During my recent visit to the UK, I met up with my nephew Tim in Leamington Spa, Warwickshire, so we could have lunch together. Before our lunch, Tim took me on a short walking tour through Jephson Gardens, an attractive park in the town centre, in order to show me this memorial fountain commemorating the seven Czechoslovak airmen responsible for the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, one of the most senior figures in the Nazi Third Reich.
In January 1942, Heydrich chaired the infamous Wannsee Conference, which set out plans for the enslavement and murder of 8 million European Jews. The Slavs, according to Heydrich’s plans, would have been next. At the time of his assassination, Heydrich was the acting Reichsprotektor of Bohemia and Moravia, the present-day Czech Republic.
The seven Czechoslovak airmen were based just outside Leamington Spa and were parachuted into their homeland by the RAF, in a covert action called ‘Operation Anthropoid’. Seventy-two years ago on 27th May 1942, two of the seven carried out the assassination, though not everything went to plan as is explained in this BBC News report marking the seventieth anniversary of the event in 2012. As the report also explains, sadly all seven also lost their lives.
The memorial fountain is in the shape of a parachute around the edge of which the names of the seven are inscribed. The water dripping of the edges of the structure is meant to illustrate the strings of a parachute. Behind the fountain is this commemorative plaque.
On the base of the fountain is a double tailed rampant lion, the Czech national symbol, and superimposed on it is a shield with a double cross, the Slovak national symbol. I am most grateful to Tim for showing me this fascinating link between Warwickshire, the county of my birth, and the Czech Republic, the country where it has been my privilege to live for the past nearly six years.
As I explained in my post about the 2013 Conference, ICS is an international Church of England mission agency seeking to make known the good news of the Christian Gospel to people who speak English, who find themselves living, studying, working or holidaying away from home in countries where English is not the main language. ICS mainly works in continental Europe and other countries that surround the Mediterranean, and has financially and prayerfully supported the Prague Anglican Chaplaincy since August 2000.
The conference struck a nice balance between prayer, worship and teaching with some free time each afternoon, to explore the delightful surrounding countryside. As so often with conferences of this nature, some of the most valuable time was spent talking informally with colleagues over coffee or on occasions, something a little stronger 🙂 All of us work in somewhat isolated situations with rarely any opportunity to meet with each other except at this annual gathering.
The area around Hothorpe Hall was somewhere I had previously explored by foot or on my bicycle during my teenage years when living in Coventry. On the Wednesday afternoon, I made a circular walk of around 13 km to see the staircase flight of ten locks at Foxton on the Leicester section of the Grand Union Canal, a place I last visited about forty years ago
As well as the locks, a remarkable feat of engineering in their own right, I was fascinated to see the remains of the neighbouring inclined plane, built at the beginning of the twentieth century but abandoned in 1928 because of being too costly to maintain. The whole site, which used to be totally overgrown, has in recent years, been completely cleared and landscaped.
I took a different and slightly longer route to return to Hothorpe Hall, one that avoided a section of busy main road and which took me through a field of flowering oil seed rape.
On the final evening of the conference, a celebration dinner was held. We were encouraged to dress up a little and several of the ladies wore dresses or skirts, rather than the usual jeans and I wore my suit, together with my favourite tie which features a series of white sheep with just one black sheep in the middle.
During the dinner, a tradition started at the 2013 conference was continued with a fun ‘awards ceremony’, known as the ICS Carrot Awards. Last year, little mementos were presented which were made of carrots – this year there were printed certificates featuring a smiling carrot logo. Clearly my suit and tie were impressive as was given the prestigious ICS Carrot Award in recognition of being the best dressed man during the conference 🙂
Whilst the weekend following the conference, was meant to be the first part of my holiday, on the morning of Sunday 18th May, I undertook a deputation visit on behalf of ICS and was the preacher at two supporting parishes, St. Mary the Virgin, Wilby and St. Mary Magdalene, Ecton, two villages near Wellingborough in Northamptonshire. As well as preaching, I was also interviewed at both services by the Rector, Rev’d Chris Pearson, asking me to explain about my ministry in the Czech Republic and how ICS supports that work by finance and prayer. It was a most worthwhile morning, tinged by a little bit of déjà vu as I drove between services through the Northamptonshire countryside, echoes of my fifteen and a half years of rural multi-parish benefice ministry in the Oxfordshire countryside 🙂
I have every intention of writing further posts about the ICS Chaplains and Families Conference and my recent visit to family and friends in the UK. But first I have to write a rather sad post regarding our Senior Cat Oscar.
