Today my mother would have been 103

My parents, Beryl (25) and Fred Seel: engagement picture in 1948

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Beryl Seel (1923–2015): On What Would Have Been Her 103rd Birthday

On 11 February 1923, in a nursing home in Brunswick Square, St Paul’s, Bristol, Beryl Porter was born into a world still recovering from one war and heading, unknowingly, towards another. Today, this February 11th, she would have been 103.

She grew up in William Street, St Paul’s, in a crowded, extended household shaped by strong personalities and strict expectations. She described herself as a shy child, wary of a mother who believed that children were best observed silently. Yet there was warmth too, especially in the presence of her grandparents, whose room became a refuge. Her grandmother, in particular, emerges from her own recollections as a kind of unofficial civic institution - diagnosing childhood ailments, helping neighbours in distress, even cutting down a man who had attempted to hang himself. They were different times.

That family competence became a defining trait. As a schoolgirl she was already burdened with responsibility, required to look after a disabled brother during play times because no one else would. Yet she was not cowed by this. She joined the Brownies and then the Girl Guides, earned her badges with pride, became a Patrol Leader, and later a Brown Owl herself. She loved sport - netball, swimming, competitions against other schools - and won her Bronze Medallion at thirteen, even earning a mention in the local paper for hauling an incautious non-swimmer out of the pool. The phrase “stupid non-swimmer”, which she used herself, gives a fair indication of her wry, unsentimental humour.

War arrived when she was sixteen. She remembered with absolute clarity the Sunday morning when the family clustered around the radio to hear the Prime Minister speak, the older generation muttering grimly, remembering the last time. During the Bristol Blitz she worked alongside her father in civil defence, fitting gas masks, helping to run an air-raid shelter in the church crypt, serving refreshments during raids. When a bomb tore through the church roof and into the shelter below, killing some of those inside, including friends of hers, there was no rhetoric in her telling. Just the terrible facts locked down in memory.

Like many of her generation, she combined fear, endurance, and an undiminished appetite for life. There were dances, friendships, and a romance conducted through letters written almost daily while her future husband served in the Army. She disliked the work she was pushed into - the local Fire Service, then four years of 12-hour shifts underground in an aircraft engine factory near Corsham - but she did it anyway. When the factory was abruptly closed because the engines kept exploding on test, she remembered the night with delight: no work, what a relief!

Peace brought marriage, housing struggles, ration books, and the slow construction of an ordinary domestic life. Children arrived, and with them pride, worry, arguments, and joy. If there is one constant in her account, it's her sense of duty. When traffic accidents repeatedly occurred outside her Henbury home, she recognised that her Girl Guide first-aid training was outdated and simply joined the Red Cross to rectify the problem. 

That decision led to 34 years of service, qualifications in first aid, nursing, mental health, psychology, and physiology, and eventually a Badge of Honour awarded jointly to her and her husband. She trained cadets, many of whom later became nurses.

Later still, she spent 21 years working as a classroom assistant at a school for deaf children, with responsibility for the medical room. Again, she wondered whether she would cope, then got on with it. When she retired, the affection shown by pupils and staff clearly mattered to her; she kept in touch long afterwards.

Reading her self-written memories now, what stands out is not nostalgia or sentimentality, but steadiness. She was observant, modest, capable, and quietly brave. She disliked fuss. She valued usefulness. She lived through bombing, rationing, exhausting labour, and the slow rebuilding of post-war Britain, and emerged neither embittered nor romantic about it.

On her 103rd virtual birthday, eleven years after her death, the right tribute is not great language but clear memories. She was a woman of unbending moral principles, who did what needed doing and who understood that a good life is made from serious engagement: turning up, learning what is required, and helping where you can.

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My mother in DNA.LAND

My mother, Beryl Seel, died on the 3rd of December 2015 aged 92. In August the previous year I had persuaded her to spit into the 23andMe sample collection tube and get sequenced.

"Now we can bring you back," I murmured, but she didn't seem keen.

I understand 23andMe pussyfooting around, not wishing to fall foul of the US regulators yet again. This means DNA.LAND if you want to play with polygenic scores. I uploaded her genome subset (the 23andMe downloaded text file) and here are some of the results.

As usual, click on an image to make it large enough to read.

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This is the top-level screen showing some of the traits they can begin to predict

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Educational attainment

My mother was predicted to have 14.7 years of schooling (two years at university). In fact she had 9, leaving school in 1937 as a 14 year old.

My prediction from DNA.LAND is also 14.7 years but in fact I had 19 years equivalent full-time education. Clare was predicted to have 14.4 years yet she is a graduate with an additional teacher-training qualification.

Heritability of EA is low and the small numbers of relevant SNPs available to DNA.LAND makes even the genetic component estimate a very noisy measure. See the discussion below.

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Intelligence and IQ

This is marked as 'very preliminary' which - as they are quoting only 16 SNPs - seems about right.

Heritability of IQ is of the order of 80% but given this few genetic markers the signal will be swamped by the effects of all the other relevant SNPs which are unknown and whose contributions are therefore unmeasured.

About all you can say in favour of the exercise is that correlations between IQ-enhancing alleles based on an underlying soft sweep probably gives this slightly more predictive power than one might naively expect.

Note also we don't get a central IQ estimate with error bars. The normal distribution curve above is referenced to the DNA.LAND sign-up population, with unknown IQ parameters.

Anyway, FWIW, my mother seems to be one IQ point above the DNA.LAND average based on a super-noisy regression line.

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Neuroticism

Neuroticism (emotionalism, anxiety) is one of the 'five factor' personality traits and is the opposite to emotional stability, calmness on this dimension. There are strong gender differences in this factor, women scoring as more emotional.

I have memories of a fair degree of maternal emotionalism, but perhaps that was par for the course.

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Height

My DNA.LAND polygenic score was 182 cm, which is exactly right. My mother's (above) equates to 5' 7". That is taller than I remember, perhaps by an inch. I recall that growing up in the 1930s was not a picnic. My father was just under six foot.

My parents on their engagement: is she taller than average?

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Discussion

How seriously should we take all this? Not very, at this point (except for height, where PGS scores are accurate predictors of genomic potential - although DNA.LAND aren't using the latest estimators).

Example regression line for scatter plot with correlation 0.38

The correlations between the small numbers of SNPs currently being used by DNA.LAND and the physical/cognitive variables they're trying to predict are very low. Educational attainment was discussed on their website as follows:

"Overall, educational attainment is estimated to have a heritability of around 20%. This means that in a population of individuals with varying years of education, 20% of that variation can be explained by variants in the individuals' genomes."

