Wednesday, 19 September 2018

I’m going on a mini-break and I’m not sure for how long

I’m going on a mini-break and I’m not sure for how long.  I intend to spend more time reconnecting with myself - away from social media.

Since I work in digital marketing, I’m online constantly.  But I’ve been noticing how things have become difficult for me because of some of the groups I’m in, the pages I follow, the falseness and negativity I perceive and the abuse I receive.

Managing online notifications / follows

To kick things off, I just unfollowed a few groups and removed notifications for some too. Not only will it minimise the bombardment I experience, but I hope to remember who I am, because frankly, I’ve been feeling lost.

Facebook feels like it connects everything these days, but the sad truth is it doesn’t help me to connect to my true self and it’s been failing at connecting me with other people who genuinely fuel my energy in a positive way.

Time to reconnect with me - and nature

Over the past couple of months, I’ve read too many things that are either depressing, fake or frankly bonkers.  When you either groan audibly or want to write “WTF planet are you on?” to every post, it’s time for a rethink.

My energy needs a serious reboot.

It reminds me of the time I was on a little break in the Lake District and became almost obsessed with the idea of renting a cottage with absolutely no internet access for 6 months.  I would tend my plot and write.  Pulling up carrots, hiking for miles and writing.  A little white cottage with beams so low I'd have to hunch to get in the place.  Roaring open fire and home grown veg.  That was basically my bliss.  Perhaps my fixation was conceived at the Beatrix Potter museum?

But no, my desire to connect within was stronger than that.  A desire to be immersed in the most dramatic and beautiful scenery, day in, day out, was very high.  A place where it was possible to be alone with my own thoughts and feelings, undisturbed by influences other than nature.

Mums can't just do that

I came home to my regular life for one reason alone – my children.  Their fixed routines and the fact that we need and love each other was the only reason to come home.   Being a Mum trumps everything.  But where does our own cup get filled?  The desire to retreat and self connect is strong - and recently desperately missing.  I’d make do with very little financial or material wealth to experience the deepest possible internal wisdom.

The insanity and unrest of online life has lately mirrored my inner anxiety and resulted in an energetic disappearance of the real me.

Whether we choose to call ourselves empaths, intuitive, sensitive, awakening, ESP, whatever you wanna call THIS that many of us are dealing with, it results in an overload of emotion – someone else’s emotion.  Combine this with a summer of nightmares which have now been replaced by a regular 4am waking and it's all kicking off again.  Time to reconnect so I can listen to the messages intended for me - not the ones intended for others.

The volume of information we process about others, whether it’s offline, online or from other realms, is huge.  It needs to flow through and out, not take up home at the expense of my own spirit.  To do our best work we must be in our right space, whatever that means for us.

So, I’m going on a mini-break.  When I’ve found myself again and have reconnected with my own energy, then perhaps I might have something worth sharing again.

Have fun, stay peaceful and truthful.

I’ll be back 😊
Tuesday, 18 September 2018

Myers Briggs Personality Type Indicator test - 16 personalities

Whether you've previously done work on the Myers Briggs Personality Type Indicator test or are new to it, this free online test can be very revealing for understanding your own preferences and personality type - the results are comprehensive.

We all did this in Business Communication class this morning - it's a great way to check in with yourself and to build up an idea of your own strengths and weaknesses.

There is great value doing this whether it's with a class, a team or with employees - why? Because it's worth knowing everyone's strengths, weaknesses, their mission and what roles they may best suit.

What if you change?

Over the past couple of years, it looks like I've changed from INFJ to ENFP.  Changes in preferences are understandable when new roles and new influences emerge in life - what was interesting to me is that the dimensions in which I score heaviest - the N (intuiting) and F (feeling) haven't changed since I first did this in 1995.  The introversion / extroversion elements are normally 50/50 for me but this time I was far higher on extroversion.  I'll probably reflect around this in the same way as my class are writing a reflective journal about their learning and self discovery.

It's well worth taking the test if you haven't already!  Please note this is a free online version.

Wednesday, 12 September 2018

Understanding Abuse with Anne Bronte

I know a while ago I said that I’d be writing a blog series on the topic of abuse and Anne Bronte’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, but the subject matter has taken on a life of its own.  There’s so much material I’m now planning a book and vlog.  There's a lot still to do which I'm managing alongside a pretty busy work and home life.

