2013-05-23T23:29:57-04:00 Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/author/index.php?author=ruth-dawkins Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Ruth Dawkins Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2899731 2013-03-18T08:08:51-04:00 2013-05-18T05:12:01-04:00

Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/ The problem we face is that so far it's only scientists who are talking about climate change. And scientists aren't always the best communicators in the world."

"Exactly. What we need is to get people thinking creatively about it. We need artists. We need writers. We need a book."

That conversation took place in 2007, between the chair of Stop Climate Chaos Scotland (SCCS), and an audience member at a lecture on Scottish wildlife.

SCCS was - is - an unprecedented coalition of organisations campaigning on issues around climate change. It includes development charities, environmental NGOs, churches, trade unions, community groups, student societies and many others. It was central in lobbying for the Scottish Climate Change Act, which remains the strongest climate legislation in the world.

Now - six years after the initial exchange that led to the idea of a book - SCCS is central to the realisation of that project too.

Beacons - Stories for Our Not So Distant Future is a book of specially commissioned short stories, from writers as esteemed as Joanne Harris, Toby Litt, Alasdair Gray, AL Kennedy and Janice Galloway. They came together for a briefing weekend in Perthshire in May 2012, and were then left to write about the theme in whatever way they saw fit.

Editor and contributor Gregory Norminton, who led the project, describes it as a "metaphorical gauntlet thrown down to challenge authors to imagine our worst and best possible futures."

Since 2007, several other writers have written about climate change - Ian McEwan's novel Solar is probably the most well known example - but never before has there been a collection that brings together such a diverse group of writers, with such distinct styles, each tackling the same theme.

There is satire, comedy and tragedy. There is historical fiction and dystopian fantasy. There is something for everyone, in this collection, whether you are a climate change expert, or whether you've never given our warming world a moment's thought.

Beacons is at its very best when it takes familiar things and twists them just enough to make you uncomfortable. It makes you realise just how much we take for granted - how quiet our world would be without bees, how empty our plates would seem without meat, how much we value our right to privacy, security and love.

It is a sad book, an angry book, and a scary book. But it is deeply rewarding to read. There are several sweet moments of hope; reminders of the innate goodness of so many human beings; reminders that if we act now and take advantage of the opportunities available to us, we might yet avoid catastrophic climate change.

The writers are talking about it.

People are thinking creatively about it.

We have a book.

It is a start.

***

Beacons - Stories For Our Not So Distant Future was published by Oneworld on 7 March, to coincide with Climate Week. It is a collection of 21 original short stories by some of the UK's best writers. All royalties from the book go to Stop Climate Chaos.

A version of this post originally appeared on DorkyMum.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1713387 2012-07-28T00:00:00-04:00 2012-09-26T05:12:33-04:00

Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/
Hate it.

But sometimes there is nothing else to do.

Last night's Olympic Opening Ceremony was AWESOME. Properly - in the old fashioned sense of the word - awesome. My cynical little heart was smashed into smithereens, and I sat there with big fat, proud tears rolling down my cheeks.

It started pretty slowly.

"Uh-oh," I said to my husband, at the first glimpse of the meadows, milkmaids and maypoles. "I'm not sure this is going to work..."

But it did work. There was so much to love I can't even begin to describe it all. Bond and Queenie. Jo Rowling reading Peter Pan. David Beckham in a boat. Mr Bean! Shakespeare, Mary Poppins, and a giant inflatable yellow submarine. CND, Tim Berners Lee, and a great big sloppy snog for the NHS. Wow.

(I'm welling up again just writing this, it's ridiculous.)

I have always felt more Scottish than British. All the flag waving over the last eighteen months that accompanied the Royal Wedding and the Jubilee made me feel a bit squeamish. But last night acted as a reminder that Britishness is something that has many more colours than just red, white and blue.

National pride doesn't have to be something that is defined or owned by the right. Lovely leftie Danny Boyle ("He's one of us!" I screeched with glee as Voldemort and the Child Catcher loomed over the kids in their hospital beds. "He totally gets it!") demonstrated that its okay to have fun and to lose yourself in a big spectacular show for a night, without being so distracted by the glitter and the fireworks that you forget to be angry.

It was bonkers, and brilliant, and I completely loved it.

For once, I am very, very happy to admit that I was wrong.

This post originally appeared on my own blog DorkyMum.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1661172 2012-07-10T05:57:20-04:00 2012-07-10T08:17:48-04:00

Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/ Guardian's Zoe Williams, who has recently travelled to Nepal with Save the Children to learn about family planning there, the event gave us the opportunity to hear from a 17-year-old Ethiopian girl called Aselefe.