So the polygenic score will give the phenotype value on the regression line, but the true value could be a long way up or down depending on life events. My mother, a working class girl, left school at 14 for example. Nobody does that today.

Thousands of SNPs are implicated in complex polygenic traits like those listed above, yet relatively few are currently known (except for height) .. and DNA.LAND uses only those publicly available (a tiny subset). So their regression lines will be pretty inaccurate.

Finally, note that my mother is positioned with respect to DNA.LAND's user population which is self-selected. We don't know how the norms for this group compare to the general population.

It will get better, even if we're a way from the option of bringing her back.

Wendy Payne (1935-2017)

Wendy's funeral was held yesterday in Stroud. Wendy was my mother's (much younger) cousin - she said she always regarded my mother (Beryl Seel) as more of a sister.

Here are the presiding minister's remarks (the Reverend Brian Woollaston).

"Wendy was born in Bristol in 1935. The family moved to Haydon near Radstock shortly afterwards as her father worked on the railway as a steam locomotive fireman. She thoroughly enjoyed life in the Somerset countryside, going to school in Kilmersdon.

Her father had a promotion when she was 15 to a locomotive driver at Gloucester, and they moved to Longlevens on the outskirts of Gloucester. Wendy, being a country girl, did not like living in a city, but having left school found an office job in a local printers.

After a couple of years her father got her an office job at the locomotive depot at Barnwood, checking the drivers' time sheets etc. She settled down in Longlevens joining Holy Trinity church and the choir there.

When the depot closed she moved to the other locomotive depot at Horton Road and then to Eastgate station (now ASDA!) in the area manager's office. She was well known for riding a 'sit up and beg' bicycle to and from work in the early days.

She met Derrick at Eastgate station, as he was also working on the railway, and travelled from Stroud daily, calling in at the station to collect mail etc. They were engaged in 1975 and married in 1978, and for a while Wendy continue to work at Gloucester, travelling daily by train from Stroud where they lived at Cashes Green.

As this involved a long day she left the railway service and had several jobs in Stroud before becoming a full-time housewife. Her interests still involved the church and she regularly attended both Randwick and Cainscross churches, enjoyed flower arranging and gardening and the simple things in life. She knew flowers and loved gardening.

She would help anyone and would go out of her way to do so and thought well of everybody."

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Here are some other photos of Wendy.

Wendy (aged 3) and my mother (aged 16) at Radcliffe bay in 1939

Wendy and Beryl Porter in the late 1940s

Wendy with Clare and myself in April 2017

Wendy was incredibly organised and full of energy. She bore her final illness with extraordinary stoicism and was truly thinking mostly about the future of others through her final days.

SSC SNP picks

er, ... no ... .

I mentioned in my previous post that you could link a SNP (eg rs4570625) to your own 23andMe results using a link like this:

https://www.23andme.com/you/explorer/snp/?snp_name=rs4570625

Scott Alexander at the almost-always-reliable* Slate Star Codex wrote (November 2014) this amusing post "How To Use 23andMe Irresponsibly" describing his favourite SNPs.

Well, now they're my favourites too and I copy his (lightly edited) thoughts below, but with the SNP references switched from his choice - SNPedia - to my choice, 23andMe.

Quick reminder: most traits in life are quantitative, they come in degree, not kind. In the human genome they are polygenic - many SNPs are involved (and other genetic mechanisms too) .. so one SNP is hardly going to be decisive. In most cases.

--- How To Use 23andMe Irresponsibly - (from SSC)  ---

"rs909525 is linked to the so-called “warrior gene” which I blogged about in the last links roundup. People with the normal four or five repeat version of these gene are less violent than people with the three-repeat version, and people with the two-repeat version are massively overrepresented among violent criminals. ... Although this SNP isn’t the warrior gene itself, it’s linked to it closely enough to be a good predictor.

"This is on the X chromosome, so men will only have one copy (I wonder how much of the increased propensity to violence in men this explains). It’s also one of the minus strand ones, so it’ll be the reverse of what SNPedia is telling you. If you’ve got T, you’re normal. If you’ve got C, you’re a “warrior”. I’ve got C, which gives a pretty good upper limit on how much you should trust these SNPs, since I’m about the least violent person you’ll ever meet. But who knows? Maybe I’m just waiting to snap. Post something dumb about race or gender in the open thread one more time, I dare you…"

I'm T and my mother, Beryl Seel was (T;T), both .. normally unwarlike.

"rs53576 in the OXTR gene is related to the oxytocin receptor, which frequently gets good press as “the cuddle hormone” and “the trust hormone”. Unsurprisingly, the polymorphism is related to emotional warmth, gregariousness versus loneliness, and (intriguingly) ability to pick out conversations in noisy areas.

"23andMe reads this one off the plus strand, so your results should directly correspond to SNPedia’s – (G;G) means more empathy and sociability and is present in 50% of the population, anything else means less. I’m (A;G), which I guess explains my generally hateful and misanthropic outlook on life, plus why I can never hear anyone in crowded bars."

We're both (G;G) which makes us kind and empathic ... .

"rs4680 is in the COMT gene, which codes for catechol-o-methyltransferase, an enzyme that degrades various chemicals including dopamine. Riffing on the more famous “warrior gene”, somebody with a terrible sense of humor named this one the “worrier gene”.

"One version seems to produce more anxiety but slightly better memory and attention; the other version seems to produce calm and resiliency but with a little bit worse memory and attention. (A;A) is smart and anxious, (G;G) is dumb and calm, (A;G) is in between. if you check the SNPedia page, you can also find ten zillion studies on which drugs you are slightly more likely to become addicted to. ..."

Both of us are (A;G) which makes us average and average.

"rs7632287, also in the oxytocin receptor, has been completely proportionally and without any hype declared by the media to be “the divorce gene”. To be fair, this is based on some pretty good Swedish studies finding that women with a certain allele were more often to have reported “marital crisis with the threat of divorce” in the past year (p = 0.003, but the absolute numbers were only 11% of women with one allele vs. 16% of women with the other). This actually sort of checks out, since oxytocin is related to pair bonding. If I’m reading the article right (G;G) is lower divorce risk, (A;A) and (A;G) are higher – but this may only apply to women."