Yep, going to have to get over myself big time to create some videos *cringes*.  But it’s about education - people really need to know this.

Currently working on simplifying my messages - turning a complex subject into understandable chunks.  If you have any thoughts on the topic of abuse / Anne's work, I would really welcome hearing your views.  Feel free to contact me via private message on any of my social media pages.

Anne knew

I underlined in my copy of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall the sections in which Anne Bronte perfectly described abusive behaviour.  Where she truly got under the skin of abuse and described behavioural patterns that are completely in line with modern clinical psychology.

The result was my book is completely defaced.  Here's just one page to illustrate:

But what now?  Where I'm coming from with this:

It’s not good enough for us to say “oh dear” and turn a blind eye to abuse.  Hoping that someone else will pick up the pieces.  NO ONE PICKS UP THE PIECES!

Systems are severely broken.  We have black and white processes and infuriating tick boxes designed by people who don’t get it, trying to reverse deeply ingrained patterns of abuse that stem from personality disorders.

We have abusers suppressing the voices of victims and those who speak out against abuse.  There is still a culture of encouraging victims to speak up - and then when they do, their voices are suppressed.  We have people in front line services not empowered to do enough because of a lack of training, education, arrogance, broken systems and the erroneous belief that abuse doesn’t affect them.

I'm convinced that part of the issue is that no one knows how to solve the source of abuse - or whether it can be solved (only the abuser knows whether they're willing to do the deep introspective work to change).  It can be disheartening to read authority texts written by professional clinical psychologists and psychotherapists specialising in abuse who say they have tried healing abusers and it's either difficult or impossible.

Still, this doesn't mean it's not worth trying.

So many problems to untangle - but education is the route forward

There are still systems that shut abuse down and ultimately pretend it doesn’t happen.  Sadly victim shaming and blaming is a far easier route than one that challenges abusers.

As victims, in removing ourselves from the source of abuse, what do we do?  We rightly help ourselves and begin a process of healing.

But do we prevent the abuse, or just allow the abuser to go on and find another source of supply, thus perpetuating the problem?  Of course we do this.  Because it’s hard enough to just get away and regain sanity.

What can we do? Learn.

In understanding abuse, we have to do the work ourselves – all of us!

  • Victims
  • Those who don’t yet know they are victims
  • Families of victims
  • Survivors
  • Those working in helping roles whether DV, counselling, child therapists
  • Those working in authorities that are failing badly: legal, police, CAFCASS, social services, etc.
  • Those who turn a blind eye (arrogant ignorant public)
  • And abusers themselves

Only when EVERYONE sits up and takes notice will change be possible. Because change happens inside every one of us.  This is not something that “someone else” will take care of.  The revolution starts inside and it starts with education.

I don't claim to have the answers.  As Anne Bronte said in her preface to The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, 

"Let it not be imagined, however, that I consider myself competent to reform the errors and abuses of society, but only that I would fain contribute my humble quota towards so good an aim."

Hear, hear!

But where to start learning?

If you don't know much about abuse (and why the heck would you unless you've been through therapy and are a recovering victim?) Here is another post I wrote to give you a whistlestop tour through the topic of abuse 

I will let you know when I have managed to make a video that I don't hate - and will keep you updated on news of how the book is progressing.

Thank you for reading and for taking an interest.

We're all in this together, this crazy process of understanding life and people.

If you're a victim of abuse, please remember that you are love and that healing IS possible.

If you found anything you read here of use, please feel free to share any of my posts or resources with others either privately or via social media or email.  If you feel that you may be a victim of abuse then I'd suggest contacting your local DV support centre.

Please note I’m not qualified to support others: I write about these topics to share awareness and education.  Thank you for understanding.
Friday, 7 September 2018

Poem for My Nana

Me and Nana, 1982

I was only seven when my Nana passed away
“She's gone” my mummy said to me when I woke the next day 
I knew - but also didn't - what death would mean for us
To have the separation and yet to feel none
To never have her there to hold was such a contradiction
For I knew her to be with me still, I knew it with conviction

The funeral day was sad, surreal
Silent motion among gloomy faces
We sang The Lord’s My Shepherd badly
Croaking, struggling through tears
We marched to the beat of our sad shocked hearts

But as I watched them lower her into the ground
My heart beat quickened to say she was still around