With proper access to contraception and family planning services, this wouldn't have happened, and the terrifying fact is that there are 222 million women around the world in a similar position. Women who do not have the power to plan their own families; who do not have access to contraception, who are forced to give birth at a young age before their bodies are ready for it, and who are not empowered to leave a safe space between their pregnancies.

We watched an incredibly powerful video last night which made me realise just how much I have taken for granted living in the UK. I have always assumed it was my right to choose if and when to have children, and how many to have. This is a stark reminder that there are many women around the world who do not have that choice, and it makes clear the effect that family planning (or lack of) can have on your life; your career, health, wealth, ambitions and opportunities.

As a result of her experiences, Aselefe has been inspired to work as a peer educator. "I hope to reach so many more people with information about sex education," she said. "Contraception is just half the story, and age appropriate education for boys and girls is also essential."

The improvements that Aselefe hopes for are entirely possible, and with your help we can make them happen.

Tomorrow - Wednesday 11th July - David Cameron is hosting a family planning summit in London.

Save the Children is calling on world leaders to agree to commitments that would mean by 2020:

- nearly 3 million fewer babies dying
- more than 100 million fewer unintended pregnancies
- 200,000 fewer women and girls dying in pregnancy and childbirth.

Here is what you can do to help make that happen.

You can sign this petition to David Cameron.

If you're on Twitter, you can tweet the PM: All women should have power to decide when & how many children they have. @number10gov pls #givegirlspower at #fpsummit. Lives depend on it.

It would be great to do that anytime today, but we are specifically hoping to create a Twitterstorm using the #givegirlspower hashtag at 11am on Wednesday morning.

If you want more information about the Give Girls Power campaign, you can find out more on the Save the Children website here.

The event finished last night with a short presentation from two bloggers - Christine Mosler and Eva Keogan - who have been involved in previous Save the Children campaigns. They are proof that bloggers and online activists can have a huge impact on policy and decision makers. This time last year, with the help of the blogging community, Save the Children successfully campaigned to get a commitment to funding for vaccines. That commitment saved 4 million lives in 4 hours.

Let's see if we can do the same again this year, and secure a commitment from world leaders that will save the lives of women and children around the globe.

Thank you for your support.

This post originally appeared on my own blog DorkyMum.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1523380 2012-05-17T04:06:36-04:00 2012-07-16T05:12:04-04:00

Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/
I ummed and ahhed, and explained it all very badly, mumbling some fairly dry stuff about retweets and hashtags and follows. She didn't look convinced. So I've been thinking about it ever since, and here's what I've come up with.

Joining Twitter is like suddenly discovering an extra room in your house. You're just walking from your kitchen to your living room one evening and you notice a door that you've never opened before. You decide to turn the handle and have a look.

You open the door, step into the room, and it's as though you've just arrived at a really busy party. In one corner of the room are a group of people you've known for years. "Hurray!" they say. "Here's DorkyMum! We've been wondering where you were." You start to walk over to them, and notice they've already bought you a pint of your favourite beer. Brilliant. You love this room already.

But then something catches your eye. Look! It's the woman who wrote that book you loved when you were a kid! Wow. You wonder what she's doing here. You raise your hand, a bit shy and nervous, and to your relief she smiles and gives you a big cheery wave in response.

You're about to wander over and speak to her, but as you turn, you get stopped in your tracks by another group of people. You don't know any of their names, although a couple of them look vaguely familiar. "Hey!" one of them says. "We read on your blog that you're a big fan of obscure Scottish folk music. Come over here and listen to this."

So over you go, and you stand in the corner for a few minutes, swaying away and tapping your foot to a brilliant track that you've not heard before. The group of people are all really friendly; you discover that you have some other interests in common too. One of them likes photography, and another has a son the same age as you. You feel pretty comfortable, and think you could probably just hang out in this corner of the room for a while.

But wait! There's your MP! He's a crabby old Tory bastard, and you're not too sure what he's doing at this party, but you really want to speak to him about a Save the Children campaign that you're involved with, so you tear yourself away from the music and chase him across the room for a chat.

Eventually the room starts to grow a little quieter, and you decide that you've had enough for one night; that you should probably get some sleep. So you wave goodbye to everyone and head off to bed, closing the door to the room carefully behind you.