Both my mother and I are (A;G) which makes her a bit .. flighty?

"rs11174811 is in the AVPR1A gene, part of a receptor for a chemical called vasopressin which is very similar to oxytocin. In case you expected men to get away without a divorce gene, this site has been associated with spousal satisfaction in men. Although the paper is extremely cryptic, I think (A;A) or (A;C) means higher spousal satisfaction than (C;C). But if I’m wrong, no problem – another study got the opposite results."

I'm (C;C) as was my mother, Beryl Seel, which means .. probably nothing.

"rs25531 is on the serotonin transporter. It's Overhyped Media Name is “the orchid gene”, on the basis of a theory that children with one allele have higher variance – that is, if they have nice, happy childhoods with plenty of care and support they will bloom to become beautiful orchids, but if they have bad childhoods they will be completely screwed up. The other allele will do moderately well regardless. (T;T) is orchid, (C;C) is moderately fine no matter what. There are rumors going around that 23andMe screwed this one up and nearly everybody is listed as (C;C)."

For my mother and myself, 23andMe did not report on this one.

"rs1800955 is in DRD4, a dopamine receptor gene. It's overhyped media name is The Adventure Gene, and supposedly one allele means you’re much more attracted to novelty and adventure. And by “novelty and adventure”, they mean lots and lots of recreational drugs. This one has survived a meta-analytic review. (T;T) is normal, (C;C) is slightly more novelty seeking and prone to drug addiction."

I was not genotyped at this location and my mother, Beryl Seel was (C;T) which made her a little bit adventurous with lots of use of recreational sherry.

"rs2760118, in a gene producing an obscure enzyme called succinate semialdehyde dehydrogenase, is a nice polymorphism to have. According to this article, it makes you smarter and can be associated with up to fifteen years longer life (warning: impressive result means almost certain failure to replicate). (C;C) or (C;T) means you’re smarter and can expect to live longer; (T;T) better start looking at coffins sooner rather than later."

I'm (T;T) and my mother, Beryl Seel was (C;T) which makes me resigned to an early grave. She lived to 92.

"rs6311 is not going to let me blame the media for its particular form of hype. The official published scientific paper on it is called “The Secret Ingredient for Social Success of Young Males: A Functional Polymorphism in the 5HT2A Serotonin Receptor Gene”.

"Boys with (A;A) are less popular than those with (G;G), with (A;G) in between – the effect seems to be partly mediated by rule-breaking behavior, aggression, and number of female friends. Now it kind of looks to me like they’re just taking proxies for popularity here, but maybe that’s just what an (A;A) nerd like me would say. Anyway, at least I have some compensation – the popular (G;G) guys are 3.6x more likely to experience sexual side effects when taking SSRI antidepressants."

I'm (G;G) and my mother, Beryl Seel was (G;A) which makes me out to be some kind of bad boy!? I must remember to keep off those SSRI tablets.

"rs6265, known as Val66Met to its friends, is part of the important depression-linked BDNF system. It’s a bit depressing itself, in that it is linked to an ability not to become depressed when subjected to “persistent social defeat”. The majority of whites have (G;G) – the minority with (A;A) or (A;G) are harder to depress, but more introverted and worse at motor skills."

I predicted I would be (A;A) based on poor motor skills and in fact I'm (A;G). My mother, Beryl Seel was the normal (G;G) which is consistent with her not-bad motor skills (except at driving).

"rs41310927 is so cutting-edge it’s not even in SNPedia yet. But these people noticed that a certain version was heavily selected for in certain ethnic groups, especially Chinese, and tried to figure out what those ethnic groups had in common.

"The answer they came up with was “tonal languages”, so they tested to see if the gene improved ability to detect tones, and sure enough they claimed that in experiments people with a certain allele were better able to distinguish and understand them. Usual caveats apply, but if you want to believe, (G;G) is highest ability to differentiate tones, (A;A) is lowest ability to differentiate tones. (A;G) is in between.

Sure enough, I’m (A;A). All you people who tried to teach me Chinese tonology, I FRICKIN’ TOLD YOU ALL OF THE WORDS YOU WERE TELLING ME SOUNDED ALIKE."

Both of us test (A;G) so I'm sure we would have struggled with Mandarin, a daily requirement in Bristol.

So, just to reiterate, if you have a 23andMe account, click on the rs... links and see how you scored.

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* If you care, I don't share his worries about the existential threat of the 'new AI'.

The implacable state; Autonomous AI; 23andMe as a family investment

I was reduced to helpless, incandescent fury this morning by the unexpected arrival of a speeding ticket. I had been caught on camera on the way to my mother's funeral on Monday, Dec 21st 2015. I have applied for the driving awareness course option and will let you know in due course how it went, if accepted.

I visualise the Speed Enforcement Unit putting this together, chuckling as they did so.

Turns out I was doing 35 mph in a 30 mph section of the A-road at Westbury-on-Trym, Bristol. Once my head-banging, visceral anger had subsided (a trip to the gym helped considerably) I found the list above of more or less lame excuses (none of which work) quite amusing.

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Robin Hanson has an interesting piece about a newish book, 'Our Robots, Ourselves: Robotics and the Myths of Autonomy' by Prof. David Mindell at MIT. The book argues:

"If robotics in extreme environments are any guide, Mindell says, self-driving cars should not be fully self-driving. That idea, he notes, is belied by decades of examples involving spacecraft, underwater exploration, air travel, and more. In each of those spheres, fully automated vehicles have frequently been promised, yet the most state-of-the-art products still have a driver or pilot somewhere in the network. This is one reason Mindell thinks cars are not on the road to complete automation.

“That’s just proven to be a loser of an approach in a lot of other domains,” Mindell says. “I’m not arguing this from first principles. There are 40 years’ worth of examples.”

As someone who is interested in AI and its impact on the automation of everyday tasks, I promptly bought the book (Kindle) and will let you know how compelling I think his arguments are. After my speeding ticket I am thinking wistfully - and defensively - about Google cars. How does anyone drive on a regular basis in the UK without collecting 12 points in short order and losing their licence?

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In August 2014 I persuaded my mother to donate a spit sample to 23andMe. Eventually I was able to show her the report plus the much more detailed information from Promethease. My mother had no technical interests and in particular no background in genetics. Nevertheless she read all the material in the folder with close attention for half an hour and then took possession of it, refusing to allow its contents to be shared with anyone else, even close family.