At least another year passed by
When I still believed she’d be there
Maybe today she'd open the door?
Welcome us into her house once more
Maybe they’d really found a cure?
Maybe I'd hear her laugh once more?
Maybe today I’d sing her a song?
Maybe she’d be well enough to sing along?
Maybe I’d file into the bedroom with my knitted jumper that said HELLO
Maybe she’d ask for “I’m a little teapot” before I had to go

But no, each time just grandad was there
His chair was filled, but hers was bare
The bedroom where she'd lay for months before intensive care
I'd look into the room convinced her spirit was still there!
Afraid I could sense and see something others could not
Easier to stay silent, just keep your mouth shut

My grandad was a loving man, he missed her all the time
Craned his neck from the bus looking up to where she’d died
Paid daily homage to that window for ten long years
Only he knew what he whispered through his silent tears
Nodding at the very ward where his beautiful wife
Laying with tubes upon her face, had slipped from this life
Taken too soon by cancer in 1985
Oh, if love could beat so strong he’d will her back alive

I’d stare at her pictures, admiring her looks
And I knew her through her writing in her flowery little books
Took solace in her diaries to fill the missing years
That chance to still be close to her allaying all my fears
Her words more precious to me than anything in the world
To find her notes repeating: "Today Rachel was a good girl"

Engaged at the start of the war, she’d lost him to the sea
He'd died on his submarine in an act of bravery
One day when she was very sad, a knock came upon the door
A gypsy woman stood there: saying “I’ll tell you what’s in store!”
“We live in times of cruelty, that shocks me to the core
You cannot tell me anything good in this time of war
Fortune-teller, go away and do not bother me!”
The gypsy woman said “Please wait -I'll tell you this for free:
You'll marry a man named Tom
You’ll have children - there'll be three!”

Sure enough not long would pass, she met a man named Thomas
They married soon, it was December when they made their promise
My grandad loved her very much, they had a family
My mother was the youngest, and yes, there were three!

Years went by, I was a teen, I sat down in my school
Suddenly saw my Nana there, standing in the room
Bathed in light she stood and beamed, but she was not alone
For a man stood by her side, come down from His throne
The man glowed bright, He stood in robes of white and gold
I knew his name was Jesus without needing to be told!

But why were they standing there in the STC?
I felt quite sure this was a sight no other girl could see
My Nana in her nightie, tight curls in her hair!
And Jesus stood beside her, what were they doing there?!

I guess some things we're not meant to know
Meant to see or hear instead
It was the strangest vision
That floated through my head

Last year I saw a psychic
You know who appeared?
Yes, she said there’s someone here
I can hear her loud and clear

Your Nana guides you through your life
Through good times and in bad
She looks over your children when they go to see their dad
After all these years it was hard to take it in
But what was the purpose, what message would she give?

Nana said, “Look at your life, when you were a little girl
There you'll find the answers: use these to heal the world.”
My nose! It started tingling, the warmest of sensations
To find her there right by my side was quite the revelation.

Thirty-three years since she passed on
This is a special number!
And to all I tell you this - 
Words you must remember:

You will be loved throughout your life
By those who’ve gone before
Those you love surround you till
You meet with them once more

And from that realm of celestial bliss
You’ll both return again
Another friend will play your guide

In our world without an end

Nana with her mother, around 1926

Nana as a bridesmaid, around 1937

Nana and my Mum having cuddles, 1949

Me and Nana, 1979. "Who got you ready?" she'd say. 
And no wonder looking at this outfit!

Thursday, 6 September 2018

How could self care ever be competitive?

Self care is the new buzzword.  It’s everywhere and now the inevitable has happened – people feel like they’re failing at self care.  It’s another thing ‘to do’.

Please STOP!  

I can’t take the irony of the act of self-care being competitive.  It reminds me of all the faddy yoga sessions that are available, most of which completely ignore the fact that yoga means union.  Yoga is meant to be all about what you find out about yourself when you’re in the postures, not what fancy leggings you wear, how bendy you are and the temperature of the room.

How heart breaking that self care could be used as another stick to beat yourself with or that anyone would feel anxious for not ‘doing enough’ self care.

Self care is different for everyone.  You are unique and wonderful and beautiful exactly as you are.  Your version of self care only needs to satisfy you.