The next morning when you wake up, you fully expect the room to be gone. But guess what? It's still there. In fact, it's there every morning from now on.

Some days, you get up and you've not had enough sleep, so you're grumpy and bleary eyed. You poke your head into the room, scowling, and you snarl at the assembled company. A few of them snarl back, because they've had a bad night too. But then one person offers to make you a coffee, and someone else holds up a picture of a really cute kitten, which forces you to crack your face into a smile.

Some days you wake up, and you've already got too much noise in your head, and you've got lots of jobs to do, so you don't go near the room at all. The door stays firmly shut.

Other days you get up, head for breakfast in your kitchen, turn on the radio, and catch the last bar of an old song you really like. Damn, what was that song called? You can't even remember who sang it. So you poke your head into the extra room, and shout out "Hey! Does anyone know what that song was that was just playing on the radio?"

"Sure!" calls someone standing over on the left. "It was The Dorky Song, by the Dorkys."

Someone standing over on the right shouts out "I've always loved the Dorkys!"

Then at the back of the room an old crackled voice pipes up, "Ahh, thank you for all the love guys. I was the drummer with the Dorkys!"

Everyone in the room cheers.

Occasionally, you'll be standing in the room chatting, and you'll hear raised voices and then a scuffle will break out in a far corner. Someone has had one-too-many glasses of wine and said something offensive. "Idiot," you can hear people muttering under their breaths, as the offender is hustled out of a side door until he calms down.

Sometimes you're in there, and it's as though everyone is high. There's big news on the way, and the vibe is crazy. There's a real buzz in the air. You're really supposed to be somewhere else, but you can't tear yourself away.

If you never find this room in your house - the extra room - it's okay. You really like your house anyway. It's comfy, and cosy, and full of lovely things. You don't ever feel like you're missing out on something, because you don't know otherwise.

But if - when - you do find it, a whole new world of opportunities and possibilities and connections opens up. It's crazy. But it's kinda fun.

That's what Twitter is like.

This post originally appeared on my own blog DorkyMum.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1433656 2012-04-18T06:15:33-04:00 2012-04-18T08:20:53-04:00

Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/
Right now, that issue is Save the Children's Build it for Babies campaign.

Build it for Babies kicked off at a blogging conference last weekend, where we gathered to listen, learn and discuss the campaign.

We heard about women in Bangladesh like Panna, who has given birth four times but only had two of her babies survive, and women like Shipra who has also given birth four times, but who lost three of those babies within hours or days of their birth.

1 in 19 children in Bangladesh do not live to see their fifth birthday because access to basic services such as healthcare is very limited, particularly in rural areas. As a result, preventable diseases such as pneumonia and diarrhoea are claiming children's lives at an appalling rate.

The bloggers in the room on Saturday were mainly women, many of whom are mothers themselves. We were all horrified to learn about the conditions that most women in Bangladesh have to give birth in - and I think it's fair to say that it made us all look at our own birth experiences from a very different perspective. Even those of us who had complicated births now feel so lucky to have had the care, medical expertise and attention that we did.

Can you imagine living somewhere that only 18% of births have a trained health worker present? Where every hour of every day 11 babies die? Where in order to get medical help at a clinic you have to be carried for hours in a basket, slung between the shoulders of two people from your village?

The thing is, it doesn't have to be that way. Save the Children already have the knowledge and the experience that will allow them to help women like Panna and Shipra.

The Build it for Babies campaign is a £1 million appeal that will allow Save the Children to build seven life-saving clinics in the poorest parts of Bangladesh, reaching thousands of pregnant women, newborn babies, infants, and women of child-bearing age.

You can find out more about the appeal here - there are so many ways to get involved, and every single penny counts.

There are also a lot of ways to get involved even if you're not able to make a financial donation. I've included some useful links below. Please join me, in any way you can, to help Build it for Babies.

Further Info

You can keep up to date with the Build It for Babies Campaign by following Save the Children on Facebook and Twitter.

From April 23rd you can visit a virtual clinic to see exactly how your money is helping.

You can visit the Blog It for Babies website, set up by parent blogger - Mammasaurus who is touring the country on a week-long fundraising trip.

And you can follow the #blogitforbabies and #builditforbabies hashtags on Twitter for the most up to date info on the campaign.

Thank you for your support.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1215574 2012-01-19T07:45:25-05:00 2012-03-20T05:12:01-04:00

Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/
Yesterday was a little different. I went to Downing Street.