I think there was a little bit of magical thinking here, as the information was in no way earth-shattering. However, the reason I signed her up was in anticipation of a future where 23andMe provide a full genome description and we actually know what it means. It's a family history gift to future generations. I might have mentioned to her that we could clone her from this data, bring her back memoryless, but I doubt she took it on board!

My father unfortunately died in 2009, before 23andMe got into business. I have some of his personal effects in storage anticipating future DNA profiling ... .

On an adjacent topic, it's interesting to see the latest genomic news on the ancestry of the Irish. Razib Khan has an in-depth discussion.

Beryl Seel: Some memories of my early life

My mother, Beryl Joan Seel (née Porter) wrote the following in 2004. The text was read out at her funeral at Canford Crematorium on Monday, December 21st 2015.

Beryl Seel

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                                       Some memories of my early life 

                                            by Beryl Seel (née Porter)

I was born on February 11th 1923 at a Nursing Home in Brunswick Square, St Paul’s, Bristol.

I was my parents’ second child, their first born son Raymond Richard was born September 4th 1921, he unfortunately suffered from encephalitis; his condition was never explained or talked about in front of me. Gordon Alexander followed on October 30th 1925.

We lived and were brought up at 14 William Street, St Paul’s until the day I married.

I was a very shy child and was quite scared of my mother who believed “children should be seen and not heard.” My father was a lovely man but mother dominated him as well.

Granny and Granddad Hewlett, mother’s parents lived with us and I spent a lot of my time in Granny’s room, they were a delightful couple and I felt very relaxed in their company. Before she married, Aunty Daisy (mother’s sister) lived with us, she was great fun.

Granny was loved by every-one and was always being called out to help neighbours with problems, she had no medical training but she diagnosed all the children’s rashes, was sent for when a death occurred in a family, and once cut down a neighbour who had hung himself. When I reached my teens she would take me with her, but only to the minor incidents!

The three of us children went to St. Barnabas School. At every playtime I had to look after Ray because school staff would not be held responsible if he should fall and hurt himself.

I became a Brownie as soon as I was old enough and was very proud of the badges I earned, sewing each one on my sleeve as I was awarded them. I then moved on to the Girl Guides and soon became a Patrol Leader, When the Brownie Tawny Owl left to get married I was asked if I would take her place, I spent many happy years helping to train the young Brownies.

I loved sport and played in the Netball and American Ball team, I was also in the swimming team travelling to other schools to take part in Galas. I gained my Bronze Medal at 13 yrs of age, and was mentioned in the local paper for dragging a stupid non-swimmer out of the pool, she had jumped off the spring board.
           
I was 16 yrs old when war was declared, I clearly remember that Sunday morning waiting for the Prime Minister’s announcement. There was Mother, Father, Granny, Granddad, Ray, Gord, Uncle Will, Uncle Ted, Basil (my cousin) and me, all eyes glued on the radio. The adults muttered things like “That’s it then” and “Oh God! Here we go again.” They all remembered the first war.

Dad was appointed Deputy Chief Warden, we had a telephone installed, and I went around with him when he fitted baby type gas masks. We started a shelter in the crypt at our Church and gave out refreshments during Air Raids. People came to the shelter every night to start with, but with no aircraft activity everyone went back to their normal way of life. Things started to change when the German planes were over Bristol bombing on a regular basis; we had our windows blown out. I remember Ray refusing to get out of bed during air-raids and worrying us sick. One bomb went through the church roof to the crypt, we had to evacuate everyone and take them to surface shelters but some lives were lost in the rubble, some were my friends.

The Wardens Post and our house were always full of activity and we had some dishy Messenger Boys coming and going. Gordon, my younger brother joined them, so my social life improved. Although black-outs and air-raids dominated the early 1940s we went dancing in a group and enjoyed ourselves, and one Messenger lad, in later years, became my husband.

I was due to be called up at 18 yrs, but mother said I should join the local Fire Service which would make me exempt from being called up for the Armed Forces. Dad had to contact the Fire Service to enroll me as a volunteer.  I hated it and was quite shocked at the goings-on; I was so innocent then, what a sheltered life I had led!

Meanwhile, my best friend Doreen Oliver, who I had met when I joined the firm of Printers and Bookbinders called J. W Arrowsmith at the age of 14 yrs, decided we would join the Women’s Forces. She was born the year before me and would be called up on her 18th birthday so we decided we would volunteer for the WAAF so that we could stay together. Mother was horrified and said NO!!! She persuaded Doreen and me to take the option of working in an Aircraft Factory first, then if we didn’t like it we could transfer to the forces.

We reluctantly agreed and after 6 months in an underground aircraft factory at Corsham, near Bath, the Government changed the system we couldn’t transfer. Doreen and I spent almost 4 yrs doing 12 hour weekly alternating shifts, day and night underground, and hating every minute of it.

We arrived for night shift one Friday to find that the “powers that be” had decided to close the factory down as the aircraft engines consistently blew up on testing. We were all ecstatic; no work was done that night.

Doreen and I immediately contacted our old boss at Arrowsmiths who then applied for our release, so we were out in no time. It was absolute heaven living a normal life again, going to the cinema, theatre, and dancing, especially when the boys came home on leave

My Messenger boy friend  joined the Army on the 8th of January 1943 we wrote to each other practically every day and we became engaged on my 23rd birthday. Mother wasn’t at all happy with the news, as I had not told her of our plans, I knew she would nag and put obstacles in our way, which she did. Anyway, Fred was told he must provide decent accommodation and new furniture for her daughter and we shouldn’t marry until he was demobbed.

Accommodation was very hard to find in those days and furniture, furnishings, and clothes were all on coupons so it took a couple of years to get everything organized We found two nice rooms in Campbell St for the first year, then moved into a flat in a house bought by a friend of Dad for his newly married son, that was in Richmond Road, St Andrews.

Our eldest son Nigel was born while we were living at the flat and our second son Adrian followed two years later.

We then moved to a house in Henbury, where in 1956 our daughter Elaine was born, our happy family was now complete.

The children were a great joy to us, we had some good times, also infuriating teen-age times.

We are very proud of our three children. Nigel worked hard and passed his 11 plus exam for a place at Bristol Grammar School, then to Warwick University.

Adrian qualified as a Registered Mental Nurse at Glenside Hospital then moved on to Bristol General Hospital, finally he went to Barrow Hospital where an accident resulted in a hip injury, preventing him from continuing his nursing career.

