This is an account of a memorable incident that happened on our recent holiday In Fuerteventura. Although, in my case, I only remember some of it. It was on Friday 16 January when I had an accident at the end of our January break. As we headed for the airport for the return flight, we stopped at a lovely little village, Tarajalejo, for lunch then went for a short walk along the sea front. We walked along its small quay side that had some sea-breaker blocks acting as a wall around a rough slipway. George went to take a photo whereas I jumped onto one of the blocks to view the crabs that were clambering over them and take a photo. Immediately I felt my feet slip from under me. All I remember was thinking to myself with clarity, I’ll hit the blocks and concrete ground if I fall backwards, so better to swing my arms as hard as I can to go forward into the sea water below. The photo that George took was at 14:29.

I am and will be oblivious to this next part... I have no memory of it until I started to come round in the medical centre some hours later.

The water was only about a foot deep so I fell through the water to rocks and concrete below, colliding with sharp rocks as I fell. George had heard me but expected to see me laughing, getting myself out of the water, but to his horror, when he came over the wall from where he was taking the photo, I was face down unconscious in the sea drifting slowly away from the shore, handbag (with passport and mobile) and glasses adrift.

If it wasn't for George's quick action I may not be here today. He ran into the water and as he reached me, he turned my head out of the water, he realised I was completely unconscious, eyes wide open but motionless with no signs of responsiveness whatsoever. I was bleeding profusely around my face and from her mouth. Thankfully, there were a couple of Spanish people who helped George out... one who ran over and helped George pull me out of the water (seemingly I was a dead weight (I've told him I needed to lose some pounds LOL!)), another came who had been fishing, saw the commotion and asked if he should ring for an ambulance, and when it came 25 mins later, someone else came who interpreted the Spanish paramedics to inform George where they were taking me.

At first, as he initially pulled me from the water, he ensured I had started breathing, but wondered if there was internal bleeding. During the time it took for the ambulance, George could feel me come around, but sat wide eyed with small pupils confused, asking where I was! As well as being concussed, I had scrapped the right of my body, particularly my face, hands as I had reached out to try and save myself, right knee and side of my right thigh. He dabbed me down with his cotton handkerchief and took his jumper off to put around me to keep me warm.

The next thing I remember was coming around in the medical centre. I wasn't totally with it... I recall feeling cold with my bra and pants under my hospital gown uncomfortably damp... vaguely remember asking where was I, where George was and being told that he was outside... then all of a sudden watching George dab a cool compress on my forehead while using a mobile on the other hand... I had patches on my body, and learnt later they had done heart and other tests on me (and had encouraged me to stay still but I was a little agitated so they were done twice)... then being told that I had to get into a wheelchair to go to get an X-ray and quickly sitting upright on the bed... then being in the X-ray department and being told to stand still... then to turn to get another X-ray and watched the nurse disappear behind the screen... with no smooth connection between all those scenes. The male doctor and male nurse attended to me over three hours coming in and out of the cubicle. As they attended to my wounds, I recall saying "the last time I knocked myself out was when I was 11 and was playing football with the boys and wrecked my glasses and I was scared to tell my Mum... that was 53 years ago. I've done well" and chuckled to myself. The nurse who spoke and understood English (thankfully!) smiled politely and must have thought "there's nothing wrong with her".

Eventually everything was becoming more coherent. George informed me of all the things he was doing on his mobile. We'd missed our flight. He wisely decided we’d stay a few more days on the island so I could recover, so rearranged flights for three days hence, hotel accommodation, informing car hire on the island why he would be bringing the car back late, notifying car parking at Belfast International of the accident and the need to extend car park booking until we got home on Monday 19 January. True to form though as I was more with it, I started to check if he'd remembered everything like extending the car parking at home.

The medical centre released me that evening knowing I’d be close by. They gave George a prescription for strong anti-inflammatory tablets (Naproxen) and listed symptoms that I might have if I might feel ill later. George had got dry clothes from my rucksack so he carefully got me changed and dressed. I walked sheepishly out to the car holding George’s arm. He set up the satnav to direct him to drive to the hotel… he’d booked us into the 4* star Sheraton Hotel near the airport. We arrived there at 19:00.

But all was not done for George. Once he had booked us in and settled me into the room with everything I needed with phone nearby and TV remote at hand, he left to get the medication (which was difficult at that time of night as they were only sold on the island in specific drug stores), then he had to find a gas station near the airport to fill the car with petrol before leavIng it back at the airport car hire (no extra charge for being late due to the accident!), and then needed to get a taxi back to the hotel. He, no doubt, was done but once back in the room, he’d seen I had dozed most of the time. He made me a cuppa and biscuit and helped me to bed.