I was one of six Save the Children campaigners who went to hand in a petition calling on David Cameron to sign up to the Charter to End Extreme Hunger. Each of us was representing one of the cities in the 66 Cities campaign - so I got a natty wee T-shirt with "St Albans Champion" emblazoned across the front - but we were also representing the incredible 18,000 people who had signed up to the petition online.

The day got off to a great start when I picked up a copy of the Guardian at the station, and a story about Save the Children's and Oxfam's newly released report - A Dangerous Delay - was on the front cover. The report details the cost of late response to early warnings in the 2011 Drought in the Horn of Africa. More than 30 million people are still affected by the crisis, and A Dangerous Delay outlines some of the steps that can be taken to avoid a similar situation happening again.

At the Save the Children Headquarters, as I sat in reception waiting to be met, there was further coverage of the report on BBC News - it looked like it was going to be dominating the morning news, which was brilliant.

After everyone had arrived, there was a short breakfast meeting with some of the brilliant campaign staff, the other campaigners attending the hand-in (including Charlie Is So Cool Like, and his lovely vlogging Mum Lindsay), and Save the Children CEO Justin Forsyth who was just back in the office after an appearance on the Today Show. We had a chat about the campaign, and posed for some photos with the GIANT petition, before hopping into a cab to Downing Street.

We had been due to do the hand-in at 1pm, but due to a visit from the Italian Prime Minister, we'd been bumped back to 12pm. The members of the Italian media gathered outside 10 Downing Street looked somewhat bemused by our group, walking up and down the street and posing for photos in our matching t-shirts! But they were full of questions about what we were doing, and it was great having the opportunity to talk about the 66 Cities campaign.

We had only planned on handing in a small version of the petition, but as the policeman on the gate said we couldn't take in the large version - which was supposed to just be a photo prop - unless it was handed in too, lucky old David Cameron now has a giant petition about ending extreme hunger sitting in his front hallway. (It really was big - I had to stand on tip-toes to see over the top!) I'm hoping it acts as a constant reminder to him of the need for action.

We came out of the hand-in to two pieces of very exciting news. The first was that Save the Children's Twitter takeover had been a huge success. Hundreds of people had taken over the PMQs hashtag thread with messages about the Hunger Charter. In terms of raising awareness and demonstrating the breadth and depth of support for action from the Government, that was absolutely fantastic.

The second huge bit of news was that the issue had actually been brought up at Prime Minister's Questions. Mark Lazarowicz - a Labour MP from Edinburgh - spoke up and said that he was sure David Cameron would be aware of the report from international aid agencies which showed the crisis in the Horn of Africa was made worse a delay in the international response. He added that West Africa was on the verge of a similar crisis, and asked what the Government would do to ensure a speedier response.

In reply, David Cameron said the UK response in East Africa had been quick, but the Horn of Africa was difficult to get aid into due to terrorist groups in Somalia. He said that he would study the report carefully, especially in terms of West Africa, and that it was important to learn any available lessons.

It may have only been a short exchange, but to have the issue discussed at PMQs is an absolutely huge achievement, and one that was only made possible by all the people who emailed their MPs, wrote to their local newspapers, blogged about this, or signed the petition.

Thank you so much if you were involved in the campaign - and if you weren't then I hope you'll maybe consider getting involved in future, because yesterday's events serve as huge proof of the impact that campaigning can have. You really can make a difference.

When we returned to the Save the Children offices, there was a brilliant atmosphere - the campaigns team were celebrating their success. But as we sat down and chatted over lunch, it didn't take long before we were all talking about the next phase of the campaign, how we can follow up, and keep putting pressure on to make sure that the Government really does take action to back up its words.

There is a lot more work to do - and campaign work isn't always as rewarding as it was for us yesterday - but it was brilliant to see the impact that you can have just by taking a few minutes out of your day to send an email or write a letter. I can't wait to see what happens next.
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.1113095 2012-01-18T12:00:13-05:00 2012-03-19T05:12:01-04:00

Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/
He wombles up to me at least three or four times a day and asks 'What is Save the Children? What does Daddy do at Save the Children? Maybe sometime I could go to his office and meet all the children that he is helping?'

The best explanation we could come up with, that he seemed to grasp at least in part, was that his Dad spends all day raising money for food so that other children living around the world don't ever have to go hungry. 'We want every little boy and girl to be as happy and as healthy as you are,' we said to Tom. Obviously that is a massive simplification of the work that Save the Children do, but for now it seems to have satisfied his curiosity.

