Coffee Theology

  The Skies I'm Under is a wonderfully honest memoir by a mother whose much-loved eldest child is severely disabled.  I had the privilege of staying with the family a few years ago and hearing a little of their journey.  Rachel has been blogging for a couple of years now and has taken the brave step of telling much more of her story in this fascinating book, which I devoured in a couple of days.   Rachel describes the frightening time when her first, uneventful pregnancy ended with Sammy being born in distress and spending the first few days of his life in intensive care.  Then Rachel and Tim brought him home and enjoyed the first couple of months of cuddles, nappies and sleepless nights, only to be told when Sammy was two months old that he had suffered severe brain damage and would be profoundly disabled.  It is a harrowing read and Rachel details her family's grief with poignancy and honesty.  The reader is unable to hold on to the comforting platitudes they might

A few months ago I had my first panic attack.  At least, I think that's what it was.  I used to think that mental health was precise and orderly; that when there was something out of kilter it could be categorised, labelled and dealt with.  Now I realise that it's all a bit less defined than that.  People are complicated. I was on the Tube in London.  Lots of people dislike the Tube, I guess: it's crowded, hot and stuffy, a bit claustrophobic.  But I went to school in London from the age of eleven and rode the Tube every day.  I spent my teenage years on the Central and Piccadilly lines, going to meet my friends in Soho, enjoying child price tickets to the cinema and three courses for £5 at Dome (anyone remember Dome?).  I have taken the journey from Liverpool Street to Notting Hill Gate literally hundreds of times.  I have never been stuck underground.  I have always made it to the end of my journey completely unscathed.  So why was I standing in the all-too-familiar T