed on.

I am sorry for Kerry, indeed, I am. But I'm sorrier for the kids.

OLDER MUMS ROCK

2010-05-28T08:59:00.000-07:00

I'm on BBC Five Live in a live debate tonight at 10.30 about the rise in older mums. 27,000 mums had babies at over age 40 last year and the number is set to rise. I am to address the issue of whether older mums are 'selfish' tonight, against someone who will no doubt say we are. I wrote my book, Birth Begins At Forty, when I, myself, got pregnant at 43. Back then, it was a rare occurence. It happened around the same time as Cherie Booth got pregnant with Leo, and Madonna was having Lourdes, and Caroline Quentin, Jane Seymour and many others. In fact, the men who had babies later had then a lot later: like Warren Beatty in his 60s, and Paul McCartney, and John Humphreys and Rupert Murdoch (72). Even 'Beam me up Scotty' from the first Star Trek series had a child in his 90s. Then we had Des O' Connor having one at 72, and appearing on TV daily, and David Jason, and many other men. But were they 'selfish'? No. They were great. They were lads, they were men, they could still get it up...and it was fine.

It seems to me the epithet 'selfish' is applied to women whether we have babies at 14 or 40, and at any age in between..oh, and after. It is always unseemly to have a baby late, and it's a crime to reverse the menopause, although men will pay thousands for penis extensions, viagra, or to prostitutes. That's fine, apparently. I think we have to live with the fact that times have changed. Our expectations are such that having a baby 'late' is what we want in a post Bridget Jones world. The reasons are myriad: we can't find the right man, Mr Right, is still like the yetti, and eludes us; we are not 'read' emotionally speaking, and, heaven forfend, we have careers, so are not happy to sit at home doing nothing, knitting or biding our time.

The debate will continue to run, even though we are thought to reach our fertility peak at 27, instead of 35 now. That means, all those women, at 25, who think they have years to think about having children - or ignoring it completely - are in fact, kidding themselves. However, psychology and sociology far outweigh biology when it comes to having babies. We may be 3000 years behind the times in evolutionary terms, but we won't want to have children any quicker with the way we want to live our lives today.

Selfish, nah! Revolutionary. Innovative. Good parents. Yes!

WATCH THE LIKELY LADS

2010-05-12T10:02:00.000-07:00

Well, well, what a long time a week is in British politics. We've been through the three lad show, which led to a hung parliament result. And now, after days of wrangling and backroom horsetrading, we are now faced with the Nick 'n' Dave coalition. At first I thought it was a terrible idea, and baulked at the idea of the LibDems getting into bed with the Tories. But, on the face of it, at least, it's looking like the LDs are tugging the Tories to the left, with Cameron only too pleased to be able to walk through the No 10 frontdoor with NC by his side.

Now we have Theresa May as Home Secretary (only second woman ever and she loves her shoes) and also in charge of Equalities. Shame there is not another woman in charge of Equalities, and, another women or ten, in the new Cabinet. Where did all the women go? Why are they not courting more women and minority ethnic candidates to give the new Cabinet a real pulse?

Plus now David Miliband has popped up as a potential leader after the departure of Gordon Brown, it is also a moment to ask where have all Labour's Women gone? Harriet Harman might be holding the fort for the moment, but why not standing for leader? Where are the political females? We need them now. Please let's not have another all-male contest.

Hearing people calling the new coalition the Chuckle Brothers, Ant n Dec, Little n Large is amusing. But I wonder if we can give them a chance? I wonder if we can allow something to work, even if it seems riven with complexities and difficulties? In a sense people get the government they deserve - if that's so, heaven forfend.

Women, get going, speak up, let's make ourselves heard!

WHY YOU SHOULD VOTE

2010-05-05T15:49:00.000-07:00

I can't help it, but it makes me angry when I hear people say they are going to spoil their votes, or not bother to vote, or simply not turn on to the election. Why? Such passivity is a slap in the face to the thousands who fought for the right to vote over centuries: first working men, then women. After all, it took women fifty years and a lot of 'cat and mouse' suffering to achieve voting status. How arrogant is it to say you will spoil your vote? Think of the countries today where it is impossible to vote, where it takes bravery to risk voting, where people walk for days, even risk death, to push their bit of paper into a bin. We take it for granted, as we do many things, like fresh water, or food in supermarkets or endless choice. Voting is fundamental and important, and as infuriating and confusing this election is, it is vital to make a choice. Otherwise, we will end up with the government we deserve - a punitive and indifferent one.