As it turns out, our basic explanation was a timely one, because one of Save the Children's big campaigns at the moment is calling on the UK Government to sign up to the Charter to End Extreme Hunger.

Up to 750,000 people in East Africa face death from hunger, with millions more at risk across the region. No one in the world should have to go hungry - even my toddler understands that - and with the right measures put in place, no-one will have to. Save the Children have set out five key steps to prevent future food crises. You can read the full details of the Charter here, but in summary it is calling for governments to address the following issues:

1. Fix the Flaws of the International System
2. Supporting local food production
3. Services and protection for the poorest
4. Food everyone can afford
5. Reducing armed violence and conflict

So far, over 6000 people have signed the Save the Children petition, calling on the Government to sign up to the charter, and 500 MPs have been contacted about the campaign. I'm just about to write my first ever letter to my new MP Peter Lilley. It's a great start, but we need many more people involved and talking about the campaign to make the UK Government sit up and take notice.

Save the Children are now looking to shift the campaign activity up a gear, with their #66 Cities project. They are looking for people willing to champion their cities, write to their MPs, and spread the word locally about the petition. The blogging community has shown amazing ability in the past to come together around an issue and make their voices heard - it would be so exciting and inspiring to see that happen with this campaign.

I know that it is an incredibly busy time in the run up to Christmas. But stop for a minute to think about those people who won't be tucking into turkey or mince pies. Please help Save the Children - and help the hundreds of thousands of people around the world who are needlessly going without food - by getting involved in the campaign.

You can sign the petition here.

You can write to your MP.

You can write to your local newspaper, or post about the campaign on a local website.

You can write a blog post just like this, and share it through all your networks - tweet about it using the #66Cities hashtag, post it on your Facebook page, email your friends and ask them all to sign the petition too.

It doesn't take long, and it could help save lives.

This post was originally published on 11/29/2011 and is being re-featured for HuffPost Global Motherhood.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.1133506 2011-12-07T19:00:00-05:00 2011-12-08T11:38:18-05:00

Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/
And yet, today, I feel myself genuinely angry and upset at something in the news. And I don't know how else to process it other than by writing about it.

A fortnight ago, a 16-year-old boy in the Western Isles was reported missing. Last week, his body was found in a derelict building, and this week the investigation was upgraded to a murder investigation.

I don't know Liam Aitchison. I'd never heard the lad's name until two weeks ago. But I too am from the Western Isles. Members of my family did know him. He went to school with my niece. Over the past two weeks I have been following the story on news websites, on Facebook, and through text messages with people who called Liam as a friend. They have been hurting in a way I can't even begin to imagine.

On yesterday's Matthew Wright show, on Channel 5, a cutting about Liam's death was included in a panel chat about the day's newspapers. "There's been another murder," growled Wright in a fake Scottish accent. "The first in the Western Isles for 40 years." And then Charlie Baker chips in: "That's the longest ever episode of Taggart...with a lot of down time." The panel laughs as a headline about Liam is shown on screen, and then they start asking each other what you can do in the Western Isles. "Can you go fishing? What can you fish for in the Western Isles?"

Wow. Way to trivialise an incident that has devastated a family and a community.

That island community - the likes of which I have never encountered elsewhere - came together yesterday and last night, and responded strongly. Nearly 700 people have joined a Facebook group called Report the Wright Stuff to Ofcom. The local press have run articles calling for an apology, and now even the local Council, MP and MSP have got involved.

This morning, Matthew Wright apologised for causing offence, but immediately followed that apology with a call for those people who had reported the show to Ofcom to 'grow up', which renders it pretty meaningless, in my view.

I am sure that Matthew Wright and Charlie Baker are not monsters. I am sure they are both pretty decent people, who don't actually find it funny that a teenager has been murdered. But that begs the question of why they were idiotic enough to include the piece on their show.

Here, I think, is why it has been troubling me. It was disrespectful. Deeply, deeply disrespectful; to a boy who lost his life; to the grieving family who have had to go through the horror of identifying his body, and to a community in absolute shock.

Wright and Baker may only see the Western Isles as a place where you go for fishing holidays. But for thousands of people it is home. It is a place where the community is tight-knit; where everyone knows everyone else (and their Granny), and where young children are safe to wander the streets in the evenings because it's so safe.

The fact that there has been no-one brought to trial for murder on the islands in forty years is something to be proud of, not something to mock. And the fact that the forty year spell has now been broken is something to mourn, not to crack jokes about.