Everyone’s list of what self care looks like will be different.  There is nothing fancy, long winded or elaborate needed to do it.

It might be sitting in the garden for 10 minutes.  So be it.  You don’t have to meditate as well, you can just sit there and stare at a brick wall and occasional butterfly if you like.

Self care might be filing your finger nails.  Great!  You don’t even have to paint them, let alone go the full distance with a manicure.

Self care might be as simple as taking a bath rather than a shower.

It might be your favourite cup of coffee.

For one person it might be skipping dessert, but for another it might be allowing yourself to have dessert and enjoy it.

It might be lighting a candle and staring at it for 5 minutes or it might be curling up with a book for an hour and switching off your notifications.

For one person it might be binge watching your favourite Netflix series, and for another it might be writing never ending blog posts, half of which don’t get published, about a certain family most of whom died 170 years ago.  (*Looks around. Nothing to see here*).

The WHAT doesn’t matter – it’s the enjoyment you derive that matters, and only you know what gives you genuine deep-down enjoyment.

Looking after yourself might be admitting that one half of your character loves spending time with other people, but the other half needs quiet alone time, and you get cranky if you don’t get that.  Hmm, okay that’s me again.

Genuine self care in my house involves getting enough quiet introspective alone time.  I can understand that quiet alone time might not look like self care to others, but we’re all different.

Perhaps write yourself a list – YOUR list - no pressure over the length of your list – one that does not need to be shared and one for which the only approval you need is found within your own heart.

Go to your list when you need a little boost until self care is just a thing you do.

Most of all, enjoy yourself!

Saturday, 25 August 2018

What’s in your name? A post mainly about sheep

My name Rachel means Ewe in Hebrew.

Ewe as in a "female sheep".

I’ve always wondered at this and felt with sadness it was more lame than lamb.  Troubled by sheepish imagery despite sheep being my favourite animal, I’d rather have had a name that spoke of power, courage and bravery.  Something to empower me in times of need.

Have you ever wondered about what your name means and analysed the deeper meaning behind it?
Maybe you’d like to look up the connotations of your own name and journal around it?  I found it such a useful and interesting exercise in self-understanding and growth.

Don’t be Sheepish about Your First Name

I wrote such a lot I had to break this into sections!  If you stumbled upon this post by accident then perhaps word of warning it includes sexual abuse, Brontes and religion. For those of you still here (thanks!) here are the sections:
  1. Sheep words
  2. Lamb, the meat
  3. To bleat in tune
  4. Wedding sheep
  5. Rural life, farming and nature
  6. Black sheep
  7. Aries the ram
  8. Religious imagery
  9. St Agnes, another sacrificial lamb
  10. Ewe and Me

Sheep words

Is there anything useful and meaningful in sheep language?  Sheep-like means to follow the flock and have a herd mentality.  That's not a good start but maybe it’s important to look in our lives where we do this and follow others' opinions blindly where we perhaps ought to find out for ourselves.  Sheepish – shy, timid, docile, bashful.  This is not helping at all. Counting sheep.  Huh, something you do when you can’t sleep.  Are sheep meant to be so boring they send people to sleep?

Okay sheep language is seriously unhelpful.  Moving on... 

Lamb, the meat

Lamb was the first meat I gave up, and it’s so long ago I can’t remember when it was, but I suddenly really found it offensive to eat my friends, the sheep.  If I walk through a field I can smell sheep and it’s just like the smell of cooked lamb.  Yuk – apparently many people can’t smell this.

Just look at that face.

Bleating in tune

Speaking of walking through fields, one of my favourite things to do on a hike is to guess the tone of a sheep’s bleat by its size and demeanour.  I baa to the sheep and listen to see if it answers back in the same tone.  Think I’m crazy?  So what?  It makes me happy!  It’s joyful to get the right note.  A sheep will always baa back if you baa to it with feeling.  Come walk with me if you think this sounds like a fun game!

Mavis, I do believe that woman just bleated at us

Wedding sheep

I was awoken on my wedding morning around 5.30am to the very loud sound of sheep bleating.  That and rain hammering on the window pane.  It was not a blue sky day, it was a torrential downpour kind of day.  I had no idea what the day ahead or indeed married life had in store for me, but I remember feeling happy to hear the sheep and rain.

Getting married huh?
Do we have some weather for you!

