Spain challenged me with winds like hot hairdryers and dustbowl landscapes where the only heartbeat seemed to be mine. Cheap trucker stops provided welcome rest where curious glances and early morning wake up calls of the guy in the next door room vomiting loudly were not uncommon. Dawn escapes got me back on to the road before the shriveling heat of the sun reduced me to jumping from shady tree to shady bush like a cat on a hot tin roof.


As a cyclist you become part of the landscape. You feel every bump in the road; you bounce along tracks like a pea on a drum or glide down effortlessly through high sided mountains. You smell the fresh cut hay; the tarmac after it has rained, or the stench of recent roadkill. You hear the gentle cow and sheep bells; you grip the handlebars hard with the roar of an approaching lorry. You hear the silence. You feel small; you feel exhilarated; you feel lonely; you feel strong.


Although my odyssey was only three months compared to the ten years of wandering by Odysseus as I reached my goal I realised I too have been humbled by the kindness of strangers, overcome my fears and loneliness and challenged myself physically, emotionally and mentally. As I looked over from Tarifa to the blue grey mountains of Africa they whispered to me like a lover beckoning but for the moment at least, like Odysseus, I must return home.


www.cycleodyssey.org - for a longer read philippamcox@gmail.com - if you have any questions https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising /cycleodysseyYAT - if you want to support


Epilogue


By a strange twist of fate, I have landed a job working for the Youth Adventure Trust who I raised money for on my cycle odyssey. This combines my love for adventure, a desire to work in a youth development charity and my previous experience working in fundraising. The world turns in mysterious ways! I am also training to be a Pilates teacher having resolved on my trip to not have such a sedentary life and to help educate others in how important it is to stretch and strengthen our bodies!


OC


Philippa Cox Class of 1990


The Old Cornelian SUMMER 2017


Refugees Welcome


Britain has a proud history of welcoming refugees. We must all have heard harrowing stories of Jewish people finally escaping to safety in Britain during WW2 or been moved by the lonely bronze figures on Liverpool Street station.


In 2015, the government promised to accept 20,000 refugees over the next five years – a tiny number given the scale of the crisis. It seemed like a good idea to think about how to welcome them in our own borough of Richmond upon Thames. And when we saw photos of Aylan Kurdi, the three year-old drowned trying to escape to Greece, the need to try and help suddenly seemed even more urgent.


A small group came together to consider the problem. We called ourselves Refugees Welcome in Richmond. At the time, very few of the traumatised refugees from bomb- damaged Syria had actually reached our shores. A number had been sent to Bute - 33 miles and lot of water away from Glasgow - as there was spare housing there. But the scheme had problems aplenty. There were almost no jobs; the climate is difficult for people from the Middle East; not to mention the transport difficulties for those who needed medical attention. Richmond would in many ways be a better option – but there is no spare housing. Indeed there are up to 800 hundred people on the Council’s list, waiting for accommodation.


A first meeting with the Council received a sympathetic response and an invitation to a further meeting. The upshot was: you find housing from private sources and we’ll offer every support from then on.


But it was not easy. The Home Office allowance for rent is somewhat below the inflated prices of a leafy suburb. What landlord can afford to sacrifice a better rate when letting is his livelihood? We remained hopeful, however, and started to visit estate agents and pin up notices in libraries and doctors’ surgeries. We received several expressions of interest but never a deal clinched. Until, that is, one day the international, Catholic charity, Caritas offered two houses all ready and beautifully refurbished. And in due course two families, vetted by the UNHCR and the Home Office, arrived in our midst.


Looking back on the last eight months, we can contemplate our learning curve. At the start we were all itching to meet the new arrivals and were held back by Council officers intent on settling our friends quietly and undisturbed. Now, with the Summer ahead of us we are busy finding occupation for the children and providing transport; finding time and volunteers to visit and teach English; and, one broken finger later, accompanying visits to hospital. There is help needed to get the neglected gardens productive; a stair gate is needed for a rambunctious toddler; a broken fence needs repairing; they are short of linen, of books of toys. Our reward is overwhelming. We feel immensely privileged to know these charming families and find it difficult to refuse the many invitations to share delicious Syrian cooking.


And as for the future? Our aim may be to become redundant in five years time. It would be wonderful to imagine we won’t be needed, though I have my doubts. There are many refugees already in the country who have never managed to learn good enough English to integrate well. We are intent on the urgent task of helping some of them. And then there is the wider question: Is it a good idea to encourage refugees to come to Britain?


In his book, Refuge, Paul Collier makes a cogent case for trying to keep refugees near their country of origin, ready to return as soon as the conflict is over. Most of them want to return; they will be needed to rebuild their country. If this is to be so, those of us who care - all of us - need to keep up the pressure on our government, not just to maintain the 0.7% of GDP that goes to foreign aid but to make sure it gets used effectively.


OC


Elizabeth Byrne Hill (néeMackenzie) Class of 1958


39


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