God knows, islanders can laugh at themselves. We are well used to having others laugh at us too; for our strange accents, our signposts in Gaelic, and our quaint observance of the Sabbath that means all those tourists on their fishing holidays can't get a pint or a paper on Sundays. That is all fine. We'll have a chuckle along with you.

But when you get it wrong, and laugh at us in a way that hurts, don't tell us to grow up. Don't disrespect us. Just say sorry, and leave it at that.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.928383 2011-08-26T19:00:00-04:00 2011-10-26T05:12:01-04:00

Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/
For too long, I have associated the place with the fashion disasters of my schooldays and teens. A flick back through my parents' photo albums reveals an astounding number of sartorial horrors - palazzo pants, t-bar sandals, furry gilets, pinafore dresses, hypercolour t-shirts, and polyester, calf-length culottes - that all originated from the sweaty confines of M&S.

Until recently, it represented everything awkward about growing up. It's where I stood, shoulders hunched, cheeks burning, being measured for my first proper bra. It's where I argued with my mother about how short my skirts could be and how high my heels could be. It's where I first had to confront the issue of whether to wear a bikini on holiday.

So for the last ten years, I've given M&S a wide berth. I have tried, at times, to be a sparkly-socked TopShop girl. I have bought neutrals in Gap, jeans in French Connection, and, most recently, have been living in leggings and smocks from White Stuff. I have not exactly been setting the fashion world on fire, but nor have I stooped to the florals and pastels of Per Una.

Recently though, things got a little desperate. I needed a wedding outfit. I tried all my staple places. I spent hours walking up Princes St, and then hours walking back down George Street. I found nothing. Nada. I was waiting for the bus home, wondering how the heck I was going to jazz up an old outfit; most of the dresses in my wardrobe had barely fitted me pre-baby, they were unlikely to be any more flattering now.

Anyway, by some coincidence, the bus stop was right outside M&S. And with twenty minutes until the number 41 was due, I figured I had nothing to lose. I might as well take a look.

It took about three and a half minutes to find a perfect dress, which came with a matching shrug. There was a bag and a bracelet hanging an aisle away that both went perfectly with it. I nipped upstairs for a new bra and pants. And then thought I may as well take a peek at the shoe department, where I found a pair of heels that were both cute and comfy. The whole bundle was less than a hundred quid, and I still managed to catch my bus.

It pains me, massively, to realise that I have become an M&S mum. My husband says sometimes, in jest, that my sense of style hasn't quite yet recovered from my student days... but the truth is probably worse. I haven't quite accepted that I won't be one of the truly yummy mummies - the ones who wear skinny jeans three days after giving birth. I would like to be an Angelina or a J-Lo or a Gwyneth, with a baby on one arm and a Balenciaga bag on the other. I would like to smell of Chanel No 5, instead of strawberry yoghurt. And I would really, really like to be able to walk in heels. But a quick flick through those photo albums - a glance at those sandals - should have been enough of a clue that it was never going to happen.

So I have come full circle. I am back to good old Marks and Sparks. I am learning to be okay with that. And tomorrow I'm going back for another outfit.
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.932494 2011-08-21T15:30:00-04:00 2011-10-21T05:12:01-04:00

Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/

Unless you've been wrapped up in your own wee world, (which is entirely possible for the numerous journalists, performers and visitors who are in Edinburgh during the Fringe), you've probably heard the news about the Forest Café.

In October last year Edinburgh University Settlement, who owned the Forest premises on Bristo Place, were declared bankrupt and forced into administration. The administrators (PWC) put the property on the market and as part of that process, terminated the Forest's lease, giving notice of the date they had to leave the building - Wednesday 31 August. Last week, it was announced that the sale of the building has fallen through, but PWC are still going to boot the Forest out.

Despite their position as the sitting tenant, and despite being the only party willing to rent the premises, the Forest have been told by PWC that they're "more hassle than they're worth". (Yes, they really did say that.)

As Ryan van Winkle, Forest Volunteer and reader-in-residence at the Scottish Poetry Library says, "I was shocked to hear a PWC representative say they were unwilling to enter negotiations about the Forest remaining in Bristo Place, especially as we have been responsible tenants for almost eight years. I would have thought receiving rent from a sitting tenant would serve the creditors interests more than having no income from a vacant building and inheriting all the maintenance costs."

I can't pretend to be a daily, or even a weekly visitor to the Forest. But like hundreds, nay thousands, of Edinburgh folk, I have enjoyed some great times there, and realise what a crucial part of the city's arts and culture scene it is.