Initially I was fragile... I had limited grip with my hands, had to drink with a straw as the right of my face was numb (just like I had when I was 11 suffering from Bell's palsy) otherwise I dribbled when I drunk through my mouth, severe bruising and swelling on face, wrists and leg appeared more during the days that followed. But looking back, those three days in Sheraton were what I needed to recover well enough to get the flight home.

Remarkably as I walked into the restaurant for breakfast the next morning, I thought I saw a woman I recognised. It turned out, as we went down the room to avoid the busyness and stares (I wasn't a pleasant sight), we sat at the table next to her. She immediately spoke to me but hadn't initially recognised me until I spoke "Hi Sandra"... then I divulged all that had happened to us the previous day. Sandra and her husband, James, were on a week's holiday at the Sheraton. They were two people that I'd known for more than 30 years through Fitzroy church, back home in Belfast, Northern Ireland. I had only known them more as acquaintances since back then we were busy as mothers and with our careers. But during the next three days, they were a godsend. We both met them every day for an hour in the afternoon over a glass of wine and just chatted about anything and everything. Such a tonic.

We arrived in Belfast without any problem on the following Monday 19 late evening. Having picked up our car, we approached the barrier to leave the car park, pressed the button to inform them of the reason for lateness and they released the barrier, no charge. However, it wasn't until that Wednesday the bruises started to appear and I suffered a severe headache. I was taking Naproxen with food but feeling sick every time I took. On Thursday morning I detailed my condition and submitted it for a triage appointment in the online NHS Patient Services web site with my local GP. Within a half an hour, reception rang me and requested I come in at 11am.

To my relief, I got a lady doctor who gave me a complete examination, prescribed additional medication to ease the effect on my stomach of the anti-inflammatories, stated that I could take paracetamol to relieve the headache as well as Naproxen, assured me that after all I went through, my body had reached a crescendo of inflammation and pain over the last 5 days, which would start to ease soon. But I needed to take it easy.

It's now nearly three weeks after the accident and can definitely say, I've taken it easy. I realise I don't normally. I'm always on the go, if not doing something, planning it in my head! The headaches became less and less, the bruising and cuts are almost gone, most of my feeling is back in my face so for more than a week I haven't needed a straw. I have slept longer most days... something I never do and, with the tiredness that lingers, feel my brain needs it. Overall, I am amazed how the body heals so quickly.

However, I can't end this article without mentioning how George coped. He only related what had happened to me bit by bit over the last few weeks. So I can only really understand what I’ve been through now. Ultimately, at one point the next day, I heard him say "I thought I'd lost you" and crumbled. For me, this is not a man I see so vulnerable, but, knowing his childhood memory of when he was 5 years of age losing his wee brother of 15 days old through natural causes, it brought all those vivid feelings and emotions back to him. But regardless, that day he kept a cool head throughout (those 25 mins before the ambulance arrived must have felt long to him), not being fluent in Spanish was able to communicate sufficiently with the people who helped, the dread of having to leave me into the care of the Spanish paramedics, find his way to the centre some 30 minutes later while drying out my passport sufficiently to fill forms in before he could see me, attend to every detail of our extended stay, wash my bloodied clothes (no laundry service at the hotel at the weekend!), each morning selecting all the items I like for breakfast from the buffet, encourage me to go for a gentle walk every day, getting room service each day for dinner, and all the other things that come with someone you care for. And since coming home, he has been at my 'beck and call' but I’m very much aware that I'm apt to criticise too harshly if things aren't just done quite right :-).

My darling, I will forever be indebted to you.

Also my thanks goes to the three Spanish people who helped George without hesitation after the accident, and, of course, those attended to me at the Gran Tarajal Medical Centre, Centro de Salud, Fuerteventura. They all exhibited such kindness, compassion, and cooperation that we both will be forever grateful. Thank you.

I am finding myself often reaching for my phone usually to check email or WhatsApp but more often drifting afterwards for a dopamine kick in the numerous apps on my phone... then I realise "Wise up!, Stop wasting time!"

But I also realise how much more anxious I feel if I am on the phone too long. So I started to do some research and found many articles on how social media can cause anxiety and even depression.

So I decided to check how I could prevent my brain using the phone excessively and found there are a number of options already built in to the iPhone to curb that trend!