On the morning of Friday 23rd May, just as I was waking up at the home of my sister June and brother-in-law Garry in Bournemouth, I received a text message from Sybille in Prague, asking me to call her ASAP. I knew it must be serious as I believe it is only the second time when I have been away from Prague, that Sybille has contacted me and asked me to get in touch.
When I called, Sybille explained the situation. Oscar had been trying to pass urine but was unable to do so. He was also wincing in pain and had then proceeded to be sick several times over. She wanted my agreement to call the Pet Medic and to ask for Oscar to be put to sleep. Knowing Oscar’s age and how frail he had become, we both knew there was no way he would survive any further operation. It is almost certain that his kidneys had failed so no intervention would have helped. An hour later, I got a another text message to say that ‘Oscar was now with Sam‘.
At seventeen years and two months, Oscar has lived far longer than most cats. He has been a wonderful companion to us since we adopted him from our friends Mike and Nikki Geelan, in April 2007. We are both so thankful that we did hold a little party just a couple of months ago, to mark his seventeenth birthday. The two photographs accompanying this post, were taken by Sybille during the last two weeks of Oscar’s life and help us both to remember his companionship for the past seven years.
At the beginning of last week, I drove all the way from Prague to the East Midlands of England, in order to attend this year’s Intercontinental Church Society (ICS) Chaplains and Families Conference, followed by a week of annual leave visiting family and friends. Both before setting out from the Czech Republic and on arrival in the UK, I’ve had many expressions of surprise for undertaking the trip as well as numerous questions as to my route and what the journey entails. So here is a blogpost by way of explanation.
I should start by saying that it is a journey that I have undertaken once previously, albeit in the reverse direction. For when Sybille and I moved to the Czech Republic in September 2008, we drove all the way from our old home in North Oxfordshire, to our new home in Prague, along with Oscar the cat. But in the nearly six years since our arrival in the Czech Republic, the five return UK visits I’ve previously made, have always been by air.
I set out on my journey on Sunday 11th May, having first celebrated the Sunday Eucharist at 11.00, followed by a brief visit to post-Eucharistic Coffee Hour. I would have preferred to have driven from the Chaplaincy Flat to Church, rather than using public transport, so I could set off directly afterwards in the ‘Carly’. Unfortunately, that Sunday was the day of the annual Prague Marathon which results in many street closures. So instead, I packed the car first thing on Sunday morning, leaving it parked by the Chaplaincy Flat, and then travelled to Church and back again by tram, as we normally do.
It was therefore not until 13.25, that I set out on my journey. Fortunately, once I reached the Pražský okruh/Prague ring road on the western side of the city, the rest of the my journey to Dunkerque in France on the coast of the English Channel, was almost exclusively on motorway, or dálnice, Autobahn, autoroute, autobaan, depending on the language of the country through which my route passed.
From the Pražský okruh/Prague ring road, I took the D5 which heads westwards towards, and then around, Plzen, before heading for the German border. Most confusingly, nearly all the road signs tell you that, beyond Plzen, you are heading towards Rozvadov, rather than towards Germany or Nürnberg, the first major city over the border. Where or what is Rozvadov? It is a small village, just off the D5, the last one in the Czech Republic!
There are several interesting differences between a Czech dálnice and a German Autobahn. Czech motorway signs are green with white lettering whilst German ones are blue with white lettering. The Czechs use blue signs with white lettering for their ordinary roads! Czech motorway intersections are numbered according to how many kilometres they are from the beginning of that motorway, usually starting in Prague. German motorway intersections are just given consecutive numbers. Many Czech over bridges have advertisements on them which I find both unsightly and distracting whilst there is a total absence of such things in Germany.
One contrast I particularly noticed as I drove up into Ceský les, the hills that lie in the very west of the Czech Republic and form the border with Germany, is the almost total absence of human settlements – there are just forests and open fields. Yet once across the border and driving down through the Oberpfälzerwald, there are a succession of villages amongst the woods and fields. Of course, there is a reason for the contrast. The area on the Czech side is part of what was known as the Sudetenland from which the Sudetendeutsche population were expelled in 1945. Within a couple of years, the area had become a restricted zone which only those trusted by the regime, were allowed to enter for fear that all others might try to escape from their Communist paradise to capitalist West Germany.
Being aware that petrol is cheaper in the Czech Republic than in Germany, I filled up just before crossing the border. I was fairly sure that a full tank would take me right across Germany, all the way to Luxembourg, which it duly did. I also knew from many years of travelling in continental Europe, that petrol is cheaper in Luxembourg because of low taxation, hence I planned my route to pass through the duchy, in order to fill up once more.