It's the only place I can think of where, over the years, I have felt equally comfortable sitting alone with a book; sitting with groups of fellow students planning a campaign or preparing for a tutorial; meeting up with other mothers for a cup of tea and a blether; and attending lively music and spoken word nights.

Walking past the Forest, I have often been drawn in by the sight of some new artwork in their exhibition space, or the sound of a slightly offbeat but funky band jamming, or the smell of something spicy on the stove. The posters in their windows always have amazing illustrations, to accompany the details of an awesome sounding event. There is usually a gathering of folk outside, having a fag and a chat.

"Smelly hippies," said some of my less tolerant acquaintances at uni. Well no, not really; just some good people, volunteering their time, for a collectively run arts and events space. It's hard to see how that could be a bad thing.

This August, the Forest has been buzzing. There has been the Inky Fingers Mini Fest, a ninja gig from Amanda Palmer, and a Psychegaelic Ceilidh. There has been art, literature, music, spoken word, dancing, debate, and a hell of a lot of tasty hummus served.

It is hard to imagine Edinburgh with no Forest. If PWC's decision stands, it will mean the loss of a unique space, which serves a passionate local community. It will mean less innovation, less collaboration, and an enormous barrier pushed up against access to the arts in the city.

I suppose this isn't quite as important, in the grand scheme of things, but it will also mean that I'll never have the chance to take advantage of the Forest's Sip and Snip service (a haircut with vodka!). Please don't deny me that.

There are many ways you can help the Forest. Publicise their cause, write a letter, sign the petition, donate cash, attend an event... just tell them that you love them. The best place to keep up to date with it all is on their blog, which you can find here.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.923116 2011-08-15T19:00:00-04:00 2011-10-15T05:12:02-04:00

Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/
Jeez, I thought, where do they find the time to do that? I thought of my own days, which were still flying by in a haze of feeds and laundry and naps. Some days I found time to smear a bit of moisturiser on my cheeks, but that was about the extent of my personal grooming.

In truth though, it had little to do with the demands of my son. Even before his arrival, when I had oodles of spare time, I didn't have pedicures. I had never been the kind of person who could organise her life to the extent where it felt like I 'had it all'. Something always had to slip.

I had been an Imperfect Student (spending too much time on the union elections and not enough time on my dissertation), an Imperfect Green (overly fond of my tumble dryer and short haul flights), and an Imperfect Wife (crap at cooking, stubborn, always forgetting to replace the loo roll).

So it didn't come as a huge shock to realise that I was also going to be an Imperfect Parent. I know that Perfect Parents do exist - the ones with an immaculate house, smart clothes, three delicious home-made meals every day, and polite, happy, well-adjusted children to boot - but not in this house.

What I hope though, is that when I let things slip in relation to my son, it's only the small things. When he was born, my husband and I vowed to each other that we would do anything in our power to keep him healthy, happy and safe. Beyond that, we would accept our limitations.

So yes, I do sometimes shove a bag of chocolate buttons in my son's hands, just to avoid a tantrum in the supermarket queue. Some nights I step over his trucks to get into bed because I haven't bothered to pick them up. When we go to our Tumble Tots classes on Friday mornings, my hair is usually still soaking wet from the shower, because I haven't found time to dry it. Last night I'd had big plans for Annabel Karmel vegetable skewers...but by 4.30pm I was whacked, so I sat him in front of a Peppa Pig video for ten minutes and stuck a pizza in the oven.

Looking back a few years from now, I am pretty sure that none of that will matter too much. I hope not.

The real joy of being an imperfect parent is that on those rare occasions when you pull off something perfect - when you haven't had to let anything slip - you appreciate it all the more. There are those days when you manage to have fun with your family, cook something tasty for dinner, avoid any arguments AND slap on a bit of mascara. My standards may be pretty low, but for me, that spells perfection.
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Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/
We're almost halfway through the Festival. There is plenty fun left to be had, (and hopefully the sun will make an appearance at some point too), but here are some of my highlights so far, along with a couple of lowlights too.

Highlight: Impatient journalist cuts out the middlemen

This made me laugh. We wanted to do an interview with the wonderful Neil Gaiman for the Kids section of the magazine I'm writing for. Stevie - the writer who was assigned the job - spent several days trying to track him down - through the Book Festival Press Office, then Neil's publishers, then his PR, then his PA... They were all very friendly, but noncommittal because Neil was 'travelling'. When her calls weren't returned, she finally resorted to sending him a message on Twitter, and within an hour they'd got a time and venue set up. Seems he was in Edinburgh after all. Props are due to Stevie for tracking the man down, and props are due to Neil for responding so positively.