Has it helped... well, I'm getting there. However, I am starting to realise I have to replace the phone with a book!

When I was a teenager all I wanted was to be wise... to make the right decisions. But, as far as I am concerned, I fell short most of my life.

Maybe I had known this from the start it would have helped... a post from Joyce Meyer 1/12/2016:

A man's wisdom gives him patience. Proverbs 19:11

"People often ask me, "How can I learn contentment and stability?" One way, straight out of the Bible, is patience.

God wants us to use wisdom, and wisdom encourages patience. Wisdom silently tells us to wait a little while, until the emotions settle down, before you do or say something. Then check to see if you really believe it's the right thing to do. Emotions urge us toward haste, telling us we must do something and do it right now! But godly wisdom tells us to be patient and wait until we have a clear picture of what we are to do and when we are to do it. I like to say it like this:

Let emotions subside and then decide. We need to be able to step back from our situations and see them from God's perspective. Then we need to make decisions based on what we know rather than what we feel.

Power Thought: I have the wisdom to develop patience and emotional stability."

Oh, to be calm and not rush to make a decision!

I asked ChatGPT what I did... this is what it found:

"Christine Cahoon is a professional with a notable background in operations management. While specific details about her current role and career trajectory can vary based on the context or organization, she is often recognized for her strategic leadership and expertise in optimizing business operations. If you have a specific organization or context in mind, I can provide more tailored information about her role and accomplishments."

Maybe it's mixing me up with someone else?!

Think of me enjoying a two week January holiday in the village of Punta Mujeres in Lanzarote when I was 62. Waking up every morning deciding what to do by clouds, sun, wind or the strength of the tides.

Looking out from the apartment, I was reminded of the times I spent holidaying in Al Fujaira, the only east coast city in Abu Dhabi which looks out on the Gulf of Oman, when I worked in the capital—the horizon of sea expanding before my eyes. Here, there were no tankers dispelling their oily goo... no fear of being covered in oily spots while swimming that needed special sprays to dissolve the oil to get clean afterwards. Here, only the occasional sailing boat cruised passed with fresh, clear sea to swim in, snorkeling through seaweed and fish, all to enjoy.

Each day we watched the dawn—each an amazing sunrise, though rough in places, we walked and walked along the volcanic shoreline looking for hidden bays, explored rock pools, sunbathed, swam in deep sea and saw the fantastic array of fish life... angel sharks, garpike fish, electric blue damsel fish, and more besides.

In the evening, we didn't watch the pennies (or cents!) as we dined out every night enjoying delicious, fresh food in the local restaurants.

I was determined to try and stop the sense of panic or guilt that I should be doing something more productive but only to rest easy no matter what because rest is good for the soul, mind and body.

When you get to my age, I hope you won't be haunted by guilt, grief, fear, regret or any such negative emotion. Life is difficult and the past is not worth a thought... enjoy today because that's all each one of us has got.

On Thursday 15 June, my daughter heard she was awarded Fellowship of Higher Education (HE), an internationally recognized qualification.

What does it mean? It demonstrates that her practise is aligned with UK professional standards and shows her commitment to professionalism in teaching and learning in HE. 

On Thursday 15 June, I weighed in at 9 stone 4, the weight I last was when I was 33.

What does it mean? Using intermittent fasting, I’ve lost a stone and a half. It has forced my body to burn the excess fat stores during each fast, and, if research is to be believed, reduce the reoccurrence of cancer.

Difference between the two achievements… each of us have different priorities at our stage of life. My daughters’ achievement should definitively help her in her career path whereas mine is more probable, it may give me longevity. But both of us are as pleased as punch.

My conclusion: achievements, that bring more satisfaction in our lives, come in many different forms.

As I review my life and realise my desire was to be someone, to make a difference, to make it all worthwhile... but, as I am at the last part of my life, I look forward and say to my Lord "Remember me...".

What triggered my thinking was the story about the criminal on the cross beside Jesus. I was listening to Charlie Mackesy (author of 'The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse') as he recalls my most favourite story of Jesus.

It's a lovely piece written by Bob Dylan in the late 1960s after he became a father, relating his hopes that his child will remain strong and happy.

Beautifully sung by Brian Houston: https://youtu.be/PhZkacVEGwY.

The words are available online.

I'm due to hear Brian play at the Forestside on 5th December... Forestside is a shopping mall... and it's small, definitely to Abu Dhabi standards. But here's how it'll be set up (taken from a previous event). The acoustics will be interesting!