The situation is, of course, very confusing. I have tried to explain to my thirteen year old that New Labour (or not so New Labour) is where the Tories used to be, and the Tories are in the middle where the Libs used to be, and the Libs are sort of on the left, where old Labour used to be. Hmmm. And then, why are we choosing between three white men? I wonder...when they hardly represent our nation now. An Etonian has nothing to do with the man on the street, no matter how often the top button is left undone. And yet, it all looks very samey, whitey, and nothingy, so people are scratching their heads and feeling confused and anyway, the world is in such a mess, that the idea that someone can sort it out (think Greece today) is really very laughable. Anyway global warming will get us before the next election anyway, or so it seems, given this freezing summer (I should say climate change, rather than global warming).

So. Bother. Get up and Vote. Don't be lazy. Put your paw on the paper and do your bit because otherwise you will get the punishment you deserve. And I will have to suffer it too. And that's really not fair. Is it?

VOTE FOR WOMEN?

2010-05-01T16:48:00.000-07:00

OK. So we have seen three white men pontificate for power over the past three 'presidential-style' debates and I have to say I have one main thought: what about the women? Was it for this that Suffragettes threw themselves under horses? Did the women who fought for the vote for fifty years really imagine that in the 21st century we would still be looking at a line-up of white, middle aged, middle class men? It's so sad. Looking at them, listening to them, cutting and thrusting for power, learning to look into the camera, or remembering peoples' names, is a game. A PR wonder. Yet, nowhere is a woman. Nowhere is a black person. No sign of the ordinary, the unique, the unusual. Instead, all three boast a typical male ego-filled stream of 'vote-for-me' stuff which, I'm afraid, does not convince. Plus, all the pictures in the papers with the dutiful wifey in tow (apart from Clegg, it has to be admitted), makes one wonder.

Whatever happened to the women? Whatever happened to women's rights, women's issues and concerns? Gordon Brown mentioned women once, and got a tick from me. And Clegg mentioned fairness over and over. But equality? Far better to have had a woman standing for leadership, offering a really new and fresh perspective. Better still to have had someone from a completely different background and complexion altogether (literally), given the issues about immigration which eventually reared their ubiquitously ugly heads.

And yet, the time is ticking away. Only a few days to go, and a momentous vote to be cast, affecting our lives and our livelhoods for months and years to come. Do we really know what we are voting for? Even reading the manifestoes, is it clear? And, once the die (and vote) is cast, do we really know how one of these men will lead us through the shadow of the valley of financial collapse and chaos? Will any of them get the banks to play fair and pay back? Will any of them save higher education from slaughter? Will any promote the rights of women and children, and create an equal society? This time next week the result will be in, and we will then have five years of hard gradgrind ahead - holymoly, help us all...

THE END IN SIGHT

2010-04-25T01:19:00.000-07:00

We came to Majorca for a six day break, my daughter and I, and here we are nearly 8 days later. We have been through a rollercoaster of experience and emotions, and we are on our last day now, hoping the flight goes as scheduled tomorrow. The pink and white Brits have begun to arrive in dribbles as the tour companies are desperate to get the show back on the road. They arrive, really unaware of the chaos and madness we went through last week, from the Thursday when it all kicked off, and the volcano blew ash over British air space, to Tuesday, when it looked better, to Wednesday, when it all kicked off again, to Thursday, when it all seemed to be moving finally.

Phew. In the hotel lobby there is a still a sign telling us we can go from Madrid to London for 353 pounds by luxury coach, although the price may go up daily. That doesn´t include the fare from here to Palma (we are in the northern most tip of the island), or from Palma to to Barcelona, Barcelona to Madrid, or from Madrid onwards to France, the channel and the on from there.

