By the looks of it this is my three hundredth post on this site. My blog writing and curating has waxed and waned over the years, and from time to time I’ve needed to engage in furious catch-ups. But that’s ok. Rather than write something about mental health policy, services, nursing, research or education on this occasion I’ve chosen to upload some outdoors photographs with some short explanatory notes, simply because it pleases me to do so. Enjoy.
First up is a photograph taken in early 2020, shortly before the first pandemic-related lockdown, of Sgwd yr Eira. Located in the Brecon Beacons National Park, Sgwd yr Eira is a waterfall behind which it is possible to walk. The landscape of Wales is one of the many reasons why it’s good to live, work and study in this part of the world, which is exactly what I’ve been doing for well over half of my life.
Somewhere we’ve visited lots over the years is Laugharne, a town in Carmarthenshire known particularly for its association with Dylan Thomas. Here is a view from Laugharne of the Taf Estuary, taken in April 2021 during a lockdown window when travel within Wales was possible.
In September 2021 it was possible to travel within the UK. This picture was taken en route to the top of the (very walkable) Cat Bells, near Keswick in the ever-beautiful Lake District. This modest mountain is a family favourite, and I’ll look forward to a return visit at some point.
Whilst Covid can’t disappear quickly enough, corvids (a family of birds which include crows, jackdaws and ravens) are a wholly different proposition. Intelligent and good at problem-solving, this particular example was spotted in Cornwall in February 2022.
That’s it for now. In November 2022 I’ll have reached another blog-related milestone, which is to have maintained this site for ten years. I’ll see if I can keep on top between now and then.
I’m back from the annual week-long trip to the Welsh Marches, taking in an eclectic mix of speakers at both the Hay and the newer How the Light Gets In festivals. The first of these has grown in size to the extent that, for some years, it has been located out-of-town in a field of marquees. I remember visiting when events took place in the local primary school. The second, much smaller, festival makes use of the Globe building supplemented with tents across two sites.
There was plenty on offer related to the field of mental health. Andrew Scull used images to support a tour through mental health services across time, and Mark Salter gave a lively account of the limits of biology. Richard Bentall, Dinesh Bhugra and Simon Baron-Cohen debated categorisation and diagnosis, concluding (in largely consensual style) that what we need is more public mental health, peer support and respect. David Healy continued his critique of the pharma industry.
This year the weather was kind, which always makes a difference. Travelling further north for a day, deep into Powys, took us to the Elan Valley and a fine walk in the hills.
Back at the festivals, I’m always impressed when natural scientists are able to convey difficult concepts in ways which are understandable to lay audiences. This is not easy, I would have thought, when the working language is that of mathematics. On this occasion I took the time to listen to a discussion on the physics of black holes, and was glad that I did.
Next week sees me back at work, with a new office giving views over Cardiff towards the Bristol Channel. Here’s a photo taken just before I headed off for my week away. Look hard enough and you can, just about, make out the sea.
Possibly the broad manifestos produced in the run-up to a general election are not the places to look for fully worked-up blueprints of what future mental health policy across the UK might look like. Perhaps, more accurately, we should not think about ‘UK policy’ in this context at all. Members of Parliament elected to Westminster next week, from amongst whom a new government will be formed, will have authority to directly shape services in England only. Health and social care remain areas over which devolved authorities have jurisdiction, and for a ballot delivering a government with the power to pronounce on mental health care here in Wales we must look to the National Assembly elections to be held in 2016. I’ve indicated before that mental health policy here is different from that in England, and indeed from other countries in the UK. Consider again the case of the Mental Health (Wales) Measure. This is a piece of legislation for Wales alone, mandating for care and treatment plans, care coordinators, access to advocates in hospital and the right of reassessment within secondary mental health services following discharge. It was introduced in the face of some strong, pre-legislative, criticism from at least one senior law academic (Phil Fennell) who in 2010 began his submission to the National Assembly by saying,
The gist of my submission to the Committee is that this measure, although well-intentioned, is cumbersome, unduly complex, and will lead to a delay in providing services which ought to have been available already to service users and their families in Wales under the National Service Framework for Adult Mental Health and the Care Programme Approach.
Five years on the Measure has not only passed into law, but been subjected to a round of post-legislative scrutiny by the National Assembly’s Health and Social Care Committee (see my post here), to which the Welsh Government has now responded. With data from across both England and Wales, COCAPP (and in the future, COCAPP-A) will have something to say about how care planning and care coordination are actually being done, and readers will be able to draw their own conclusions on the extent to which changes in the law trigger changes to everyday practice. And, whilst we’re in policy comparison mode, for a view from Scotland try Paul Cairney. He argues that divergence in mental health policy across the UK, exemplified by contrasting English and Scottish experiences of reforming the law, reflect differences in both the substance of policy and in policymaking style.