If all else failed and the rain and sheep remained, all would be well.  And then, after a while pretty much all else did fail.  The cycles of nature remind us to keep going.

Rural, farming and nature

In the countryside you find that sheep connect humans with nature.  Sheep are hardy and nimble, something remembered from high school Geography.  They are at one with the land, withstanding all weathers and living up and down those steep craggy hills every day of their lives.  My favourite breed of dog is a sheepdog.  Is this a coincidence, I wonder?

Lambs make that connection between religion, human beings and nature.  They connect us with birth, life and death.  Now Emily Bronte’s not far from my thoughts and so is William Blake’s Songs of Innocence.

The voice of the sheep echoes through the hills of the British Isles as naturally as the sound of a running stream and the wind in the trees.   Sheep are the mainstay of rural, countryfied, wholesome, good old-fashioned country living.  They’ve been around forever.  Considering this section made me feel better about sheep.  Nature and Emily Bronte got me thinking about Branwell, which is why the next section is…

Black sheep

The black sheep of the family, the one who’s a bit different, or somehow fails at life, the outcast.  Thank goodness I was never made to feel this way.  We don’t have a black sheep in our family: I guess we’re just not mean like that.  I know people who refer to themselves as the black sheep and it feels sad that anyone would feel like an outsider in their own family.  Isn’t the imagery also racist?  Cast out for the colour of their wool?  Ugh.

We're all the same inside, little fella.

Talk of the Black Sheep made Branwell Bronte crop up in my mind.  Black Sheep is also the name of a Yorkshire brewed ale, funnily enough.  Branwell may or may not have been outcast by his own family for his failure in life and drink and drug addiction but the world has enjoyed perpetuating that theory for the past 170 years, with talk of the Black Sheep drinking in the Black Bull.  He was cast out by multiple employers.  What a legacy for him.

Black Bull pub in Haworth

My thoughts turn to Heathcliff, in part notable for the colour of his skin, also cast out from his own family, never finding earthly or living belonging except with Cathy.  The imagery of the black sheep is sad.

Aries the Ram

Since we’re exploring the male of the species, my mind turns to Aries, my astrological sun sign.  Aries isn’t sheepish, this sheep has balls!  And horns.  The male energy.  The headfirst ram charging, shouting “me first!” and leading everything.  Now you’re talking my language.  My inner ram sets alight.

The Ram

When I first discovered astrology as a teen the positive traits of the Aries sun sign genuinely helped me come out of my shell a bit, to use crab analogy for a second.  I knew there was courage, bravery and leadership somewhere hidden inside me, but where was it and when would it appear?

Aries has a daring that says, “follow me!  I don’t care what’s been done before – this is the way we’re going to do things now.”  And I like that energy.  I always wanted everything to happen yesterday.  I was born future-oriented and had leanings to technology for its resonance with the future.

I didn’t want a gap year, I wanted the shortest course at uni so I could get to work and earn money as quick as possible.  I wanted the best job I could find, I wanted to achieve…

Want want want, race race race.

Watch out! Here I come! Headfirst!

Exhausted much?  How I’d love to go back and tell my younger self to slow down.

Multiple things happened to slow down my blind headfirst running.  Each time I’d recover from an event I’d go back to my factory default of headfirst.  Four family bereavements in close succession didn’t stop my headfirst butting.  I powered on.  Turns out life wasn’t a race and I was only ever running against myself.

That was me, Type A for attempting to fly through life 

The downside characteristics of Aries are: aggressive, competitive, demanding, childish, attention-seeking and always repeating the same mistakes.  I’ve worked hard to remove those qualities which is not always easy in a society with workplaces and political systems that reward both men and women for these very behaviours.  It’s high time we stopped.

Too many workplaces.

On the bright side, Aries has love, innocence, courage and hope for tomorrow.  Aries doesn’t wallow.  Aries asks what adventure is next and puts their best hoof forward despite all the locking of horns and head bumping.  Aries can forgive – both others and themselves.

But this is the male ram; I’m the ewe, remember?  Does religion have anything sheepy to tell us?  it sure does.

Religious imagery on lambs, flocks and shepherds

Traditionally, lambs represent innocence.  What could be more innocent and bring such joy than a baby lamb?  Well, baby humans for a start.  I think the Bible calls us to make that analogy.