Elaine went off to Guys Hospital, London and trained as a Nurse; after qualifying she moved to Princess Margaret Hospital in Swindon.

We had quite a few road traffic accidents outside our house because of the bend in the road; I did my best with my Girl Guides First Aid knowledge, but realized I was out of date. So I joined the Red Cross to get up to date. That was 1960, and I remained a member for 34 yrs, I qualified in First Aid, Nursing, Mental Health, Psychology and Physiology. I spent many hours on duty, met a lot of people, and when Fred joined a few years later he took over the Henbury Detachment and organized First Aid Courses for the general public. I moved over to the young cadets and trained them in Nursing and First Aid, many of them went on to become nurses. In 1993 Fred and I were each awarded the Badge of Honour for our work in the Red Cross.

One day in 1966, I was asked by a friend if I would like a part-time job. I knew she worked at the school for deaf children and wondered how I would cope. Anyhow I went along to see the Headmaster, he told me he was aware of my Red Cross training and would be happy if I would accept the position of Classroom Assistant with responsibility for medical room duties. I was very happy working at the school and stayed until I retired 21 yrs later. I had a great party with loads of presents from children and staff, and still keep in touch with them.

We have been blessed with 7 delightful grandchildren; Nigel and his wife Clare have two sons, Alex and Adrian. Adrian and his wife Anne also have two sons, Matthew and Simon. Elaine and Michael have two daughters and a son, Jennifer, Sarah and Christopher.

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Here is my mother's diary of their ill-fated cruise on the Saga Rose.

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Here are some of the many blog posts featuring my mother in her later years

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The exceptional Christmas Cake and the iPad novice

My post 'Zena Skinner's Christmas Cake recipe' has now had 235 views. We are consuming Clare's version - absolutely delicious - and I have been instructed to tell you that the fruit spread thickly and evenly throughout the cake, as it was meant to, with no sinkage.

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Back in October 2012 my mother had just taken possession of a new iPad but was struggling to get it to work. Naturally, we were all keen to help her, particularly with the video camera. So that's Elaine, myself, Alex and Adrian; one of us is rather shy. And I am the first to admit I am no Lars von Trier.

My mother died on December 3rd 2015, aged 92, after a long illness. She is fondly remembered.

Turned out wet again, Piers

A trip today - there and back again in the rain! - to see my mother. Her general state of health is good and she continues to find her 'animatronic pet' Daisy engaging. Here's a previous video.

Beryl Seel with flowers today

Clare's idea - the flowers

My mother is a little confused: she told us that she'd been invited to the Council House to meet important people. I think she was referring to the Labour leadership contest which she probably saw on the TV news. We, in the meantime, have been bombarded with emails and campaign flyers from all the candidates since signing up as supporters. In fact Jeremy Corbyn's bright red pamphlet arrived today.

I have one degree of separation from Jeremy Corbyn. When I was in the International Marxist Group in London, I was on comradely terms with Piers Corbyn, his elder brother. At that time Piers was a post-grad at QMC (he did his BSc at Imperial College) studying astrophysics. He cut a rather shambolic figure with his long straggly hair and unkempt beard, coming across as eccentric and rather harmless: I recall he was always late for meetings. Subsequently Piers Corbyn became somewhat famous for unorthodox weather forecasting, more so than his MP brother. All that has now changed.

Jeremy and Piers Corbyn

I wish Piers well and suggest he rejoin the Labour Party in a senior capacity as soon as possible. I can't get enough of these fraternal leadership squabbles .. .

A garden in summer

A trip to Wroughton, near Swindon today to visit my mother (with Elaine, pictured below). The hospice is next door to where she's staying and the gardens (and coffee shop) seemed a nice place to visit. A little video follows the picture. The word 'summer' is being used here in a purely calendric way as the mode of dress suggests.

The public garden at the Prospect Hospice, Wroughton

Not much posting here this past week. My excuse? Family visits trash the serenity needed to compose; the Tour was on and we spent hours trying to figure out whether Contador and/or Nibali were suffering post-juice burn-outs; plus not much new was really happening in the world worth commenting on.

Still, all that stuff is behind us now. I was about to install SWI-Prolog and then got diverted with backing up my data (to numerous hard disks and scattered USB drives - you can't have too much security!). Turns out that when your datasets are in the tens of Gigabytes and you need to encrypt (security!) this takes a while - like a day. So that was Monday and I'm finishing off things this afternoon. Prolog tomorrow?

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OK, we cracked: I put the central heating back on this evening.

Goodbye Marissal Road

We moved into our council house in Henbury, Bristol in 1954 when I was three. The three children grew up in it and one by one we all left. My mother was the last to vacate the property, after more than fifty years, and so today the house was cleared. I was there before 8 am this morning and took this video tour while waiting for the house clearance team from the British Heart Foundation.

The BHF team were efficient and were done by lunchtime. On my return to lock up, I took these final pictures.

The master bedroom

The back bedroom - most of us occupied it one time or another

The 'box' room - mine while at secondary school

The hall and front door

The kitchen leading to back garden

The living room, looking to the back garden

The living room at the front

It all looks rather forlorn. Pathos turned to bathos when I turned up at the Lawrence Weston 'Citizen Service Point' to hand in the keys. The council employee checked the address on the computer and could unearth no evidence that Bristol Council was aware the property had been vacated. Yes, they had lost my 'notice to quit' letter of three weeks ago.

I am wise in the Kafkaesque ways of public bureaucracies. Calm, calm, calm. Under instruction I wrote a lengthy, handwritten letter outlining all the facts of the case with dates and events, and ended by pleading with the anonymous council recipient to please accept the original termination date despite the absence of said 'quit notice' in their filing system.

We shall see whether such grovelling saves some gratuitous rent payments.

A late birthday present

I went to see my mother today (with Elaine) in Wroughton while the BHF team were house-clearing. We visited the park, fed the homicidal seagulls and watched kids trying to fend off dinghy collisions on the lake. At the end there was a late birthday present for Clare.

We were baffled as to what the heavy cylinder was. I speculated variously on pickled onions and manuka honey. The reality was considerably more wonderful.

A scented candle

It's currently brightening up the hall in olfactory mode - it almost feels wrong to light it.

Beryl Seel meets Daisy

You may remember Daisy, the animatronic cat who demonstrated her repertoire a few days ago (here). Well today, she finally got to meet my mother - they seemed to get on.