It took me five hours to drive across Germany passing near Nürnberg, Heilbronn, Speyer, Kaiserslautern and Trier. Whilst Germany does have an excellent Autobahn network, parts of it are beginning to show their age with several bridges and viaducts that I crossed being under repair, including the one across the Rhine.
One thing that again brought a smile to my face whilst driving in Germany, was seeing every exit from the Autobahn being marked by a sign saying ‘Ausfarht’. It always reminds me of my first ever visit to Germany in 1975 when I was travelling with a coach party consisting mainly of Australians, most of whom had not previously been to Europe. After travelling for some time along the Autobahn, one of the party turned to me and said, “This place called Ausfarht must be really big as I’ve seen so many signs to it” 🙂
Passing around Trier, along one very small section of my route which was not motorway, I then entered Luxembourg and within about thirty minutes, had driven from one side of the country to the other! Just before the border with Belgium, I pulled into a service station at the side of the autoroute and took full advantage of the low price of fuel. Then it was over the border to the town of Arlon where I stopped for the night in a hotel located in a service area without a fuel station, as everyone buys cheap petrol over the border in Luxembourg 🙂 So by 20.45 that evening, I had driven through four countries and covered 760 km/473 miles.
Next morning after breakfast, I set off on the Belgian autoroute, heading towards Brussels. Of course, according to the road signs, I was heading towards Bruxelles, until suddenly the signs instead said Brussel. The reason for the change is crossing the boundary between a French-speaking province and a Flemish speaking one. Both French and Flemish-speaking Belgians do not believe in bilingual signs which can be most confusing when the name of a town or city differs considerably more than Bruxelles/Brussel.
From past experience, the one part of the journey I was a little concerned about was driving around the Brussels ring road where I have previously experienced congestion. However, apart from a short delay getting onto the slip road giving access to the ring road, the rest of my trip around the Belgian capital went smoothly. This was followed by an equally smooth journey on towards the coast near to Ostend and then just inland but parallel to the coast, over the French border to Dunkerque.
Courtesy of having such an easy journey, I arrived two hours in advance of the departure time of my ferry crossing. The Dunkerque-Dover crossing takes two hours, but with the change from Central European Summer Time(CEST), to British Summer Time(BST), I left Dunkerque at 14.00 CEST and arrived at Dover at 15.00 BST.
Once off the ferry, it took me a further three hours to drive from Dover to Hothorpe Hall near Market Harborough, along the M2, M25 and M1. En-route, I had the first of what were to be many experiences of discovering how expensive life in the UK has become. When I last used the Dartford Crossing east of London, the toll was £1.00. It came as quite a shock to discover the 100% increase to £2.00 🙁
So I arrived at Hothorpe Hall, safely but somewhat tired, at 18.20 on Monday 12th May having driven a further 688 km/430 miles. The evening meal was to be served ten minutes later and, in the meantime, one of my fellow ICS Chaplains bought me a much needed drink from the bar. Thank you Hazel!
On Wednesday 30th April, I paid my fifth visit in the last nine months, to see a Czech dermatologist at Vojenská Nemocnice, the Military Hospital here in Prague. It prompted me to think that I really ought to write a blog post all about my experience, along with a brief explanation as to how the Czech Healthcare System works. But first a bit of background about me.
Between July 1970 and February 1975, I lived and worked in Australia. During my time there, I got badly sunburnt on several occasions and have since suffered from the consequences of being a pale, white, north-European, who exposed himself to far too much Australian sun.
It took nearly twenty years before I first experienced the unwanted consequences of my unwise actions. It was in 1988, whilst I was training for ordained ministry at Wycliffe Hall, Oxford, that I eventually went to see my GP about a scab, located on the hairline of my forehead, that refused to heal up. The GP sent me to see a dermatologist, who promptly diagnosed it as a Basel Cell Carcinoma (BCC), the commonest, but fortunately least dangerous, form of skin cancer.
Unfortunately, by that stage, it had become too big to be cut out under local anaesthetic, with a couple of stitches to pull the resultant wound together. Instead, the BCC had to be removed under general anaesthetic, with a skin graft taken from my chest, put across the gaping hole on my forehead. The evidence of that operation is still visible today, all the more so because my hairline has receded much further in the subsequent twenty-six years.
Ever since that operation in September 1988, I have kept a very watchful eye on any scab or spot on my face that refuses to heal up and promptly sought medical advice. As a consequence, over the years I’ve had several more small BCCs cut out under local anaesthetic. During the latter years of my time living in the UK, my BCCs were usually ‘frozen off’, by being treated with liquid nitrogen which destroys the cancerous cells.
