Simon Blake

It is almost eight weeks ago that I went to the kitchen, picked up my phone to see 43 missed calls from Dad and my niece, and learned that Mum was in the ambulance on the way to hospital. Almost eight weeks ago that I threw together the biggest bag of clothes I could find, instinctively knowing I wasn't going to be going home any time soon.  In the cold light of day it turns out I over-estimated on socks and t-shirts, underestimated on pants, warm clothing and work clothes, as well as how long I was packing for. I didn't know as I drove west that we would be soon be coming face to face with Mum's terminal cancer diagnosis. We know it is real and we are still learning to accept it and absorb what it means. I am grateful for the kindness, empathy and care of folk as we do so.   I am writing this blog to share my experience in the hope that it does just a small bit to encourage a more open culture. Death and dying are still taboo, and the silence and stigma that accompanies ...

A couple of weeks ago, the ever wise, Julie Bentley wrote a blog about the end of life https://juliebentley1969.wixsite.com/website/post/thinking-about-the-end-of-life, and why we need to talk about illness, the end of life, death and dying.  Unsurprisingly given how wise Julie is and that we share a lot of values, I completely agree. My brother died 5 years ago, and I was surprised just how hard some people still find it to talk about death, about dying and about grief.  When Andrew died lots of people acknowledged his death, asked questions, asked me how I was, and shared their own personal experiences. There was also a lot of silence or skirting around the issue. Other folk seemed to want to make it better with warm and incredibly well meaning platitudes: I was regularly told 'he wouldn't want you to be sad' or 'at least he isn't hurting now'.  I was (and still am) sad, and I am glad he isn't hurting any longer, but it still hurts. Few people seemed comfo...

A few weeks ago I was in a race equity peer training session led by the very brilliant Tessy Ojo. As we talked and listened I was reminded of the dilemma I faced when invited to accept an OBE. I want NOTHING at all to do with the Empire, yet I DO want the work of my organisation and the people who worked tirelessly for young people's sexual rights to be recognised.  Poppy Jaman and Polly Neate both honoured by the system were in the same session. We talked afterwards. All three of us had decided to accept an honour despite our absolute rejection of our colonial past. We want a clean break from the past. We want all links between the British Honours System and colonialism to be broken because we really value the high level recognition of the social justice work of our organisations and ourselves. The letter reproduced below was published in the Times on 30th July 2020. We are now inviting anyone who works in the civil society and public sector who has received an honour to a...

This time of year I always get tense about Andrew being dead. I use the word tense deliberately even though it may be an odd word to use, but it describes how my mind feels. Since Andrew died I have had a recurring nightmare. In it I always have the chance to save him and I choose not to, or wasn't able to - it varies. Sometimes I couldn't and sometimes I wouldn't. Either way I wake up breathless, angry and upset.  Initially this happened every night, then three or four times a week and now only occasionally around his birthday and the anniversary of his death on 7th July. About two weeks ago I started having the same dream and the same feelings again.  Now familiar with the pattern of the grief I have taken to comforting myself with happy memories. Of course I wish Andrew was still alive, but the cold brutal fact is he isn't, and I want to be - and am - grateful for the fun times we had.  I am writing these for two reasons - who knows how long I will re...

5 years ago I was on my annual summer jollies in Cornwall. My brother Andrew was in hospital. He had on several occasions been in hospital over the previous few years with water retention connected to his pacemaker. I wasn't thinking anything about it as I went in. The sun was shining. A quick visit, some Lucozade, a few magazines and then off to the beach. This time was however different, the nurse with his permission told me that he may need a heart transplant. I still shudder remembering that moment and realise how fragile and uncertain everything really is. As I have written previously on this blog everything accelerated quickly over the next few days. Two weeks later we sat together as a family while the doctors turned off the machines. The first few days and weeks felt like they went on a lifetime, so it is hard to believe that was 1,811 days ago. I don't have any words to describe how much I miss what we had or what I hoped we would have together for another 20, 30...

Today is the international day against homophobia, transphobia and biphobia. An international day of solidarity with LGBT+ people around the world. It is an important day because we are so bloody far away from where we should be in terms of safety, equity, visibility and representation for the L, the G, the B, the T and the plus plus pluses. To put just how far away in context, I am a white cis gay man with enormous privilege. I live in London, one of the most liberal cities in the UK, one of the most liberal countries in the world. But I am not safe to walk down most streets in London holding hands with my husband. We are conscious of not looking too intimate in public spaces or on public transport. When I leave our local - or any other - gay bar I am hyper vigilant. Every day I see a scar on my chest, an ugly reminder of being attacked leaving a gay bar because of who I am (or who they thought I was). Yes, that attack took place about 20 years ago but we must be under no illusi...

A week or so ago we were instructed to continue with the #COVID19 Lock Down for at least another three weeks. I didn't flinch when I heard because this reality has become normal so quickly. I am lucky to have a safe home that enables me to say that. I do not for one second underestimate the heartache the pandemic is causing around the globe: there is a person and family behind every single number; there is grief, loss and worry. People are bravely working in difficult circumstances and there is an exponential increase in domestic abuse. COVID19 is not the great leveller those in positions of privilege and power claim it is. It discriminates. There is a disproportionate impact on communities already experiencing social, health and economic inequalities including those from Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic Communities. The immediate and longer term financial impact on individuals, families, charities, social enterprises and the economy more widely is, frankly, eye-wateringl...