Shepherd imagery is rife in the Bible.  It wasn’t only Wise Men at the birth of Jesus – the angels went to the shepherds, to tell them about Jesus’ birth.  They were up at night, watching their flock.

They were the good daddies and as such received this most important information.  Incidentally, where were all the women at Jesus’ birth?  Most births I’ve ever seen or heard about there were a tonne of women there, not men.  I hope Joseph was a good midwife.

Luckily for Mary there were no cameras so we can't
see what she really looked like shortly after
giving birth surrounded by animals and men.

God is the shepherd, the loving father, and we are his flock of children.

Jesus is compared to a lamb in the Gospels because he goes meekly to be sacrificed on behalf of humanity.  That was God’s plan.  Faith is found in the communion and in the resurrection, but let us not forget that Jesus was THE LAMB.  Yes he was also the son of God, but he was also the lamb of God.

Jesus wasn’t sheepish but he wasn’t your traditional masculine type of man either.  He showed equal love and respect for all.  Fancy if women had been involved writing the Gospels or the church service.  Do you think things might have been different?

When I think of sacrificial lambs, I don’t only think of Jesus.  I think of all the victims of abuse, rape and murder, both men and women.  Next, my thoughts turn to St Agnes.

St Agnes, another sacrificial lamb of the female variety

St Agnes is depicted in art with a lamb, the Latin word for lamb being agnus.  She is the patron saint of chastity and virgins and of gardeners.

I have written a separate post on St Agnes which relates to Anne Bronte as well as my own story.  It was too much to include here but as I wrote it I realised a lot of themes intertwine.

Paraphrased summary here: St Agnes was only around 12 or 13 and was a devotee of God, but men didn’t like this and wanted to have their merry way with her.  she was asked to pick a suitor but refused, so they handed her over to the authorities who dragged her through the streets naked to a brothel where many men attempted to rape her.

They were struck blind, by God, but they didn’t ‘see’ what they’d done wrong, so attempted to burn her at the stake.  Except the wood wouldn’t burn.  Desperate and still not getting it, one officer killed her either by beheading or with a strike to the throat, the symbolism being suppression of the female voice and the cruellest act of abuse – murder.  A few days later her grieving sister was stoned to death as she grieved.

So here we have the sacrificial lamb being humiliated, with attempted rape and burning only to be struck to death.  A reminder of being a woman and of our collective human history of man’s refusal to accept a woman as an equal and the utterly arrogant denial of the presence of God, the rejection of the soul.

We’re still living out these themes, folks, still on with it.  When lessons don’t get learned, they get repeated - through generations.

Anne Bronte
She tried telling us 170 years ago

I believe Anne Bronte tried to tell us very much through her stories and in the naming of her characters.  If I can play my small part in promoting the work that Anne did and helping overcome the notion of women as the abused, sacrificial lamb, then I will.

Ewe and Me

So, what about Ewe?

After having explored all this sheep-related imagery and language, I’m back to me, the self.
Rachel means Ewe.  You.  Me.  All of us.  I realise the entire flock are in this together.

I think of the Me Too movement.  Should we rename it the You Too movement?  Because it’s not just about the people who are saying Me Too.  It’s absolutely you as well.

Those saying Me Too really need You Too.  We need the Ewe part of you to show up with your kindness, your nurturing, your motherly care.  To show up with your support, your time and your tenderness.

By missing out the female sheep, the mother, we are not in balance and we are not happy.  Honouring our basic femininity and the mother inside us all is the way we will move forward.  Together.

By examining our own attitudes, we find the places we follow like sheep, the areas where we lead, and where we can nurture others and bring our femininity into play like the ewe.

Let’s play our part in a future in which every human being regardless of race or sex can express themselves truthfully and vulnerably without being judged and be valued equally and respectfully from a place of love for each other.

This ewe is not for the slaughterhouse.  This ewe does not need to find her inner ram – society put him there long ago.  This ewe can be happy and proud in her femininity, strong in encouraging her little lambs, and able to support and soften the battering ram with her tenderness as the ram comes to realise his inner ewe.

This is how we bring back balance.

She’s ewe.  She’s me.  She’s inside all of us.

I think I found the meaning in my name and I’m happy with her – and me.

Thank Ewe for reading! 

@Rachel Sutcliffe 2018 

Let me know if you do this exercise yourself and what you find!