If these animals could only talk - I'd buy ... .

Daisy

Our very own synth, Daisy, arrived here today. It's destined to join Cindy (video here) as my mother's new animatronic pet. Here's a video of Daisy (Amazon link) showing off her repertoire.

We bought Cindy (below) for my mother seven years ago. I am amazed that so little progress has been made in the state of the art.

Cindy - my mother's robot pet

Family history note: Daisy was my mother's auntie. Oh, and here's Daisy's manual.

Click on image to make larger.

Life on the Saga Rose

Back in the year 2000, business for an Internet consultant was good. Knowing how much my mother loved boats and the sea, and how little of the world she had seen, we decided to buy the two of them a cruise.

In doing so, I lightly passed over the fact that my father was not good with rough water, and disregarded his social discomfort with having to cohabit with those he considered to be of higher social class - he correctly judged that the cruise we had selected would be populated by the retired officer class.

In the event his social fears were misplaced: their dining companions were pleasant. But then my mother had that terrible accident in Pompeii - and the worst storm for years hit the Bay of Biscay on the way home.

They secretly kept a diary: here are the highs and the lows (PDF here).

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Fred and Beryl Seel’s Saga Rose Mediterranean Cruise

September 17th - October 2nd 2000

September 16th Saturday

Nigel arrived to fetch us mid-morning at our home [in Bristol]. After lunch we travelled to Maidenhead to spend the night at Clare and Nigel's home prior to joining the SS Saga Rose at Dover.

Day 1 Sunday

Clare and Nigel drove us to Dover and, after a lovely lunch in a hotel we boarded the ship. Our hand luggage was put through a scanner and we had to walk through another scanner. As Fred followed me through a bell sounded and he was called aside to empty his pockets. Having done so, he walked through again and the bell rang once again. This time he was "frisked” by the official standing there and he was then allowed through (I suspect they felt the truss he was wearing and realised he was no danger).

Day 2 Monday

Dull and dreary weather - drizzle and sea mist – we were warned to take care walking around the ship and to stay in cabin if feeling unwell. We sat on deck in the afternoon wrapped in heavy coats and in a sheltered corner. Super evening meal - cabaret show-time featuring Johnny Tudor, variety entertainer, old jokes and songs, impersonating Barry Manilow, Frankie Vaughan etc; corny!!! Ship was rocking madly throughout the night going through the English Channel and the Bay of Biscay; many passengers horizontal throughout day. Captain's Cocktail Party before dinner.

Day 3 Tuesday

Arrived at La Corunna, Northern Spain 8 a.m. We walked around the town in the morning, weather miserable, plastic macs and umbrellas. The temperature was 51 degrees F. and a transport strike was in progress. We were back on board at noon for a super four course lunch, with waiters to satisfy our every whim. Storms worsened p.m. after we left La Corunna and there were many empty chairs at dinner. We had taken some Stugeron anti seasickness tablets, but I felt very queasy after dinner. Had an early night.

Day 4 Wednesday

Another night of pitching and tossing, but the day dawned and we saw SUNSHINE for the first time. Attempting to wash in a still rocking bathroom, the ship lurched and I fell backwards into the empty bath, banging my head and grazing my ankles on the sink surround. Fred pulled me out and I went back to bed nursing a giant headache. By 10 a.m. brilliant sunshine; we make our way to the sundeck for a couple of hours —this is more like it!!!

Day 5 Thursday

Weather-wise things are improving; we now walk instead of stagger around the ship. Gibraltar today, we left the ship at 8.30 a.m. and were taken by taxi, first to the Spanish-Gibraltar frontier and then up to the Rock to visit St. Michael's Caves. The journey was short, through narrow streets, the buildings looking rather down-market, but it was a fascinating experience. We went into the caves, full of stalactites and stalagmites, we took several photographs. We saw the Barbary apes - more photographs. Many other interesting buildings and views were pointed out to us on our journey. We were dropped off in the town where Fred bought some booze - very cheap. We arrived back at the ship for lunch. We spent the afternoon on the sundeck. Dinner tonight was at 7 pm followed by dancing and cabaret as usual.

Day 6 Friday

Day at sea, beautiful weather, spent the morning on the sundeck. After lunch we went to a ballroom dancing class-the Cha-Cha-Cha, great fun. After dinner we watched the cabaret.

Day 7 Saturday

Arrived at Cagliari, Sardinia and spent the morning on deck – the sun very hot. After lunch we went ashore and boarded a coach to see the sights of Sardinia, a lovely little island in the Med. It was very dusty and everything was brown, the guide told us there had been no rain for months and water was severely rationed. We saw bananas growing but they were very sad and very small. We were taken to Poetto, with lovely beaches of white sand and the beach a deep turquoise. We then arrived at a Sardinian house and entered it through a gateway strewn with aromatic herbs which gave off a beautiful scent as we passed through. We entered into a large courtyard with chairs placed around it, in front of bushes of lovely flowers which gave some protection from the sun.

We were then entertained by local singers and dancers in traditional costume (very colourful), meanwhile we were each given a wine glass which the dancers filled with wine - again and again and again - also bringing around delicious cookies. This went on and on—the ship was due to sail at 5 pm and it was nearing 4.15 pm. We arrived back at the ship at 4.55 pm facing a worried Captain and crew. The tugs and pilot boat's crew were kicking up their heels - we didn't care - we had had a wonderful trip and the wine and cookies were fine.

Day 8 Sunday

Arrived at Civitavecchia at 7.30 a.m. and left for a tour of Rome and a visit to St. Peter's Basilica at 8.30 am, stopping just outside Rome at a Service station for toilets and to be issued with our packed lunch. After a whirlwind tour of Rome, seeing the Coliseum and many superb statues and buildings, we arrived at St. Peter's Square at approximately midday and had an hour to browse around and eat our packed lunch. We bought small gifts for Joyce and Maisie.

We joined a long queue to enter St. Peter's Basilica at 1 pm and entered through the Holy Door; this door is only opened every 25 years, On Christmas Eve, the Pope, according to a special ritual, makes a solemn procession to this door and after a triple genuflection and three strokes of a hammer, the wall barring the door is removed and the Pope is the first to cross the threshold and enter the Basilica. At the end of the Holy Year the door is re-closed with a solemn ceremony and the wall is re-built.