Interestingly, it´s made me think about the nineteenth century, when poets like Elizabeth Barrett Browning went south for winter for her health. I imagine now how enormous that journey was, belting over unadopted roads, in a horse and four, changing constantly, staying at hostelries. The journey must have been vast, and all the more rewarding when they saw the blue mountains, the palms, the mist rising from the sea, the waves gently lapping at the shore, the sun glittering on the early morning water.

I am constantly gripped with guilt about my daughter missing school, however. She will have missed 6 days and she has exams coming. She promises me she will work hard to catch up. I know she will. She has missed school and her pals, and feels sad not to be there. At the same time she has learned that travel is always not straightforward, she has been through us living through a disaster and seen we can come through. She´s learned about volcanos, foreign travel, and we´ve watched the 3man debate and sky and talked about the election. We´ve also spoken French, German, Spanish and what I call Desperanto, which is a mixture of every language I can muster when I need to.

We have also seen how new technology can be incredibly useful in a fix. I have vowed yet again to go on a computer course and get a notebook, definitely a great idea, and a data stick (which was about 25 pounds here). Also that in life one has to simply expect the unexpected - life is chaotic, uncertain, and the sooner one becomes resilient and able to cope with everything thrown at one in the modern world, the better.

I have also learned what a wonderfully warm and kind people the Spanish are. The staff in the hotel have been kind, helpful, empathic and have gone not only the extra mile, but the extra hundred miles, to be helpful. They are courteous, funny, warm. Christina, one of the waitresses, tells us about her parrot who speaks five languages and raps like Eminem. She has three cats, a dog, and numerous other animals. She has been a friend to my daughter, who rushes out to stroke any passing feral cat, as it reminds her of home.

So today should be our last here. No longer prisoners in paradise, we can enjoy the beauty and are off to our last market in Pollensa, a small town in the hills. We´ll get an incredibly cheap bus (about 70p each) and go up to an impeccably clean place, where people will be warm, friendly, artistic, polite and kind.

The prospect of cool, dirty, rude England is not totally welcoming. Although getting home and getting back to some kind of normal, obviously is.

HOLDING ON

2010-04-23T01:45:00.000-07:00

I came here for a six day break - here being remote northern Majorca, a place called Porto Pollensa. It is beautiful - and remote. A small fishing village, off the Costa Grot beaten track. I only had six days, not seven. After a few days of searching on the net, having finished a big book, I was ready to collapse and needing some post-book TLC. How wrong I was.

First, I booked with a small company who said that they would give me a lovely package. The six day option was fine, and actually, looking back, I was a fool to think it was that good. I turned down similar options from the big boys, Thomas Cook, Thomsons, and First Choice, as I just wanted the six days, not seven. Hmmmm.

As a consequence this was a mistake. I also ticked the box that said Travel Insurance, thinking it was really travel insurance. In the event of the subsequent disaster, it was not money well spent. People out here who have been with bank travel insurance, or bigger companies, again, have had the best deal.

The idea of booking with a company is that they take some of the strain off. They haven´t. Jewel in the Crown travel have added to my anxiety by doing...nothing. They eventually rebooked my flight once it was cancelled, for Mon 26th, but I could have done that on the first day of the delay if I´d had the code. I couldn´t do that as I was with a travel company, so it was Catch 22. Independent travellers went straight on the net, and sorted themselves out, rebooking. But I was stuck, passively waiting for someone in Essex to wake up.

Then the travel insurers were unreachable. They never picked up their fone. Eventually the travel co told me they would do nothing to compensate me. I had a rude email from the travel insurers, which I matched with equal rudeness.

Meanwhile, Thomas Cook and Thomsons were coming in each day, talking to their punters, reassuring them, taking action, giving them lunch money. I was eventually told, after three days of pestering my travel company, now called Pain in the Arse, that no they would not rebook my accommodation for me. So I had to rebook myself on line.

The stress was enormous. In the hotel, Brits hung in clumps, whispering, laughing, crying. Laptops and mobiles were out everywhere, people needing to work out how to log on in Spanish. The Internet cafe did a booming trade, a line went out of the door. The doctor was overloaded as Brits, including myself, needed their medication. And I ended up taking things which are not what I´m used to, but who knows....I had to take something. Many Brits could not get their cancer drugs, betablockers, whatever. I have asthma, and I was running out of puffer. Was the ash cloud coming this way? I spent 70 euros on a doctor, and 74 on medication. The bills were mounting.