During my first few years in Prague, I was pleased that I could not see any visible signs of further BCCs on my head and face. However, in the Spring of 2013, a tell-tale non-healing scab appeared on my current hairline, on the right side of my face. I also observed several smaller spots, all of which looked ominous. So in early June last year, I finally took myself off to see my GP, Dr Adriana Youngová.
Dr Youngová is a fluent English-speaking Czech, helped no doubt by being married to an Englishman called Mr Young, hence her unusual surname. Interestingly, although she has taken the Czech genitive form of Youngová, she calls the medical practice she heads, ‘Young & Co‘, without the ‘ová’ 🙂 But I digress.
Dr Youngová immediately agreed that I almost certainly had a BCC and promptly wrote a letter of referral for me. She recommended that I see a dermatologist at the Military Hospital as she knew that many of the medical staff there, spoke English. However, unlike in the UK, where your GP sends your letter of referral to a hospital and the hospital then writes back, giving you an appointment, in the Czech Republic, the patient has to contact the hospital themselves and make their own appointment.
I therefore went in person to the Military Hospital in order to make my first appointment. I could just have telephoned, but realised that if language was going to be a difficulty, which it was, you cannot make hand signals over the phone 🙂 Surprisingly, the young female receptionist on the main hospital entrance, spoke better German than English, and successfully directed me ‘auf Deutsch‘, to the building where the dermatology department is situated. However, the receptionist in the dermatology department itself, only spoke Czech, so I was most glad that I had not tried to phone. Eventually, my limited Czech, combined with appropriate hand signals, got me my first appointment for 15th July 2013.
As is required under Czech law, as an employed person, I and the Church as my employer, make contributions each month, to VZP CR, who in turn provide me with full medical cover under the Czech public health insurance scheme. VZP CR in turn, issue me with a European Health Insurance Card (EHIC) which I show in order to receive, almost free medical care.
I say ‘almost free’ as, on each occasion you visit your GP or have a hospital appointment, you are required to pay CZK 30 (just under £1.00 or US$1.50). On entering the dermatology department, there is this machine in the entrance hall, into which you put your CZK 30 and obtain a printed ticket, showing you have paid up. This is then retrieved from you, when you see the dermatologist.
My appointment yesterday, like a couple of previous ones, was for 08.00. This is very Czech as there is quite a tendency here to begin work early in the day. I first went to the machine to obtain my CZK 30 ticket. There was a delay whilst an elderly Czech lady in front of me, slowly managed to recover her coins, having first pushed them into the slot where the ticket comes out! I felt a certain sense of satisfaction that I understood the instructions on the machine, better than did a native Czech!
Then it was on to reception, to confirm my arrival. This receptionist is a classic example of what I have previously described as how to dress Czech. She regularly wears tops that reveal a large amount of cleavage. As I’ve previously written, it is look that would be appropriate for a romantic dinner with her husband or boyfriend, but not what I really want to see at 08.00 in the morning, in advance of being attacked with liquid nitrogen. Fortunately, the top on Wednesday, was somewhat less revealing than a couple of the previous ones 🙂
Once my arrival had been confirmed & the receptionist had found my file, I had to wait in the adjacent waiting room, until summoned. For the first time yesterday, I was summoned by a nurse who could actually pronounce my surname. My surname of ‘Yates’, causes great problems most of the time, as no Czech surname begins with the letter ‘Y’!
I saw the same young female Czech dermatologist that I’ve seen on four of my five visits. She speaks fluent English and has a helpful and friendly manner. She agreed with me that the original large BCC on my hairline, has still not completely disappeared, despite four previous treatments with liquid nitrogen. However, she was convinced that it was now much smaller and that one further treatment might finally do the trick.
So it was out with what I would describe as a cotton bud on the end of a large stick, first placed into the flask of liquid nitrogen, and then dabbed firmly on the offending area, several times over. She also treated a new spot I had identified, alongside my ear on the other side of my face. After treatment, she dusted both with a white antibiotic powder which does leave me looking slightly ghostly.
Having received treatment, I was duly given my next appointment for two months time at the end of June, along with a written report about my treatment, all in Czech! Then it was back to the tram for my journey home.
In conclusion, I have to say that I have been most impressed by my experience of the Czech Healthcare System. It is effective and efficient and gives an excellent level of care. Even as a foreigner, once you get to know the basics as to how the system works, then you should not have any real problems or concerns. And because most well-educated Czechs, especially the younger ones, speak reasonable English, language is usually not a problem with many doctors or with some nurses.