People wearing unsuitable clothing, e.g. shorts or sleeveless blouses are not allowed entry into the Basilica and several were turned away. It was very crowded with what appeared to be dozens and dozens of different guided tours, each tour leader carrying an identifying rod with a symbol on top as a focal point, ours was a minute Pinocchio model which in the gloom of St. Peters was quickly lost to sight if you glanced away. This made close examination of the wonderful exhibits, statues and paintings very difficult, but with so many visitors milling around it would have been almost impossible to organise and please everyone.

The tour lasted approx. one hour and we then made our way back to the tour bus, very hot and somewhat tired but extremely pleased at having had this opportunity to visit this wonderful building, so steeped in religious history. The journey back to the ship was uneventful and we arrived at about 3.45 pm in time for dinner at 7 pm.

Monday Day 9

Arrived at Sorrento at 8 am and went ashore by ship's tender as there is only a small harbour and the ship had to anchor in the bay. We joined the tour bus at approx. 10 am and after driving through the steep, narrow and very squalid streets we left Sorrento and continued on to Pompeii. The party was split into two groups of approx. 19 to each group, each with a local guide but only one Saga Rep to cover both groups, her name was Elaine.

After a very interesting tour of this ancient city, using the Red Tour which includes the most interesting relics and ruins, amongst which were the baths, shops, the forum and many more too numerous to mention, we eventually left the ruins at approx. 3.30 pm.

[Ed. note: at this point my father, Fred, takes over the writing]

The coach was parked about 500 yards away so after a short wait to re-unite with the other party we started off in crocodile formation to the coach-park along the very dusty and uneven pavements. Because of the close crocodile formation, Beb did not see a steel ring embedded in the pavement that is used to surround trees. In this case the tree had been removed but not the ring which now surrounded a hole about 10 inches deep. Catching her left foot against the ring Beb was thrown forward, her right foot going down into the hole and her face violently hitting the pavement, breaking her nose, injuring her jaw and chin, and damaging the tendons of the right leg. There was considerable bleeding from her nose and she was in pain from her right leg. I knelt by her and treated the injuries with help from the other tour members using tissues and wet-wipes. There was no sign of the Saga Rep and the local guide wasn't interested, only urging us to re-join the coach quickly, no offer to drive the coach to us.

Beb had to be assisted by myself to the coach-park. Once on the coach and leaving the city I called the Saga Rose Rep and asked her if she was aware of Beb's injuries and she said she had heard something about it. I brought her to Beb and she was quite shocked. I insisted she use her mobile phone and contact the Ship's Officer on the quay for assistance. This she did and we were met at Sorrento main square and transferred to a taxi which drove quickly to the landing stage where a Ship's Nurse was waiting.

As soon as the tender arrived Beb was transferred aboard with other passengers and it sped out to the ship where she was transferred on board first with the help of two burly crew members. A wheelchair was waiting on deck and we were taken straight to the sick-bay where the Ship's Doctor and another Nurse were waiting. After an examination and being cleaned up they applied five steri-strips to a very deep wound at the bridge of her nose but only gave us a cold pack and towel to take back to our cabin to apply to her right leg, which by now was non-weight bearing. The Nurse also administered an anti-tetanus booster.

Beb saw the Doctor again at 9.30 am the next day (Tuesday) when he was non-committal whether the nose was broken but said there wasn't any treatment for that anyway. He re-examined the right leg when Beb complained she could not support her weight upon it and diagnosed possible ligament and tendon damage, a tubular grip bandage was applied by the Nurse and a walking stick loaned. He advised Beb to see him Sunday morning and he would decide if the steri-strips should be removed. We received the Bill for this service this morning (Tuesday) for £110.95. I don't know if he will charge for removing the steri-strips next Sunday if needed.

Tuesday Day 10 at sea

The above entry accounts for this morning’s events. We had yesterday evening’s and today’s meals delivered by Room Service as Beb has problems walking but she feels much better now and we hope to resume normal cruising and meals in the restaurant tomorrow (Wednesday). I have cancelled the tour to Cadiz as she will not be well enough for that, but we may walk into town as we dock within the city.

Wednesday Day 11 at sea

Lazy day sunbathing on the stern sundeck, we had breakfast at Lido Café and stayed put until 12.20 pm. We had lunch in the restaurant for the first time since Beb's accident. Filipino waiters, especially Jonathan, made a big fuss of her. We spent another hour or so on deck, this time on the starboard side in shade; it was about 75 degrees F. in the sun.

Went back to the cabin for a while and then to the ballroom where a "Chocolate Afternoon Tea" was held at 4.15 pm. Visited gift shop and bought a couple of presents. After Dinner again visited the gift shops to buy deck shoes for Beb as hers were in a dangerous state. Beb still very groggy so we retired to the cabin again at 9.20 pm and prepared for bed.

During the day I visited the Purser to sort out the payment system and check ETA for Dover. Passengers using own transport or being collected by private transport will disembark at 8 am next Monday morning October 2nd. Phoned Clare and Nigel with information and they will pick us up at Dover as arranged.

[Ed. note: at this point my mother, Beryl (Beb), resumes writing]

Thursday Day 12

Arrived late at Cadiz, we had to dock at a different berth because another ship arrived just before us and had taken our place. As we had cancelled our tour on the Doctor's advice it made no difference to our plans which were to take a leisurely stroll around the shops near the harbour and maybe do some last minute shopping. I'm glad we did because we found some lovely Spanish dolls to give to Jenny and Sarah, also a model Bull for Christopher. It was a nice morning, nippy to start with but getting hotter as the sun came up. I am walking easier now and the swelling on my face is gradually disappearing. We arrived back on the ship for lunch, after which I went off to the Hair Salon to have a wash and blow dry, (£15 - daylight robbery). At 4.15 we went off for our usual afternoon tea, gooey cakes and scones with jam and cream, as much as you can eat.

Dinner at 7 pm after which we will go off to the ballroom to watch flamenco dancing (dancing for me is impossible with my damaged leg; I am still using a walking stick).We sail at 11 pm - the last lap of our Journey. Today’s weather forecast is for rough weather ahead, we are quite worried about what awaits us in the Bay of Biscay. Before we retire, an announcement from the Captain warns us that there are heavy swells ahead and advises us that all breakables, e.g. bottles of booze, should be placed on the floor. Also, we were warned to be careful moving around the ship: all is doom and gloom.