Then the travel options were explored and it was mad. We calculated we were going to spend 2000 getting home. The prices rose daily on the ferry. We laughed hysterically talking about bribing the local fishermen to get us to Barcelona. The ferries were booked up for the next two weeks in all directions. The flights were going from a 60 quid quickie from Palma to Barcelona or Madrid, to ridiculous amounts, like 900 pounds from Palma to Madrid, or 500 pounds from Palma to Barcelona.

My travel agent told me wearily, I was the only one of their punters on the island and I was not a priority. I should contact the British Consul. Yeah, me and 250,000 other disgruntled punters.

So Thomson and Travel Cook have nearly swept up all their lost souls now. My friends from Manchester were given an hours warning last night to pack their dirty knickers and go. We´ve all been washing our smalls and hanging them on the balconies. Others are making an overland trek. The only ones who are really OK are the pensioners for whom time is really immaterial.

So my daughter and I are still stuck, patiently waiting, counting out our days in cafe con leches. We watch Sky, as its much more informative than the Beeb. Even German TV has done a better job.

And we wait. It´s all wearing thin. The sky is grey and it´s hot in the UK.

Is there a god, I wonder. That rest I wanted to have...hmmm.

LAST BRIT STANDING

2010-04-22T03:42:00.000-07:00

Well, hallo from sunny North Majorca. Still stuck in lovely Porto Pollensa, which is great as the weather has been good so far. Athough today is rainy for a change. However, people are still trying to escape and finding it difficult, if not impossible. It´s like being prisoners in paradise. A couple next to us in the hotel have paid 500 pounds to fly from Palma to Barcelona today, having come back last night, not having found accommodation in either Palma or Barcelona.

Such a strange time. It´s not a holiday and the Brits talk to each other obsessively all the time: I speak German, so I talk to the Germans and Austrians too. Still lot of Scots and Irish here.

So the day passes, feeling stressed, guilty, worried, and wondering if our flights, now resecheduled 9 days later will really go.

Will post again later...now have contacted the press, hoping to write something for Sunday. Have to pay my passage home somehow as I have been left the last one standing here....

Prisoners in Paradise

2010-04-21T01:58:00.000-07:00

I came for a six day break to Majorca with my 13 year old daughter, having just written a book. I was exhausted, and needed a break. Some sun. Having trawled the net, like you do, I decided against a big company, like Thomsons or Thomas Cook, as they only did 7 day breaks. I was tempted, but knew she had to get back to school the next Mondayl. So we set off and indeed, found ourselves in a beautiful spot, after deceptively easy travel, in the northern most port of Majorca, Porto Pollensa. I´d always wanted to come here, and really relished the quiet, although it was cool. Only a few intrepid Brits were here, and Germans and a few French and Spaniards. Ah.

We had a couple of wonderfully calm, recovery days. And then it all kicked off. First, I had a text from a friend, saying a dear friend had died. I had missed the obit. I was devastated. Suddenly all went dark, and I found myself full of grief, looking at the mountains. It was difficult, as my daughter was on holiday, hoping to chill, and I was now buried in shock and grief. I found some Arnica and resolved it wouldn´t spoil things, although I still burst into tears at the slightest thing.

I wrote a diary to try and quell the pain, and then the news came that no one was leaving. The volcano took over from my friend in my consciousness, and from that minute on, I was struggling, along with hundreds and thousands of other possibly stranded tourists, as to what to do. First, it became clear that no one knew anything. I called my travel company, who knew nothing.

Gradually after a day it became clear that we were not going to go anywhere, and panic set in. For the past six days it has been mayhem. Amazingly (or not surprisingly), the Brits have stuck together, in a gang, and have laughed our way through it. My flight came, and went, after hours of not knowing if I would go or not. What was I to do? Texting my husband, paying in internet cafes to read the beeb, trying to piece together what to do...and still my travel company did nothing.