This information has been gleaned from newspaper cuttings, family documents and letters and online sources.

Louise Fearon was born in Tandragee, County Armagh, Northern Ireland in 1890. She was the second eldest of 8 children born to John and Lavinia (nee Gracey). They lived in 3 Portadown Road. They also owned the properties on either side that contained a small farm with cattle and a Blacksmiths.

Her father worked as a law clerk in a local law firm. One night he came home by carriage suffering from pneumonia and died on the doorstep. This left Lavinia with her 8 children. Louise was nearly 18 at the time.

By all accounts Louise was a home bird, but was encouraged to move to Canada in 1911 when she was 20 by her Uncle James to join the teaching staff. James was the second principal of the Halifax School for the Deaf in situ from 1891-1918 and friend of Alexander G Bell and Helen Keller, often consulting with them in reference to his students.

Louise was appointed as full time teacher of weaving and handicrafts, working with deaf children from Halifax and Ontario. She was responsible for the establishment of a number of handicraft programs and was recognised in the field of weaving. Many years later in one of her letters she wrote home saying she wished she could have thanked “Uncle Jem” as she realised then it was for the best.

She communicated with her younger sisters, Mary and Norah. Norah was keen on handicrafts too and in numerous letters they exchange hand-written drawings of patterns, of what appears to be weave. In 1966, Louise bought a 20" inch table loom for Norah to encourage her to weave (which was donated to Ulster Folk Museum in 2021).

Below are extracts from newspaper articles from 1952 when she was honoured by the school in recognition of her service and outstanding work.

A lifetime of service to the handicapped -- a devotion and patience that are almost past describing -- love and kindness that even the most bewildered child can feel -- these were the qualities of Louise Fearon.

Hundreds of children have gone through her classes and been enriched immeasurably by their experience. Deprived at birth or by disease of the normal means of communication with their fellowmen, they have learned not only to speak their thoughts and learn the thoughts of others but to experience the richness and wonder of the world, with the senses left to them.

After working 40 years with the deaf, she concentrated completely on teaching those who were both deaf and blind until her retirement in 1961. A number of news articles mention a few of these students: Jean Watts, Roberta Wadman and Marjorie Golinsky.

In particular, Marjorie: Two years ago, Marjorie was living in Alberta and the authorities had come to the unfortunate decision to place her in an institution for mental health care for life! Because psychologists had declared that an intelligence without human contact could not develop. It was then that her parents, Mr and Mrs Albert Golinsky of Glenevis near Edmonton, heard of the exceptional work accomplished by Miss Louise Fearon. She has been teaching deaf and blind children with remarkable success for 10 years in a school in the Maritime provinces. She has 40 years of experience teaching those who suffer from deafness. When Marjorie arrived, two older girls, who have now graduated, were attending her classes. But now the little girl has her teacher to herself. Each day, the smiling and patient teacher sits at a narrow table opposite her student, in a small, sunny room filled with Marjorie's favourite toys that she has never seen. And slowly some form of language is emerging in the mind of the little girl with the black curls. She now knows the alphabet...

She became recognised as a pioneer in the field of education for her work with the deaf-blind students. It was because of her service that the deaf-blind unit at Atlantic Provinces Resource Centre for the Hearing Handicapped (APRCHH) was officially named Fearon unit in 1976. In 1979 received special recognition from the province of Nova Scotia for her contributions to education. Along with her sister, Margaret, who had also worked at the School.

Louise was attentive as ever, often bringing her students back to their parents across Canada after the school year was over. She kept in touch with some of them and kept the memories in photo albums (alas not too many have names on them).

Louise passed away on Monday, November 2 1981 aged 91 in Camp Hill Hospital, Halifax, Nova Scotia, following a lengthy illness.

Note: I only met Aunt Louise twice, when I was 3, too young to remember (all I remember is the enchanting musical box that was in my bedroom) and 16 (when my sister and I went to visit the Aunts). I only wished I had known what my Aunt had achieved in her life to have asked questions, but alas!

Yesterday I read Matthew 27:24 "When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. “I am innocent of this man’s blood,” he said. “It is your responsibility!”"

I have been struggling whether to stand up for something or like Pilate wash my hands off the whole thing. The commentary that came with this verse challenged me. I decided I wouldn't do as Pilate but stand up for what I believed was right, along with other women.

As if as confirmation, the passage I read today talked about how other women spoke up (Numbers 27:1-11). If they hadn't, they would not have anything. They were listened to and affirmed.