Friday Day 13

The ship rocked all night, but we had taken our Stugeron so didn't suffer too much. Wow!!! Things got a lot worse as the day progressed, impossible to walk properly. I am still using a stick and am hoping the Doctor won't need it back for his ever growing list of patients. Stayed in cabin all afternoon, more announcements from the Bridge warning of bad weather conditions and need for caution moving around the decks. After Dinner went back to cabin and found drawers and various commodities lying on the floor, Thought, Gosh! We’ve been burgled! .. but it was the heavy rolling of the ship.

Saturday Day 14

What a night! We are still off the coast of Portugal. The 9 o'clock announcement from the Bridge tells us that yesterday’s waves were 5 metres high and that it would be the same today. We didn't know whether we were on our head or heels while lying in bed, I've never experienced anything like it before. Fred went down to breakfast but I let the lovely Filipino waiter bring me tea and croissants to the cabin.

It's now 11.15 am, we have been told we reach the Bay of Biscay about noon and that one of the restaurants would be closed and some of the activities would be cancelled because of the weather. Oh well, let’s sit back and see what the afternoon brings.

Afternoon: weather worsening, waves now 6 metres and the ship rolling and pitching violently, I guess we are in for another rough night.

Sunday Day 15

We awoke to a calmer sea, much easier to walk about. More people having breakfast in the restaurant but at 9 am the message came through from the Bridge that we were heading for force 8 winds which I think are gale force. Groans all over the tea and toast, this will be the worse conditions yet. Apparently all these lows are coming down the English Channel.

We started packing straight after breakfast - where did all this stuff come from? At 11.15 everyone has to attend a disembarkation meeting so that all will go smoothly tomorrow. Breakfast is at 6.15 am tomorrow, we are number 2 so expect to leave the ship early. The last group leaves at about 10.15 am while the ship departs for its next cruise at 5 pm.

We go for lunch at 12.45 pm then more packing. Afternoon tea at 4.15 pm then to the ship's sick-bay to return the walking stick and enquire about further treatment when reaching home. The nurse advised me to hang on to the stick until tomorrow morning because of the approaching storms.

Just finished packing at 5.45 p.m. must remember to put our watches back one hour before going to bed. Going back to Saturday evening, I almost forgot to mention the Captain's Disembarkation Cocktail Party. It was held then because all our glad rags would be packed on Sunday. The cocktail party started at 6.15 pm with photographs taken - I dodged that, not looking my best with stitches decorating my nose. Jean Slater did not come to the party, she wasn't feeling too well.

It was a very good dinner, very lively and lots of fun, ending with a Baked Alaska Parade with all the waiters descending the staircase at the end of the restaurant holding aloft their trays with the Baked Alaskas decorated with sparklers down through the tables with the lights turned low, a very impressive sight. The evening closed with all the passengers standing to sing Auld Lang Syne.

Monday Day 16

Early rising with breakfast scheduled for 6.15 am. We arrived in the restaurant at 6.30 to see some strange faces, Susan and I suspect that these people spent most of the voyage in their cabins. We were in group 2 so were due to leave the ship a little after 8 am. As we were disembarking Nigel called us on his mobile phone to say he was waiting outside so, with a porter pushing our suitcases on a trolley, we met up with him outside the gate. With great relief we settled down in his car and he drove us to his home at Maidenhead. We were greeted by Clare with a very welcome cup of tea, and then Nigel carried on with his work and Clare drove us back to Bristol.

Home Again

It was a lovely holiday and I enjoyed every moment of it - except of course my accident at Pompeii, but even that had its bright side, I was a celebrity and the loving care I had from so many people was something I shall always remember, when the bruises and scars hopefully disappear.

My mother's fox

For reasons not unconnected with 'noticing' we suspected a rat in my mother's back garden. The BadgerCam was duly deployed as a putative 'RatCam' - but we misnamed it: FoxCam would have been better.

The fox returned on several nights and there were also visits from the perennial cats. The rat, however, failed to make an appearance.

Suburban Fox Preview

A teaser for tomorrow's post

System Integration

Yesterday I was cast back to a now sadly-familiar role: the family's systems engineer. My mother had reported that her ancient (CRT) TV had now evolved to sound only .. and indeed it was so. I didn't waste too much time with the old (2003) Sky STB, once turning off and restarting everything had failed to turn things around.

My first ploy was to attach her old aerial coax to a spare Freeview digibox I happened to have. This gave perfectly adequate reception for the channels she's interested in, but could I get that Flipper to control it? In despair I called digibox tech support: I paraphrase.

"Yep, the device you're dealing with is a cheap Chinese import we sell. We've never had any luck getting third party remotes to work with it. We don't know the codes and in any case you're wasting your time."

I was perseverant with the Flipper, manual in hand, but success eluded me. It was time to visit Currys/PC World. The tech assistants were entranced by my Flipper booklet.

"Hey," called my guy to his boss, have you ever seen anything like this?

These are folk who don't get out of bed for anything with less than 200 controls; the Flipper - with its minimalist on-off, channel +/- & volume up/down buttons - entranced and mystified them. The Samsung TV seemed most likely to be Flipper-friendly and so - eventually - it proved.

Samsung delivers the goods

I am so bad at manipulating physical reality, and tend to panic and hyperventilate when presented with two pieces of plastic and seven cross-headed screws. I did, however, finally get the stand assembled and connected to the TV.

Ab initio configuration is so much better now - no more diving through five layers of incomprehensible on-screen menus aided by a bulky manual written in microscopic font. So after no more than 90 minutes I was able to call the Sky people and close down her contract.

They were good about it.

The Aquarium

Turtles! Fish! Who would have thought it?

"I think that octopus thing isn't real .. "

This dinner-plate-size snapper certainly is ...

We could be in Florida ...

We ventured to the furthest of the greenhouses, farther than we've ever been before. And my mother and I chanced upon this aquatic wonderland.

Menagerie à trois

En route to Bristol today - with Joni Mitchell warbling 'California' in the background. I turn from the steering wheel to ask, "Did anyone ever suggest that Joni should've taken up engineering instead?"

Clare was loyal: "Joni is so smart, she would have made a success of anything."

A few miles later it's John Lennon belting out "When I get home to you, you know the things that you do ..." . I say, "Apart from 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer', did the Beatles ever release any tracks on STEM subjects?"

And they wonder why the UK has a shortfall of 50,000 engineers. Finally, here's some of what transpired after we all got back from Costa at Next.

Menagerie à trois from Nigel Seel.

When the district nurse comes round, legend has it that they all hide ...