Eventually I decided to rebook my hotel, on the internet, and sit tight. The biggest thing has been the rollercoaster of emotion: one minute it looks ok as the volcano stops spitting, and we are all relieved, the next, it´s a nightmare as we plot how to walk to Bilbao or shove euros at local fishermen to tow us to the mainland.

It´s been a farce, a madhouse, and mayhem. Then the big companies began to swing into action: first, Thomsons offered their punters a coach ride from hell, including trains, no planes, and automobiles....and then Thomas Cook has hauled people off with military drivers. Some people have opted out.

Last night was the worst, before the first plane landed at Heathrow. We had been all up the night before, happy that things were getting better. Then the next day, we all sunk, and the ban was brought in again. Then we were jubilant last night, as suddenly things were moving.

As a lone traveller - I´ve learned never to book with my company again, only to either do it as a lone traveller or go with one of the big boys - I´m still on my own to get us back. Each day is riven with anxiety about whether we are doing the right thing. The queues for the internet, for the local cafe (sweet Moroccan woman with two kids whose huband is stuck in Morocca and doesn´t know anyting about computers), go round the block.

We are washing our clothes in the sink (only brought enough for six days) and hanging it on the balcony to dry; I ran out of vital meds, and spent a day visting a doc and trying to get equivalent, setting me back a hundred and fifty quid.

Yes it´s sunny, yes it´s beautiful, but it´s mad. It all looks different when you can´t get out. Last night we calculated the overland route would cost me an extra two thousand pounds. So I´m sitting tight and hoping that Monday we will go. My daughter has missed the first week of school, but her internet skills have come in handy for everyone.

We are prisoners in paradise, but hopefully the end is in sight.

Welcome to my new blog

2010-03-17T04:17:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my new Blog. I am a writer, broadcaster, psychologist, screenwriter and 'agony aunt' and I am currently writing a new book on Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. I also have a new website up and running which you can see at www.corinnesweet.com I appear on TV and Radio regularly, and am always commenting on issues of the day which have a strong psychological, emotional or sexual political impact.

I am being asked a great deal at the moment about the men who have been caught out 'playing away' - no, I don't mean football (although that comes into the story, obviously). Rather, it's about the number of men who seem to be practicising serial infidelity when they have (seemingly) perfectly wonderful partners at home.

It's a conundrum - but I think it reveals something about our overindulgent times, and about the male psyche and ego, as well as the fact that women are still making bad choices for themselves. Most of the men, like Tiger Woods, Ashley Cole, Mark Owen, Vernon Kaye, John Terry, seem to have something in common: their ego comes first. They also need attention - lots of it - and seem to have strayed the minute their missus has been off persuing her own career, or getting all the accolades from the press that they probably wish they were having. Is it good old jealousy, envy, lack of female adoration, that makes such men stray? It's also interesting that it's hard for the men to see the women succeeding publicly - maybe even earning more - and being adored by the public and lusted after by other men. It doesn't seem to make these partners proud, it just makes them act out in an adolescent kind of way. Whatever, the women involved need to take a long cool look at what they are settling for...as probably we all do.

After all, the celebrities of the day are like the gilded gods of old - we look up to them, we want to follow them, and imitate them, but really they are flawed and have feet of clay. We need to take them off their rickety pedestals and understand that we all have to work out our lives, for ourselves, with all the mess, the lack of resources, the stress, the joy and pain, that the celebrities also have - minus the cash and the lackies. At least, we don't let our egos rule ( hopefully not), or base absolutely everything on appearance rather than content. Anyway, we're not followed 24/7 by the papparazzi, which must be a horrendous stress. The important thing is to quell the desire for fame - that everyone seems infected with - for fame's sake. It is an empty, meaningless quest that does not bring happiness.

Sad, meanwhile, to hear about Kate Winslet and Sam Mendes, but I have a hunch we will not hear the details on this for some time. At least, it won't create the mountains of chip paper fodder in the same way as the Tiger Woods' and Ashley Coles' unfolding tacky dramas have been.

Hope you have enjoyed my thought for the day. I hope to write this blog weekly from now on, or as the mood takes me.

Love to hear from you meanwhile.

Enjoy the Spring weather.

Welcome to Corinne Sweet's Blog

2010-01-15T09:09:00.001-08:00

Welcome to the blog!