Good news for thieving Wirral library-users, with the announcement of a six week amnesty on overdue library books. Read the article. As I understand it, the amnesty provides for books to be surrendered at any local police station without fear of being prosecuted. There is a large pool of unreturned Barbara Cartlands in circulation around the borough and they are a major contributor to the high rate of serious and violent crime. They must be found and stopped."
The books will be collected and destroyed, following a process prescribed by the literacy control regulations. Perpetrators will be free to borrow again.
I read with some excitement and no small volume of saliva that Wirral's 'food sector' will be celebrating the successes and achievements of Wirral’s food and tourism industry in 2010 with a 'Year of Food.' http://www.wirral.gov.uk/News/news_0001270.html
It got me thinking - what has Wirral brought the world in terms of tasty comestibles? I don't mean what do we grow (parsnips are big, kale is curly, blackberries sit in the woods, and I've heard rumours of enormous under-cover rhubarb fields around Meols) - I mean what do we make?
There's a clue in the picture. Cadbury Typhoo. Come to Wirral! - home of the cheap-skate afternoon tea. We're not going to rise to a bun, we can't even squeeze out an eclair but we might rustle up a digestive if you don't mess up the antimacassar. I think there's a sausage factory in Birkenhead, so on special occasions you might a sausages on stick. It's afternoon tea with an elderly aunt - something I'm sure you'll agree we should all be celebrating.
It certainly looks like somebody in this picture enjoys their food - and some of it paid by the tax-payer I'll wager! But then, that's what he's paid for.
The Angel of the North it ain't. New Brighton's 'iconic' statue has never been popular locally. Universally derided since it's unexpected installation during the reign of New Wallasey Regeneration, it was not the result of extensive consultation or linked in any way to a proud local history. This is how it probably happened: there was some SRB money around, maybe even earmarked for arts, and there was a deadine. One of the last desperate acts of a declining regime (correct me if I'm wrong).
I didn't start to like it until I saw THIS picture. I stole it from the http://www.writeoutloud.net/ webiste and don't know who took it, but I'd never looked at it from this angle before. And suddenly it isn't a pathetic, two-dimensional irrelevance - it's an ironic post-modern Citizen Smith raising his metal fist to the Mersey skies. It's poetry. And it's Burns Night. So there has to be a poem. Here's an 'affectionate' tribue from local poet and comedian Jason Richardson. Enjoy!
So Wirral is in the grip of two inches of snow. They somehow manage with feet of the stuff in Canada, Patagonia and other farflung, and hence imaginary, places. But here civilisation grinds to a rather satisfying halt. Schools are closed, women are giving birth on motorways, gritters go ice-skating on frozen roads, the infrastructure creeks like boots in snow.
Grit is the big story. And if this is the beginning of the end, we'll need more of it than you might imagine - and not just on the roads.
But I'm alright, dear reader. It hasn't brought me to a standstill. I was already at a standstill. And thanks to that plethora of '£7 off £70' Tesco vouchers in the run up to Xmas, the larder is groaning. I could survive for years. I might chip in if the neighbours come begging but I'll be choosy which ones - I see Cllr Geoff Green is ranting on about the money spent on sandwiches at Wirral Council but methinks he's had one too many £50 dinner at the taxpayers' expense so he'll just get lentils from me.
When the tinned goods run out there'll be seeds to plant, berries from the garden, cockles from the shore - and squirrels galore (one interrupts fence-hurdling now to look at me accusingly, but it can't possibly understand - can it?)
Once the power goes I'll miss the typing and the telly - but there's an awful lot of un-read books under this roof too thanks to Borders closing down. I'm almost looking forward to it.
This isn't going to be one of those gripey blogs, but I can't help noticing the lack of festive lights in West Kirby this Christmas. People complain about the Council not forking out for the decs, but that's fair enough - we'll only end up paying for it ourselves in loss of services or council tax increases.
But why have most of the shops and businesses on Grange Road not even bothered to put a few lights in the windows? How can I boast about living in West Wirral when it looks so bloomin' miserable. We house-holders do our bit with our trees and fairy lights. We might not go to the extremes of Leasowe or Seacombe where the dazzling Vegas-like lighting displays and flashing roof-top Santas may be more properly viewed as a cry for help, but come on you humbugs and get some lights up!! Hoylake, on the other hand, is quite jolly in a pleasantly non-denominational way. I haven't looked in detail but I'm sure the shops are up for it too - after all they did make a fantastic effort at Hallowe'en: http://www.hoylakejunction.com/friday-photo-091030/comment-page-1#comment-4637
I’m not mad, I’m anxious. It’s a thin line and I’m about to cross it
Referred by my doctor, it takes 2 months to get an appointment with ‘Talking Changes’ – 'the Primary Care Mental Health Service' in Wirral, an unwieldy partnership between Wirral MIND, NHS, and evil pixies).
This pic was taken outside the old VCH in Wallasey, another NHS classic, but I digress...The appointment is when I’m away. I ring to say which dates I will be away between. They send a new date - still within the dates I will be away. I call again.
They send another appointment and a form about my private fears, anxieties and other issues. This will be treated ‘in the strictest confidence’. Enclosed is someone else’s form, already filled in. I’m not making this up. I’m not delusional. . . yet.
I ring, as requested, to confirm I will be there. I drive across Wirral to St Cath’s Hospital where they are not expecting me. 'You have the wrong letter.’
They tell me to come back the following week, which I do. The appointment has been cancelled. ‘We tried to ring you.’ No messages on either phone. Some usage of the word ‘tried’ I'm not familiar with. A new appointment is made. I'm asked to fill out a form which will be treated ‘in strictest confidence’. I begin to think they are messing with my head.
The fifth time I actually get to see someone. He doesn’t introduce himself. Refers me to group therapy for anxiety – two month wait.
I turn up, anxious, to the Anxiety group. It is December, freezing cold, an unlit Vale Park. No therapist. Nine anxious people shiver on the doorstep, getting more anxious by the second. (It has does occur to me that putting a lot of anxious people in a room together is hardly likely to make any of us less anxious). After an hour of phone calls and frostbite, we discover that the therapist was there at 4pm and waited half an hour before giving up on us. All our letters say 5pm. All relevant offices are still open and if it had been me I might have tried checking with someone if my entire group didn’t show up. I suggest DIY therapy but no-one’s that keen.
I finally got to the group this week – although there’s only 2 of us left now. The others must have given up, died of old age or gone bonkers. And it’s quite good really. But if I had been really struggling, if I had been on the edge, I can’t help thinking this is not the best way to go about spending the millions the government are pumping into mental health.
Good news for thieving Wirral library-users, with the announcement of a six week amnesty on overdue library books. Read the article. 