Lowlight: Rain

There's really not a lot to be said about the rain, except that it is ever-present. It makes everything harder - flyering, queuing, getting my son's pram into any of the outdoor venues, finding somewhere to have lunch - and I hope it goes away soon.

Highlight: I pretend to be John Hegley, briefly

I was lucky enough to spend half an hour interviewing John Hegley, who is also in town with a show. We started chatting about social media, and I mentioned seeing that he'd joined Twitter a few days earlier, and was already up to 2500 followers. "Well yes," he said. "But a friend set me up and I don't really know how to use it. There's something I want to say to all my Twitter followers today though. If I give you my password will you send it out for me?"

Umm...

So he wrote what he wanted to say in my notebook (and, amazingly, it was exactly 140 characters long....), and then he wrote down his password. And when I came home, I logged into John Hegley's Twitter account and sent a Tweet on his behalf.

I'm still scratching my head about that one. What an amazingly trusting, lovely man. And no, I won't tell you what his password is.

Lowlight: Rioting

Okay, so the riots didn't spread this far North. You can see the full extent of the Edinburgh riots here. (You really should watch that, it'll make you laugh...) But the city is full of Londoners at this time of year, and it wasn't much fun for them to sit several hundred miles away, watching the news footage on TV and wondering if they were going to have homes to go back to. Nearly a week on, and most comedians have incorporated something about the rioting into their show, but it still cast a shadow over proceedings for the opening weekend.

Highlight: Our kid critics cut everyone down to size

'How cute!' everyone said. 'What a nice idea' they cried. Yes, everyone thought it was a great idea to have children - aged between 5 and 10 - reviewing children's shows for a magazine... until they started to read the submissions.

"I did get bored as it was a bit too long."

"One of the actors sometimes forgot their lines."

"I only give the show one star."

Personally, I think they're some of the best reviews I've ever read at the festival. Completely honest, to the point, and bullshit free. The kids aren't self-conscious, they don't dress things up with long words, and they write for themselves rather than their audience. If there's any justice, they'll be back again next year.

Lowlight: Celeb Spotting

I'm not doing very well with this yet. I've seen Mark Watson walking up some steps in George Square, and Stewart Lee pushing a pram through the rain in Marchmont. Meanwhile my friends are putting pictures of themselves with John Malkovich up on Facebook. Rumour has it that the Hoff is in town. With two weeks to go, I'm determined to do better.
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Ruth Dawkins http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruth-dawkins/
I have always consoled myself with the thought that maybe, one day, Young would write a lovely poem about what a wonderful and supportive wife I am.

In some moment of madness, earlier this year, Young agreed to do a solo show as part of the Edinburgh Fringe. He may have still been on some crazy, slam-induced adrenaline high after his time at the Poetry World Cup in Paris, or he may have genuinely thought it was a good idea... I will never know.

All I know is that it has taken over our lives for the last couple of months. We had no idea what was involved (and I use 'we' intentionally - this has certainly been a joint venture). Doing a ten minutes slot at someone else's show is one thing; doing a whole hour by yourself is quite another.

There is the constant emailing about organisation, the Fringe registration, and the flyers... there are Tweets, texts, and Facebook event pages... there are press releases to send, photos to resize, programme entries to write, and blog posts to pimp...there is deciding what to wear, and how to stand, and whether it's okay to read off the page... there is showing up to every other spoken word show, in the hope that the favour is returned... there is flyering in the rain, a preview in London that you really don't want to do... and then that awful feeling of performing to two people, one of whom is your mother-in-law.

Oh yeah, and then there's that hour-long show to write.

So why does he do it? What makes it worthwhile? I can't speak for Young, but I think it's probably for the small moment of satisfaction he gets; from that one person who comes up at the end of a show and says that one of your poems has touched their heart; from that one stranger who takes the time to write something nice on your Facebook page; and from that one short but sweet review (she says, hopefully) that you can cut out and stick in your son's scrapbook.

I do not grudge a minute of the time that Young and I have spent working on his show. Putting all bias aside, I think it is wonderful, and I am incredibly proud of him. I don't even mind that in order to hear the one poem that he finally wrote about me, I have to sit and listen to fifty minutes of poetry about the other women in his life. I just hope that after all that effort someone (other than my Mum) shows up.]]>