A brief post with no bearing on work matters whatsoever. Yesterday evening, in the two hours before sunset (which was just after 9pm), a perfect opportunity was presented to take in the simple pleasures of walking the Taff Trail. This is one of the places I also like to run, though for the last few weeks I’ve been nursing a sore Achilles and have, therefore, been resisting.
This part of the world is criss-crossed with disused railway lines, harking back to South Wales’ industrial heritage. Check out the photo here, which was taken yesterday on the flat, mile-long, stretch leading from the Penrhos Cutting to the bottom of the steep hill which climbs above Castell Coch.
This second photo was taken on the same stretch looking towards Craig yr Allt, which remains one of my most favourite places of all.
Nice to have had a few days off, and to have properly escaped the tyranny of a computer with a permanent internet connection. Apart from the odd work-ish tweet this really has been a long weekend away from the routine. There’s been plenty of cheering for a team of teenage footballers, and a squeezed-in walk along a south coast (of England) sea front. I’ve also rediscovered the joys of holidaying in close proximity to thousands of others, and the pleasures of school-style food. Such fun, but always good to be home.
Another started-on-the-train post, the length of which reflects (more or less) the length of my journey home.
Yesterday took in a trip to the Cardiff City Stadium for two, entirely unrelated, happenings. First was the annual event of Involving People, the organisation which works across Wales to promote public and service user participation in health and social care research. I’ve had contact with the Involving People team in connection with COCAPP, and the folk there are really very good. Yesterday’s event was excellent, too, and I learned plenty about public engagement from the earliest generation of research ideas onwards.
Following a short-ish break and a chance to catch up on work emails over a coffee, my return trip to the stadium was to watch Cardiff City put in a rather jittery performance against a visiting Leicester side looking to press their own promotion credentials. An at-the-death goal from the Bluebirds’ Rudy Gestede got the draw. Well done that man.
To illustrate this event on this blog I might have uploaded a photograph or two of South Wales’ hills and trails, or even a piccie taken en route. These options are far too obvious. Instead I have elected to include a picture of my trainers, sitting proudly post-run on a staircase. Thank you, shoes, and I apologise if you deserve a more accomplished runner than me as your owner.
Now we’ve completed our IRAS form and been to REC, its onwards to NIHR CSP and NISCHR PCU. Hopefully the SSI we give to R&D will be OK, and once we’ve been adopted by the CRN and CRC we’ll get help from a CSO or two.
So that’s all clear then, right? Apart from ‘OK’, which I presume needs no introduction, these are acronyms and initialisms associated with the process of applying for approval to conduct research in the NHS, and getting help to recruit participants and generate data once permission has been secured. I could add that, in the case of COCAPP, we’re making these applications because we’re interested in the CPA and CTPs, and that we should probably make links with a CLAHRC, an AHSP and keep in with the RRG. And did I mention the MNM we’ve already started? You don’t know about MNM? Then read the papers coming out of RAMESES.
Of course, in writing all this I am wilfully and rather mischievously seeking to confuse. The point, though, is that words matter. Shortcuts and abbreviations can save the time of people who are already in the know, but can present an impenetrable thicket to the outsider. Perhaps the process of navigating NHS research approvals should be described using only the commonest 1,000 words in the English language.
A quick post following a half-term break. Cornwall proved to be a fine place to spend last week. It is, truly, a most beautiful part of the country. Here’s a photo of the beach at St Ives to prove it.
Now it’s back to it. This week I’m working on two projects, and in the case of one will hope, by Friday, to be clearer on local arrangements for making payments to service user researchers. There’s some work to be done on preparing NHS R&D applications, too. Over the next week or so I also need to put some time aside to respond to Cardiff University’s consultation on the reorganisation of schools within the College of Biomedical and Life Sciences. The idea has been formally proposed that the School of Nursing and Midwifery Studies (where I work) and the School of Healthcare Studies (home to the academic occupational therapists, physiotherapists, radiographers and operating department practitioners) might merge. A move of this type has been on the cards for some time, so no surprises there.
As an aside, with no bearing whatsoever on my last post describing what I do using only the commonest words in the English language, here are two photographs revealing what snow is capable of.
These were taken over the weekend, deep inside Fforest Fawr. The branch of this tree has entirely split, presumably under the weight of accumulated snowflakes. Parts of the Taff Trail, and certainly the Penrhos Cutting, were littered with branches (and indeed, whole trees) brought to the ground in this way. The second photograph is of the branch, collapsed following the break.
I can’t quite recall seeing this kind of thing happening during previous snowfalls. What’s different, I’m wondering? Unusually sticky snow, perhaps?